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“You cannot do this.” She hissed when Edward told her of his plans to marry a mortal. “The Dark Lord will not—”
Mouth curling into a stupid, lovesick grin, Edward shook his head. “Have a say. I love her, Zee. Diana is everything, and I am going to marry her.”
Zelda’s heart clenched, this would only lead to death. “You mustn’t,” she reiterated, hating the pleading tone in her voice. “No. Think of anything other than your cock for once! Think of how this will end, not only for you but the rest of the family. Hilda, Ambrose, me.”
Waving away her concern, Edward rolled his eyes. “Don’t be selfish, Zelda.” He remonstrated.
She sputtered. “I’m, I’m the one being selfish?!” Pacing away to prevent herself from striking him, Zelda rounded on her older brother once she was a safe distance away. “You know the Dark Lord and the Church of Night inflict punishments beyond the offender. They seek to make examples, to make sure these types of behaviors and actions don’t run in the family. We will not be exempt from his wrath. As High Priest you should know this better than most.”
A slight shrug and a, “I’ve made a deal,” were Edward’s response.
Her eyebrows flew up, stunned. “A deal? What kind?” She asked, incredulous, this was certainly not what she expected.
Edward avoided eye contact as he murmured. “I cannot say. But you and the others will be safe.”
Alarm bells were already going off in her head, something wasn’t right. “Edward,” she began to caution.
“Part of the deal is that I cannot speak of it.” He snapped, clearly irritated by her opposition to his decision.
Sucking her teeth, Zelda arched a brow. “You cannot speak of it,” she repeated slowly, liking the situation less and less. “Eddie, this won’t end well. Don’t—”
Once more talking over her, Edward crossed his arms. “It’s already done. The Dark Lord and I have come to an agreement and there is no backing out.” He met her eyes defiantly, chin tipping up
Teeth now grinding together, Zelda sneered. “Die then, you fool.” She spat, spinning on a heel to stalk out of the room before she destroyed something.
“Zelds,” Edward called out softly, his tone differing greatly from the one he used moments before and it made her pause. “Will you come to the wedding? I need my favorite middle sister there.”
She scoffed, hand gripping the doorframe so tightly her nails left little indents in the old wood. “Fine. But I’m wearing black, this is not a happy occasion.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was the day before the wedding when Edward approached her. “Zelds? Can I ask you something? Will you speak at the wedding?”
“Well, I wasn’t going to be a mute during the entire affair.” She deadpanned, flicking the newspaper back upright from where she let it droop to speak to her brother. Despite her protests to the whole thing surely he didn’t expect her to act without decorum.
Edward plucked the paper from her hands. “Not what I meant, Zelda. It is a mortal tradition, that a representative from each side of the bridal party speak during the ceremony. Well wishes and the like.” He watched her anxiously.
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, opting instead to take a draw from her cigarette and purposely blowing the smoke at him. “No. I have no well wishes.” She went to extract the paper from his grip.
Lower lip protruding in a slight pout, Edward cocked his head. “Zee, come on. It’s my wedding.”
A huff escaped her. “Oh, I’m aware, I’m attending, aren’t I? It’s bad enough it’s a mortal wedding ceremony to a mortal woman, now you want me to participate in their traditions? Edward,” she shook her head at him to indicate he knew better than to ask more of her than her attendance. “Why don’t you ask Hilda? I’m sure she’d even shed some tears for the occasion.”
Dropping his head in frustration, Edward groaned. “Because I want you, sister, to speak on my behalf.”
Now she rolled her eyes. “What would I possibly talk about? I cannot mention our world, our traditions—which you are neglecting, I cannot ask Satan to grant the marriage longevity and happiness. Eddie, no. I will not stand in front of her coven and speak lies.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Did you just call Diana’s family a coven?”
Lips pursing, Zelda knocked the ash off her cigarette. “Wishful thinking.” She replied dryly, standing to leave, seeing as how she wouldn’t be getting her newspaper back.
“Zee, I’m asking you as your older brother.”
She paused in the doorway. “Oh, and were you not my older brother any other time you asked something of me these past decades?” Zelda inquired over her shoulder.
Edward sighed at her purposely obtuse interpretation. “I wouldn’t ask except, except traditionally it is the groom’s brother who makes the toast. But seeing as, as…” He trailed off, both of their gazes drifting over to where a picture of their deceased brother hung on the wall—a young Ambrose on his knee. “I would like you to speak, please. You are my favorite middle sister, after all.”
Irritation rose up and a muscle in her cheek twitched; she hated losing. “That is low,” she muttered, shifting to face him completely, arms crossed, though one held her cigarette aloft. “Invoking our dead brother’s, Satan rest his soul, memory to get your way.”
He brightened. “So, you’ll do it?” It was an unnecessary clarification, Edward knew when he won, he was merely rubbing it in now.
“Beelzebub curse you, but yes, I will.” Her words were all but a snarl, not that this dampened Edward’s enthusiasm.
Edward rounded the table and swooped her into a hug, startling her. “Thank you, Zelda!” He grinned spinning her a bit before putting her down again.
Smoothing her hair back, Zelda tried not to show how happy her brother’s reaction made her “Yes, well,” she took a drag of nicotine, “it’s nothing really.”
Her brother saw through her façade, of course, and pecked an excited kiss to her cheek before he practically skipped out of the kitchen to deal with some other wedding errand.
Zelda took another calming drag from her cigarette. “Satan help me,” she muttered, “what have I agreed to?” She then made her way upstairs to work on these ‘well wishes’. It wouldn’t do to be shown up by whatever mortal spoke for Diana.
Edward found her later, surrounded by crumpled parchment filled with her discarded attempts at conveying his importance to her and her desperate wish that this all end happily. When he reached for one of the balled-up papers, she froze his hand midair with a sharp flick of her wrist.
“Touch any of those and you won’t be at your wedding because you’ll be buried in the Cain Pit.” She arched a brow at him threateningly before releasing him from her spell.
Hands held up in mock surrender, Edward smirked before reaching into his pocket and placing a small box next to her on the table. “Got you something,” he stated needlessly.
Barely giving the small package a glance, Zelda scoffed. “You don’t have to bribe me. I already said yes.” She remarked wryly, crossing off a sentence with unnecessary force. “Besides, doesn’t the groom normally receive gifts, not give them?”
Half sitting on the table in front of to her, Edward nudged the package a little closer. “Well, I’m following mortal ways here, sweet sister. I learned it is customary to give a gift to the person making the toast on your behalf at the wedding. A show of appreciation and gratitude towards that person. And anyway, I saw this, and it screamed Zelda.”
She looked at him skeptically and didn’t reach for the box.
And exasperated sigh emanating from him, Edward picked up the gift and placed it deliberately in her hand. “Just open it, will you?”
Knowing it was the quickest way to be rid of him, Zelda deftly opened the box, her brow furrowing in confusion at the contents. She plucked the tiny golden rod out and examined the two delicate circles connected by a thin rod. “What is it supposed to be?”
“Wha—, it’s a cigarette holder, Zee!” Edward announced indignantly. “Here,” he snatched it from her and then took the lit cigarette resting in an ash tray next to her. “See?” He prompted, placing the cigarette through one circle and forcing his pinky through the other, before pretending to take a dainty puff—clearly mimicking her. “Classy, right? Just like my little sis.”
Zelda couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, alright.” She held out her hand and Edward passed the holder back. Slipping her own finger through, Zelda tested the holder, blowing the smoke out of the corner of her mouth. “It is rather elegant,” she admitted, a smile quirking her lips. “Reminds me of the queen, at that dinner party where she made a servant hold her cigarette between smokes, do you remember?” She tapped the excess ash off the end using the handle.
“Like it was only 40 years ago Zelds,” her brother reminisced, chuckling.
Unable to deny it was a lovely gift, Zelda looked up at her brother. “Thank you, Eddie. This was quite thoughtful.” She murmured, placing a hand on his forearm.
Clearly pleased with himself, Edward grinned. “Anything for you Zelds,” he teased, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll leave you to it.” He gestured to the papers scattered around and left the room.
True to her word, Zelda arrived in all black, down to the sunglasses she wore throughout the ceremony. And if she occasionally dabbed underneath them, well the pollen was to blame. Why mortals were compelled to get married in the middle of a spring day she would never know.
Though Hilda seemed to, if the way she gushed about it the entire time they sat waiting for the ceremony to begin meant anything. She only fell quiet when Diana made her appearance at the head of the aisle. On Zelda's other side, Ambrose, who received special permission to be there, winked playfully at her before turning with the rest of the group.
Zelda just praised Satan they weren’t in a church and that a judge from the local courthouse was performing the ceremony. The few witches brave enough to attend would likely have burst into flame had there been any religious components from the False God.
Despite herself, Zelda had to admit it was overall a nice event—considering it followed mortal traditions. She even managed to enjoy herself slightly, only for that to be interrupted by a sudden clinking of forks against glasses. Confused, Zelda looked around, and when she glanced at Hilda and Ambrose they simply shrugged.
“It is now time for the maid of honor and the best ma—” the announcer began, only to be interrupted by Edward whispering in his ear. “Oh, best woman to speak on behalf of the couple.”
There was a smattering of applause and Hilda elbowed her in the side when she didn’t move. “That’s you, Zelds.” She informed her through a smile.
Starting, Zelda cleared her throat. “Oh, right.” She laid her cigarette down and made her way to the front table where Diana’s sister was driveling on about romance and fate. “Lucifer take me now,” Zelda mumbled under her breath as she waited her turn. It appeared she hadn’t needed to put as much effort into the speech as she had, based on what this woman was going on and on about.
In the end, Zelda settled for something simple, yet heartfelt—sentiments only Edward was able to pull out of her publicly. She spoke of how Edward was the constant in their family, their rock and he protected them from everything no matter how big or small. And she knew that loyalty, that steadfastness and protection would extend to his new family as well.
She smiled then, though it was a little strained. “I wish the greatest happiness onto you both. And may the higher powers bless this union.” Zelda raised her glass in conclusion, not missing how Ambrose smirked before taking a drink.
Edward stood up abruptly and enveloped her in a crushing hug, having teared up slightly during her speech. Though touched, Zelda had expressed enough emotion for one night and merely whispered “get ahold of yourself,” before disengaging and heading back to her seat.
A mischievous grin on his lips, Ambrose arched a brow at her. “Very clever, Auntie.” He commended when she rejoined them.
Sniffing, Zelda shrugged, picking up her cigarette and relighting it. “Well it had to be said, just pray that it was enough to offset the rest of… this.” She gestured to the rest of the room with her cigarette.
Hilda huffed. “It’s lovely and you know it, Zelda. So was your speech, it was very sweet.”
Zelda rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite suppress her smile at the praise; even if it was linked to the ceremony itself. They spent the rest of the evening drinking too much, while she and Ambrose debated whether spiking the mortals’ beverages with lust potions would be frowned upon by the coven and Hilda assuring them it most certainly would.
As the Spellman clan, minus Edward, left later that night—arms linked, Zelda couldn’t help but entertain the fleeting thought that saying yes to certain things wasn’t all that bad.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Diana wanted a traditional mortal birth, in a hospital. Zelda shuddered at the memory, thankful Edward convinced her otherwise, convinced Diana to allow herself and Hilda to act as midwives. Hell knew what those mortals might discover when looking at a half-witch babe. That, and well, Children of Night simply wasn’t born in a hospital; they just weren’t.
As the due date drew closer, all signs and spells pointed to a baby girl. They were ecstatic, another Spellman woman to join the ranks; only Edward was reserved. Zelda rolled her eyes at his lack of enthusiasm, assuming he, like most warlocks, wanted a male as his firstborn—to act as an heir. Really, it wasn’t the Victorian ages anymore, male heirs weren’t necessary to pass along family legacies.
When it came time for the birth, they made their way to the woods, Edward included; he refused to be bullied into staying behind under the pretext that birthing rituals did not involve men. She and Hilda had come days before to prepare, candles ringed the area and symbols were painted on the ground.
Edward paced off to the side restlessly as Zelda and Hilda talked their sister-in-law through a labor assisted with potions and spells. Soon, Zelda was catching the babe with the ease borne from years of practice as it slipped out. She beamed as she suctioned the child’s mouth and nose before toweling the child dry—murmuring in Latin as she did. Hilda glanced up upon hearing her words, but said nothing, her attention too focused on the afterbirth.
“It’s a girl.” Zelda announced proudly, handing the babe over to an exhausted Diana with care. Tears of joy pricking her eyes at the sight of her niece, though she held them back.
There were murmurs of congratulations and love, but Zelda couldn’t help but notice her brother seemed slightly pained by the whole ordeal. Truly, she’d have to have a conversation with him about male heirs, he was being ridiculous. To give the new family a bit of privacy, she and Hilda went about cleaning up the area... no need for the local mortals to stumble upon the remnants of a birthing ritual.
When Edward finally took his daughter in his arms, he chuckled. “Zee, what did you do?” Blowing out a few more candles and stowing them away, Zelda merely hummed in response. “She reeks of magic already, and I know it’s not hers.” He leveled her with a look.
Shrugging slightly, Zelda settled the bag of candles in the crook of her arm. “Just a few protection spells, that’s all.” She murmured nonchalantly. “Can’t have anything happening to my sweet little niece.” A smile automatically pulled her lips as she gazed at the bundle in her brother’s arms; Sabrina, it was their mother’s middle name.
Affection curling his mouth, Edward huffed in amusement. “Sister,” he drew out the word, shaking his head.
Gaze panicked, Diana switched her attention between the two of them. “She’s just a baby! What would she need protection from?!” The woman asked, eyes wide.
Edward placed a calming hand on his wife’s head. “Nothing, my love. Zelda is just being overprotective, always has been.” He teased. “Which is why, she is perfect to be Sabrina’s Night Mother.”
Nonplussed, Zelda’s eyes flicked to where Hilda was still collecting materials as tears threatened to fall once more. “Oh, Eddie, no. I can’t. Are you, are you sure?”
Steady as ever, Edward smiled reassuringly at her. “Of course, Zee. Will you accept?”
“Yes. I’m honored.” A watery smile burst onto her face unbidden. She expected Hilda to be named Night Mother—she was always the most nurturing one of the Spellman siblings—but given the chance, how could she say no?
All but bursting with pride, Edward smiled at her. “Here. Hold your niece and Night Daughter then, sister.” And, without waiting for a reply, he placed Sabrina into her arms and Zelda knew she was in love.
She glanced up at Hilda and Diana for their reaction, however, the two were exchanging a look that left Zelda bewildered. But she quickly dismissed it, whatever they were plotting didn’t matter, her heart was too full.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
She was working on a potion that would babyproof the cabinets—premature she knew, given Sabrina was only a few days old, but one could never be too prepared especially with a magical child—when Edward walked into her work room.
“Sister, I have a favor to ask.” He began, picking up a flask and playing with the rubber stopper.
Barely raising her attention from the potion in front of her—she had to add just the right number of drops or risk starting all over again—Zelda lifted a brow. “What?” She inquired in a bored voice. When her brother remained silent, Zelda finally turned her gaze onto him only to find him still fidgeting. Never one for meekness, Zelda scoffed. “For the love of Lucifer, Edward, what is it?”
Sighing, Edward replaced the flask and stopper on the table. “I am going into the woods tonight, to sign Sabrina’s name in the Book of the Beast. I would like you to accompany me as a witness.”
Zelda blinked uncomprehendingly. “You’re doing what?”
Head bowing, Edward gripping the edge of the table. “I am signing Sabrina’s name in the Dark Lord’s book tonight. I want you there, sister, to act as a witness.”
When the words sank in, so did the anger. Features hardening, Zelda stood slowly. Anyone else would have run out of fear, but not Edward. “What the fuck are you thinking?” She demanded, voice menacingly low and controlled; it taking every ounce of her being not to release the fury building inside her. But she had to control it, because surely this was simply a twisted joke. When Edward didn’t take it back, didn’t finally meet her eyes with one of those shit eating grins of his, her stomach dropped. He was serious. Appalled, Zelda took a step back. “Absolutely not. I will not be part of whatever twisted game you and the Dark Lord are playing.” A sneer pulled her lips as Zelda looked at her brother in disgust. Because despite her devotion to the Dark Lord and the Path of Night, even Zelda didn’t think a child so young should be locked into the kind of service the Book demanded.
Hands slamming onto the table, rattling the glassware, Edward finally brought his eyes back to her, and they were haunted. “This isn’t a game, Zelda. It’s my price.” He whispered hoarsely.
Dread and horror filled her, pushing out the anger as the meaning of his words registered. “No. No, no, no. You didn’t. Edward, tell me you didn’t.” She urged, already knowing it was too late for such pleadings.
“My deal with the Dark Lord, He would allow me to marry Diana, to protect everyone, if I signed my child’s name in the Book of the Beast within her first week of life.” Edward admitted, now leaning heavily on the table, his head lowered in shame.
Breaths coming in harsh shudders, Zelda fisted her hands, nails digging into her palms in an attempt to ground herself. “Protect everyone?!” Her voice was far more shrill than she liked. “You protected everyone but your child and that is the one person, the one person in the realms you should have been concerned about the most.”
Though not known for her calm demeanor, Zelda could have honestly said she never saw red before... until that moment. Until she realized the brother she loved, admired and looked up to used his child like a chess piece to get what he wanted. Until she realized this was why he refused to tell her the year before what his deal with the Dark Lord was. Not because his silence was part of the deal... but because he knew she wouldn't stand for it. Because despite how much Zelda disliked the mortal woman who seduced Edward, she absolutely would’ve warned her about what her brother promised. And then maybe Diana would’ve been scared away and prevented all this from occurring. But is was far, far too late for that now.
Unable and unwilling to restrain herself any longer, Zelda loosed her magic to slam Edward into the opposite wall, the impact rattling the bottles of ingredients in the cabinets. “How dare you bargain with your unborn child’s life for something as fleeting as a marriage with a mortal. Edward, what the fuck were you thinking?” She reamed, the string of curses escaping her hardly adequate to describe how little she thought of him and his actions even when she slipped into other languages when English wasn’t sufficient to convey her rage and disgust.
“The ceremony is tonight at witching hour.” Edward informed her stiffly, cutting into her vicious tirade after recovering from being thrown. “As Sabrina’s Night Mother, you should be there.”
Zelda’s body went rigid. “Is that why you named me Night Mother? To force me to witness this? Because you knew Hilda wouldn’t be able to stomach it?” Her voice, and heart, broke slightly at the thought that she’d been first choice only because of this, this vile situation. “Well, let me tell you, Edward Spellman, I will not stomach it either.”
Spearing his hands through his hair, Edward paced the length of the room. “Of course not. I made you her Night Mother because it was plain to see you love Sabrina and I wanted you to be the one to raise her should anything happen.”
The pain in her heart lessening, just a sliver, at this reassurance, Zelda crossed her arms. “I do love her, and for that reason I will not support you in this.” She raised her chin a notch in defiance for extra measure.
His jaw set in stubbornness as well, Edward straightened his coat a bit more. “It is happening tonight regardless of your presence, sister. If necessary I will get one of my acolytes to act as witness—though you know how the Dark Lord frowns upon anyone other than a Night Mother sponsoring a new child of the Path of Night.” He remarked coldly, and she had never hated him more.
She could kill him. Throw her brother in the Cain Pit and buy some time to figure this out. But what would happen to Edward if his price wasn’t paid on the Dark Lord’s timeline?
What would happen to Sabrina if her name wasn’t signed?
Though staunchly against the entire thing, Zelda caved in to her brother’s threat of carrying out the ceremony without her—knowing he was not one to make empty declarations.
“I’ll be there,” she snarled, pushing past him and going upstairs. Hating that she agreed, hating what Edward had done, hating the Dark Lord for naming her niece as his price… just hating. Trying to calm herself, Zelda made her way into the nursery.
Surprisingly, Sabrina slept through her Aunt’s outburst. Zelda leaned over the crib and gently brushed a finger against the girl’s soft cheek. “I am sorry, little one.” She murmured, forcefully wiping a tear with her free hand. “Though I want you in our world, I did not want it like this.” Zelda allowed Sabrina to curl her tiny hand around her finger and took calming breathes, trying to time them with the rise and fall of her niece’s stomach.
She could go to Hilda. See what her sister thought, ask what to do. But Zelda hadn’t seen her sister since yesterday, and even then, she’d been acting oddly. No, it was best Hilda didn’t know. Hilda, sweet Hilda, wore far too much on her sleeve and had trouble keeping secrets. Zelda would have to carry this one on her own. The less people who knew about the horrendous price of her brother’s disgrace the better.
That night, she attended the first Dark Baptism she did not approve of, and she spent the entire proceedings conflicted; her mind warring with her heart. Knowing Edward had no choice didn’t lessen her desire to snatch her niece from the alter and run back to the house, throwing up as many protection spells as she could manage before Edward, or anything else, caught her.
To ensure she didn’t grab Sabrina and flee, potentially dooming them all, Zelda kept her hands busy by stress smoking an entire pack of cigarettes; lighting one off the other before replacing it on her holder.
When the horrid event finally ended, she turned and stalked off back to the house, forcing Edward to jog to catch up, jostling Sabrina a bit. When the house came into view, he caught her arm and spun her slightly, forcing her to face him.
“Promise me she’ll sign the Book of the Beast on her 16th birthday.” He demanded, eyes wild.
Zelda blinked, the plea startling her from her resolution not to speak to her brother for a while. “What—?”
Expression a bit wild, Edward’s eyes bore into hers. “It is her path, she must sign the Book again. She needs to be a witch, Zelda. It is my wish, her destiny, that she follow our side of the family.” His grip on her forearm tightened painfully, “promise me you’ll help Sabrina on her way.”
Wrenching her arm free, Zelda took several steps back, fear crawling up the back of her throat at her brother's behavior. “Why are you speaking as if—”
“Do you promise me?!” Edward repeated anxiously.
She put another few steps between them. “No! No, not until you explain—"
“Zee, please.” The raw desperation in his plea made his voice crack, and this scared her even more.
And so, Zelda found herself nodding. “I will do everything in my power to help Sabrina.” She whispered, unnerved, though not unnerved enough to make such an absolute promise. She didn’t like it, this reeked of ill-fated things, so she made a promise—just not quite the one Edward demanded.
But it appeased him, if his sigh of relief was any indicator, and he continued their walk back to the house. Zelda followed, a step behind, eyeing her brother wearily, a sense of dread settling in her stomach that this would not end well for any of them.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“We’re going to Rome tomorrow night.” He informed her two months later at breakfast while reading the paper.
Zelda furrowed her brow, hand frozen midair where it had been spreading jam on her toast. “You’re going where?”
Still not looking at her, Edward cocked his head. “Rome. Diana and I. Business for the Church of Night.” He elaborated, turning the page with deliberate nonchalance.
She narrowed her eyes. “Tomorrow.” It was becoming a nasty habit of his, springing these types of things on her last minute. Not to mention just a few months prior he begged her to look after and care for Sabrina—acting as though the Dark Lord was unsatisfied with His price and likely to extinguish Edward as collateral. Clearly, her brother now thought those fears unfounded, but this sudden turn around was suspicious.
Then it clicked. “Hell help us, you’re running.” She accused, closing her eyes and asking Satan for patience. “You must know you can’t outrun the mess you’ve made.” Zelda leveled a hard look at him, though he still hid behind the paper.
Despite the Dark Lord’s ‘approval’, the rest of the coven had not been accepting of their High Priest’s choice of bride. And even less accepting of what they call a ‘half-breed’, ‘mutt’, and ‘mongrel’ of a child. A dead dog was nailed to their door just last week.
Edward lowered his paper with an air of forced calm. “This is not—”
In no mood for his misdirection, Zelda cut him off. “It is. No. You can’t go. Your reputation, the Spellman name, is still recovering from your actions.” She pointed a finger at him briefly. “You need to stay here and continue your work at the Academy. Repair the damage you’ve done.” Her voice was calm, commanding, but her grip tightened unconsciously and her toast began to crumble. Putting it down before she crushed it entirely, Zelda cocked her head at her brother expectantly, surely he wouldn’t dare leave the rest of them waist deep in this mess.
“Sister, it is not up to me. The Academy and Church are the ones sending me on this trip. And Diana and I thought we might stay a bit longer to make a honeymoon out of it.” He paused a moment. “Watch over Sabrina?”
Her brother wasn’t the only one who could play games. “And if I say no?” She asked haughtily, arching a brow and wiping her hands clean.
Edward grinned, seeing right through her. “I’ll ask Hilda. And if she proves too busy, then I always suppose Ambrose…” He let the sentence hang there.
Zelda pressed her lips together, he knew just what to say to get her to acquiesce. She and Hilda were both quite busy—their midwifery business had really taken off—likely it would’ve taken both of them to watch Sabrina anyway.
And Ambrose, sweet Ambrose, so recently punished to being housebound... The boy was understandably sullen, angry and confused. And while capable of watching an infant for short periods, was entirely unable to care for Sabrina for an extended length of time.
Sensing she was on the precipice and just needed a small push, Edward added. “Come on, Zee. You love Sabrina, it will only be two weeks.”
Anger began to simmer in her gut, around anyone else she was calm, collected, calculating—some even said cold. But Edward, Edward was one of the few people capable of making her display her temper outwardly. He was the only one who could talk her into doing things she often thought weren’t good ideas. And, unfortunately, he was also one of the few people she couldn’t persuade, bully or threaten into doing what she wanted. Quite the unlucky combination to have in an older sibling. Satan take him.
Maybe this was why Cain killed Abel, not because of sacrifices or anything to do with the Dark Lord or the False God, but because his brother was infuriating. Zelda could certainly relate.
“Watching her isn’t what I have a problem with,” she managed primly, “you shouldn’t even be going.” Appetite gone, Zelda lit a cigarette. “I don’t like this,” she added, in a quieter voice than before.
Undeterred, Edward waved a dismissive hand. “When did you become so superstitious, Zelds?” He laughed, getting up from the table to leave for the Academy.
She snorted indelicately, superstitious please, it was logic. “When your parishioners started tacking dead animals to our front door.” She retorted harshly, standing to follow and argue further only to be brought up short by the anxious husband of one of her clients astral projecting into the kitchen; his wife had gone into labor, three weeks early.
With a final glare after her departing brother, Zelda nodded and snatched her medical bag, she could always speak to Edward later.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Zelda tried to maintain her composure, as they sat in Faustus’ office, though a tear or two may have streaked down her cheek regardless. Hilda made no such effort, her emotions blatantly on display, and though Zelda frowned at her sister's lack of self-control, she said nothing.
Faustus had summoned them, telling them to come to the Academy at once. There had been a tragic accident. The plane carrying Edward and Diana crashed on its way to Italy…. Only pieces were left, no chance of survival—though no bodies were found.
After the initial shock, a sort of numbness stole over her—allowing her to think far more critically than she would have anticipated following the news of her brother's death. Accident indeed, she scoffed to herself. This was no coincidence. Her brother broke the oldest and most sacred of witch laws and then flaunted it. Even with his price paid, the Dark Lord wanted more. Wanted to make an example—just as she predicted over a year ago. She knew mercy wasn’t something shown in any capacity by the Dark Lord. That, coupled with Edward’s odd behavior after Sabrina’s initial Dark Baptism, made Zelda all the more suspicious.
“Who else was on the plane?” She inquired hoarsely when Faustus paused.
Confused, Faustus frowned slightly at her. “Hmm?”
Clearing her throat, Zelda straightened her shoulders. “Who else was on the plane with Edward and Diana?” She repeated, voice sharper this time.
Faustus furrowed his brow. “Just the pilot…. Why?”
“If there were other families with lost loved ones, I would’ve suggested a memorial for them.” Zelda lied, forcing a sympathetic smile. And if it was strained, well, who could blame a grieving sister for not being able to produce a genuine smile?
Head bowing in agreement, Faustus squeezed her hand. “Oh Sister Zelda, we will hold one for Edward anyway. He was a valued member of the Church of Night.”
Barely registering the comforting touch, Zelda nodded in faux appreciation. The information that the one other person on the plane was the pilot only further confirmed her suspicions. It would have been easy for the Dark Lord to find this patsy. Easy to convince the man it was the Dark Lord’s will that the plane carrying his disgraced and disobedient High Priest and mortal wife crash in the ocean. That if the pilot carried out this murder-suicide he would be rewarded in the afterlife.
Bile burned up the back of her throat as more clues clicked into place, and Zelda forced herself to swallow and refocus least she draw suspicion onto herself. Thankfully no one noticed her inattentiveness, Faustus had been talking the entire time, giving his condolences and offering the support of the Church of Night in their time of need.
But Zelda had never wanted less to do with the church in her life. Her beloved church, the powerful and dark being she trusted and believed in had taken her brother. It was not something she wanted to believe, but knew in her soul was true.
She always knew her church was dangerous, violent even, and she reveled in that; the rituals, Black Mass, the hellishly delicious darkness of it all. Reveled in the absolutes of the religion, that the Dark Lord did not suffer mistakes and rewarded those who were devout and worked hard.
Now, though?
Now, she had no faith in a Dark Lord that killed His own High Priest after the agreed upon debt was already paid. She had no faith in a Dark Lord who forced her to help sell her infant niece and then stole her brother anyway. In that moment, Zelda felt the faith she held for decades shatter beyond repair. And for a second, she almost wanted to mourn the loss of that as well. But the pain of losing her belief system paled in comparison to the loss of her older brother, her Eddie. So, she shoved it aside.
There wasn’t time. She didn’t have the luxury to mourn. Zelda was suddenly the guardian of a 3-month old, head of the Spellman household, and new owner of the mortuary. And she could already feel the weight of it all settling heavily on her shoulders.
Zelda was only half paying attention to what the warlock in front of her was saying. Once more too lost in her inner turmoil and sudden weight of new responsibilities to focus—until he mentioned who would raise Sabrina.
“We will.” She stated in a tone that brokered no argument. Zelda peered down at the tiny bundle in her arms—Sabrina was watching her with wide eyes, and Zelda barely caught the sob that tried to wrench itself from her throat. The girl had her brother’s eyes.
Faustus steepled his fingers on top of his desk. “The child does have a mortal family as well, perhaps she would…”
Voice hardening further, Zelda barely kept her lips from curling back over her teeth into a feral snarl. “No.” She brought her gaze back to Faustus, eyes flashing at the suggestion.
The church killed her brother. And from Faustus’ suggestion, was apparently also trying to banish the evidence of his law breaking to the mortal world. If Sabrina was entrusted to the mortals it would be that much easier for the more extreme members of the Church of Night to target her. That much easier for them to try and erase the ‘half-breed’ from their midst.
Well, Zelda would not let that happen. Not her niece, not Eddie’s little girl. If they wanted Sabrina, they’d have to come through her first. No, the mortals couldn’t protect Sabrina; the best and safest place for her was with Zelda.
Her grip on Sabrina tightened unconsciously at these thoughts, until the small girl whimpered in discomfort. Zelda immediately loosened her hold and cooed at the babe until she calmed. Faustus complimented her maternal instincts, stating that perhaps they were the better guardians for Sabrina after all.
And despite their past, or maybe because of it, Zelda repressed the urge to slap the man. Likely he played no part in her brother’s demise—Edward made his own bed—but Faustus benefited from it, was now High Priest because of it. And that was crime enough in her eyes for the moment.
But she knew, if she were to be honest, Zelda was truly angry at herself. She let Edward down, had known the trip was ill-fated, and yet did nothing to stop him. She said no and then gave in—again.
She straightened her back, she caved in too many times before with a loved one—and look at where it got them. She couldn’t make the same mistakes with Sabrina. The girl was far too young to understand, too young to remember the somewhat softer side of her Aunt Zelda—perhaps that was for the best. Because from here on out, Zelda would have to be firm. She’d have to be the strength of the Spellman family, the stoic backbone that kept them together. She’d carry them, provide for them, make sure they were protected—as Edward had done.
Her memory flickered back to Edward’s wedding, when she’d been so reckless, stupid and selfish as to participate in mortal traditions solely to make her brother happy. Such nonsense could no longer be tolerated. She couldn’t blunder like that again. Couldn’t give the church cause to doubt them, couldn’t give the coven cause to come after what remained of her family.
Zelda decided then that she could never allow the church to know she lost her faith. No, she’d have to continue her role, play the part of devout witch if she wanted to ensure her family’s safety from the Church of Night, its followers, and the Dark Lord.
So, as they left Zelda thanked Faustus, thanked the church and murmured all the right things about how the Dark Lord simply couldn’t wait any longer to call Edward to his side—all while not believing a word that left her lips.
She and Hilda headed home in a daze, and if she allowed Hilda to reach for and hold her hand that wasn’t cradling Sabrina as they entered the grounds…well, it was extenuating circumstances. As the house came into view, however, it struck her suddenly, sharply, that Edward was never coming back.
Her brother would never tease her, infuriate her, or test her again. Would never again talk her into doing something. Would never again sit beside her after she already drove Hilda away with her ire and wait so patiently until he was able to draw out of her what she tried to keep buried.
He would never see Sabrina grow up, flourish as a young woman and become a witch. It was home, but the person she loved most in it, the person who could always make her smile or laugh—however reluctantly—, the person who understood her better than anyone... was gone.
The thought was too much to bear. Zelda stumbled and then fell to her knees, though she kept a firm hold on Sabrina. The sobs and tears she forced down before pouring out. Hilda dropped to her knees beside her a moment later, wrapping her arms around her older sister—rubbing a hand on her back, tears leaking down her own face.
Surprisingly, Hilda remained silent. Zelda thought it was likely because she’d never seen her sister in such a state before. They remained there for some time. Until Sabrina’s cries joined theirs. Slowly, the sisters stood, brushed off their clothes and made their way to the house once more.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Zelda didn’t even try to sleep that night—she knew she wouldn’t be able to. Between the news of Edward’s death and her sudden disillusionment of the church… well, her nerves were far too shot for rest, regardless of the exhaustion tugging at her.
Hilda had put Sabrina to bed an hour earlier, but now Zelda found herself drifting into the nursery, needing to reassure herself her niece was alright. It hit her then, that this would be something she needed to reassure herself of for the rest of her life; that her niece was safe, healthy, happy. And it was now her responsibility to make sure Sabrina was all those things.
Dread settled in her gut, she likened it to a lead weight. What if she wasn’t good enough? What if she messed up or Sabrina hated her? The insecurity, the anxiety, crashed over her like waves. Is this what it felt like, to be a parent? To have this elation at the mere existence of a child and the dread of the any possible negative future rising and falling hand-in-hand within her? Would it ever disappear?
Unlikely, though she'd have years to learn as much. Tonight, well tonight she had other matters to attend, so, Zelda enchanted the nursery mirror to connect with a small handheld one she could carry with her and headed to Edward’s office.
She wanted to dig through the contents of her brother’s workroom; determined to find some shred of evidence he’d known this was coming. And if he had and hadn’t told her, warned her, had gotten on that Satan forsaken plane anyway—well, he was lucky he was already dead and out of her reach if that was the case.
After an hour of searching, Zelda came across his will buried under some research journals. Her eyes widened upon discovering the document had been updated within the past month… though she was quick to scold herself at how her heart pounded. Most wills were updated after the birth of a child, it didn’t allude to anything sinister.
Still, she sat, lit a cigarette and began to read. Most of it was simple housekeeping items; the future of the mortuary—passed to her or the next eldest Spellman, the guardianship of Sabrina—Zelda was listed as the primary and Hilda the secondary guardian, arrangements for the house, his research, his belongings… his funeral. A pang shot through her.
It requested Zelda speak at the funeral. She clutched the paper, and had it not been charmed to be indestructible it likely would have ripped in two.
“No,” she scowled. “No, don’t make me do it, Edward. I can’t. I can’t stand in front of them and act like this was some tragic thing.” He knew she wasn’t sentimental, and still he asked. Apparently, she set a dangerous precedent when she agreed to speak at his wedding, and now he was taking advantage. Edward also would’ve known while writing this that she wouldn’t, couldn’t, refuse; not one of his last requests in death.
Zelda pushed away from the desk and stood so forcefully the chair fell back with a bang. She started to pace, how was it that even when he was dead, her brother could still make her agree to things she didn’t want to? A small whimper emanated from the enchanted mirror she propped up on the desk, causing her to freeze mid-stride. Sabrina only shifted and fell back asleep.
Exhaling in relief, Zelda carefully righted the chair, lecturing herself about using silencing spells or simply being quiet when a sleeping baby was in close proximity. She was certainly off to a wonderful start with this whole guardian thing.
She took several deep breaths to try and calm herself, though anger still flowed through her at Edward’s request. And really, anger was far better than grief, so she gave up on calm and let the anger rise within her until it burned out everything else. She sighed, almost relieved, when the anger peaked. Yes, this she knew, this she could manage.
Deciding to put a little more space between herself and the nursery should her anger increase in volume again, Zelda made her way to the kitchen, not bothering with the lights. As she poured herself a very healthy measure of whiskey, she reviewed the will once more. Debating whether she should just spite Edward for the Heaven of it and tell Hilda to deliver the eulogy.
But then, then she heard him. No, sweet sister, you are the head of the Spellman family now. It is expected, it is necessary that you are the one to speak. Being the eldest is never easy, especially when it is inherited. But you must fulfill your duties.
Zelda rolled her eyes but found herself nodding; only minimally concerned she was responding to a voice in her head. Whether it had truly been Edward reaching out to her from beyond the grave or merely her exhausted subconscious manifesting itself as her brother for comfort, she knew it was right.
It was her duty.
Just another on an ever-growing list. So, she lit another cigarette and carried her whiskey over to the table. She’d inform Hilda in the morning about the will and its contents, at least one of them should sleep.
Taking a long, fortifying drag of nicotine Zelda started the plans for her brother’s funeral in the mostly dark kitchen.
She was numb. Praise Satan.
She’d nicked the balm Hilda made months ago for a pregnant client who just learned her lover wasn’t going to be leaving his wife. The woman had declined and left. Thankfully, Hilda then stored the balm on a shelf in the kitchen cupboard, intoning ‘waste not, want not’ in her irritatingly cheerful manner.
Zelda had gone looking for the balm after tears ruined yet another piece of parchment she’d been attempting to write the eulogy on. And she’d been using it quite liberally for the past several days; really so much more got done when emotions were removed from the equation.
Though commonly referred to as the ‘broken-heart balm’, the concoction’s uses went far beyond that of pain stemming from lost romantic love. It dealt in all manners of emotional pain and even dulled other emotions as well, if enough was used.
And she certainly was using plenty.
In preparation for today, Zelda applied even more of the balm than usual that morning. It would prevent any kind of outburst during the funeral. She couldn’t afford another emotional breakdown like the one she had the other night after they returned from the Academy. It wouldn’t do to appear weak in the eyes of the coven. They’d all be watching like hawks, waiting to see what the Spellman family did now it had fallen so far. Zelda would, and had to, show them the Spellman’s persevered. That the Spellman’s were strong and weren’t going anywhere. So she used a little extra balm, readied Sabrina and made her way downstairs.
Her sister was sniffling as she puttered around the kitchen and Zelda briefly squeezed Hilda’s shoulder as she passed and took her seat at the table; placing Sabrina in the bassinet next to her chair and with a flick of her wrist the thing was rocking gently on its own accord.
“Zelds,” Hilda acknowledged. “Breakfast?”
Appetite having left her the same day as Edward, Zelda shook her head. “No, thank you.” She reached for a cigarette instead.
Hilda clucked at her. “You know smoking is bad for—”
Had she been capable of feeling at the moment, Zelda might have had a flash of irritation at her sister’s suggestion that she would harm Sabrina in any way. But the balm was working wonders, so instead she interrupted Hilda in a bored tone. “I’ve already cast a spell so she cannot inhale the second-hand smoke.” Zelda arched a brow and lit her cigarette despite Hilda’s protest.
Recognizing a lost fight when she saw one, Hilda let the matter drop and tried for another topic. “Are you ready for—” She began to ask, placing a plate of toast in front of Zelda even with her assertion that she wasn’t hungry when her sister suddenly froze and sniffed. “Are… are you using the anōdynos* balm?”
An unconcerned hum was Zelda’s response as she picked up the paper to hide; while she may have a world class poker face, Hilda somehow had the ability to see through it at the most inopportune moments.
Hands flying to her hips, Hilda gaped at her. “You are!”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what—”
“I can smell it, Zelda. And you must be using far too much if I can smell it.” Hilda flattened the paper between them with a hand. Something she would not have been brave enough to do had Zelda’s temper been properly functioning—such an action likely would’ve resulted in a trip to the Cain Pit or a withering insult at least.
Still, just because she wasn’t going to put her sister in the ground didn’t mean she needed to acknowledge she was right. “Nonsense.” Zelda moved to pull the paper out from Hilda’s hand.
But her sister didn’t budge. “No, it’s not. In the proper quantities the balm has no scent and to the untrained nose there might not be one no matter the amount used. But I brewed that, I know how it smells. Zelda, you can’t—”
Just then Ambrose shuffled into the kitchen. “Morning, Aunties.” He greeted them morosely, too caught up in his own grief to realize he interrupted anything. Hilda’s attention was immediately diverted, bustling over to fuss over Ambrose and his breakfast.
Zelda sighed quietly, she wouldn’t have won that argument. She also knew it wasn’t over, not if the looks Hilda was shooting at her were anything to go by. But she wasn’t going to waste the balm’s effects on a fight with her sister, so, Zelda stood, snuffed out her cigarette, collected Sabrina and left the room. Stating she had final preparations to complete at the Church of Night before the others arrived for the funeral.
When it came time for the eulogy, Zelda passed Sabrina to a sobbing Hilda and made her way up front. She spoke mechanically, saying what was expected of her—parroting words from the Unholy Bible and nothing had ever seemed so hollow as this speech.
She concluded with a ‘praise Satan’ and had she not numbed herself to near oblivion Zelda would’ve laughed. Laughed at how easily the expression came to her tongue. But perhaps it was for the best some habits died hard.
Faustus had been standing to the side, waiting to return to the front and finish the service. As Zelda moved to take her seat again, the same bland expression on her face, she noticed the new High Priest eyeing her with some concern. Had this been any other day, under any other circumstance, had she not essentially excised her own feelings—this look alone would’ve had her mind racing at the implications.
Today, it meant nothing.
And though she could have given him a sign, to let him know she was alright, Zelda didn’t. Others were watching too, and she wouldn’t give them the pleasure of reacting in any capacity. And if anyone called her heartless for not even shedding a tear or two at her brother’s funeral… well, she was getting used to the description by now.
Zelda reclaimed Sabrina upon sitting, unsure whether Hilda could hold herself together and hold their niece at the same time. Fussing with Sabrina also gave her excuse not to listen to Faustus, why bother? It was more empty words. As empty as the casket they were burying.
The entire funeral was a sham, her brother had been murdered and everyone around her kept murmuring about tragedies and unforeseen events. How even the Dark Lord couldn’t protect every member of His coven at all times.
But appearances had to be maintained, the family protected. So, she hummed and nodded in all the right places, Sabrina nestled in one arm, while the other rested on Ambrose’s shoulder—he’d been given special leave to attend the funeral.
When Faustus approached them, once more offering condolences, he placed a hand on Zelda’s upper arm, his thumb stroking along the fabric of her dress. What mildly surprised her, was the slight shiver that coursed through her at the touch. Then it dawned on her, the balm was wearing off. Meaning they needed to wrap this up and leave before the effects disappeared entirely and she made a fool of herself in front of the entire coven.
Quickly making excuses about diaper changes and feeding schedules, Zelda propelled Ambrose and Hilda out of the church and into the cool night air. Once away from the crowd, they joined hands and Zelda teleported them back to the house.
Ambrose disappeared into his bedroom, stating he had research to do, but Zelda heard a sniffle as he retreated. She frowned slightly but let him go, he needed to grieve alone—she understood that. Perhaps she’d send some calming tea to him later, under the pretext it was actually Hilda sending it, of course.
First though, Sabrina did need fed it hadn’t been a complete lie to get them away from the church. So, Zelda slipped into the kitchen where Hilda already had a bottle prepared. She handed her niece over and made to retreat when Hilda’s voice caught her.
“You need to stop using it.”
No use in pretending, she’d already been caught. Sighing, Zelda touched the counter for support. “I’m—”
“Not using it properly. You’re numbing yourself, Zee. It isn’t healthy.” Hilda remarked, eyes focused intently on Sabrina.
She almost snorted. “Well, neither are any of my other coping mechanisms.” Zelda quipped conjuring a cigarette for effect as she moved to sit at the table—knowing Hilda would just chase her down later to have this conversation.
Hilda frowned, finally looking up at her older sister. “The balm can have prolonged effects if it’s continuously misused. Permanently muted emotions.” She emphasized, eyes wide.
Snipping her fingers to lit her cigarette, Zelda took a long first inhale. “Some would say that’s not a change.” Zelda replied dryly, blowing the smoke out slowly. And when her comment made Hilda looking at her in alarm, she added. “It was only for the funeral. You know how the coven would talk if I made a scene.”
The alarmed look turned into a skeptical one. “You’ve been using it longer than that, Zelda. I found the container, it’s nearly empty! There was enough in there for a few weeks at least.”
Her eyes rolling, Zelda took another hit of nicotine, of course her sister went looking for the balm. The unfortunate part now was that she’d have to find other means to mute the pain—her eyes drifted over to the liquor cabinet. Whiskey was always promising.
A foot colliding with her shin recaptured her attention. Apparently, Hilda wasn’t above kicking to get her point across. “You need to let yourself feel, Zee.”
“But do I really?” She countered, arching a brow.
Tears welled in her sister’s eyes at her apathetic response. “I already lost my brothers. I’m not going to lose my sister too.” At this a tear slid down Hilda’s cheek.
She scoffed and looked away. “I’m not going anywhere.” Zelda muttered, suddenly exhausted—likely due to a combination of the funeral and the last effects of the balm wearing off. To prevent any unnecessary emotions from making an appearance, she stood to leave. “Put Sabrina to bed, will you? I have some things to rearrange upstairs.”
Hilda caught her arm. “Zelds…”
In an uncharacteristic move, Zelda bent and hugged Hilda, so quickly the woman didn’t have a chance to respond before Zelda pulled away and was walking towards the stairs. She could always blame the sudden return of all emotions for this little slip up in her cold façade. “I’m not going anywhere.” She repeated reassuringly before adopting her unaffected tone once more. “Besides, who would keep this place running if I was gone?”
Hilda gave her a small, trembling smile and Zelda hurriedly escaped. As she made her way to their bedroom, Zelda couldn’t help but acknowledge Hilda was right—not that she’d ever admit it. She couldn’t numb everything, despite the temptation. She saw the looks certain members of the coven gave Sabrina. The dark, dangerous looks, the mutterings of half-breed under their breath.
No, if she was to protect her niece, she’d need to feel everything. So, if anyone or thing came for the girl, well, they’d be able to experience the full range of her wrath and power.
So, while Hilda finished feeding Sabrina, Zelda got to her rearranging. Enchanted mirrors were all well and good, but they certainly wouldn’t be enough should anything come in the night for Sabrina.
Entering the bedroom she shared with Hilda, Zelda surveyed her belongings… really only a few things needed to be moved. Nodding to herself, Zelda waved a hand and her bed and trunk levitated, shrunk and began to float out the door and down the hall. She’d stay in the nursery with Sabrina, at least until the uproar over a High Priest’s death faded. Until she felt as though nothing would come for Sabrina, either to drag her to Hell or to kill her.
Hilda said nothing when she entered the nursery to ready Sabrina for bed and found Zelda’s things there. Knowing better than to challenge her sister too much in one day—for fear of finding herself in the Cain Pit—and she already challenged her about the balm, that had been a victory, no need to tempt fate.
When Zelda’s returned to the room, in her nightgown and robe, she interrupted Hilda’s thoughts. “She ready?” Hilda nodded and handed their niece over.
“Zelds…”
“Sleep well, sister.” She interrupted, turning her back to Hilda, swaying slightly to coax Sabrina the rest of the way to sleep. Zelda was in no mood to discuss her decision to move, unsure that she would be able to truthfully describe her motives.
She caught the furrow of Hilda’s brow in the reflection of the mirror, but her sister only replied. “You too, Zee,” before leaving the nursery.
Zelda focused her attention of the bundle in her arms and continued to rock the child until she was sound asleep. Carefully, Zelda placed her in the crib before pulling a chair up and settling in for the night. She had no plans to sleep, she couldn’t risk being caught unawares again. Couldn’t risk being blindsided by the church or its members and be left with another dead family member.
So, she pulled the loaded gun out from under her mattress—it had been woefully easy to acquire, and though she loathed the idea of relying on a mortal weapon, she thought it might pay off to protect her mixed niece with a mix of mortal and witch defenses.
Leaning back in her chair, Zelda rested the gun in her lap, hand gripping the handle, and conjured a fireball in the other hand. Nothing would get to her niece. But in case her stamina failed her, Zelda placed Vinegar Tom next to Sabrina’s crib.
True, she’d lost him long ago, but it comforted her to have him there ‘standing’ guard. And perhaps she had a tiny bit of hope that should anything truly occur, it would somehow spur her familiar back to life.
Even with these precautions, she rarely slept, even when she finally moved ‘camp’ from the chair next to the crib to her own bed in the corner of the nursery two weeks after the funeral. Sure the Dark Lord would come or send some minion to snatch Sabrina and bring her to the underworld.
Hilda tried to convince her to sleep when it became apparent she wasn’t, but her attempts were fruitless. Her sister must have put it down to Zelda being paranoid—the fear that she’d lose another family member so abruptly the reason she was keeping watch each night. And Hilda wasn’t entirely wrong, but neither was she entirely right about what motivated Zelda either. Not that she was going to correct her sister, she certainly wasn’t going to tell her the truth about the root of her terror.
That Sabrina’s name was in the Book of Beasts already, that, as powerful as Zelda was, she likely wouldn’t be able to stop much at all if the Dark Lord truly tried to claim her niece. Damn Edward and his selfish, arrogant actions she thought countless times during those long nights. Angrily wiping away tears the thought of her dead brother conjured.
However, even witches couldn’t sustain such an exhausting routine forever. And the effects quickly made themselves apparent. When Zelda drifted off at breakfast for the third time in 30 minutes about a month after the funeral, Hilda tentatively offered to take shifts. Seeing as how she couldn’t convince Zelda to abandon her nightly vigil completely, perhaps she could ease the burden.
But Zelda couldn’t let anything happen to Hilda either. What if the night the Dark Lord or the coven came for Sabrina was when Hilda was on watch? Then she’d lose them both in one night. So, she refused the offer, using her normal, derisive tone—refusing to put Hilda in danger and knowing her rudeness was the quickest way to dissuade Hilda from pursuing the conversation. Hilda frowned, but dropped the topic.
In the months that followed, the snatches of sleep she did get had her waking in a panic that didn’t abate until she held Sabrina close. Every now and then she’d go to rest her eyes, just for a moment, and wake hours later—she started to suspect Hilda was dosing her tea with foxglove.
Zelda said nothing, knowing Hilda meant well. And truthfully, she needed the rest and it was far easier to have it forced upon her than to take it voluntarily.
It was only three months after Edward’s death that Zelda began to sleep through the night—well, as much as someone sharing a room with a 6-month old could sleep through the night. And it was another three months after that that she moved back into the room she shared with Hilda.
Her fears had not been completely assuaged, but it had been 6 months since the funeral and nothing had come, so they’d diminished enough that she no longer felt compelled to stay in the nursery.
Familiars, enchanted mirrors and numerous protection spells seemed to be enough. And though there was plenty of space in the house now that Edward and Diana were gone, neither sister had it in them to take the spare room for themselves. They’d convert it to a workroom of some sort for now…or maybe just not touch it at all, for a bit.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
In the end, they came for Sabrina—just as she predicted. Though they bided their time, Zelda had to give them that. Sabrina only just turned two years old the month before. Maybe they thought she’d grow lax, all this time after Edward’s death. Lulled into a false sense of security.
She was happy to show them the error in their thinking. Would gladly make sure this was the last mistake they ever made.
But for now, she was content to watch them squirm. There were three of them, now all nicely trussed up and gagged in the morgue. Zelda eyed them from where she was leaning against the far wall, taking a long drag from her cigarette. They tried to enter the house in multiple places; one through the kitchen window, another the parlor window, and the third had been bold enough to try the front door.
Of course, she’d woken up the moment they set foot on the grounds. They hadn’t been able to teleport in; her regularly refreshed protection spells saw to that. So, they approached on foot, covering at least 20 yards to reach the house and giving her plenty of time to react.
It had been insultingly easy to capture them. She’d been expecting more of a fight, more witches. Really, did the name Zelda Spellman not inspire the fear and respect it once had? Well, after this it certainly would.
Zelda flicked her wrist and the gag of the youngest witch, Sara, vanished. The woman gulped for air, tears streaming down her face.
“Sister Zelda, please don’t—”
She waved her hand again and gagged Sara once more—in no mood for begging. Pressing off the wall, Zelda stubbed out her cigarette and took measured, predatory steps towards the trio, letting her anger and power crackle through her and into the air, sparks alighting her fingertips. The intruders cowered, unaccustomed to such blatant displays of power.
“I am not your sister.” She spoke slowly, tone menacing. Zelda made eye contact with each woman in turn. “You stopped being my sisters of the church when you came tomy home, in the middle of the night, with the intention of doing my family harm.” She placed her index finger in the middle of first witch’s, Annabeth, forehead. She smiled wickedly for a moment before sending an electrical jolt through the woman. She whimpered and tried to skirt away, but Zelda was already moving on to the next witch.
“I am going to ungag you, if you beg it will only make it worse. If you attempt any spells, it will make things far worse. I expect answers. The one who gives them to me… will suffer the least.” Zelda delivered a shock to the next witch, Berta, this one longer and with a higher voltage. “Do we have an understanding?” She arched a brow at the group and when they hesitated, she grasped Sara’s shoulder and delivered a shock through her entire palm, not just a finger.
The young woman jerked and spasmed, eyes rolling back, and when Zelda released her, she crumpled, a burn mark creeping along her shoulder and up her neck. Zelda kicked her for good measure, unconscious. She could wake Sara up with magic or smelling salts, but that could wait until the others proved uncooperative. She tilted her head at the remaining women expectantly and they nodded hurriedly.
“Good,” she snapped her fingers and the gags vanished. “Who sent you?”
Annabeth sneered. “No one.”
An annoyed sigh escaping her, Zelda didn’t even bother to close the distance between them. She shocked Annabeth from where she stood a foot away, the electricity arcing through the air brightly. The resulting scream was rather rewarding.
Turning to Berta, Zelda was pleased to see the witch had begun to nervously sweat. “Aren’t you worried your family—” Berta babbled, attempting to stall.Amused, Zelda chuckled. Did they really think her so inexperienced? Or perhaps they hoped motherhood softened her. Regardless, Zelda was more than happy to educate them otherwise. “They won’t hear a thing. This room is layered in silencing spells. It’d be bad for business if customers came in to plan a funeral and could hear the bone saw going.” A devilish smile lit upon her face. “Speaking of which,” the device floated over to her hand and Berta’s eyes widened. “Who sent you?”
“A group.” Berta blurted out, ignoring how her counterpart hissed at her.
Rolling her eyes, Zelda flicked the switch of the bone saw so it hummed to life. “That’s ridiculously vague.” She noted, turning the saw over in her hand to inspect the other side.
Easily motivated, Berta quickly elaborated. “A group within the Church of Night that disagrees with your brother’s philosophy.”
The bone saw quieted. “Ahh, but you see my brother is dead. And so is his philosophy. So, why are you here?” Zelda knew, of course, why the trio had come, but the more she heard first hand the better.
“The mutt.”Red flashed across her vision and Zelda surged forward and gripped Berta’s throat, discharging a powerful jolt straight into her vocal chords. Berta croaked pathetically as she attempted to breathe properly and regain control of her voice, tears streaming down her face. “Take care how you speak of my niece.” She remarked through gritted teeth, before shoving Berta away and turning her attention back to Annabeth. “Why come after Sabrina?” The witch spat at her, the glob falling short but still landing on Zelda’s slipper. Now irritated on top of everything else, Zelda ran her tongue over her teeth. “Do you know, how many spells and potions ask for witch parts?” Annabeth’s face lost some of its defiance and color.
Zelda smirked. “Perhaps not. Only the most powerful witches even dare to delve into that type of magic. Though I’m sure it wouldn’t surprise you to learn those parts are somewhat, difficult, to come by.” She paused and tilted her head assessing the woman. “My supply of fingers is dreadfully low. And why go to the black market… when a new, free supply has recently made itself available?"
The fear was mounting in Annabeth’s eyes and Zelda didn’t miss how her hands curled into fists to hide her fingers, though she managed to keep a fairly straight face. “You wouldn’t dare. The Dark Lord—”
A cackle escaped Zelda, unnerving the women further—which had been her intention. “The Dark Lord rewards those who fight for what is theirs and who take from those who threaten it. I’m sure He would be delighted to hear of how I dealt with intruders in my home.”
Labored breaths alerted them to Berta sitting up, the witch finally regaining herself. “The group believes the mu—, the girl,” she quickly corrected when Zelda’s eyes flashed. “The girl is a threat to our kind. She lives in both worlds, what if she experiences magic for the first time in front of mortals? Surely, you see the danger she presents.”
“The only danger I see is three mediocre witches with very poor senses of self-preservation breaking into my home.” Zelda sneered, eyeing each witch in disgust. “How many of you are there?”
Annabeth cut in before Berta could respond. “Berta, silence! Don’t tell her anymore.”
Another low, menacing chuckle, rumbled through Zelda. “Oh, by all means, Berta, listen to your friend.” She turned the bone saw on once more and collected Annabeth’s left pinkie finger for her dwindling supplies. Why use magic when this had a far more gruesome effect on her captives. She muted the scream—where it had been rewarding before it was only annoying now. Berta watched in horror as the blood spurted onto the floor, the hem of Zelda’s nightgown and even Berta’s shirt. Annabeth paled and almost passed out when Zelda plopped the finger into a nearby specimen jar. “Still feel like keeping quiet, Berta?” She inquired lightly, the saw still whirring.
Blanching, Berta gulped. “There’s five of us total, like the points of a pentagram.”
She rolled her eyes, surely, she hadn’t been as pious and ridiculous as these idiots. “Why did only three of you come?” Had they really thought she’d gone soft taking care of a child?
Hesitation caught Berta’s tongue. “We, we, uh—” Zelda sighed and took Annabeth’s other pinkie, waving her hand to wake the woman up when she fell unconscious. This sufficiently motivated Berta to continue. “We didn’t think all five needed to come. That three of us would be plenty to….” The witch trailed off uneasily.
“To kill a toddler.” Zelda finished coldly, dropping Annabeth’s other finger into the jar and Berta nodded, looking rather ill. “If you vomit in my morgue you will deeply regret it.” She threatened, upon seeing Berta’s expression. The woman swallowed hard and Zelda sneered in distaste, though it was much preferred to cleaning it up. “Who are the others?”
And for the first time Berta shook her head adamantly, refusing to continue.
Understanding the witch’s dilemma, Zelda crouched down so they were eye level. “I’m not going to kill them… no, that doesn’t send the right kind of message.” She stared off for a moment before coming back to herself. “Besides, I don’t condone witches killing other witches—no matter how much they may deserve it.” Her eyes flickered over the trio. Berta eyed her doubtfully, glancing at her companions; one with burn marks radiating up her neck and the other attempting to cradle her mutilated hands. “Berta,” she slipped a finger under the woman’s chin, and Zelda observed with approval that she flinched at the contact. “I was truthful, was I not, when I said the person who gave me answers would suffer the least? Why would I be dishonest now?” She chucked the witch lightly under the chin, sending a light shock through her—a reminder of what could come—as she stood once more.
The woman only looked at her in horror, but once more remained silent.
Perhaps she scared this one a bit too much. But it had been some time since she’d done a group torture, she wasn’t as used to reading the room in this way anymore. Still, Zelda knew how to get what she needed. Arching a brow, she looked at Berta carefully. “Are we suddenly so noble? Is it because you think I’ll just keep punishing Annabeth? Think again.” And in an instant she took a pinkie from Berta this time, the witch howling in pain. “Who are the others?”
This time Annabeth spoke, a hoarse croak. “Mary and Judith.” Her face twisted in pain.
Zelda smiled, she wasn’t so rusty after all. “Now that wasn’t so difficult, was it?” She intoned, bending over the still unconscious Sara and cutting off her left pinkie as well.
Stunned, Annabeth squawked. “Wait!? What are you doing? We told you what you wanted!” She exclaimed, swaying where she knelt.
“Yes, you did. But you still broke into my home. You still intended to kill my niece. I have to make sure you all remember this lesson forever. That Sabrina Spellman. Is. Off. Limits. And anyone who even thinks of attempting to hurt her will look at each of you and be reminded of how merciful I was; how I let you keep your lives, how I didn’t curse each of your families. And of how the next ones to try will beg to be left in so many pieces in front of the church by the time I am done with them.” She paused and placed Sara’s finger with the others in the jar. “And I really did need to replenish my supply.” She added, offhandedly, before turning her attention back to them. “Now where can I find Mary and Judith? I know they are waiting for your return somewhere.”
Whimpering and hunched over her injured hand, Berta answered. “The clearing in the woods next to the Academy.”
With a curt nod, Zelda stood, transformed her slippers into boots and headed for the staircase.
“Wait! Where are you going?”
Honestly, the stupidity of these witches, Zelda sighed, she should just kill them and relieve the coven of their burden. “To find your accomplices. And should they not be where you say, well, you’ll still be here for me to deal with when I return.” She smirked at their dread filled expressions and with a snap restored their gags once more before teleporting away.
She found and overwhelmed the two women disappointingly easily. Even if all five had come to the house at once Zelda wouldn’t have even broken a sweat. Well, if nothing else this reassured her that the more powerful members of the coven either didn’t care about Sabrina anymore, or were too smart to make a move.
No matter which, she thought, reappearing in the morgue a little while later. As long as they didn’t act on their feelings she didn’t care. Zelda dropped the two fingers into the specimen jar with the others and turned to face the trio.
All were awake now, though rather pale and sweaty. Zelda flicked her wrist and their wounds were sterilized and bound; no need for one of them to die stupidly from infection.
“I trust you’ve all learned your lesson?” They all nodded earnestly, huddling together as she closed in. Zelda eyed them narrowly. “Pray you mean it. For if you ever even consider hurting my niece or anyone else in my family again, you will wish for death.” The witches all swallowed hard, faces grave, but the nodded vehemently once more.
Satisfied, Zelda waved her hand and the three were teleported several hundred yards past the property boundaries—still bound, but they’d work themselves loose eventually.
Rubbing the back of her neck, Zelda glanced at the clock. Damn them, it was already time for breakfast. It was going to be a long day. Perhaps she could discreetly ask Hilda to brew her some of that special tea to stave off sleep.
Grabbing her jar of newly collected fingers, Zelda traipsed tiredly upstairs. She hoped to store the jar in the ingredients cabinet in the kitchen before hurrying upstairs to change out of her stained clothing without encountering anyone. Of course, luck was not on her side, even Ambrose was already up and in the kitchen.
“Auntie Zee! What were you doing in the morgue so early?” He called out, half curious, half teasing, seeing her appear through the door under the steps. His smile slipped away as he noticed the bloody contents of the jar and the smears of blood on her clothes and person.
Hilda, who was facing the stove making breakfast, piped in. “Is that where you were, Zelda? I woke up to get some tea last night and you were gone.” Her sister turned to face her, spatula dropping from her hand as she took in the same details of her appearance as Ambrose. Awkwardly clearing her throat, Hilda stopped to pick up the spatula. “Early morning autopsy?” She suggested hopefully, knowing full well that wasn’t the case.
“I was dealing with intruders.” Zelda informed them matter of factly, setting the jar on the counter and going to wash her hands. No reason to slink upstairs to hide what she’d done now, not that she was embarrassed or ashamed, Zelda had just hoped to hide the fact there’d been intruders at all—no need to worry the others.
Hilda’s eyes were as large as saucers when they fixated on the jar and realized what was inside. “Zelda, what is—”
“An insurance policy.”
Placing a hand over her heart, Hilda looked at her stunned. “Dear Satan, what did you do?”
She rolled her eyes and dried her hands. “Made sure no one else would ever attempt to break in here again.” Zelda stated primly, purposely leaving out the reason the witches came in the first place. “Now, it’s been a long night, I’m going to wash up and then lie down for an hour before our first client. Ambrose, I’ve made a bit of a mess in the morgue, clean it up, will you?”
With a mixture of awe and fear, Ambrose nodded. “Of course, Auntie.” He scurried away, glancing at her over his shoulder before heading down to the basement. “Hilda, would you mind preparing these for drying?” She indicated to the fingers, “I’ll put them in the shed myself, but—”
“Of course. I’ll handle it.” Hilda interrupted, watching her cautiously, as if coming to a realization about her older sister.
Zelda nodded her thanks, bent to tickle Sabrina who’d been reaching for her from her high chair chanting, “Zee, Zee, Zee,” before kissing the girl on the head and going upstairs. It had been a long night—though Zelda had a feeling it had been quite a productive one.
That weekend, Zelda brought Sabrina to Black Mass. She normally left her niece at home with Ambrose, it really was so much easier, but she wanted to drive the message she’d sent in a little further.
So, she walked into the church with Sabrina perched boldly on her hip and made her rounds of greeting everyone as normal. And when she noticed the five would be killers huddled in the corner, she couldn’t help but make her way over to them.
Zelda greeted them politely, a dry “sisters,” passing her lips as she nodded in their direction. She was pleased at how they all shrank away when she neared and how they didn’t make eye contact when they returned her hello. Other coven members were watching her as well. Word had spread faster than she expected, especially since she thought the women would want to keep their misdeeds and failure quiet. Though, to be fair, their missing fingers and other scars were difficult to explain away.
As Zelda settled into the pew next to Hilda, pulling out a book for Sabrina to occupy herself with, Zelda noticed half the coven was watching her with the same mix of awe and fear Ambrose had the other morning. Zelda dipped her head under the pretext of talking to Sabrina to hide her smug smile.
The other half, well, they were pointedly ignoring the Spellman family, and this pleased her just as much. It meant the name Zelda Spellman had reacquired its former reputation—if not a better one.
And, if as mass started, Faustus made eye contact with her far more than necessary or usual, well, Zelda wasn’t going to complain. And when she couldn’t help but finally arch a brow in response to yet another prolonged bout of eye contact, Faustus hid a smile poorly and continued to read from the Unholy Bible.Zelda smirked, so the High Priest knew of recent events and clearly wasn’t going to say anything about it. Good, her actions, over the intruders, being condoned by the church meant her girl was safe for the time being.
Exhaling quietly in relief, Zelda slipped an arm around Sabrina—perhaps, perhaps everything would be alright after all.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
After the ‘incident’ as Hilda came to call it, they lived in a relative calm. Well, perhaps calm was a stretch. They were Satanists taking care of an increasingly restless housebound warlock and a growing half-witch—but there had been no further attempts on any Spellman life, so Zelda marked it as calm and successful.Then, when she was three, Sabrina fell ill. Horribly so. She sounded more like a dog than Vinegar Tom when she coughed, and her fever spiked.
When even Hilda’s remedies failed to cure their niece, they rushed Sabrina to the Infernal Infirmary at the Academy. Yes, they could have taken her to the witch’s hospital over in Riverdale, but the Academy was so much closer, and the fever wasn’t breaking no matter what they tried.
Faustus greeted them at the door and ushered them inside, escorting them to the clinic. Zelda hardly noticed his presence, Sabrina was hot against her and another one of those dreadful coughs interrupted the high-pitched sound she now made when breathing.
When they reached the clinic Zelda gently laid down a whimpering Sabrina on the exam table, crossing and uncrossing her arms, agitatedly spinning her rings as they waited for the healer to finish her examination.
The healer turned to them, a hopeless look on her face. “Sisters Zelda and Hilda, there is nothing I can do for her. This is a mortal illness that I’ve never seen.”
Zelda’s vision narrowed, blackness surging into sight and the world spun. The ringing in her ears blocked out the rest of the healer’s words and Zelda couldn’t regain control enough to focus. There was nothing the healer could do? She only had her girl for three years, she couldn’t lose her. Zelda’s mind was already concocting and discarding potential deals with the Dark Lord when a solid, comforting weight rested on her back.
She blinked, Faustus had placed a reassuring hand on her back, anchoring her during her mental tailspin. Zelda couldn’t help but lean a little further into the pressure his hand provided, needing to ground herself. The healer and Hilda were looking at her expectantly.
But she didn’t know what to say, she hadn’t been able to focus on the healer’s words and now they were waiting for an answer about something. It was now getting harder to breathe, and the world spun a bit quicker around her.
As if sensing that she was moments away from completely hyperventilating, Faustus leaned in and murmured. “Zelda, just because we cannot cure Sabrina doesn’t mean that a mortal doctor cannot. A mortal solution to a mortal problem, yes?” The corner of his mouth lifted just a bit, trying to comfort her. And it was such a simple and obvious solution that she scolded herself for not thinking of it herself.
“Yes, of course.” She responded, finally snapping back to herself, “we’ll take her to a mortal doctor.” Exhaling slowly, Zelda scooped up her feverish girl once more, Sabrina whimpered and buried her face into Zelda’s neck and Zelda had never felt more useless. “Thank you,” she nodded at the healer and Faustus before turning to follow Hilda out the door to find the nearest mortal doctor. It was only then, as she walked away, that Faustus’ hand dropped from her back.
Hours later, the sisters arrived home from the doctor’s office. Zelda’s palms were tender, she’d clenched her hands too tightly throughout the visit to keep herself from hexing the bald, little man who called himself a doctor.
Steam. That was the doctor’s advice. That and a fever reducer. Zelda banged furiously around the kitchen mixing the medicine into something Sabrina would drink while Hilda changed Sabrina into her pajamas. Steam, she scoffed, surely that wasn’t enough.
But they didn’t have much of an option. Sabrina’s barking cough preceded her arrival in the kitchen. Zelda handed Hilda the medicine and made her way upstairs to prepare the bathroom.
~~~
It was nearly three in the morning when Hilda knocked tentatively on the bathroom door. Zelda had been up for the past three nights caring for Sabrina and this was the fourth, though it was the first spent in the bathroom at the mortal doctor’s instructions.
Hilda cracked the door open and was met with a wall of steam. “Zelda?”
She made no attempt to pick herself up off the floor where she eventually slumped against the bathtub in exhaustion. Her hand rubbing soothingly up and down their niece’s back where she was sprawled on Zelda’s chest.
“How are things going?” Hilda asked, coming closer and closing the door behind her to keep the steam in.
Zelda shifted slightly. “Her breathing isn’t as labored. Though I can’t tell if her fever is down, the steam makes it difficult.”
Nodding, Hilda placed a hand on Sabrina’s forehead. “It seems lower. The heat coming off her is different, not the same as the one caused by fever.” Zelda exhaled in relief, she’d never been so glad for Hilda’s expertise in illnesses and healing until now.
Though Sabrina appeared to be getting better, Zelda couldn’t help but pose the question that had been burning inside her since the girl fell sick. “What if they cursed her?”
“What? Who would curse a baby?” Hilda looked at her baffled, likely thinking this line of questioning was due to exhaustion, and stood back up, peering into the tub critically.
Zelda threw up a hand in the air, “anyone.” She didn’t want to admit it might be the same sect that came for Sabrina the year before. That they might have tried a new tactic to kill Sabrina now that they knew what Zelda was willing to do to protect her niece.
Softening, Hilda touched her shoulder. “Zelds, the doctor said—”
Irritated and exhausted, Zelda shrugged off the touch. “I know what he said.” She snapped quietly, cradling Sabrina a little closer to her. The mortal had diagnosed Sabrina with something called the croup. Not uncommon among young children he assured them, and entirely treatable. But what if, what if this was really retaliation for how she handled the intruders the year before? Zelda knew they’d never try a direct attack again, but what if they tried another way? One far less obvious. Hilda’s voice broke through her thoughts.
Hands held out to take the little girl, Hilda cocked her head. “Want me to take her for a bit?” She offered, clearly thinking Zelda needed to rest.
She sighed. “No. She’s finally asleep, I don’t want to risk waking her up.” Zelda pressed her cheek against the top of Sabrina’s head where it rested on her shoulder.
Concerned, Hilda pursed her lips, as she refreshed the spell on the tub so the water stayed hot and more steam rose into the air. “Zelda, you need rest too.”
Shaking her head, Zelda settled more comfortably against the porcelain tub. “I’m fine,” Zelda assured her sister.
Though not entirely convinced, Hilda nodded. “Alright, just send a little spell if you need anything then. I’ll be in bed.” She informed her, tilting her head to look at her.
A small smile tugging her lips, Zelda inclined her head in return. Exhaling in an exasperatedly affectionate manner, Hilda smiled as she left and lightly brushed her fingers against her sister’s head in reassurance.
~~~
Hilda was tiredly moving around the kitchen, brewing some pep-up tea for herself and Zelda, they had a busy day ahead with both pregnant and dead clients. She had just taken the kettle off the stove when she heard a knock on the door. Frowning, Hilda went to answer it—it was far too early for business, so she had no idea who could possibly be there.
“Father Blackwood?” She stated, perplexed that the High Priest was at their front door.
Inclining his head, Blackwood smiled. “Morning, Sister Hilda. I wanted to come and check on your niece after that troubling visit yesterday. May I?” And before she could answer, he was already stepping forward and into the house.
Somewhat put out, Hilda moved aside to allow him inside. “So nice of you to stop by, it really wasn’t necessary, a phone call would have sufficed.” Hilda remarked, raising a brow at the warlock, letting him know she was onto whatever he had planned.
Blackwood shed his coat and hung it on a peg by the door. “I take the health of my coven very seriously.” He replied smoothly, not taking the bait Hilda provided.
“Sabrina is upstairs with Zelda, I will see if I can get an update for you.” She spun and headed up to the bathroom where she’d last seen the two witches in question. She needed to change and feed Sabrina anyway.
Hilda couldn’t help but smile softly when she cracked the bathroom door open. The steam was gone, Zelda must’ve let the spell run its course. Or, from the looks of it, had fallen asleep and been unable to refresh it. And, at some point, her sister had lain down completely, still cradling Sabrina to her.
A presence behind her made Hilda jump and clutch at her chest, Blackwood had followed her up the stairs and was standing in the doorway behind her. “Father Blackwood, I thought you were going to wait—”
“I wanted to see how Zelda was doing as well.” He murmured, so as to not disturb anyone. Though he spoke to Hilda, his gaze remained on Zelda where she slept holding their niece—his expression something Hilda had never seen before.
Before she could chastise the priest, however, Sabrina stirred and looked up at her aunt. “Hilly,” she smiled tiredly and reached for her.
“Good morning, my love.” Hilda smiled, picking the girl up from Zelda’s limp arms. “Oh, you sound much better, praise Satan.” She smoothed back Sabrina’s hair and then turned to her still sleeping sister. “Zelds,” she nudged her with her foot. “Time to get up, the High Priest—”
Blackwood put a restraining hand on Hilda’s shoulder. “No need to wake her. I’m sure she needs her sleep. I can take her to bed.” Hilda’s eyes narrowed, and she pressed her lips together. She didn’t say a word, just glared at the man. “I will do nothing untoward, I swear on Satan’s claw.” He made the corresponding hand gesture and placed the other hand over his heart.
Ignoring him, Hilda turned back to Zelda. “Zelda,” she tried again, shaking her sister’s shoulder. Zelda merely mumbled and rolled away from Hilda’s prodding. “Zelda!” Hilda hissed, contemplating the consequences of dumping cold water on her.
A sweet voice interrupted her. “Aunt Hilly, I hungry.” Sabrina stated, rubbing her belly.
Delighted and surprised, Hilda beamed at the girl. “You are? That’s so wonderful, you must be feeling better. Zelda you hear that? Sabrina is feeling better!” She nearly shouted, now growing concerned that Zelda was so deeply asleep—though it had been several days since she really slept.
“Sister Hilda, go feed your niece. I will assist Zelda and be right down.” Blackwood’s voice took on the authoritative tone of the High Priest and she knew it would be foolish to continue to argue. Still, Hilda made sure to frown as she exited the bathroom, throwing pointed looks at him over her shoulder.
Blackwood merely smiled blandly at her and nodded his head. Once Hilda was gone, he turned his attention back to the witch in front of him. His smile turned affectionate as he crouched next to Zelda. He’d never seen her like this before, face free of makeup, hair in wild curls—likely from the steam, she was absolutely stunning. “Zelda,” he murmured, softly running his hand up and down her arm.
And, unlike with Hilda’s attempts, Zelda rolled towards him and took his hand. Chuckling, Faustus extracted his hand from her grip and scooped her up into his arms, mindful of the bathroom fixtures as he stood. The smooth silk of her nightgown and robe flooded his mind with inappropriate images—though he quickly banished them to the best of his ability; he promised nothing untoward.
As he moved out of the bathroom Zelda nestled further into his chest, one hand now gripping one of his suspenders. He was sure the pounding of his heart would wake her as he maneuvered to the bedroom at the end of the hall. But she slept on. Faustus had rarely seen her this calm, this soft, and even then it hadn’t been in decades, and he found himself wanting to see more of this version of Zelda in the future.
Stepping into the room at last, he made straight for the far bed. Though there were two in the room, he knew immediately which was Zelda’s. The dark tones, elegant, decorative pillows and lack of a colorful quilt making the choice easy. With a whispered spell the pillows flew into a neat pile next to the bed and the comforter slid back. Gently, he lowered Zelda onto the bed and was pulling the blanket back up when she opened her eyes.
“Faustus?” She rasped, confused and not fully awake.
He hummed and tucked the blanket around her shoulders. “It’s alright, sleep.” She nodded and settled into the bed. He thought she’d gone back to sleep when she suddenly shot upright almost crashing her head against his in the process.
“Sabrina!”
Rubbing his forehead in response to an almost pain, Faustus smiled. “Your sister has her. She’s in the kitchen, eating breakfast and breathing much better thanks to your care.” Placated and still exhausted, Zelda allowed him to coax her into lying down once more. “Rest now, Zelda.” He whispered.
On the cusp of sleep and blinking heavily, she still argued with him. “But I have so much to do…”
Faustus smiled at her dedication. “I will set an alarm spell to go off in two hours. How’s that?”
She smiled softly at him. “That would be lovely, thank you.” And with that she drifted off. He waited a moment, ensuring she was actually asleep, then tucked a wild curl behind her ear and leaned in to press a tender kiss to her temple.
He then made his way downstairs where he was confronted by an irate Hilda.
“She’s been through enough and has too much on her plate without you coming in and messing with things.” Hilda delivered coldly, balancing Sabrina on one hip.
Startled by the confrontation, Faustus blinked. “I have no wish to ‘mess’ with things. I simply want—”
“I know what you want.” Hilda cut in, causing Blackwood to lift a brow in surprise—she normally wasn’t this bold.
He raised a hand, intending to pacify. “I can assure you, my intentions go beyond—”
Hilda spoke over him, likely wanting to get everything out before she lost her nerve. “I also know Edward kept you away before. And my brother would have had his reasons. But I also know some of Zelda’s side of the history. So, I warn you now, I’ll let Zelda do as she chooses—she’s a grown witch. But you hurt her, and you’ll learn Zelda isn’t the only Spellman you shouldn’t cross.”
Faustus nodded in acknowledgement. “So noted.” And he couldn’t help how the corner of his mouth tugged up slightly in approval of this woman’s protection of her sister. He descended the final steps and reached for his coat. “I’ve intruded long enough. I am happy to see that your niece is well. Damned day, Sister Hilda.”
Frosty tone melting only slightly, Hilda lifted her chin. “Damned day, Father.”
~~~
A few hours later, Zelda made her way down the stairs, pinning her hair back into a loose bun for a day in the morgue and with clients. She found Sabrina in her high chair, eating a snack and approached the smiling girl.
“Morning, sweetheart.” She greeted, stooping to kiss Sabrina’s head to gauge her temperature and listen to her breathing. Both were much improved. Happy. Zelda then turned to Hilda. “When did you teleport me to bed?” She asked, pouring herself some tea and grabbing some food.
Hilda turned from where she was prepping turnips for sale at her upcoming farmer’s market. “You don’t remember how you got to bed?” Hilda had paused around the corner at the end of the hall and watched as Blackwood carried Zelda to their bedroom with surprising tenderness. But one moment of kindness didn’t mean she trusted the man—hence her threatening him as he left.
An exaggerated sigh sounded from Zelda. “Obviously not or I wouldn’t be asking.” She quipped, taking a sip of tea.
Twisting the dish towel in her hands, Hilda watched her sister closely. “I came to get Sabrina to see if she was hungry and you were both asleep on the bathroom floor. Sabrina was better, and you needed the rest...” Hilda paused, “you really don’t remember?”
Brow furrowing, Zelda just shook her head, as if trying to clear it. “Why would I? You teleported me.” Though she meant it as a statement, it came out as more of a question. Zelda had the vague impression of being carried, being tucked into bed, feeling safe… but that made no sense, so she dismissed the idea as a dream. Quickly consuming the rest of her food, Zelda stood. “I’ll be in the morgue. Ring down when Patricia gets here for her 13 month checkup.”
Hilda eyed her for a moment, as if wanting to go back to the previous topic of conversation, but let it drop. “She’s about to pop.”
“Don’t I know it. I told her I would come to her, but the witch refuses to see the reality of her situation.” Zelda scoffed at the foolishness of it.
Humming, Hilda turned back to her turnips. “Witches, so stubborn.” She noted, almost offhandedly, making Zelda give her an odd look before kissing Sabrina on the head and making her way to the basement.
The day passed in a blur of work and when the telephone rang right before dinner Zelda was sorely tempted to let it go to voicemail. But that wasn’t good business and it wasn’t as if people could die on her schedule.
Sighing, Zelda answered the phone. “Spellman Mortuary, this is Zelda.”
“Hello Zelda, I was calling to check on little Sabrina.” A smooth voice sounded in her ear.
She smiled widely at the sound, knowing he had an ulterior motive and finding she didn’t mind. “Sabrina’s doing much better, thank you for calling, Faustus.” Zelda replied, playing with the phone cord.
“And how are you?”
Slightly perplexed, Zelda pursed her lips. “I’m fine, of course. I wasn’t the one who was ill.” She commented.
“No,” he paused, “but you were quite upset when you came to the infirmary the other day.”
Her smile slipped away. “Well, naturally. My niece was quite sick and the healer had told us there was nothing she could do.” Zelda remarked, a little defensively, disliking that he, or anyone for that matter, had seen her in a moment of weakness.
Hearing her defensive tone, Faustus laughed softly. “I only wanted to see how you were. And to let you know, that should you need someone to talk to… my door is always open.”
Zelda deflated a little more at his statement, knowing he meant for this offer to come from a High Priest to a parishioner. “Of course, Father, thank you for the support of the church.” Her voice reverted back to its clipped and formal tone.
“Zelda,” his voice lowered an octave and it had her stomach swooping despite herself. “I meant you can come to me as a friend. Not just as a High Priest.”
Pleased, Zelda straightened a little. “Is that what we are, Faustus? Friends?”
And she could practically hear him smiling over the phone. “I’d like to think so, and, in time, perhaps more.” Before she could respond, she heard a clamor in the background on his end. “For Satan’s sake,” he cursed. “I must go, goodbye Zelda.” Another crash sounded and shouting started in the distance before the line went dead.
Zelda grinned and moved to hang up the phone as well, only to find she’d quite entangled herself in the cord over the course of the conversation. Scoffing at her school girl antics, she quickly untangled herself and went to join the others in the kitchen—a small smile tugging at her lips.
As time passed and Sabrina neared four years old Zelda knew she should start teaching her about the ways of the Path of Night. She had the values and lessons of the church drilled into her at a young age, Zelda should have been doing the same with her niece.
But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Couldn’t imbue faith in the Dark Lord and the Church of Night into this child—not when both had stolen so much from them. It felt wrong, and though Zelda knew it would be much easier later on if she converted Sabrina as a child, she refused. Even Faustus visiting with somewhat regularity couldn’t encourage her.
Not that this meant she neglected teaching Sabrina about their realm, their other traditions, about magic. It just meant that instead of teaching Sabrina about religion, Zelda taught her niece Latin and spells, the basics of potions and told her tales of witch hunters, hangings and burning at the stake.
To her immense amusement, Hilda overheard one of these grisly bedtime stories one night and came bursting into Sabrina’s room, flustered. “Dear Satan, what are you telling her?!”
Zelda looked up coolly from the book while Sabrina hushed her younger aunt from where she was tucked into Zelda’s side. “Quiet Auntie Hilda, it just got to the good part.” Their niece grinned widely and then turned her rapt attention back to Zelda.
“Beelzebub help me, we have another horror fan in our midst.” Hilda grumbled, eyeing Zelda but exiting the room nonetheless.
A love of horror and all things ghastly wasn’t the only thing Zelda passed along to her niece. She also taught the sweet girl how to sing, to read music—the two of them often singing in her workroom while Zelda brewed potions for clients, Sabrina doing small jobs to help at her own miniature table in the corner.
While Hilda certainly played a large role in raising Sabrina as well; she was the domestic one, the coddling one. Sabrina went to Hilda for snacks and coziness, for fairytales, baking and cartoons movies on a rainy day. It was Zelda that Sabrina came to for tales of witches, warlocks and demons—anything connected to the witching realm. It was Zelda that Sabrina came to first, flushed with pride, after her first display of magic. It was Zelda that Sabrina sought out when she was scared or hurt, expecting her aunt to turn that fiery personality onto whatever caused the damage and make everything better.
While they both raised her, in Zelda’s mind, Sabrina was her child.
During this entire time, Faustus continued to visit; bringing sweets and trinkets for Sabrina and rare potion ingredients or books for Zelda—knowing she wasn’t one for flowers. Hilda frowned, distrusting the man, claiming he was sniffing after Zelda now that Edward wasn’t around to keep him away anymore.
Zelda waved away her sister’s concern, stating she had no interest in a relationship. Though the truth of it was, she had no interest in a relationship with a High Priest. Not because she didn’t find the man alluring, but because having the highest-ranking religious figure in their church further ingrained in her life was not something Zelda needed.
She had a difficult enough time keeping up pretenses during Black Mass. Having to feign her piety constantly outside of church would have been too much on top of everything else Zelda was juggling. So, no, a relationship was certainly not what she was after.
But Faustus wasn’t exactly asking for a relationship, he was seeking a more carnal affiliation. And this, this Zelda told herself was acceptable, was safe, to have… to want. Besides, his attention wasn’t unwelcome, and neither were the surprisingly soft touches coupled with his burning stares.
It all made her feel so normal—the lust and passion. As if at least one aspect of her life was returning to how it was before Edward died and she’d taken on so much. For the first time in a while, Zelda felt as though she was in control of part of her life, felt confident in every move she made.
Really, what were a few heated kisses? What harm could come from those kisses escalating to a quick fuck in the greenhouse one afternoon? Or in his office at the Academy while it was term holiday? Or…well, it was becoming a habit to meet Faustus somewhere and lose herself for an hour or two.
And what mother, guardian, she sharply corrected herself, didn’t need to escape every now and then?
It wasn’t a problem until Sabrina was almost five.
It wasn’t a problem until Faustus was able to boldly let himself into the house and catch her unawares. She and Sabrina were spending another afternoon in her workroom, singing some song from the movie Sabrina was currently obsessed with. Zelda being so absorbed in the spell she was tinkering with and making sure that she continued to sing that it wasn’t until Sabrina noticed the High Priest in the doorway and greeted him politely that Zelda realized the depth of her folly.
The one pitfall of her protection spells around the house was that they were tied to her—emotionally. Meaning only those she was emotionally close to and trusted were able to enter the property, whether by teleporting or walking, without the spell alerting her to the person’s presence. Until recently only Hilda and a select few friends from the Academy were able to accomplish this.
Faustus being able to enter without so much as a warning meant he’d worked his way back far deeper into her life than she realized. It was a problem, dangerous. But she didn’t have time to process the implications of it all, he was already enticing Sabrina to leave the room, stating Hilda was pulling up the biggest carrot he had ever seen in the garden. Already pushing off the door frame where he’d been leaning and stealing a kiss from her the moment Sabrina was out of sight.
“I haven’t heard you sing in a long time, Zels.” He murmured, smiling softly at her. “I almost forgot what an enchanting voice you possess.” His lips moved to her neck and she was so stunned that her hands reacted automatically and came up to rest on his hips—her mind still reeling from the fact that he made it past her spells. “Will you not reconsider my offer to take over for the unholy choir at the Academy? Or even just rejoining the choir at Black Mass?” His question finally jolted her into action.
Shaking herself slightly, Zelda pulled back. “Faustus, what are you doing here?”
He smirked. “I thought that much would be obvious.” Arching a brow, he brought up a hand to play with one of her curls.
Zelda rolled her eyes and, not so playfully, pushed him away. “Some of us have work to do,” she replied dryly, trying to ignore how he set her blood racing and purposely turned back to the books on the table behind her.
A playfully dejected huff escaped him and Faustus slipped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Come visit me tonight then.”
“Faustus,” she warned, keeping her eyes forward.
Knowing where she was going, he cut her off. “After Sabrina is in bed of course. I want to discuss something with you.”
It was her turn to huff. “I’m sure you do.”
He released her then and walked around the table so she was forced to look at him. “Zels, I do have something to speak to you about. Come to my office, tonight?” And when she met his eyes, Zelda found she couldn’t resist. Faustus grinned when she nodded and pecked her on the cheek as he rounded the table once more. “I will leave you to your very important work then.” And with that he was gone.
A shaky breath escaped her once she was alone. Regardless of what he wanted to discuss tonight, she needed to end things. She’d let it all go too far. Sighing, Zelda forced her attention back to the spell—hoping it would distract her enough to make it through dinner and bedtime.
~~~
She arrived at the academy later than planned. And when she explained to Faustus it was because Sabrina insisted on three bedtime stories from her, he laughed.
“Couldn’t say no to her, huh?”
Zelda’s head spun for a moment, though he meant to tease, Faustus had no idea the effect his words had on her. But he was taking her hand and leading her to the couch before she could dwell too long on the comment.
He sat, angling himself towards her, hands encompassing her own. “Zels, I, I want to talk about formally courting you.” He jumped right in, no foreplay and Zelda found herself wishing he’d warmed her up a bit, because now the entire room and not just her head was spinning.
With her ears ringing, she could barely hear as he explained himself, why it made sense for them to make this formal. And he was drifting dangerously close to talking about feelings and until this point this had been a topic they staunchly avoided.
So, this was the harm that could come from their dalliances. Despite herself, she allowed this man to become re-ingrained in her life. She couldn’t let him in any further; scared of what might happen if the now High Priest became a permanent fixture in Spellman house.
“No, Faustus.” She murmured, going to pull her hands away, but he caught them, trapping them between his. When she met his eyes, the hurt she saw there was something she never expected to see. Surely, he didn’t truly care for her. She was just the forbidden fruit that was now finally attainable after almost a century of waiting. She was just the most convenient witch to court, to take on the role of Lady Blackwood he was obligated to fill as High Priest.
She was certain he would have grown bored with her soon enough and moved on to the nearest willing witch or warlock in the coven. But the shadow of pain had her spewing excuses, though she refused to acknowledge why she felt compelled to try and alleviate the hurt she caused. She was too busy for anything formal or official. Sabrina came first, her work as a midwife, at the mortuary, Ambrose, even Hilda.
But Faustus’ expression darkened as she spoke. “I know you have many responsibilities, Zelda. I am not unfamiliar with the burden of many duties. The Dark Lord is demanding, but He does not require us to be alone in these demands.”
Oh, she didn’t want to be alone anymore, didn’t want to shoulder all these responsibilities alone. And here was Faustus, a powerful warlock, a good man, offering to help her with it all. Satan, she was tempted. But it was too dangerous, she couldn’t allow Faustus closer—he’d find out she was a fraud for sure if they established a formal relationship. And then his role in the church would demand he report her to the coven, turn her over to the Dark Lord.
Zelda knew she wouldn’t be able to withstand such as betrayal, didn’t want to force that kind of position on Faustus. When it had been just sex, she’d felt in control—how hadn’t she realized she’d never been in control? That he’d been drawing her in, little by little, getting her to drop her carefully constructed walls. But those walls were necessary, they were what kept her family safe. So, she shook her head and retreated from the couch, and, this time, Faustus let her hands slide from his grip.
“I can’t.” She managed in a mostly steady voice, “goodbye, Faustus.” Zelda all but ran from the room, teleporting the moment she was out of sight. She stumbled upon arriving home—surprising Hilda where she was brewing some concoction in the kitchen.
Cursing herself, Zelda angrily wiped away the traitorous tear that slipped down her cheek. She’d been shooting for the bedroom, but her emotions must have thrown off her aim.
Her sister recovered from the shock with disappointing quickness. “Zelda? What?” Hilda began, taking a step towards her clearly distraught sister.
Throat working hard to swallow around the painful lump forming there, Zelda smoothed her hair. “Nothing.” She snapped, spinning on a heel to leave the room.
Hilda’s quiet voice caught her at the doorway. “You’re allowed to want, Zelds. To love.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, her nerves far too frayed to deal with anything from Hilda. Especially her on-point ability to read her when she was upset. “What?” Zelda ground out, because who said anything of love? There certainly wasn’t love between herself and Faustus… no, romantic love was for mortals.
“Nothing.” Hilda parroted, returning to her pot, hunching her shoulders as if expecting a death blow at any moment.
Suddenly drained, Zelda sighed. While killing and burying Hilda would help relieve some stress, she really didn’t want to watch over whatever Hilda was brewing until her sister revived. “That’s what I thought,” she bit out instead and continued her exit out of the room.
Why Hilda was suddenly encouraging a relationship she had previously disapproved of was beyond Zelda. Not that she wanted to put much thought into it. She climbed the stairs and carefully cracked Sabrina’s bedroom door open—needing to actually see the reason she was doing all of this. The soft breaths coming from the bed and seeing Sabrina hug the stuffed spider Ambrose had given her last year helped assuage the growing pit inside her.
Sighing, Zelda made her way up the final steps to her and Hilda’s bedroom. With any luck her sister would be busy for the next hour with her potion, leaving Zelda plenty of time to drink herself into a dreamless sleep.
To avoid any potentially awkward encounters, Zelda brought Sabrina with her to the next coven meeting. She usually left her niece at home, knowing she’d been neglecting to instill Sabrina with the same awe in Satan as the other children likely had at this point.
But the possibility of Sabrina revealing she knew nothing about the Path of Night and the Church of Night was slim, and Zelda really needed the shield in case Faustus tried to approach her. So, Sabrina played with the other children while the adults discussed matters for the upcoming winter solstice.
When the meeting adjourned, Sabrina came rushing up to her and buried her face in Zelda’s skirt, arms wrapping tightly around her legs. Though alarmed by this greeting, Zelda was also grateful for the excuse to leave immediately—Faustus had been making his way over.
Zelda nodded politely at the other witches, placed a hand on Sabrina’s head and teleported them back to the house. Once there, she gently disengaged from the girl’s grip and knelt so they were on eye level.
“What’s the matter?” Sabrina just sniffled and shook her head. Zelda arched a brow. “In this house we use our words, Sabrina.” She ignored the hypocrisy of her statement—knowing full well she repressed her own emotions and words far too often. When her niece remained silent, she added. “Well, you can either tell me what’s wrong. Or you can stop this crying.”
Sabrina brought her eyes up to look at her aunt. “They called me names,” she admitted in a whisper.
“And what names were those?” Zelda asked calmly, though her throat tightened in anger, all thoughts of Faustus vanished.
Twisting the hem of her shirt and not looking at Zelda again, her niece answered. “Mutt, half-breed, and something like mongel?”
“Mongrel, dear,” she corrected automatically, “and always keep eye contact when speaking.” She placed a finger under Sabrina’s chin and tipped it up gently. Sabrina nodded and then surged forward to hug Zelda once more, thin arms snaking around her neck.
Zelda returned the embrace and carefully stood, lifting Sabrina as she did—the girl’s legs wrapping around her waist automatically. Her niece really was much too old for such coddling, and Zelda normally tried to refrain, but Sabrina was quite upset, and she couldn’t refuse her the comfort she so obviously needed.
As Zelda carried Sabrina to the parlor, her lips tugged into a ghost of a snarl. So, the years had not softened some of the coven members stance towards her niece. And they were now teaching their children the same fear and hate. When she sat on the couch, Sabrina quickly shifted so she could sit comfortably on her aunt’s lap. Zelda rubbed soothing circles on Sabrina’s back as she nestled closer and rested her head on Zelda’s collarbone.
The small sniffles had Zelda wanting to hex the children for their cruelty and curse the parents for passing along their hate for her girl. It would be easy enough, if done right they wouldn’t know they’d been cursed for years… until the curse had them fully in its grasp. And she would do it right.
Pulling back slowly so she could see Sabrina’s face, she wiped the girl’s tears. “What are their names?”
“Huh?”
“The children, what are their names?” She repeated softly, but firmly. Zelda could already feel the curse brewing in her veins, practically singing as it pulsed through her, begging to be released—quite the delicious sensation and one she hadn’t felt in some time. It’d been ages since she cast a proper curse.
Hilda came in from the garden just then, sun hat still on, the smile slipping from her face at the sight of Sabrina’s tear stained face. She hurried over and sat on the couch next to them before Sabrina could answer. “What happened love?”
When Sabrina merely buried her face in Zelda’s neck, Zelda supplied. “Some vile children called her names.” Hilda gave her a look, one that stated she was name calling as well at the moment and it wasn’t setting a good example. Zelda simply rolled her eyes.
“What does it mean?” Sabrina’s voice was muffled against her dress.
“Ah, we must always speak clearly and firmly.” Zelda scolded lightly. “So people always know we mean what we say and know what we want. Don’t let other’s voices strip you of your own.”
Sabrina straightened. “What do those names mean?” She repeated, switching her gaze between her aunts. Zelda exchanged a loaded look with her sister over Sabrina’s head before answering.
“It means, that you are not a full witch by blood.” She stated, matter of factly.
Her niece’s brow crinkled. “Okay. But why…”
Not entirely certain on how to proceed, Zelda took a deep breath. “Witches…” she paused, “witches are not naturally kind beings.” She informed Sabrina, tucking some of her blonde locks behind her ear. “With the exception of your Aunt Hilda.” Sabrina giggled slightly and snuggled closer to Zelda who wrapped her arms around the girl once more. “They dislike what is different or what they do not understand. You, my darling, are both of those things in their eyes.”
Chin trembling, Sabrina scrubbed her eyes. “But why?”
Zelda sighed, she thought she’d have more time to figure out this particular talk. She glanced at Hilda and her sister grimaced and shrugged, equally at a loss. “Your father, Edward, was a warlock, a powerful one and he was in charge of the church—the High Priest.” She began, a hint of pride in her voice. “And your mother—” Zelda took a deep breath, she wouldn’t bias this child against her mother. “Your mother, Diana, was mortal. She didn’t have any powers, didn’t even know of our realm until she met your father.”
She stopped there, unwilling to go further. After all this time, she still had trouble approving the marriage—even if it resulted in the wonderful child sitting on her lap.
When the silence lengthened, “and they fell in love,” Hilda filled the quiet, “got married.”
Nodding, Zelda continued once more. “But many in our coven, and even surrounding covens, did not approve of the marriage. They thought it put our kind in danger—welcoming a mortal in. You see, we all remember the Salem trials and Greendale hangings a little too well to trust mortals. We live a long time and have even longer memories.” Sabrina nodded solemnly, she knew the stories—they were why she couldn’t tell anyone she was part witch. Taking this as a sign of understanding, Zelda continued. “Certain members of the coven approved even less when you were born. It was a mixing of the realms that had never happened before. So, they call you names because they’re scared, because you are different. Because of your, your…” and Zelda waved her hand, searching for the word. “Duality.” She smiled slightly upon determining a fitting term.
“Duality?” Sabrina scrunched her brow in confusion.
Her head tilting so she could catch Sabrina’s eye, Zelda lifted a brow. “Remember our language lesson? What is duo?”
Expression brightening with the answer, Sabrina sat up straighter. “Two.” She promptly replied.
Zelda smiled and bopped her niece on the nose. “Good girl.” Sabrina beamed at the praise and leaned more heavily into Zelda. “It means two. And you are of two realms, mortal and witch. You have a duality.”
Also pleased, Hilda nodded in approval at the term. “Not everyone is accepting of this duality, though.” Her sister explained further. “But you should embrace it. It is who you are, why try and be anything else?”
“This will not stop the name calling.” Zelda warned, hating that she couldn’t protect Sabrina from everything. “But, if you do not let it affect you, it takes away the power of the words.”
Brow wrinkling, Sabrina nodded earnestly, as only a five year old could. “Okay, I think I understand. Thank you, aunties!” She exclaimed, pulling them both into tight hugs before leveraging herself off the couch and skipping off, repeating ‘duality’ under her breath. “Hey Ambrose,” she called out, heading to the basement. “Guess what I have!”
Hilda sighed. “Do you think we handled that right?” Her sister brought her gaze back to Zelda’s, unsure.
Lighting a cigarette and taking a drag, Zelda held it a moment before releasing the smoke in a slow exhale. “Pray we did. Satan knows they’ll keep throwing insults at her. And let’s hope that’s all they do.” Her expression must have been dark, because Hilda patted her knee and stood. “You can’t hex or curse them.”
“Hmm?”
A chuckled escaped Hilda. “I know that look, you can’t hex or curse them all. Retaliating won’t improve anything.” She told her, inclining her head knowingly.
She scoffed. “It’ll improve my mood,” Zelda muttered. But Hilda was right, not that she’d say as much out loud. Though she certainly could curse everyone that hurt her girl, it’d leave her with very few people in her corner at the coven should anything ever occur. And she really couldn’t afford to alienate anyone else. Some members still hadn’t forgiven her for relieving those five women of a few of their fingers several years ago. “Fine, no curses.” She acquiesced, “but make sure we check Sabrina for curses once a week for a little while.” She instructed Hilda, just because she was above cursing children (barely) didn’t mean others were—and Zelda couldn’t rely on her protections spells to stop everything, that was just lazy and dangerous. “It’s a busy day, I’m going to change and go help Ambrose downstairs.” She nodded at her sister and made to leave.
Hilda’s voice stopped her in the doorway. “You can be kind too.”
Only half-listening, she’d been running through a list of things to do before the day was over, Zelda turned back round. “What?” She asked.
“You, you told Sabrina witches aren’t naturally kind… with me as an exception. You can be kind too, at times.” Hilda elaborated cautiously, glancing around the room to survey for potential weapons—just in case Zelda took the statement as an insult and felt the need to demonstrate just how unkind she could be.
Hiding how the words made her heart swell, Zelda huffed. “I don’t know what you’re dithering about. We have a busy day, go and start contacting families about arrangements. I’ll help Ambrose until Sister Margaret arrives for her checkup.”
Clearly surprised by the complete dismissal of the topic, Hilda smiled and nodded, scurrying off to the office before Zelda could change her mind.
She watched as Hilda left, playing with her rings. Edward had been the only one to ever call her sweet—he alone taking the time to fight past her hard exterior to see the soft core underneath. Zelda couldn’t recall the last time someone called her kind, with the exception of her pregnant clients, but they were hormonal and therefore couldn’t be fully trusted in their perception of her.
But to have her sister, whom she constantly pushed around and away for fear that if she let her closer it would hurt all the more when she inevitably left, call her kind... well it was unexpected. It also made something warm bloom in her chest and a smile creep onto her lips.
Scowling at herself, Zelda headed to the basement. Sentimentality had never helped anyone in this family, no need to succumb to it herself now; at least externally. Besides, it would ruin her reputation—not unjustly earned—of being a cold-hearted bitch. And it was far better to be thought of as a cold-hearted bitch, bitches kept people away, made them fear, made them respect and that’s what she needed. Not warmth or kindness or love—Faustus’ face flitted through her mind and she quickly squashed the thought.
Yes, cold and heartless, that’s what she needed, had, to be. She repeated this several times to herself as she headed to the morgue to assist Ambrose.
~~~
That night she and Hilda were canning tomatoes from the garden. Normally, Zelda left this type of work to her sister, but the batch had been so large this year Hilda needed the help. And the last time Ambrose ‘helped’ he attempted to speed the process up with a spell. The resulting tornado of tomatoes and cans had dented several walls, concussed Vinegar Tom and gotten Ambrose banned from the kitchen for a month.
They’d been steadily working through the pile of tomatoes for an hour when Hilda broke the silence. “Zelds?” She hummed in response. “I was thinking, that maybe we could, well really should, after what happened today that is, possibly—” Hilda was rambling.
Zelda could have let her go on, talk herself til she was blue in the face, but she wasn’t really in the mood. “For the love of Lucifer, Hilda. Just spit it out.”
“I think we should send Sabrina to mortal primary school instead of homeschooling her.”
And there it was, all spat out at once and it had Zelda stilling. “What?” How could Hilda be suggesting this? They lost Edward because of his over attachment to the mortal realm and now she wanted to willfully immerse Sabrina in it?
Her sister shifted nervously on her stool. “I think Sabrina should go to mortal primary school.” The words sounded no better a second time.
Adopting her aloof tone, Zelda tried to brush the idea away as if it didn’t absolutely terrify her. “All witches are homeschooled. So they may learn the old ways and the ways of the Church of Night.” Though her tone was collected, her actions betrayed her inner turmoil her canning had turned rather aggressive.
Hilda gave a small disbelieving huff. “Well, it’s not as if you’ve been teaching Sabrina those things so far anyway, Zelda.”
“Excuse you?” Her tone hardened, matching the dangerous glint in her eye. “I most certainly have been teaching Sabrina the old ways, she—”
Holding up a hand, Hilda interrupted, attempting to pacify and clarify. “The old ways, yes. Sabrina knows Latin, has learned about spells and potions and witching history. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sit her down with the Unholy Bible and teach her anything from it. Other than there’s a False God and Satan is our true leader, that is.”
Uncomfortably rolling her shoulders, Zelda cleared her throat. She hadn’t expected Hilda to notice Sabrina’s lack of knowledge about the Church of Night and its traditions. Though a keen observer of Satanical holidays and a regular attendee at Black Mass, Hilda had never held the same regard for the church as most witches. Zelda had banked on this, hoping that because Hilda wasn’t the most devout that she wouldn’t notice her negligence of Sabrina’s religious education. “If we send her to mortal school, we’ll be separating her even further from her peers. Making her stand out even more for her duality.” Zelda argued, purposely not addressing Hilda’s point.
Lips pursing, for Hilda certainly hadn’t missed the change in topic, her sister tried countering this new argument. “Well, it’s not like she’ll be missing anything. We’ll still take her to group gatherings, Sabrina will be at all of the same things as her witching peers. And I think it’d be best for her to interact with children that didn’t hold her duality against her. That just accepted her for her.”
“But they wouldn’t be accepting her for her. They wouldn’t know she’s a witch. And come time for her Dark Baptism she will have to leave them all behind anyway. Why make it more difficult?” Zelda retorted.
Playing her final card, Hilda murmured. “Zelds, Diana would’ve wanted Sabrina to know the mortal realm.”
She flinched at the words. “And Edward was adamant Sabrina be in the witching realm.” Her eyes must have been a little wild because Hilda lowered her armful of tomatoes and placed a hand on Zelda’s forearm.
“And she will be. But that won’t even come for another ten years, Zelda. Then the rest of her life will be in the witching realm. Why not let her have ten years to be in both?”
Zelda’s cheek muscle twitched, she didn’t like it, but Hilda made some logical arguments. She also felt that she owed the dead mortal woman her brother married. Though she still hadn’t quite forgiven Diana for stealing her brother away and the events that culminated in their deaths, Diana had inadvertently made Zelda a mother—which was something she could never really repay.
Besides, Hilda was right. Diana would want Sabrina to be part of the mortal world, even if only for a little while. Really, was allowing Sabrina to attend mortal primary school such a bad thing? Making friends her own age that didn’t have a prejudice against her would be good for Sabrina and her development.And… and it would certainly free up some time, reduce the workload on Zelda’s shoulders. Sighing, and sensing this would very likely come back to bite her, Zelda acquiesced. “Alright, we can enroll Sabrina in school for this fall.”
Hilda nodded demurely, though Zelda could tell how excited her sister was that she agreed.
When they informed Sabrina the next morning that she was going to school at the end of the month she was ecstatic. The joy radiating from the little girl as she hugged each of her aunts in turn was almost enough to make the anxiety swirling in Zelda’s gut worth it.
“When can we go get my bookbag and other school things?” Sabrina inquired eagerly, bouncing on her toes—she’d watched enough mortal television to know the ritual of a new school year.
Before Hilda could get any ideas about group shopping trips, Zelda interjected. “Your Aunt Hilda will take you as soon as she can.” She didn’t think she would handle school supply shopping very well, for a number of reasons, but the foremost being she still didn’t want Sabrina to go.
~~~
The rest of the month passed with little fanfare, aside from Zelda hearing through the coven grapevine that Faustus was engaged to a witch who newly joined the coven, Constance. He also made Constance the choir director at the Academy. She expressed mild interest upon hearing the news, as was expected of her, but didn’t react otherwise. Very few people had been aware of their interactions and Zelda meant to keep it that way by appearing unaffected by the news.
Though not surprised he moved on, Zelda was surprised at how quickly Faustus got engaged. Well, if anything this only further confirmed her belief that he would have grown bored with her and left on his own accord soon enough.
A small nagging voice told her Faustus was rebounding, a term she heard while Ambrose and Hilda watched some mortal drivel on the television. This same voice claimed he was trying to fill the roles he hoped she’d take not only at the Academy as choir director, but also in his life as his bride.
Zelda dismissed these thoughts as nonsense, but occasionally she would catch him looking at her with such a burning intensity that it made her doubt her conclusions. But, as she told him, she was far too busy for anything as frivolous as a relationship. And that meant she was certainly too busy to dwell on his impending nuptials.
Busy with work, busy with her family, busy with whatever lucky witch or warlock she allowed to briefly occupy her bed. So yes, Zelda was entirely focused on almost anything other than Faustus getting married.
Hilda’s voice cut through her musings. “Zelda?”
Lowering the book she hadn’t really been reading, Zelda turned her attention to where Hilda was propped up against her own pillows in bed. “Yes, Hilda?”
“I was thinking of turning in now so I could get up a little earlier and make up a big first day of school breakfast for Sabrina…. Would, could you turn your lamp off?” Hilda picked at the quilt resting in her lap, tentatively glancing at her.
She saw no reason to pick a fight, so Zelda marked her spot. “Of course, tomorrow is a big day. We should all get some rest.” Leaning over, Zelda set the book down and switched off the light. “Goodnight, Hilda.” She stated briskly, sliding further under the covers.
“Night Zelds.” Came a soft reply from across the room.
~~~
Hours later their bedroom door burst open, Sabrina dashing in and diving under the covers of Zelda’s bed—curling up against her shocked and still half-asleep aunt.
“Whatisit?” She demanded groggily, fireball already lighting up in her hand—the perimeter protection spells hadn’t gone off. Hilda had sat up as well at the commotion and sudden light, a little slower to react, but she also hadn’t just had 40 pounds of little girl jump on her.
Just then thunder crashed and shook the house, immediately followed by lightning flashing outside. Sabrina squeaked from under the blanket and huddled closer to Zelda.
Exhaling in relief, Zelda extinguished the flame in her hand and shook her head when Hilda made to get out of bed. “Sabrina,” she whispered, lifting the covers to find her niece. “Is it the storm that’s upsetting you?” Bright eyes met hers and Sabrina nodded furiously. “Alright,” Zelda slipped out of bed and pulled her robe on. “Come here.” She instructed gently, opening her arms and Sabrina launched herself into them.
A soft smile curling her lips, Zelda murmured soothing sentiments as she carried her niece out of the room and down the hall, bypassing Sabrina’s room and descending the stairs to head outside.
“Auntie Zelda,” Sabrina hedged, realizing they were going to settle on the porch. Zelda hummed in acknowledgement and with a wave of her hand the rocking chair on the porch was dry and a barrier thrown up to keep out any more rain. “I don’t like storms.”
Zelda settled on the rocking chair, cuddling Sabrina close. “I know sweet girl, but I think if you could watch a thunder storm, you’d realize there isn’t much to be scared of.” Sabrina nestled closer and made a small doubtful noise in the back of her throat but said nothing else.
“When I was your age, I loved thunderstorms. I could feel the magic in them, the power. That something so far away could make such loud noises, cause such brilliant light and patterns, well, I was enthralled. Here,” she took Sabrina’s hand and placed it over the little girl’s heart. “Close your eyes and wait a moment.”
Sabrina listened and ten seconds later thunder crashed above them once more, the vibration moving through them. Zelda inhaled deeply, relishing the feeling. Gasping softly, but this time not in fright, Sabrina turned to Zelda, eyes lit up with excitement.
She leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially. “Did you feel it?”
“Yes! It kind of tickled.” Sabrina grinned.
Unable to help how her lips lifted to match, Zelda tenderly took Sabrina’s chin and redirected it back towards the storm. “Good. Now, keep your eyes open and wait for the lightning, another bolt shouldn’t be too far behi—” A forked spear of electricity lit up the sky as Zelda spoke, and though it was indiscernibly far from them she could still detect the crackle in the air, the raw power and magic. Mortals put it down to science, they always did with things they had trouble explaining.
Witches knew better.
Her niece cheered and touched the hairs on her arms, which were standing on end. “Auntie Zee, what kind of magic is this?” She breathed in awe.
“Old magic, sweetheart. One of the oldest forms in existence. Not everyone can feel it.” Zelda felt sorry for those who couldn’t, it was an addictive sensation. “No one can recreate it exactly either, though I’ve come close.”
Whipping her head around from where she’d been watching the storm, Sabrina demanded. “Show me!” At her aunt’s raised eyebrow, she shifted slightly and added a much softer, “please?”
Zelda pulled Sabrina closer to her and reached her arms out around her. “You cannot touch it, you’ll get hurt, understand?” Sabrina nodded eagerly, pressing herself against Zelda more firmly as if to demonstrate how well she would listen.
Carefully, Zelda allowed a small arc of electricity to shoot from one palm to the other and then back. Sabrina oohed and ahhed but, as promised, didn’t reach out. Zelda felt a surge of pride, that this power she used only years before to inspire fear could also inspire awe.
“Will you teach me?” Sabrina shifted to face her, face pleading.
Chuckling, Zelda tickled Sabrina until she was laughing, squirming and begging for mercy. “Maybe when you’re older.” She murmured after she stopped, and Sabrina caught her breath. “Are you ready for bed now?”
Lower lip protruding in a slight pout, Sabrina glanced at the rain. “Can we, can we watch the storm a little longer?”
More than happy to stay out a little longer, especially since it meant Sabrina wasn’t afraid anymore, Zelda nodded and settled more comfortably into the chair. “Of course, sweetheart.” When Sabrina beamed and leaned heavily against Zelda once more, taking her aunt's hands and holding them where they'd wrapped around her, Zelda rested her cheek against her girl’s head contentedly.
They remained there until the storm moved several miles south of them; at which point Zelda had started to doze off.
“Auntie Zee!” Sabrina giggled. “Are you falling asleep?”
Head jerking up, Zelda inhaled sharply. “Of course not.” She denied, which only made Sabrina giggle harder. “Alright, alright. You caught me.” She admitted, poking Sabrina in the side playfully. “But it is late, and we should both be in bed. You, you have a big day tomorrow. First day of school.” Zelda tried to smile encouragingly at this last statement and thankfully Sabrina didn’t notice how strained it was. She merely nodded and hopped off Zelda’s lap and held out her hand expectantly. Her smile grew warmer, more genuine, and she took Sabrina’s hand and the two of them made their way back to Sabrina’s room.
As she tucked Sabrina in, she tilted her head at her and asked. “You’ll be alright the rest of the night?”
Yawning widely, Sabrina snuggled into the blankets. “Yes, Aunt Zelda. Thank you.” Came a tired reply.
“Alright then, damned dreams darling.” Zelda kissed Sabrina’s forehead and stood to leave.
Sabrina’s hand shot out and caught her arm. “Wait.”
She lowered herself on the edge of the bed once more. “What is it?” Zelda inquired softly. Her niece simply sat up and placed a hand on each of Zelda’s cheeks before leaning in and brushing the tip of her nose against Zelda’s twice in quick succession. “What, what was that?” Zelda asked amused, touching her nose.
“Eskimo kiss,” Sabrina replied sleepily, already borrowing back into the bed.
Blinking, Zelda’s brow furrowed, what did Eskimos? She just shook her head. “Oh, okay. Thank you darling, goodnight.”
Already half asleep, Sabrina pressed her face into her pillow. “Night Auntie Zee, love you.”
“Love you too, sweet girl.” Smoothing Sabrina’s hair one last time, Zelda stood and made her way back to her own bed.
~~~
Of course, by morning the weather had cleared. The sun bright and cheery in the sky, quite contradicting Zelda’s mood. She really was quite dreading taking Sabrina to school.
As they were heading out the door, she and Hilda each holding one of Sabrina’s hands, a client astral projected into the yard. “Praise Satan I caught you Sister Hilda. My wife, her morning sickness hasn’t stopped since 5am this morning. We ran out of your tonic. Please, do you have any more?” The man begged, looking rather haggard.
Torn, Hilda bit her lip. “Not made... I could whip some up, but—”
“Yes, please, thank you. Thank you, Hilda.” The husband looked so relieved, so close to tears, that Hilda released Sabrina’s hand and knelt in front of her.
“I have to stay here and make medicine for Ms. Cecilia,” she explained gently. “I wish I could come with you to school, but I need to help Ms. Cecilia because she is very sick. But I want to hear all about your first day when I come pick you up, alright?”
Their ever resilient niece frowned but nodded and hugged Hilda before reclaiming Zelda’s hand and leading the way down the driveway as if they’d never been interrupted.
Zelda didn’t cope quite as well. Instead, she found her sled looking over her shoulder in distress. She’d been counting on Hilda to be there when they dropped Sabrina off. Counted on Hilda being the emotional one so that, in comparison, Zelda’s own reaction would seem like nothing. But there wasn’t any helping it, Hilda had to stay behind and make the tonic. Straightening her shoulders, Zelda turned forward and continued to walk. She could handle this, it was no different than leaving Sabrina with Ambrose for a few hours while she and Hilda ran errands or went to some coven event.
But as the school came into view, the weight in Zelda’s stomach grew heavier. She stopped when they were on the sidewalk in front of the building, other parents bidding their children goodbye as well. Crouching to be on Sabrina’s level, Zelda straightened the ribbon in her niece’s hair and smoothed her dress.
“Now remember, you cannot tell anyone we are witches. The other children may tell their parents and their parents could be descendants of witch hunters.” Sabrina gasped, clearly remembering the stories Zelda told her. “Do you understand how serious it is that you do not tell anyone about us?”
Nodding earnestly, Sabrina chimed. “Yes, Auntie Zee.”
She smiled anxiously. “Alright then. Have a good first day.” In response, Sabrina surged forward and hugged Zelda hard, forcing her to put out an arm to balance herself while the other circled tightly around the little girl. “If you change your mind, you just call, okay? You remember the house number?” Zelda whispered, part of her hoping Sabrina would indeed change her mind.
Sabrina nodded against her neck and pulled away. “I know, but I won’t need to. I’ll be brave like you, Aunt Zelda.” She gave her a toothy grin before bounding off towards the school where the teachers were greeting their students.
Subtly wiping the corner of her eye, Zelda waited until Sabrina disappeared into the building, looking back one last time and waving excitedly at her aunt before leaving.
She tried.
Truly, she did try those first years Sabrina was in mortal school. She chaperoned field trips, helped in the classroom—all because Sabrina begged her to. Satan knew how many times Zelda was tempted to dose the teacher with a potion to make her forget some inane mortal holiday.
But she persisted, or sent Hilda when she really couldn’t stomach an event, she particularly hated Valentine’s day. All the pink and red hearts, the glitter that lingered for weeks despite her vanishing spells. How they made the children give a card to everyone so no one felt left out…. It was truly a vile holiday.
Not that she minded all the mortal school holiday traditions. Some she came to rather enjoy. Especially when Sabrina came bursting into her workroom one day after school when she was in the first grade, exclaiming she’d gotten a singing solo in the winter holiday pageant.
“Auntie Zee, will you help me?” She begged, climbing onto the stool at Zelda’s workbench and looking at her pleadingly. “You’re the best singer I know. You’re much better than my music teacher, Ms. Lowing.”
Zelda smiled, she would have agreed regardless of Sabrina’s compliments. She rather missed singing with her sweet girl as they worked side by side. Sabrina eagerly showed her the other songs as well, hoping that she would help with them all.
A grimace tugged her lips as she read several of the titles and lyrics—some so plainly praising the False God that even with her broken faith she had trouble swallowing her dislike and helping Sabrina. But other songs, the other songs had lovely melodies, the cadence rising and falling so naturally that Zelda soon found herself humming them even while alone in the morgue or her workroom.
This progressed to them playing Christmas music throughout the house during December. Sabrina then convinced them to decorate the house with lights, garland and even a tree. Her argument being that Christmas had been perverted to the extent that is was no longer about the False God and his spawn of a son, but a being called Santa, presents, decorations and music.
She and Hilda did their own research to verify this—no need to be excommunicated over a pine tree with a few lights on it. Sabrina’s argument had merit, so they caved and put up a tree. Though Zelda did attempt to make the whole thing slightly less... mortal. It was a Yule tree, she insisted, a Yule tree. And she may have added her own flair to the tree ornaments; they were far too cheery otherwise.
Soon the entire house was decorated, with holiday music filtering through it and themed cookies in piles in the kitchen. Ambrose even found a mortal tale, A Christmas Carol, they could all agree upon, and each night they found themselves curled up next to the fire in the parlor with hot cider as he read aloud.
It was all frightfully mortal and Zelda, though enjoying the festivities and her family’s reaction to them, was always a bit reserved. Keeping one ear perked for a perimeter spell warning, sure the coven would somehow sense what they’d done and come for them. Well, if anything, Zelda could try and defend their actions as embracing Sabrina’s duality… though she wasn’t sure how well that defense would hold.
While Zelda couldn’t bring herself to say no to trivial things such as Chris—, Yule trees and holiday tales by the fire, she found herself regularly saying no to Sabrina’s other requests that Zelda thought could strengthen her niece’s ties to the mortal world.
Invitations to play dates, birthday parties and sleepovers began to roll in and Zelda was frequently put in the position of telling Sabrina no. She no longer worried someone from the coven would hurt Sabrina for her duality, didn’t think every cold or illness was a curse. No, what kept her up at night now was the fear that Sabrina would form too close of bonds with mortals and not want to break them when the time came.
She already lost a brother because of a mortal. Zelda refused to lose her niece as well.
The shift shocked Sabrina, who became first argumentative and then distant; upset that Auntie Zee now constantly told her no. It did not help that Hilda was the one who often talked her into giving in—it’s only a sleepover, Zelds; only a playdate in the park, Zelds. They became the ‘good cop’ ‘bad cop’ and Zelda hated it.
Hated saying no and seeing the disappointment, the eventual resignation, in Sabrina’s face. Hated that because of this, Sabrina stopped asking Zelda to help at school, asked for only Hilda to tuck her in at night, became sulky, even petulant, if Zelda tried to help her with breakfast.
So, Zelda withdrew as well. Allowed Hilda to become the classroom ‘parent’—turned out the children loved her presence far more than Zelda’s—only bid Sabrina goodnight verbally, and hid behind her paper at breakfast.
She tried not to remember how things used to be. How not even six months ago Sabrina had still asked to sit in her lap as she read the paper, curious about why the words and letters didn’t match the ones she knew. Tried not to remember how it became a game, Zelda trying to get a paper in a different language each day—Spanish, French, German, Russian, Arabic, Chinese. Just so Sabrina would clamber onto her lap and giggle as she read the stories out loud in the language on the page. Zelda even started to learn new languages just to keep the game fun, interesting and evolving. But then Sabrina lost interest in the game....
Lost interest in her.
Hilda tried to reassure her it was just a phase. Zelda knew better.
The time had come for her to keep the promise she made to herself on the day they learned of Edward’s death. She wouldn’t make the same mistakes with her niece as she had with her brother. She’d say no and mean it. She’d say no and not cave in. She could trade her closeness, her bond with Sabrina, for her niece’s safety.
She could. She would.
The years that followed the start of Sabrina’s mortal schooling seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. But the speed with which they passed didn’t make them, or the rift that formed between Zelda and Sabrina, any easier. Didn’t make it any easier to raise her niece and give her the distance she so clearly wanted. Didn’t make it easier to run the mortuary, work as a midwife, and keep the household from falling apart or catching fire if Ambrose felt experimental.
Cracks were beginning to form. But Zelda knew she couldn’t scream or cry. Couldn’t complain; Edward never had. She had to be the strong one, the others couldn’t see the stress… how she felt she was being crushed beneath it at times.
So, she turned to a practice she’d disapproved of since learning of it. Zelda never understood why one would choose to inflict bodily pain as penance. Surely to best serve anyone, the Dark Lord included, one needed to be in peak mental and physical condition. And, in her mind, flogging always seemed to detract from both.
But now? Now she needed something, anything, and the Church of Night claimed flogging built strength. And strength was what she needed. So, she purchased a flog and hid it in the trunk at the foot of her bed. It remained there for a month before she decided she couldn’t keep going on with the way things were—she almost cried in front of Sabrina the other day. She couldn’t let them see her weakness, her cracks.
She waited until everyone was gone, well not Ambrose, but he was in the attic absorbed his books, so Zelda thought she was safe. Carefully, she snuck into the basement, looking to take advantage of the silencing spells already in place, and locked the doors.
Everything was prepared, her dress lay in a neat, folded pile on the exam table, the antiseptics ready for when she finished. But Zelda found herself fiddling with the end of the flog, trying to convince herself to proceed.
There were surely other ways… but as she thought, Zelda realized there wasn’t—not for her. She couldn’t go to the church for comfort, strength and confession like she once had. She refused to show her family her failure to remain strong for them—they’d already gone through so much, she couldn’t let them see her falter. She had no meaningful romantic partner to lean on… she’d seen to that.
And her friends, well, she didn’t really have any of those left. Several cut ties after Edward announced his engagement to a mortal. As if his actions were contagious—therefore they treated Zelda as if she had the plague. The ones that remained were her closest from her time at the Academy. But as with many childhood friendships, life interfered. Zelda found herself suddenly the head of the Spellman household, a surrogate mother, and the proprietor of not only her and Hilda’s midwife business but also the mortuary. There was no time for tea and conjurings or gossip about the most eligible warlocks during witching hour. And, eventually, her friends had gone on to be married and had children of their own.
So no, there was nowhere and no one to turn to. She was alone in this; carrying the Spellman family. Zelda nodded, this was the path she needed, had to, take. Gripping the flog tightly, she lifted it.
The first blow was tentative. But the pain it caused distracted her from the stress, the cracks. So, she struck again, and again. Harder with each one, small whimpers escaping her. But the pain helped relieve everything that was being pent up inside; the anger, emotional pain, doubts and insecurities, the rejection, the need for comfort and connection.
She couldn’t have these wants, these needs. Her family came first. Family came first, she repeated like a mantra with each blow. Zelda stopped at ten, knowing she shouldn’t take it too far on her first attempt. She carefully turned and glanced over her shoulder to the mirror.
Her back was blossoming with a rainbow of angry colors, welts rising. She needed to be certain not to let the others see, couldn’t let them know she was weak and needed an outlet, couldn’t let them know she was unable to handle the responsibilities of being head of the house.
And she had to be strong for them. Be strong so they could be weak if needed, so they could scream and cry and rage and know she would be there, as steadfast as a rock. She needed to be strong, she had to.
Sighing, Zelda carefully applied the antiseptics, waved her hand to quick dry them and then carefully pulled her dress back into place, wincing at the contact. She wasn’t proud of what she’d done, in fact, she was ashamed she resorted to any sort of coping method.
But it was necessary. She now understood, the act of flogging wasn’t to seek forgiveness, it was meant only for punishment, to purge out weakness and forge strength. And she needed punished. For struggling under the weight of her responsibilities, she should be stronger than that; Edward had been.
Zelda cleaned the morgue and unlocked the doors with a flick of her wrist. When she reached the top of the stairs, she made sure no one was around to see her before hurrying upstairs to hide the flog in her trunk once more.
Perhaps she couldn’t keep the cracks from forming, but she could keep them from showing. She could maintain the public face of a strong head of the Spellman house. No one would ever question or doubt that Zelda Spellman was anything but strong. She could do that, she could… she had to.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Zelda glanced at the calendar for the third time that morning, as if she didn’t already know the date. As if she hadn’t been counting down all week, Heaven, all year. Exhaling slowly, she closed the refrigerator without taking anything out and sat back down at the table with only her expresso and a cigarette; too stressed to eat.
It was finally the week of Sabrina’s sixteenth birthday. In four days time it would be done.
Soon.
Soon it would be over and then she could breath. Then she could put down this burden Edward forced her to carry for over a decade and a half. Come Friday, Zelda wouldn’t have to pretend as though Sabrina’s name wasn’t already in the Book of Beast. She wouldn’t have to lie to her family anymore, could stop forcing the church and the Path of Night down Sabrina’s throat. Soon, she repeated to herself pouring another expresso, soon.
When the others joined her in the kitchen Zelda hid herself behind her morning paper, not wanting to give the appearance that anything was out of the ordinary. Sabrina came down not much later and greeted them.
“Morning darling, how did you sleep?” Hilda asked from where she was finishing breakfast for the Ambrose and Sabrina.
Zelda allowed her paper to droop so she could see her niece. “Tempestuously, by the sounds of it.” She remarked, raising her brows, she hadn’t missed the glass breaking or the loud thump the night before. But her protection spells hadn’t been triggered so she knew it was no real cause for alarm.
When Sabrina stated it was simply an exciting time, Zelda felt some of the tension drain from her. Praise Satan, she was looking forward to her Dark Baptism. Based on conversations this past month, Zelda had been doubting Sabrina’s enthusiasm for the rite of passage into the witching realm. But this, this was encouraging.
She hummed and decided to try and further increase Sabrina’s excitement for the event. “I remember the week before my Dark Baptism. It felt as if my real life were finally beginning. I barely slept.” She took a drag from her cigarette, remembering back to how simple everything had been then. She truly had been exhilarated to sign her name, access her full abilities and become closer to the Dark Lord. How foolish she’d been, how naïve.
Her attention was brought back to the conversation when Ambrose offered to bring the bat that flew through Sabrina’s window last night back to life. “No, Ambrose,” she cut in tiredly, “we’ll have none of your necromancy.” Lucifer help her, she knew the boy was restless but dabbling in the darkest arts was not something she would encourage—though she supposed he would learn that lesson one way or the other, as long as it was only with small animals and not the corpses in the morgue.
Sabrina merely shook her head at him and asked to bury the thing in the pet cemetery to which Hilda approved before setting down the cleansing ‘juice’ in front of her. Zelda folded her paper in order to answer her niece’s question.
“Before it can be baptized, the temple of your body needs to be purified. Cleansed of its toxins.” She explained, not envying Sabrina. Even now, well over two centuries later she could remember the horrid taste of the concoction Sabrina was about to ingest—time had not improved the taste from what Hilda told her.
Ambrose glanced up from his book after Hilda explained, mostly, what was in the jar and coughed. “Don’t do it cousin!”
“Ambrose,” Zelda scolded him. She knew he was being playful, but she was in no mood for his antics. Trying to distract Sabrina, Zelda picked up the book sitting on the chair next to her. “Sabrina, you need to pick a familiar before your Dark Baptism. The council sent the registry. I’ve, uh, indicated a few suitable options.” She opened the book and began to point out several of the familiars that caught her attention… ones she thought would best be able to protect her niece.
Of course, Sabrina rejected the idea, wanting to put out what essentially amounted to a ‘want ad’ in a paper for a familiar. Zelda bit the inside of her cheek as she poured herself more caffeine, she’d much prefer one of the goblins she marked in the book, she familiarized herself with them; made sure they would be up to the task. But, she glanced at Vinegar Tom where he was perched in his basket, she knew picking one’s familiar was deeply personal and she knew having someone disapprove of your choice only further cemented it your mind. That was how she ended up with Tom, her parents had tried to dissuade her from the floppy-eared, droopy-eyed beagle, stating it wouldn’t be good for the Spellman image for such a depressing looking creature to be her familiar. Their rejection of the poor beast had forcefully reminded her of the slights her father dealt her in recent years and there’d been no further discussion—Vinegar Tom was hers.
If nothing else this meant Sabrina had at least put thought and time into the decision and towards preparing for her Dark Baptism. This eased the clenching of Zelda’s stomach. “What about your baptismal name? Have you settled on one yet?” She asked, changing gears a bit.
“I have, as a matter of fact.” Sabrina grinned excitedly, her shoulders lifting a little. “Edwina Diana. Edwina, which is almost Edward, to honor my father, and Diana, to honor my mother. And not just to honor them to be closer to them. To have them with me as I walk the Path of Night.”
Zelda turned her head at the mention of these names, unable to help the slight upward twitch of her lips at the selection of Edwina, despite how little the man deserved honoring, given the circumstance he put them in. The sentiment was sweet, and Zelda was happy to see that regardless of never having really met her parents, Sabrina still felt close to them to a degree. It seemed all of those bedtime stories about Edward and Diana truly had sunk in—good, neither sister had wanted Sabrina to go through life without knowledge of her family.
Zelda couldn’t bring herself to care about this murdered mortal boy; stabbed if one was being specific, which Ambrose was. The timing was, as she told Hilda, hellishly perfect. It finally seemed as though everything was falling into place. Sabrina picked her baptismal names, had plans for a familiar and now they had a fresh supply of blood for the ceremony… she sighed contentedly and tipped her head back once more, soon every day could feel this relaxing.
Well, perhaps relaxing was a bit of a stretch. Sabrina came home not much later and explained that the Weird Sisters had cursed her while she was in the woods trying to summon a familiar. Zelda outwardly brushed it off, claiming the girls were jealous because of Sabrina’s heritage and their lack thereof, but she knew better. This was more hate towards her girl for her half-witch status, something that was still strong after this all this time; she'd hoped it would have lessened in recent years.
As Sabrina headed upstairs to start the regiment Hilda prescribed her to counter the curse, Zelda made eye contact with Hilda and moved to the other side of the counter to talk with her sister—both clearly thinking something similar. Before she could say a word though, Sabrina turned around.
“Aunties? The Weird Sisters said something… about mom and dad.”
Brow furrowing, Zelda frowned. “What did they say about your mother and father?” Those girls surely only knew what gossip existed about the former High Priest and his mortal wife, and she and Hilda had made sure to prepare Sabrina about those things—nothing should have shaken her.
Playing with the hem of her skirt, Sabrina purses her mouth. “Their accident. They were almost implying that it wasn’t an accident.” She brought her gaze to them then, looking expectant.
Her heart seized, others thought the same? Had she been hiding and pretending all this time for nothing? But Zelda couldn’t allow the rest of her family to believe Edward and Diana were murdered, it would place them all in too much danger; especially if it was just teenage girls being cruel for the sake of it. She exchanged a quick look with Hilda before exclaiming. “Well, that’s just poppycock. Your father and mother were flying to Italy. Edward was to give a lecture at the Vatican when their plane went down.” Hilda squeezed her hand where it rested on the counter, and Zelda added a softer, “tragically,” to the end of her statement.
She then shooed Sabrina upstairs to begin her counter-curse treatment. Hilda chewed her lip and looked at her, eyes shining. “Why would they say such things to her?” Hilda questioned, moving to clean up the bowl with the bloody egg. “Cursing her, well that’s just what younger witches do, curse and hex one another silly until they realize that those measures shouldn’t be used carelessly. But this? To torment her by suggesting Edward and Diana’s deaths weren’t an accident? Why?”
Zelda crossed her arms to hide the minute shaking of her hands, glad that Hilda hadn't seen the comment as an actual indication of murder. “As I told Sabrina years ago, witches are not naturally kind beings. They were just being cruel, nothing more. Though I am going to revamp Sabrina’s protection spells.”
“Isn’t it a little early for that? You just freshened them up six months ago, you usually do that once a year.” Hilda observed, placing the bowl in her hand in the dishwasher.
Zelda cocked her head in acknowledgement, “yes, but as you so concisely stated, young witches throw around harmful spells for fun, to test their power and to try and earn themselves reputations. Sabrina is about to enter this world full time, and while most spells performed by younger witches are less powerful some can be truly dangerous. As this blood curse has indicated.” She waved her hand at the sink where the egg had just been disposed of. “I’ll freshen the ones I currently have and add a few more… that, and the teachers at the Academy, should hopefully keep Sabrina safe.” Zelda nodded once more and went off to the library to find the books she needed.
“Postpone it?!” Zelda’s insides froze at Sabrina’s words the next morning at breakfast. Dear Satan, they were so close, only three days away and Sabrina wanted to postpone her baptism…. for, for a mortal school club? “Sabrina, you cannot postpone your 16th birthday, especially when it falls on the eclipsing of a blood moon which only occurs once every 66 years.” She’d taken the fact that Sabrina’s baptismal birthday fell on the same night as, not only a blood moon but also an eclipsed blood mood as a strong sign of good fortune. Very few witches were able to sign under such circumstances, legend claimed that to do so increased the witch’s power. Not that this was why Sabrina had to sign, there were a multitude of other reasons why she had to. Hilda’s hand on her shoulder quieted her for a moment.
“If it’s just about a club, dear—” she began, about to gently point out that in the grand scheme of things this club would hardly matter. Zelda was thankful Hilda was going to address this, she knew her own words would sound far too harsh.
Sabrina glanced between the two of them, “it’s not, Aunt Hilda. There’s also the Harvey of it all. We very recently took things to the next level.”
Zelda’s mouth quite literally dropped open in horror. “He hasn’t defiled you, has he?” She demanded, the hardboiled egg she’d been holding falling to her plate, quite forgotten. Not again, not again. She couldn’t lose Sabrina too. Her parents gone, her brothers gone, she’d pushed Faustus away, Ambrose was forced to stay. And Hilda, well, she’d been horrid to Hilda for years. If Hilda left her it would be her fault and she’d deserve it. But Sabrina… she couldn’t lose Sabrina, and not to a mortal—not for the same reason she’d lost Edward.
“Witch law forbids novitiates from being anything less than virginal.” After the Dark Baptism no one cared, everyone knew witches had a healthy sexual appetite. But a witch or warlock must first give themselves to the Dark Lord by way of signing the book before giving themselves physically to another. Ambrose’s muttered ‘oh wow,’ helped nothing.
Sabrina looked appalled, “Aunt Zelda! Not that it’s anyone’s business, but no.”
She and Hilda loosed twin sighs of relief and a “praise Satan.” Before moving on with what they’d been doing before Sabrina asked to postpone the event.
But her niece wasn’t one to let things go easily, “however, now that you bring it up, I admit, I have reservations about saving myself for the Dark Lord. Why does he get to decide what I do or don’t do with my body?”
Because he is dangerous. Because he takes what he wants without discretion anyway and will cause as much pain in the process if you fight it, Zelda thought, looking at her niece. Though what came out of her mouth was easier to explain than her reasons for thinking this. “Because it is witch law. Covenant.” And the last time a Spellman broke witch law it had ended in death.
“Okay…. But why?” Sabrina pressed. When Zelda remained silent, she continued. “And if you don’t know, maybe I can talk to someone before my baptism, someone who can help me understand these things so I can make an educated choice.”
Bile rose up the back of Zelda’s throat, “Choice?!” No, no, no, Sabrina didn’t have a choice, Edward had seen to that. “It is our sacred duty and honor to serve the Dark Lord. The extraordinary, delicious gifts he bestows on us in return for signing his book. And you, you would deny him that?”
“It’s my name, Aunt Zelda.” Sabrina countered. And Zelda felt her sense of guilt increase. No, no it isn’t, sweet girl, she wanted to say. Your father signed it away long ago, it was only yours and yours alone for a few days.
Zelda put down her food once more, appetite gone. “We all signed the book, and proudly, I might add.” She pushed away from the table, irritated and scared. “This is your mother’s influence.” And she regretted the words as soon as they came out, and really, how could a dead woman have so much power over Sabrina's decision? But it was too late to take the words back.
Hilda scolded her as she left. “Zelda, calm down. Your blood pressure.”
Zelda rolled her eyes, her blood pressure, her blood pressure. The reason she had problems with her blood pressure was because of Edward’s demands and everyone else in that damned house at the moment. She whipped around, fear and anger still roiling inside her, “this is your fault too.” She snapped at Hilda, eyes shining, needing someone to blame other than herself. “We should have home-schooled her, as is our custom.” Zelda had known, known 10 years ago that allowing Sabrina to go to mortal school would be a problem. One that she’d created, by giving in after saying no….
Her sister ignored the barbed insult and turned back to their niece. “Sabrina, do you not want to join the Church of Night as a full member, my love?”
“I think so, I just don’t know why I have to give up everything in my life that’s human to do it.”
“Witch law. The Path of Night or the Path of Light. But not both.” Zelda exclaimed, pressing her lips together when Sabrina mockingly stated the last three words at the same time as her.
Sabrina stood as well, rounding her chair. “And yet, my father, a warlock, married my mother, and she was human.”
“Yes,” Zelda gripped the back of the chair in front of her. “And it very nearly got Edward excommunicated.” A small voice in the back of her head whispered, ’it got him killed instead.’
Lifting the chair a bit and slamming it into the ground, Sabrina continued to argue with her. “Which begs the question, why would I want to join an organization that would do that to anyone I cared about?”
“Because it’s what they wanted for you.” She exclaimed, perhaps if it was what her parents wanted Sabrina would agree—Satan knew she fought Zelda every step of the way when it was something her aunt encouraged. “Isn’t that right, Hilda?” She turned to Hilda for support, though she’d just blamed her, unfairly, moments ago, she needed her sister to help Sabrina see sense. “Didn’t Edward and Diana both say so?” Zelda wasn’t as sure about what Diana wanted, only that Edward had made her promise. But it was better to show Sabrina’s parents as a unified front.
Hilda smiled gently at Sabrina then, likely trying to counter Zelda’s own abrasiveness. “Yes, they, they did lamb. Many times.”
This seemed to quiet Sabrina, give her pause. But Zelda had to make sure that she knew that there wasn’t really a choice. She gave a short speech on Sabrina’s heritage, saying, in no uncertain terms, that Sabrina would be baptized, as would her future children and that was final. Zelda then turned and stalked upstairs, heart pounding.
She didn’t know what would happen if Sabrina didn’t sign again, but she had no intentions of finding out.
Hilda came and found her after Sabrina had left for school. Asking if she wanted to work on the puzzle they had started but never seemed to have the time to finish—it was the first slow day at the mortuary in ages. Nodding, Zelda put down the book she’d been pretending to read, thankful for the distraction. She’d been wondering what had happened to the little girl who used to come to her because she was afraid of thunderstorms, to the little girl who had trusted her. The one who, after Zelda had shown her that thunder and lightning were magic, would sneak into her room at night and place a soft hand on her cheek and whisper ‘Auntie Zee, it’s a thunderstorm,’ before taking her hand and leading her onto the porch so they could watch together.
Shaking herself, Zelda followed Hilda down the stairs and the two of them were arguing about whether certain pieces fit together when Ambrose interrupted, stating they had to see something down in the embalming room.
A witch's mark. Of all the things Zelda did not need on top of everything else going on, a dead witch on their embalming table was certainly one. She hoped it was a birthmark, that the blood had settled in his back and buttocks as she’d claimed—but she wasn’t sure that was true.
“Might be worth bringing up to the council.” Ambrose suggested, looking between them.
Zelda sighed and looked down at the murdered young man on their table, witch hunters, she shuddered. They were supposed to be villains out of the stories she used to tell Sabrina when she was little. To think they could still be around and in their area, no less, was discomforting. “Yet another reason Sabrina needs to join the Church of Night.” She murmured. “So, she’s protected. Witches without covens are easy pickings.”
Hilda fidgeted, then, pulling at her cardigan sleeves. “I’ve been praying on that, Zelda, and I just think that if she wants to talk to someone, an outside opinion—”
She scoffed lightly, already disliking the idea, she didn’t want anyone in the coven knowing Sabrina was having doubts. “Who would you have her talk to, Hilda? The Dark Lord himself?”
“No,” she chuckled, “no, but I just—, I feel like as close to him as reasonably possible.” Hilda finished softly, eyeing Zelda warily.
Zelda closed her eyes and took a deep breath, she knew exactly who Hilda was referring to, and she didn’t like it one bit. She instructed Ambrose to continue carefully and then stalked out of the room, twisting her rings.
Sabrina might not remember how frequently Faustus had come to the house, the little gifts he’d bring her, how close her aunt had been to the man. But Zelda did. And it was painful still. But Hilda was right, Sabrina wasn't taking their word when it came to her Dark Baptism, speaking to someone would be helpful. Maybe, maybe she could ask one of the acolytes to come instead. Surely that would be enough. And they were younger, one of them could related to Sabrina better than a centuries old high priest.
Yes, an acolyte really was the best choice, she smiled at her decision and went to phone the Academy to see if anyone was available.
A knock on the front door later that night signaled the arrival of the acolyte the Academy agreed to send. Smoothing her dress, Zelda opened the door. Only, instead of a young acolyte, Faustus stood there with a rather smug smile on his face at having been able to surprise her.
“Zelda,” he murmured, and she hated how it set her heart pounding. It wasn’t that she’d avoided him since she’d ended things, per se, Zelda Spellman avoided no one—and in any case it would have been impossible. It was just that, for the better part of a decade she’d made sure they only interacted in group settings at the coven; even after his marriage to Constance—she didn’t trust him, or herself, to resist the pull that still existed between them. Now, here he was standing on her front porch like no time had passed whatsoever.
“Father Blackwood,” she replied smoothly, proud of how unaffected she sounded and appeared. “What a surprise. I expected one of your acolytes. I would have thought the spiritual visit to a teenager below the office of the high priest.” She arched a brow at him, silently challenging his presence.
Faustus just smirked, “I take the guidance of my coven very seriously. Especially those about to enter the Dark Lord’s service.” He brushed past her and hung up his coat. “Are we meeting in the parlor?” He inquired, though he was already heading into that particular room, not so subtly demonstrating he still knew the layout of her home.
She looked to the ceiling for patience and strength before following Faustus and sitting, perhaps a little stiffly, on the couch across from him. Even Hilda bustling around with tea and biscuits and Ambrose ambling in to lean against the fire place didn’t relax her. To her irritation, Faustus seemed far too comfortable for her liking, leaning back into his seat and observing her, a hand resting on his cane where is was propped on the floor. The looks Ambrose kept shooting her, a mix of concern that her spine would snap and amusement, was certainly something she could have done without as well.
Just when Zelda wasn’t sure she could stand the forced small talk any longer Sabrina came home. She sighed in relief and Hilda called out for Sabrina to join them.
“Is this the child?” Faustus asked, as if he hadn’t been over almost every other day from when Sabrina was three until that eventful day when she was five.
But perhaps he was purposefully asking, so that Sabrina wouldn’t be disturbed by the fact that this man knew her by name. “She is, your Excellency.” Zelda used his most formal title, trying to convey to Sabrina that they had the most important and highest-ranking member of the Church of Night in their home.
“This is our niece, Sabrina.” Hilda offered, following Zelda’s lead, for which she was grateful.
Sabrina paused and stood partially behind a chair, eyes sweeping over everyone in the room before resting on Faustus.
The high priest leaned forward, “oh, my child. You have no idea how special you are, do you? How you’ve been chosen.”
Zelda suppressed an eye roll, every witch about to sign the book was told they were ‘special’, ‘chosen’ by the Dark Lord to receive these powers. Though she knew Sabrina was indeed special, Zelda also knew that was quite biased of her and Faustus was just saying what he would have to any family requesting council.
“Sorry, do I know you?” Sabrina eyed him, and Zelda’s heart stuttered, surely, she didn’t remember him from when she was little. But, after a moment, it appeared to be a genuine question and not one of Sabrina attempting to place where she’d seen him before.
Hilda piped in, “Sabrina, we are being honored tonight. This is Faustus Blackwood. He’s high priest for the Church of Night.” She supplied, when not even a flicker of recognition crossed Sabrina’s face at the name. Honestly, Zelda knew she’d neglected Sabrina’s religious education outside of the 13 commandments, but she knew for a fact that she'd at least taught the girl who their high priest was. “Dark Lord Satan’s representative on earth…” Hilda added as well, grimacing slightly at the need for an explanation.
Faustus cut in then, seemingly unperturbed by the need for an introduction. “Your aunts tell me you’re having doubts about your baptism. That you may, in fact, not be signing your name in the Book of Beast?”
Sabrina just gaped at him, clearly at a loss, “ummm,”“No, no, no. That cannot be. That must not be. So, let us see what I can do to convince you.” He nodded to a chair and sat back once more, ready to answer questions. Faustus answered each of Sabrina’s questions with ease, and though he was sugarcoating some aspects and not being entirely truthful about others, Zelda held her tongue. Now certainly wasn’t the time or place to be voicing her own lack of faith. Besides, this was all to ease Sabrina’s doubts and concerns about the baptism, if his white lies made everything go smoother then Zelda wouldn't object. Then Sabrina mentioned how Edward and Diana had possibly been murdered, Zelda clenched her fists, clearly, she hadn’t soothed away that particular concern as well as she’d thought. But for Sabrina to bring it up to the high priest, of all people, was dangerous. Thankfully, Faustus didn’t seem to mind, explaining that an inquiry had been held and no malfeasance detected.
Zelda swallowed a scoff, yes, an inquiry, she thought derisively. An inquiry headed by individuals on the council outside of the Church of Night. Individuals who owed much to the Dark Lord and would do as he said in terms of the investigation and what results needed to be found. Zelda had read the report, scoured it over and over, looking for hints of the foul play she’d known had taken place. But they’d covered their tracks well, and she hadn’t been sure what she’d have done had any evidence of murder shown itself—just as well that she hadn’t found anything. Sabrina's voice recaptured her attention.
“Lastly, earlier today I took a bite from a malum malus,” Sabrina announced.
Zelda blinked, whipping her head to stare at her niece, “you did what?” How had Sabrina even known such a thing existed? There weren’t many references to it in texts, most authors found it to be too a dangerous tool which showed only parts of the future and withhold others to even write about it. The consumption of a malum malus hadn’t been recommended in almost a century. Zelda tightened her fists a little further, muscles aching, but it grounded her, allowed her to refocus on the conversation.
She then peeked at Faustus to see his reaction, he looked startled more than anything. Zelda exhaled quietly, praising Satan that he didn’t appear insulted by Sabrina’s extreme action to try and determine if she should be baptized. He simply echoed what Zelda had been thinking, that the malum malus was unpredictable and unreliable. That it was right for Sabrina to question and challenge so much.
He then promised her free choice. Zelda swallowed hard at that, this was the lie that had gotten Edward killed. Yes, witches had free will, as long as their choices aligned with the Dark Lord’s plan, his rules. It was true, a few witches were able to leave the church relatively unscathed, but those were not to be seen as inspiration stories—more as ones of caution considering what they'd given up to be 'free'.
Faustus was standing to leave when Ambrose spoke up, speaking of the body in the basement. Frowning, Zelda and Hilda followed the men downstairs, Sabrina coming in last and leaning against the door.
“A witch’s mark without question.” Faustus announced, and Hilda glanced back at her knowingly. Zelda rolled her eyes, yes her sister had been right, what a wonderful thing to have been right about, dead witches and hunters. Though Faustus’ disbelief that it was the work of a witch hunter was comforting, even if he did agree to bring it up to the council to be safe.
“Thank you, Father Blackwood, I will see you out.” Zelda nodded at the others and led the way upstairs. When they reached the door, Zelda paused. “Thank you, Faustus.” She repeated, with more warmth and sincerity this time. “Sabrina’s been quite anxious about this whole thing and nothing I say or do has alleviated any of that. I think your words calmed her worries.”
He smiled tenderly at her and stepped closer. “Of course, Zelda. Anything for yo—,” he coughed, “a coven member.” He corrected, eyes darting over her shoulder as he pulled his coat on and put some space between them.
Zelda turned to follow his gaze and found Sabrina and Hilda there, grimacing when they realized they’d interrupted. But Sabrina stepped forward, “I just, I wanted to thank you again for coming, Father Blackwood.” She stated, holding out her hand to shake his. “I know you’re very busy and I appreciate that you came out here to speak with me.”
Faustus raised a brow and shook Sabrina’s hand. “Of course, Ms. Spellman, I look forward to seeing you on Friday.” Sabrina nodded and Hilda ushered her up the stairs. He watched the two of them disappear before opening the door and stepping outside. He stopped for a moment and faced Zelda once more. “You’ve done a marvelous job with her, Zels. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” He took her hand, kissed the back of it and teleported away before she could respond, leaving her feeling rather wrong-footed and missing his company.
Sighing, Zelda headed up to her bedroom, it’d been a long day, all she wanted was to sleep. But as she passed Sabrina’s room, she heard Hilda remark that Faustus was dramatic. She smirked, she couldn’t deny it, most witches were, why live life as long as they did without a touch of dramatics and flair? The cane was only his latest fashion statement, they all went through their phases. It just happened that she and Hilda had been stuck in their current ones for the past decade—neither one finding a new look that appealed to them more than their current ones.
She moved to continue and leave them be when Sabrina asked if Hilda had doubts about her Dark Baptism. Zelda rushed to their bedroom to astral project, knowing that Hilda’s facial expressions said just as much as her words did. She couldn’t let Hilda ruin everything, not now that they’d gotten back on track.
Zelda wasn’t proud of having to resort to eavesdropping, she more than anyone knew the value of privacy and trust. But if she had to breach both to protect her family, it was a necessary evil. Very necessary from the sounds of it, Hilda was actually encouraging Sabrina to consider her options.
She sat up abruptly when Hilda tucked Sabrina in, panicking and furious at her siblings for doing this to her. There was no choice, Edward had made sure of that, but Hilda had always offered another path—not homeschooling Sabrina, allowing her to make meaningful connections with mortals, encouraging her to date Harvey.
Oh, her siblings would be the death of her. But before that, she’d have to take drastic measures ensure Hilda stopped her fairytales about young witches having options. They hadn’t had one, Sabrina certainly didn’t either. Zelda sighed, she hadn’t killed Hilda in almost six months. She’d thought they were on the same page for Sabrina’s future—at least as far as the Dark Baptism. Apparently not.
Grumbling, Zelda leveraged herself off the floor and climbed into bed just as Hilda came into the room, looking a little sheepish though there was no way for her to know that Zelda had overheard the conversation. She merely rolled over and turned off her lamp, already planning how she would have to kill Hilda in the morning.
It was a bothersome process, killing her sister. She had to make sure to kill her in one blow, no need for Hilda to suffer, make sure the mortuary wasn’t busy that day or that Sabrina had a school function for them to attend since Hilda was taking longer to resurrect. And, really, it was always more convenient when Hilda was out in the garden to begin with… so she didn’t have to drag her as far. Sighing, Zelda fell into a fitful sleep full of plane crashes, punishments from the Dark Lord for failing, and Hilda dying by her hand over and over.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The mortal boy had come over for a visit. Zelda sighed and resigned herself to put up with his presence for the morning. Sabrina kept him far away most times, rightfully so, their house had too many magical things ongoing for the constant presence of mortals. Which meant that he’d come without Sabrina’s knowledge, and that could only mean he intended to ask for a favor.
Zelda suspected it would seem innocent enough, but considering it was the day before Sabrina’s Dark Baptism she knew she would once again be telling her niece no. Sabrina bounced into the kitchen and looked just as confused by Harvey’s visit as they rest of them had been.
“I wanted to surprise you,” he told Sabrina when she asked why he was there.
Zelda clinked her spoon against the sides of her cup a little more loudly than strictly necessary, “and isn’t it the loveliest surprise.” She cut in dryly, trying to convey to Sabrina that they needed to get this mortal out of their house before he witnessed something magical. While their kind were discreet around mortals, they would not expect the need for discretion so early in the morning and Zelda knew they had a witching family coming in very soon to discuss funeral arrangements.
Harvey swallowed and continued, a little flustered, and Zelda couldn’t help but smirk at how intimidated he was by her. “Um, also to ask your aunts…” He paused turning his attention back to Sabrina, “I, uh… know you can’t do anything on your actual birthday because you have plans.”
“She does. Set in stone.” Zelda interjected once more, glancing up from her tea and giving Sabrina a meaningful look.
The boy pushed on, and if nothing else Zelda had to give him credit for his persistence. “So, I came by to see if we could celebrate the next day. Uh, Saturday. Go bowling, maybe? You and me, and Susie and Roz. Your aunts can come… if they want.” He added, peeking at Zelda once more before quickly turning his eyes back to her niece.
Satan help her, bowling? She hadn’t participated in that horrible mortal pastime since Sabrina was young and begged them to go—Zelda had staunchly refused to ever go again, the shoes they’d required her to wear still made her shudder.
Sabrina’s voice cut into her musings. “The day after my birthday.” She stammered, brows furrowing as she looked to Zelda for guidance. “Would that even be possible?”
Before she could even open her mouth, Hilda answered. “I think it’s a marvelous idea.”
Zelda gritted her teeth, did none of them understand the concept of the Path of Night or the Path of Light, but not both? But she could hardly bring up this as a point of argument with the boy right here. So, she’d have to appease them for the time being and then discuss this with Hilda and Sabrina later. “I do too,” she remarked, causing Sabrina to look at her in astonishment. “But why don’t we play it by ear, hmm?” She nodded at them and went to get ready for their clients, it was a busy day.
She’d seen the clients off and felt a wave of relief that she cleared the rest of their day so she could run errands to prepare for the baptism. But first, she glanced out the window and sighed, finally Hilda was out in the garden.
Casting a quick spell on her clothes so as to not get any blood on them, Zelda headed outside, snatching a hammer from the toolbox on the porch as she went. “Sister?” She called out, only feeling the tiniest twinge of guilt for what she was about to do, especially when Hilda responded so cheerfully.
“Oooh, Zelda!” She intoned, throwing some vegetables into her basket. “My turnips, they’re coming up marvelously this year." Hilda barely finished her sentence and was turning to face her when Zelda cracked her across the face with the hammer. She made sure to put her body weight into it, one blow really was the most efficient and, if nothing else, Zelda was efficient.
She waited a moment and made sure Hilda wasn’t twitching or breathing. She made the mistake once, years ago, of not making sure Hilda was fully dead before burying her. Zelda hadn’t heard the end of that for weeks. Reassured her sister was indeed dead, Zelda smoothed her hair back and dropped the hammer before grabbing Hilda’s ankles and dragging her bodily to the Cain Pit before shoveling dirt into the hole. Yes, she could have levitated her sister with a spell and buried her the same way. But the manual labor involved in killing Hilda was often a stress release in and of itself, as horrible and cruel as it may be. Besides, it was the least she could do after killing her.
Zelda had just finished throwing the last shovels full of dirt onto the grave and was giving the mound of dirt a few last whacks with the shovel—for catharsis, when clients pulled up to see if their son was ready for his funeral. Zelda glanced at them, but knowing Ambrose was handling the account, stayed outside—in no mood to deal with more mortals today.
“Hilda, I had hoped we would be going into Sabrina’s Dark Baptism as a unified front. Yet I find that you are telling our niece that you have regrets about signing, that we didn’t have choices back then—implying she has one now. It is unacceptable. I am sorry it came to this… again. But you must learn, and I fear this is the only way I can safely teach you.” Zelda murmured, leaning on the shovel, slightly out of breath. She certainly couldn’t tell Hilda the truth as to why Sabrina had to sign, the danger their family was in since the moment Edward proposed to Diana. Hopefully this, if nothing else, would get though to Hilda.
She looked up when she heard the clients leaving, they wasted no time for pleasantries, just climbed into their car and drove away quickly as Zelda made her way back to the house, shovel perched on her shoulder. “What were the Kempers doing here?” Zelda called out, nearing the porch.
Ambrose took a few more steps down the porch, “I invited them to inspect my handiwork on their son.”
Zelda closed her eyes tightly for a moment, “Ambrose, you’re not meddling in mortal affairs again, are you?” She asked tiredly, really, she could only handle so much at a time with her family. And between Sabrina’s doubts, Hilda usurping her authority and now Ambrose’s meddling, Zelda wasn’t sure if she’d make it through this week. Her nephew made the argument that the corpse had in fact been a warlock, even had a familiar. Zelda shook her head minutely, she didn’t have time to play detective she had to things to prepare for Sabrina’s baptism.
“Where’s Aunt Hilda?” Ambrose inquired, peering into the garden and seeing the abandoned basket and tools.
Zelda lodged the shovel into the ground next to the porch steps. “She annoyed me, so I killed her and buried her in the yard.” She stated coolly, breezing past Ambrose to head into the house to collect what she needed before she left on her errands. She didn’t bother to look back at his expression, knowing it would be a disconcerted one. But, just as she couldn’t explain it to Hilda, Zelda couldn’t tell Ambrose the truth as to why she’d killed and buried her sister. Let him think her unbalanced and violent, that was better than the truth.
Checking her purse to ensure she had the gift, Zelda grabbed her coat and marched back outside where Ambrose was still standing, dumbfounded. “I’ll be back later, I have errands to run. Call if you need anything.” And with that she teleported to the witch’s market.
It was traditional, for a witch’s mother to give her a gift on the night of her Dark Baptism. Neither she nor Hilda informed Sabrina of this, not wanting to rub salt into a wound that would never fully heal. But Zelda also couldn’t bear the thought of not getting her girl something to commemorate the occasion. So, she carefully wrapped up a necklace that Zelda’s own mother gave her after her Dark Baptism and tucked it into her purse to bring to the jewelers for a touch up.
Zelda knew the spells required to do it herself, but she’d never quite gotten the hang of domestic spells—something always turned out wrong; to her mortification. So she stopped trying. Besides, if she messed up this particular spell it could irreversibly damage the necklace, regardless of the spells placed on it that allowed it to be passed down through the Spellman generations. That was not something she was going to risk.
When she handed over the box, the witch’s eyes went wide. “What a lovely necklace. Do you need it for a special event?” She asked, carefully placing the piece on the counter for inspection.
“My niece, Sabrina, her Dark Baptism is tomorrow night. I plan to give this to her after. I just need it shined and retouched where needed. Can you do that?”
The witch nodded. “Of course. And congratulations, what an exciting time… and on an eclipsed blood moon, no less. What good fortune.”
“Agreed.” Zelda replied curtly, now if only Sabrina felt the same—even to a small degree. “When will this be ready?”
The woman eyed the necklace. “In thirty minutes. You can browse around while you wait.” She offered before taking the necklace and disappearing into the back of the store. Zelda arched a brow, knowing the spells did not take that long, but she supposed the owner hoped she’d buy something if forced to wait. No matter, she needed to purchase some more candles while she was out.
When she returned to the store, she found the witch more than a little disappointed Zelda didn’t want to buy anything else. But she handed over the necklace, neatly packaged in a new velvet box and Zelda smiled, it was perfect. She thanked the witch, tipped her generously and made her way home.
She checked the Cain Pit on her way up the drive, the soil was still undisturbed, which meant Hilda hadn’t resurrected yet. Her sister was taking longer and longer to come back, it really was irksome. But Zelda had prepared for this and knew what she would make Sabrina and Ambrose for dinner.
Though most of her attempts at cooking ended in failure, Zelda was quite good at making a select few dishes, one of which she made tonight. Sabrina arrive home late, claiming she’d been working on an extra credit project for school. Zelda narrowed her eyes, sensing the magic surrounding her niece and knowing not all of it was hers. But she left the matter alone, her niece had at least been off doing something magical, which was far better than her being off with Harvey once more.
Sabrina and Ambrose were off to their respective rooms after dinner and Zelda grabbed a book and several cigarettes before heading outside to sit on the back porch. She wanted to intercept Hilda after she resurrected, they needed to talk, after all.
It was another thirty minutes before Zelda could make out the rasping breath of her newly revived sister and her halting steps across the gravel near the house. She closed her book and set it aside once Hilda got close enough.
“Zelda…” came a hoarse whisper.
“Took you long enough,” she quipped, glancing over to where Hilda’s form appeared from the gloom. “Each slaying it takes you longer to resurrect.” Though Zelda knew her sister was aware of this fact, she felt the need to drive it home. Pushing herself out of her chair to come and stand at the railing, Zelda eyed Hilda. “Eventually, there will come a time when I bury you and you will stay buried.”
Hilda gasped and made her way closer. “You can’t keep killing me.” She managed breathily, short bursts of air escaping her between each word.
Zelda rolled her eyes, it wasn’t really killing when the person came back. “I’m your older sister, Hilda. It is my Satan given right to kill you as many times as I please. Especially when you’re behaving so stupidly. Encouraging Sabrina to do anything other than join the Church of Night.” She gripped the railing tighter as fear of the potential consequences of that hypothetical situation washed over her. “Edward entrusted her to our care. If Sabrina does not sign her name in the Book of Beast, we will have…” and the words caught in her throat for a moment. “Failed him,” she managed, swallowing hard at the thought. “And the Dark Lord,” she added for effect.
Straightening her shoulders, Zelda looked at Hilda once more. “So, fair warning, sister. Any doubts or regrets you feel… keep them to yourself. The simple truth is Sabrina has no choice in this matter. To pretend otherwise is reckless.” She paused, she hadn’t initially planned on telling Hilda this much, but she had to give her something to try and convey the gravity of the situation. “Have I made myself clear?”
Hilda was breathing heavily, and for a moment Zelda thought she might argue with her. But then the fight went out of her, a small, “yes, sister” fell from Hilda’s lips.
Sighing, Zelda nodded and headed inside to sleep. It had been a long, busy day and tomorrow would be no better. It was here. Sabrina’s sixteenth birthday, her Dark Baptism. It was here. Zelda’s nerves practically sang; she was equally anxious and excited for this entire thing to be done and over with, perhaps then some steps could be taken to repair the bond she once had with her niece. Surely, she wouldn’t have to keep saying no once Sabrina signed and fully entered the witching realm.
Zelda wasn’t exactly surprised when Sabrina protested about staying home for the day. Yes, it was true many witches and warlocks did spend the day in quiet contemplation and reading their Satanic scriptures as she told Sabrina. But Zelda also wasn’t sure what her niece would do given one last day in the mortal realm, so she decided not to take the chance and called the school to tell them Sabrina wouldn’t be coming today because of a hives outbreak. She also instructed Ambrose to keep an eye on his cousin while she and Hilda were out making the final preparations for the baptism.
Soon, she inhaled deeply, soon.They arrived in the woods after picking up the black narcissus goat. Zelda was leading the creature while Hilda trailed behind her carrying two bags full of other materials they needed to set up. Zelda stumbled a bit when she realized Faustus was already in the clearing, well him and several acolytes. He was teaching them about the proper preparation for a Dark Baptism, especially one during an eclipse and blood moon. When he caught sight of them, however, he paused and smiled. “Continue setting up,” he instructed, his eyes still on Zelda as his students scurried away to fulfill his orders. “Sister Zelda, Sister Hilda,” he murmured, nodding at each of them. “What a glorious day for a Dark Baptism, wouldn’t you agree?” Zelda smiled in acknowledgement and bowed her head slightly in return. “Father Blackwood, we most certainly agree.” She stated, moving forward and tying the goat to the stake already pounded into the ground. Each of them then moved around the clearing, preparing for different aspects of the ritual. It wasn’t until Hilda made the excuse of going to get more candles that Zelda looked up from where she was spacing the torches and discovered that the acolytes had disappeared as well; leaving just her and Faustus. She cursed under her breath, it was just like Hilda to leave her like this. They had half a bag left of candles sitting on the ground—there’d been no reason for Hilda to leave. Why her sister still insisted on pushing her towards the High Priest she did not know, though with all the preparations still being made perhaps she could avoid any awkward or painful topics.
But she worried for nothing, she’d forgotten how easy it was to talk to him. About everything from spells they were each tinkering with, to work, mutual friends and the coven. Faustus was in the middle of sharing a story of a fight he had to break up at the Academy, Zelda nearly in stitches from laughing so hard at his retelling, when the others returned.
A flash of disappointment went through her, she’d rather enjoyed the last two hours talking and laughing with Faustus; it reminded her of old times, before she ran. But it was getting dark and there was nothing left to do but get themselves ready and wait. So, Zelda thanked him for his help and murmured that she would see him soon.
Faustus smiled softly at her and nodded, baying her goodbye as well as he left, his acolytes trailing after him like ducklings. 11:30 Zelda knew she and Hilda arrived early, knew Sabrina didn’t technically need to be there until midnight exactly. Still, the fact that her niece wasn’t in the clearing had anxiety itching up Zelda’s spine.
11:45 Sabrina still wasn’t there. Other coven members arrived and were standing in small groups, chatting and unconcerned, clearly thinking Sabrina was trying to make a dramatic entrance as most witches did these days; it was a ‘thing’ now to do something over the top when arriving at one’s Dark Baptism. Not that Sabrina knew this, but it at least removed some scrutiny from her and Hilda that their niece wasn’t there yet.
11:57 Sabrina should have been there by now, should have already made her way through the woods and into the clearing…where was she? Zelda gnawed on the inside of her lip so as to not ruin her lipstick.
12:02 Beelzebub help her, how could Sabrina be late, tonight of all nights? Zelda wanted to pace, to smoke, to scream. Instead she crossed her arms to hide how she was nervously spinning her rings. They were so close to being free from Edward’s price completely and Sabrina was late. Ambrose was supposed to make sure she left the house on time. Well, he very well could have ushered Sabrina out on time, Satan knew, though, that he couldn’t control what Sabrina did once she left it.
Zelda felt nauseous. She should have stayed behind, helped Sabrina get ready, walked her to the clearing. It went against tradition, which was why she hadn’t done just that in the first place. But considering their current circumstance… maybe that particular tradition should have been bypassed. She was contemplating how she could get away with astral projecting to find out exactly where her wayward niece was when a gust of wind shot through the clearing and blue flames licked up the branches of the main entry way. She hadn’t realized how rigidly she’d been holding herself until her entire body practically sagged against Hilda’s next to her when Sabrina finally made her appearance. But Zelda made sure her utter relief didn’t show externally, it wouldn’t do for the coven to notice her doubt that Sabrina would come.
Faustus took it all in stride, acted as though nothing was remiss and started the ceremony immediately, for which Zelda was immensely grateful.
When he asked who presented Sabrina for her unholy baptism, she and Hilda responded in unison. “We do, Your Excellency.”
And Zelda couldn’t restrain the remonstration on her lips. “Late to your own baptism, honestly.” She hissed quietly so the others couldn’t hear, though her eyes flickered over the crowd all the same, hoping they took this as a sign of teenage dramatics and not any reluctance on Sabrina’s part. They didn’t need the coven doubting their faith and loyalty.
Her body was almost vibrating from adrenaline as the rite of passage proceeded, as Sabrina stood to sign. Zelda could already feel the weight of Edward’s price beginning to lift from her shoulders. She winced slightly when Sabrina’s hand was cut, it was part of the ritual and Zelda anticipated it, but Sabrina’s pained gasp made her press her lips together all the same.
Then, then Sabrina hesitated. Exclaimed in a horrified whisper that the words tumbling from Faustus’ mouth did not match the ones he said before. And she was right, but these were just words, no witch Zelda had ever known had truly been held accountable to the vow they made when signing the Book. There were few occasions when they had to follow whatever their High Priest said, but those instructions always aligned with what was best for them and the coven. Zelda thought Sabrina understood that when Faustus explained it all the other night, that this was symbolic.
Apparently not. Sabrina dropped the pen and pulled away, breath coming in rapid bursts. “I can’t do this.” She murmured.
“No,” Zelda breathed, so softly no one was able to hear how shattered one syllable could sound. Her mind flitting back to almost sixteen years ago when Sabrina was just a babe. How she’d wanted to knock the pen from Edward’s hand, snatch her niece from the alter and run from this very spot. How now she wanted anything but. The safety of her niece, her entire family, depended on Sabrina signing the Book.Picking up the pen to hand to her once more, Faustus arched a brow. “You must.” Faustus insisted, even as Sabrina backed further away from the table.
Zelda took a small step forward. “Sabrina,” and the girl whipped around to face her, expression slightly wild. “Don’t you dare.” Her eyes widened for emphasis, and she blinked several times to hide the tears threatening to gather there.
But Sabrina just shook her head. “I’m sorry, aunties.” She stated before she ran. Zelda’s heart stuttered and dropped, her mind trying to come up with a solution, but it was as if the gears had been jammed.
Only when she heard Faustus utter, “get her,” did Zelda’s mind kick back into action as the woods around them came alive.
Hints of red bordered her vision, they would not hurt her girl. Zelda glanced around and made a tiny, subtle flick of her wrist and the other spells filling the air, trying to pull her niece back, were weakened. Weakened just enough for Sabrina to pull free and make it out of the woods.
Though Zelda knew Sabrina needed to sign the Book of the Beast, she wasn’t going to let the coven drag her girl through the woods and force her to sign. She had seen what happened to witches who were forced to sign against their will. They still received more power, but the price was higher. They often struggled with spells, hexes and curses could backfire, it was as if Satan was punishing them for their resistance. Zelda wouldn’t resign Sabrina to that fate.
They followed Sabrina, trekking through the woods and back to the house. Zelda just hoped Sabrina had enough time to reach the boundaries before they caught up… the roots would’ve taken away whatever head start she managed to get. Just as they exited the trees, Zelda stifled a sigh of relief as the wards notified her of Sabrina passing over the magical boundaries of the Spellman property.
“I will not!” Sabrina declared, when Faustus told her she needed to sign while the blood moon still shone. Zelda clutched the folds of her dress tightly as she pushed to the front of the crowd, a cold sweat breaking out on her brow that had nothing to do with their quick chase through the woods. “There is another path for me, just as there was for my father and mother. A third way.”
Zelda’s steps faltered at the assertion. No, no, no. The third way existed, yes. But the third way was death. Before she could regain herself, Faustus and the weird sisters made to grab Sabrina once more. Zelda felt as though she were in a dream and everything she did was in slow motion, she couldn’t form words, couldn’t move her hands to cast a spell—she watched horrified as the coven approached Sabrina.
Thankfully, Ambrose was outside and had his wits about him and began shouting about protection spells in place that certainly were not. But the coven hesitated, clearly sensing spells surrounding the property and remembering what happened to the last witches who attempted to enter unwanted. They stopped and then moved away, already gossiping about the scandal as they teleported away in small groups.
Faustus was following suit when he paused next to Zelda, facing the opposite direction. Hilda took one look at their faces and scurried ahead, taking Sabrina by the arm and guiding her to the house. Faustus waited until the others were out of hearing distance before speaking.
“Zelda…” he murmured, taking her hand and gripping it a little roughly. “She needs to sign. The Dark Lord—”
“I know.” She snapped quietly, eyes following Sabrina’s form as it darted inside, followed by Hilda. “I know,” she repeated much more softly.
He squeezed her hand and rubbed his thumb along the back of it so she would look at him. When she met his eyes, there was concern there. “The Dark Lord does not like to be rejected. He will likely lash out. You could,” Faustus cleared his throat. “Your entire family,” he amended, “could be at risk.”
Zelda looked back at the house where her family currently hid. “I’m well aware.” She retorted, eyes drifting over to the general vicinity of Edward’s grave. Yes, she was certainly aware of what the Dark Lord was capable of. “What can I do?” She whispered, bringing her eyes back to his in a silent plea for help.
“Try and talk to her. If you can get her to sign the book this weekend you may just get by unscathed.”
Pressing her lips together, Zelda nodded. “I’ll do everything I can.”
“I know,” Faustus replied before kissing her temple and squeezing her hand once more before teleporting away.
Her hand came up to touch where his lips landed as she made her way back to the house. But she quickly shook herself, there were far bigger and more important matters to think about than a chaste kiss on the head.
Zelda took a shuddering breath as she closed the front doors behind her. She would talk to Sabrina in the morning, likely anything she said would have no impact against the high Sabrina currently was on from running. Besides, she had no idea what to say to the girl.
First, though, she needed to adjust the spells around the house. Satan knew what some of the witches might try to do now that Sabrina had not only the audacity to be half-witch, half-mortal, but also the audacity to reject her Dark Baptism. If they thought her a threat before…. Zelda swallowed hard and made her way upstairs to Ambrose’s room.
She knocked tersely on the door as she entered, not wanting to waste any time, petrified her current spells wouldn’t be enough. Ambrose gifted her with a small smile and a nod as she sat down and pulled a book towards her wordlessly, before continuing his own research on how to revamp the spells around the house given his bold claim.
They worked for several hours, only breaking the silence to ask quick questions and double check they weren’t working on the same spells. When they finished, Zelda squeezed Ambrose’s shoulder in thanks and made her way downstairs.
Zelda made a quick detour into her and Hilda’s bedroom, careful not to wake her sister, and then continued down to the morgue. She’d failed Edward. Broken her promise and she wasn’t sure what would happen, but she knew she’d have to shield her family from the fall out as best as she could.
But before she could do that, she needed to be punished for her incompetence. For her failure. The coven would talk. Not only about Sabrina running and shouting at the top of her lungs that she wouldn’t sign, but also about how Zelda Spellman hadn’t raised her niece properly. How Zelda Spellman hadn’t instilled in her niece the faith she should have in their Dark Lord, and did this mean she no longer believed?
How could she have failed on so many levels tonight? Zelda shed her jacket and her dress, folding them neatly before she began to whip herself, arm moving mechanically to alternate sides and vary the height of where the whip made contact. She made it to fifty lashes before she stopped, breathing harshly and grimacing at each movement. But it wasn’t anything she hadn’t deserved. Truly, she deserved far worse for what happened, or what failed to happen.Gingerly, Zelda waved a hand so she was dressed in her nightgown and robe before moving to pick up her other clothes. It was then the small package fell from her jacket pocket. Tears collected in her eyes once more, it was the necklace she intended to give to Sabrina after the baptism. She even had a little speech ready, planned on going to Sabrina’s room after they returned and sit with her on the bed. Zelda would have explained the necklace had belonged to her mother and she‘d given it to Zelda on the night of her unholy baptism. That it‘d been in the family for generations and she wanted Sabrina to have it. How Sabrina had part of Diana, by taking her name in her baptism, and now a part of the Spellman family as a whole as well. Zelda had wanted to say she would now have a piece of her biological mother and her adoptive mother, but she knew that wouldn’t have gone over well—because Sabrina didn’t see her as a mother. But the gesture, the passing down of a family heirloom, would've been one reminiscent of a mother-daughter relationship in Zelda's eyes. Blinking back the tears, Zelda picked up the necklace and vanished it into her trunk along with the flog, no need for anyone to find evidence of either of the items. It was very late, and Zelda knew she should go to bed… but she still needed to figure out what she’d say to Sabrina to convince her to sign. Running a weary hand over her face, Zelda decided it could wait until morning. It was only a few hours away anyway, what difference would it make if she took the morning to figure out how she’d talk to Sabrina? None, she determined, trudging up the stairs, she’d take the morning and then talk to Sabrina about the events in the afternoon.
Yes, Zelda thought, dumping her clothes on top of her vanity and all but collapsing into her bed, that could work.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
She slept through the morning; effectively throwing off her entire plan.
Zelda hadn’t given herself fifty lashes in a long time, that combined with the late hour she’d gone to bed… it took far more out of her than she realized. Which meant it was already 10am when she woke up and made her way downstairs, albeit a little stiffly from her injuries.
“Where is Sabrina?” She questioned Hilda tiredly, slumping into her spot at the kitchen table.
Hilda eyed her, brow furrowed. “Outside, doing her homework.”
A cigarette appearing in her hand, Zelda nodded. “Alright, have you spoken to her yet? About last night?” She asked, lighting the cigarette and inhaling deeply.
Shaking her head, Hilda began to fuss with the knife she’d been using to chop vegetables. “No, I thought you might want to.”
“You thought right,” she replied, taking another long drag of nicotine. “But I need to figure out how to say it first. I’ll be in the study if you need me.” She rose heavily from the chair and made her way to the office they normally used for meetings with families about funeral arrangements.
Taken aback by her sudden departure, Hilda called after her. “Zelds, wait! Don’t you want to eat something?” Her sister probed anxiously.
Not breaking stride, Zelda once more shook her head. “No, thank you, Hilda. I have no appetite.” She then left the kitchen and shut herself in the office for the rest of the day, attempting to figure out how to talk to Sabrina.
How she was supposed to talk the girl into signing the Book of the Beast before the end of the weekend Zelda hadn’t a clue. She’d clearly been unable to convince her niece to go through with the ritual to begin with, now that she ran from it how was Zelda to change her mind?
There was always the truth, she supposed, knocking the ash off her cigarette and propping her feet up on one of the extra chairs. She could tell Sabrina about what Edward did, that her name was already in the Book so signing again really didn’t mean much of anything. And while she was at it, Zelda could confess Edward was killed because he defied, tested and denied the Dark Lord and Sabrina may face the same fate if she continued this little rebellion.
But to even consider that route was ludicrous. She couldn’t tell Sabrina the truth without pushing her niece further away—if the girl thought a family member being threatened with excommunication was reason enough not to join the church, Zelda couldn’t imagine what her niece would do at the mention of murder. Besides, that was a heavy burden to bear, as she well knew, Zelda wouldn’t put that on Sabrina’s shoulders, not when there might still be another way.
Extinguishing the stub of her cigarette impatiently, Zelda stood and paced the room, spinning her rings, hoping the movement would jog something loose in her brain on how to talk to Sabrina. For the next several hours she alternated between pacing and tipping back in the chair and staring at the ceiling, discarding ideas as quickly as they came. She was lucky to have a bit of inspiration right before dinner and her next bout of pacing, otherwise she likely would have worn a hole in the floor.
Quickly pulling out some paper, Zelda began to jot down ideas and attempted to put them in a coherent order. It occurred to her that Sabrina had been willing to participate until the ceremonial words differed from what Faustus told her the other night.
All Zelda needed to do was explain that those words were from the original texts, that they hadn’t been changed since the very first witch had her Dark Baptism. That those words were once taken at face value, but not anymore, and they actually were the symbolic gesture Faustus presented them to be. That she, Hilda, Ambrose and countless others signed as those same words were spoken and none of them had been called to level of service decreed by the oath. It was merely tradition to use the old words.
She sighed in relief and rested her head in her hands for a moment, content that she at least had a plan of approach if not her entire interaction with Sabrina planned out. Why Zelda hadn't thought of this the first hundred times she replayed the night in her head, she wasn't sure, but at least she'd thought of it.
Dropping her pen, Zelda sat back and it felt as though the weight Edward forced upon her, the one that began to lift during the Dark Baptism only to slam back down heavier than before when Sabrina ran, was starting to lift again. If she could just get Sabrina to listen to her, really listen, Zelda knew she could convince her niece to sign. Glancing at the clock, Zelda realized it was nearly 8pm and she hadn’t eaten anything all day.
Zelda crept out of the office and was relieved to see not one of her family members was in sight. Once in the kitchen, Zelda opened the refrigerator and found a wrapped plate with her name written on the top, and a small smile touched her lips at the gesture. Hilda looking out for her even when it wasn’t needed. Taking the plate, Zelda ate in peace and enjoyed some tea, rearranging the words in her head for when she went up to talk to Sabrina after she ate.
Only, only when she reached Sabrina’s room after clearing her dinner, Sabrina wasn’t there. Zelda hurried to her bedroom and found Hilda reading.
“Where is Sabrina?” She demanded, one hand on the door knob and the other the frame.
Grip tightening on her book slightly, Hilda cringed. “Out bowling with her friends… Harvey did come over and ask and we both agreed.”
And it was an unholy miracle Zelda didn’t see the back of her skull with how hard she rolled her eyes; the goodwill she felt towards her sister for saving her a meal evaporating immediately. “That was before she ran from her Dark Baptism, Hilda. And you know full well I only agreed to it so Harvey would leave before the York family showed up with all of their familiars in tow. Had Sabrina signed as she was supposed to she would have had to cut contact with her mortal friends, as you well know.” She finished loudly and a little breathlessly. Why did Hilda insist on allowing Sabrina to do as she pleased? Why was Zelda the only one to say no?
Looking flustered, Hilda began to apologize. “I’m sorry Zelda, but we hadn’t seen you all day. It seemed like it might be good for us to give you space…”
“Space, yes, space was fine. Space was not coming to bother me about eating or my blood pressure. This, letting Sabrina go out with her mortal friends right after she denied her Dark Baptism and the Dark Lord, that is not space, sister.” Zelda speared her hands through her hair frustrated beyond belief. “That is reckless and flaunting her decision in the Dark Lord’s face.” Shaking her head, Zelda began to savagely tug off her rings. She’d been ready to speak to Sabrina, had felt confident they’d come to an understanding and now the moment was gone. Grumbling to herself, Zelda dropping the rings with a little more force than necessary.
Lower lip caught in her teeth, Hilda hunched her shoulders. “I could call her back…” She offered meekly, and Zelda didn’t miss in the mirror’s reflection how her sister flinched, already anticipating a trip to the Cain Pit. But Zelda was exhausted, and her back ached horribly, she didn’t have it in her to bludgeon Hilda and then drag her outside to bury. Exhaling slowly, Zelda simply readied herself for bed.
A few minutes later Hilda said something else that Zelda didn’t catch, too focused on changing without letting Hilda see her back and what she’d done. “What?” She turned and grabbed the pillows off her bed.
Shifting a little uncomfortably, “I said, you know Sabrina gets her independence and stubbornness from you.” Hilda raised a tentative brow at her.
“I beg your pardon?” Zelda narrowed her eyes, grip tightening on her comforter.
“It’s not a bad thing!” Hilda quickly added. “Sabrina’s watched you run everything all these years, seen how independent you are, how you fight for what you’ve set your mind on. Is it really any wonder she wants to be the same?”
Scoffing, Zelda climbed into bed and fought a grimace when her back brushed against the headboard. Though immensely pleased Hilda thought Sabrina inherited anything from her, now was certainly the most inopportune moment for those traits to fully manifest themselves.
Deciding another topic might be best, Hilda tried again. “Did you figure out what you’re going to say to Sabrina?”
“Yes, though I had hoped to do that tonight.” She replied with a slightly frosty tone. “I just don’t want to mess it up and end up pushing her further away…. Sabrina needs to sign, Hilda. She needs to.” Zelda finished much more softly than she intended, and she hated how desperate she sounded.
Hilda nodded and gave her a slightly sympathetic smile. “How about, we do it at dinner tomorrow? Gives you a chance to regather your thoughts and we’ll all be there to help should you need it.”
Zelda wanted to decline, she intended on speaking to Sabrina alone, feeling less inclined to be so strong and in charge when it was just one family member than when the entire family was present. But perhaps Hilda was onto something. Zelda knew she could be abrasive, having Hilda there to help smooth things over could be beneficial. “Alright,” she muttered, carefully sliding down into bed and turning onto her side to face Hilda. “Tomorrow at dinner it is. Damned dreams, Hilda.”
They made it to Sunday dinner without incident… though that was likely because Zelda had done her damnedest to avoid Sabrina, and, when she couldn’t, she simply didn’t speak to her niece. It was far from the mature thing to do, but Zelda wanted to make sure she didn’t make things worse by trying to talk to Sabrina before she had her speech ready.
Of course, it didn’t go as planned.
Why? Why couldn’t she drop the devout act for once and have an actual conversation with her niece? She’d had a plan. A plan to reason with Sabrina and help her understand it wasn’t as daunting as it all seemed, that they didn’t lie to her, not completely. But she hadn’t been ready, not when Sabrina poked her head around Zelda’s newspaper and asked if she’d ever speak to her again. Zelda had still been constructing sentences and playing out scenarios in her head, and Sabrina caught her off guard.
So, Zelda fell back on all she’d known for the past ten years, her role as the disciplinarian aunt, the one who cared for their standing within the coven and the Dark Lord above almost all else. And Satan, how she made things worse.
And now, on top of everything, Sabrina was claiming to have seen visions of her parents the night of the baptism, stating they told her to run, that this meant it wasn’t her father’s wish that she sign the book. Zelda wanted to shout that Edward already signed his daughter’s name and then begged his sister to make sure Sabrina did the same when she came of age. That whatever nonsense she had seen was most certainly not her parents.
But the words stuck, as the truth always did. Zelda merely shook her head, confounded as to how to turn this conversation around and salvage it. But she already caused too much damage and with this new ‘vision’ aspect to contend with, well, she needed a new plan of attack. Sighing, Zelda folded her paper and went back to the office to think, ignoring Hilda calling after her about food.
Zelda still hadn’t figured out a new approach by morning, so it was just as well that Sabrina left for school in a hurry. Grabbing some toast and bolting out the door without so much as a word. Sighing quietly in relief, Zelda folded the paper and left the table once more, taking her tea with her. Thankfully they didn’t have any clients that day, so she’d have some more uninterrupted time to collect herself.
She would have to talk to Sabrina when she got home from school, she was already out of time as it was. Zelda would try the one-on-one approach she’d initially hoped for. Maybe then she could explain that Edward had explicitly asked her to make sure Sabrina signed and became a full witch. That is truly was his wish and whatever Sabrina had seen that night in the woods was just a manifestation of her nerves about signing and not an indication that her parents wanted her to run. Triumphantly dropping her pen, Zelda lit a celebratory cigarette. Now that she’d figured out how to talk to Sabrina all there was to do was wait, it was only an hour until Sabrina was due home.
The moment of victory was short lived.
A knock on the front door had Zelda furrowing her brows and stubbing out her cigarette to go answer it. Faustus was on the other side, looking more than a little harried. “Faustus, what—?”
He held up an ancient looking envelope, the letters ‘Infernal Summons’ stamped on the outside. Zelda swallowed hard and grabbed his arm to pull him into the office, not sparing a glance in Hilda’s direction when her head popped out of the kitchen.
“A trial?” She hissed anxiously as the door swung shut behind her. Zelda snatched the summons from him and began to scan it. “I thought I’d have more time to get Sabrina to sign. I know you said this weekend was preferable, but it’s only Monday.” Zelda forced herself to stand still, though she desperately wanted to pace, she put the document down and settled for spinning her rings. “Besides, Sabrina is hardly the first witch to not sign the book on her birthday, why is a trial for Breach of Promise suddenly the recourse for—”
Faustus cut in. “The Dark Lord is especially impatient, he did not want to wait. I could not persuade him otherwise. He, he also demands that the family responsible for the truant child forfeit their powers.” He added the last part quickly, as if saying it faster would make it more bearable.
Blanching, Zelda took a minute step back. “Surely, that’s not necessary.”
“Zelda,” Faustus interrupted softly, taking a step closer. “It’s not up to me. None of it is. I tried, but… you know how demanding our Dark Lord is. How, convincing,” and he shifted uncomfortably, adjusting his collar; making Zelda wonder what ways the Dark Lord used to ‘convince’ Faustus a full-blown criminal trial was necessary. Because Faustus certainly didn’t seem keen on the idea. A trial, especially one like this, was public, made news and didn’t show him, as a High Priest, in a good light. The fact they had to resort to a trial to get a child to sign… it implied his guidance wasn’t enough, that faith in his coven was faltering; something all High Priests strove to avoid like the plague.
So, it was out of both of their hands then. Pinching the inside of her arm to improve her focus, Zelda turned her attention back to the warlock in front of her. “When do we lose them?”
He gave her an apologetic look. “I’m supposed to remove them before I leave here today.”
The words thudded into her, and Zelda sat abruptly on the edge of the desk, a hand on her forehead. “All of us?”
“Just you and Hilda,” he clarified. “Ambrose is housebound and not seen as a threat. And Sabrina, though now of age, has not signed yet and so is still considered a minor in this matter—and minors are not stripped of their powers during trials, as you know.”
She pinched the inside of her arm again, trying to ground herself and slow the pounding of her heart. “When will we get them back?”
As if sensing her internal panic, Faustus took a step forward and gently ran his hands along her upper arms comfortingly. “When the trial comes to a conclusion the Dark Lord is pleased with.”
A shuddering breath escaped her. “With Sabrina’s obstinance? I’m not sure how likely that will be.” Zelda turned her head to look at the wall to hide the shining in her eyes. She’d known. Known back when Edward first broke witching law the family would not be exempt from the Dark Lord’s wrath. She just had the timing wrong. Now she and Hilda would be powerless, and Ambrose still couldn’t leave the grounds… how were any of them to protect Sabrina?
“Zels, without your powers, you and Hilda will begin to age… rather rapidly.” He added quietly, as if trying to reduce the sting of the salt in the wound.
Waving a hand dismissively, Zelda shook her head; that was the least of her concerns. Yes, it would bother her immensely that she would age, she took pride in her appearance, but the danger they were now all in was far more pressing. They were vulnerable without their powers and if there was anything Zelda hated, it was being vulnerable.
She brought her gaze back to him and was startled to realize how close he was standing, how the warmth of his hands seeped through the sleeves of her dress… she was certainly beyond stressed if it had taken her this long to notice such things. Collecting herself, Zelda cleared her throat.
“How is it done?” “I will make it painless. But I need a tooth.”
Zelda blinked. “A tooth.” She repeated flatly, brow lifting.
Inching closer, Faustus nodded. “It is said our powers reside within the very marrow of our bones.” He lifted a finger and traced her cheek bone and along her jaw—she barely suppressed a shiver in response to his touch. “To strip a witch of her power, you need to contain it within a bone… and a tooth really is the most convenient and least painful option.” He concluded logically, letting his hand fall from her jaw back to her arm.
Head bobbing in a mechanical nod, Zelda sighed. “Do you need one from each of us?” Practical, if she just focused on the practical aspects of this whole ordeal maybe she could hide the anxiety eating away at her.
A soft smile touching his lips, Faustus shook his head. “No, just one of you. I can contain your and Hilda’s powers within one tooth.”
“Do,” Zelda exhaled, “do you take the tooth with you?” She hated the idea. Losing her powers was one thing, not having possession of what they were trapped in was another level of vulnerability she wasn’t sure she could handle.
Faustus shook his head once more. “You keep it. You won’t be able to do anything with it, but it will remain with you.” He looked at her sympathetically and she certainly couldn’t handle that at the moment, his softness.
So, Zelda grabbed the summons, pushed off the desk and brushed past him as she made her way to the door. “Alright. Let’s get it over with then.” She stated briskly, making her way to the kitchen where she knew the others were impatiently waiting, Faustus trailing behind her.
Without preamble, Zelda turned to Hilda. “Father Blackwood needs one of your teeth.”
“What?!” Hilda asked incredulously, looking between the two of them. “Why?” Ambrose watched all of this silently, but his expressive brows were furrowed in confusion when he turned to look at Zelda as well.
Seeing no use in mincing words, Zelda dropped the summons on the table and explained the situation bluntly. “We are to be stripped of our powers for the duration of Sabrina’s trial. They must be contained within a bone of one of the witches losing their abilities. We will remain in possession of the tooth but will be unable to restore our own powers until a, hopefully, positive outcome.”
Hilda blinked, clearly as stunned by this turn of events as Zelda had been. But her sister merely swallowed back her questions, saving them for later. “Oh,” Hilda sighed, running her tongue over her teeth. “Alright then, get it done.” She sat on a stool and looked at Faustus expectantly.
Taken aback by her immediate acceptance of the situation, Faustus started forward. “This will not hurt,” he reassured, stepping forward and blocking Zelda’s view. A slight pop and a surprised gasp from Hilda the only indication anything had been done.
However, when he turned to face her, waving a hand over the tooth in his palm causing it to glow faintly, it felt as though her very essence were sapped from her; leaving Zelda drained. She gripped the back of one of the kitchen chairs to steady herself and she noticed Hilda looked markedly paler as well.
So, this is what it felt like, she thought wretchedly, having the magic that sang through her for centuries ripped away. The vast, empty cavern opening inside her seemed limitless and Zelda knew then that she greatly underestimated how defenseless she would feel.
Faustus’ words recaptured her attention. “Your powers will be released upon the conclusion of the trial, should the Dark Lord see it fit.” He restated, taking Zelda’s hand and pressing the tooth into it, curling her fingers over the small bone. “I will see you later.” He nodded and squeezed her hand before teleporting away.
Eyes falling to the tooth, Zelda automatically made to cast protective spells over the precious item, only to be met with the dark void that now roomed where her powers once had. Blinking rapidly to hide how distressed the sensation made her, Zelda turned to Ambrose.
“I need you to place every protection and tracking spell you can imagine on this.” She held up the tooth between her thumb and index finger. “You understand how valuable—”
Ambrose nodded solemnly, for once he had no quip, seeming to understand the severity of their situation.
Ceasing to poke at the new hole in her mouth, Hilda brought her eyes to her sister. “Zelds, what are we going—”
But the front door slamming shut cut her off. The trio turned to see Sabrina marching into the kitchen, a little green around the gills.
“Aunt Zelda, Aunt Hilda. You’re not gonna believe what happened today at school.” Their niece announced. Not in any mood to hear about whatever mortal nonsense Sabrina wanted to share with them, Zelda headed her off. “Ohhh, I can imagine.” She held up the subpoena for Sabrina to see. “Do you know what this is?” When Sabrina looked at her blankly, Zelda continued. “It’s an Infernal Summons.”
Confusion creased Sabrina’s brow. “A what now?” She looked between the three of them for explanation.
Hilda stepped forward to answer. “Well, you’ve been charged with a rather antiquated offense, dearest. Breach of Promise.” How her sister could act so calmly Zelda didn’t understand. They were all in danger from Sabrina’s actions and now they were being called in front of the coven and the Dark Lord to stand trial for those actions… Satan knew what they’d potentially uncover in their pursuit of charging Sabrina.
“You made a promise to sign the Dark Lord’s Book of the Beast and then when you ran in horror from your Dark Baptism you broke it.” But, really, Edward made that promise, as the Dark Lord well knew, not that it mattered in his eyes; what mattered was that Sabrina signed. So, she went on to explain that Sabrina humiliated the Dark Lord in front of the coven so now she must be judged and tried in front of the entire coven. She placed the summons down for Sabrina to read. “Never in all my years, has a Spellman been summoned to the Court of Witches.”
Still lost, Sabrina shook her head. “I don’t understand. Someone is suing me?”
Hilda placed a hand on Sabrina’s arm. “The Dark Lord. He’s determined to get you on the Path of Night.” She explained a little breathlessly, as shaken by this entire thing as Zelda—only she expressed it as nerves and not anger.
Eyes widening, Sabrina dropped the summons. “I saw him today, the Dark Lord.” Zelda’s heart stopped, no, no, no. The creature had not come near her girl. She stepped forward, eyes round and mouth slightly open as Sabrina continued to explain how the Dark Lord possessed her principal and threatened her.
Clutching the chair in front of her, Zelda’s lips twisted as fear crawling up the back of her throat. She turned to Hilda. “Did you hear that, sister? Can you imagine how enraged he must be?” Enraged enough to force a trial for a charge that hadn’t been used in centuries… but was he enraged enough to kill? As he had been with Edward?
“Well, it doesn’t matter! I don’t want to be a part of his coven, I don’t want to set foot in the Academy of Unseen Arts, and I am certainly not gonna stand trial.” Sabrina’s words sliced through her, this was everything she worked the past sixteen years to avoid. And now not only had she failed Edward in getting Sabrina to sign, she failed in protecting her niece from the Dark Lord’s attention as well.
But she had to impress it upon Sabrina that she had no choice in the matter. “Oh, you most certainly are, Sabrina. You’ve been summoned.” How did she not understand this? Even in the mortal realm they had a similar system, one where you couldn’t refuse a summons; but Sabrina continued to walk away from her. “And not only you. Hilda and I as well. We’re on trial too.” That got Sabrina’s attention, she stopped and spun around, a look of confusion on her face.
Some of her defiance leaking away, Sabrina made a face. “That doesn’t make any sense…” She looked between her aunts, baffled.
Twisting her fingers, Hilda approached Sabrina once more. “Well, we’re your legal guardians, lamb. So, in the eyes of the Court of Witches, your actions are our actions. We’re as guilty as you.”
Sabrina reentered the kitchen. “Don’t you mean innocent? Innocent until proven guilty?” Zelda bit the inside of her cheek, so now she chose to remember how certain courts of law worked.
Speaking up for the first time since Sabrina returned, Ambrose huffed. “That’s mortal law. Witch law is the complete opposite. Guilty until proven innocent.”
As Ambrose spoke, Zelda dug the enchanted tooth out of her jacket where she’d hidden it; feeling far better with it on her person then leaving it anywhere in the house. “Do you know what this is?” She held up the small bone. “It’s your Aunt Hilda’s tooth. We have been stripped of our powers.” Her voice was a little raw with emotion, but she didn’t try to rein it in. Sabrina needed to understand the gravity of the situation. “Which means we will age and rot, rapidly, until a verdict is reached. Your trial starts at midnight.” She informed Sabrina, placing the tooth on the table and her niece slowly turned away and walked up to her room.
She sat back down, body trembling slightly from adrenaline. She didn’t mention how helpless being without their powers made them, how exposed they were to threats…. Satan knew there were some witches who’d like to take their revenge on Zelda for events that happened years ago. But she couldn’t warn her family of this danger without revealing the truth about what really happened when those witches tried to break in, about what really happened to Edward. So, she stayed silent until Ambrose stood and followed Sabrina upstairs, hopefully to talk some sense into her.
Turning to Hilda, Zelda pressed her lips together. “You realize the seriousness of the situation, don’t you sister?”
Hilda picked at her cuticles nervously and nodded. “Of course, I do Zelda. A, a trial? Perhaps there’s some way to prevent the whole thing from happening? Father Blackwood—”
“Is an unwilling participant from all I could see. He couldn’t prevent the trial, Hilda.” She interrupted, body aching from the absence of her magic.
Lip caught between her teeth, Hilda inclined her head in acknowledgment. “Prevent the summons and the charges, maybe not… but won’t he also be the prosecutor? Couldn’t we bargain with him? Get some sort of deal so we don’t even go to court?” Hilda looked at her anxiously and Zelda felt moronic for not making the same realization herself.
She shot out of her chair, placing the tooth back inside her jacket. “Of course, Hilda you’re brilliant. I’ll go to the Academy immediately, surely the Dark Lord wants a quick resolution. He may allow Faustus to bargain with us.” Zelda quickly left the room, grabbing the car keys as she left—already hating that she had to drive instead of teleport.
Why she hadn’t thought to ask for a deal when Faustus came to strip their powers Zelda didn’t know. She could blame it on the stress, her lack of sleep or how she skipped most of her meals the past several days—surviving on nicotine, tea and anxiety. Whatever the reason it no longer mattered. There was still time, still time to get rid of this whole mess before it truly got underway.
Faustus didn’t want the trial either, she could put pressure on that aspect, hope his own instinct for self-preservation aligned with Zelda’s instinct to protect her family—she thought her odds were good. She knocked on the door confidently and was pleased when the door swung open to admit her.
If he was surprised to see her, Faustus didn’t show it, he remained seated behind his desk. “Zelda, what can I do for you?”
Taking a seat, Zelda leaned forward a little. “You’re going to be the Dark Lord’s prosecutor, I imagine.” She wasted no time getting to the point, the trial was to take place in a matter of hours, there was no time to ease into the topic.
He tilted his head in acknowledgement. “I don’t relish it, but that is one of my duties as High Priest, yes.”
Sighing in relief that she hadn’t come here for naught, Zelda continued. “Please, Faustus, Sabrina made a foolish, impetuous mistake. Couldn’t we settle this between ourselves? You, me, the Dark Lord? Without the embarrassing spectacle of a public trial?”
And she could tell from the small twitch in his cheek, though the rest of his face gave nothing away, that Faustus liked the idea. Despite this, he shook his head minutely. “The wheels of justice are already turning, Zelda.” He murmured, standing and rounding his desk, stopping in front of her and brushing his thumb along the hand she had resting on the desk as he leaned against it. “However… come tonight, with Sabrina.” He took her hand fully between his as he spoke, caressing her knuckles. “Have her admit her wrongdoing and beg for forgiveness, immediately. The Dark Lord is not without mercy. But he’ll require total submission from the girl.”
Though she hated it, knew the Dark Lord was, in fact, without mercy, Zelda agreed. Because a submissive Sabrina was at least one that was alive. “And he shall have it. I promise you.” Faustus looked at her more closely then, a smirk quirking his lips. “Poor Zelda,” he uttered, lifting a hand to skim over her cheek. “Already I see the ravages of age upon you.” While his words were playfully harsh, his touch was gentle and Zelda didn’t pull away when he buried his hand in her hair and pressed a firm, lingering kiss to her forehead.
She couldn’t help how she turned her cheek into his hand when his lips pulled away, couldn’t help the heat pooling in her stomach and working its way lower. It was the most intimate touch they had since she ran from him all those years ago in this very office. And it still had the same effect on her now as it did then. Damn him, she thought, though judging by the dilating of his pupils he felt it too.
Where the moment would have taken them, Zelda would never find out. Because as he slid his hand through her hair, he’d always loved her hair, a lock of it came out, caught on one of his rings. Faustus only sat there, stunned, and turned his hand slightly to examine the strands in baffled fascination.
Horrified, Zelda stood quickly, not bothering to maintain her distance in her hurry to snatch the hair from his hand and hide it behind her back. “Thank you for your time, Faustus.” She murmured, grasping his hand as she turned and made a hasty retreat. Needing to save face, though, she paused at the door. “See you in court,” she stated, flipping her hair over her shoulder as if it hadn’t just betrayed her.
In her rush to leave she missed the small, affectionate smile that touched Faustus’ lips and how he played with the few remaining hairs clinging to his hand before letting them fall to the floor.
He waited a moment, until the door clicked shut behind Zelda, before addressing the presence he sensed several minutes ago—had Zelda not been so concerned for her niece she likely would’ve noticed as well. Or perhaps she had noticed but merely put it down to something at the Academy—she wasn’t as used to the atmosphere as she once was.
“I don’t enjoy being watched.” The shadow of a woman crept along his wall, finally making her presence visible.
Lilith materialized in front of him, and he hid an eye roll by looking at his hands and brushing them together. The creature cane to him once before, when Sabrina was questioning her path. It’d been an introduction and nothing more. The demoness simply wanted to make him aware of her presence and that she was doing the Dark Lord’s work, and to warn him not to interfere with it.
Now, her continued presence was a nuisance and her ability to spy on him in his own Academy disconcerting. “The girl is my charge,” she drawled, walking slowly to behind his desk, trailing her hand along his belongings. “I can’t risk leaving her fate in… lesser hands.”
Unable to resist exchanging a verbal jab of his own, Faustus countered. “And yet it is your own incompetence that brought us to this moment.”
A mirthless chuckled escaped Lilith as she prowled around his office, rambling about easing Sabrina to the altar, using a gentle touch and claiming she did her job of getting Sabrina to the altar, he was the one who failed. When he argued her methods were weak she sneered and threatened him, reminding him that she feasted on male flesh as she left.
He found her attempt at intimidation lacking, and as though she sensed this she stopped at the door and eyed him. “Perhaps if you spent more time guiding the child instead of pining after her aunt we wouldn’t be here.” She remarked smugly and then took her leave before he could think of a retort.
Scoffing, Faustus turned back to the materials on his desk, he didn’t ‘pine’ for anyone, let alone Zelda, though his eyes drifted involuntarily to the seat she recently occupied. Shaking his head, he refocused on preparing for the trial. Because while Zelda was certain she could get her niece to take the deal, he was less optimistic, Lilith’s words about not underestimating the teen echoing in his head.
Zelda took a deep breath as they exited the car and approached the church, she and Hilda both hiding under head scarves and sunglasses. Soon, this would be over, an hour at most, surely. She knew there were the formalities to go through and these would take time, but Zelda felt confident they would be fine. Confident they would leave here tonight with their powers restored and Sabrina having signed the book. She explained the deal to Sabrina on the ride over, though she may have left out the ‘total submission’ part, knowing that would have her niece jumping out of the vehicle faster than anything.
Stopping right outside of the church doors, Zelda turned to face the others. “Remember, ladies, we carry ourselves with aplomb and dignity.” Just because they were technically here to beg did not mean they would do it without poise. “We admit our wrongs, accept our punishment and try and put this whole sordid mess behind us. Isn’t that right, Sabrina?” She turned to the girl and waited expectantly.
“Do I have a choice?” Sabrina asked.
Arching a brow, Zelda’s mouth pursed at her niece’s tone. “Not really, no.” She replied bluntly, turning and once more heading to the church.
As the proceedings began, Zelda watched everyone closely from behind her sunglasses; making sure no coven member tried to curse them while they sat powerless. It was only when Faustus proclaimed Sabrina would spend 333 years in the burning Pits after she died that she sat up. He hadn’t mentioned that when they spoke earlier. He glanced at her apologetically, apparently, he’d been too lenient in the deal he offered before, and the Dark Lord demanded more.
All things considered, however, the deal was still a fair one… though she loathed the thought of Sabrina in the Pit, it was better than death. So, when Sabrina hesitated to enter her plea, Zelda leaned forward and mouthed to her ‘guilty’.
But the doors banged open before Sabrina could answer and a man strode in, shouting. “She pleads not guilty.”
Zelda’s heart dropped, no, no, no. This would only make things worse, and when she peeked at the High Priest for his reaction, he had raised his eyes to the ceiling as if to beg for patience. How this man came to be here she did not know, but his presence would only anger the Dark Lord further.
“Mr. Webster,” Faustus laughed in disbelief. “You are not unknown to this court, but you are unwelcome, sir, and uninvited.”
The lawyer shook his head. “Untrue, sir. Where my client goes, I follow.”
Swallowing hard, Zelda grasped the pew in front of her. “Client!?” She repeated, standing up and turning to her niece. “Sabrina?”
“He’s my lawyer, Aunt Zelda.” Sabrina replied haughtily, not turning to meet her eyes. Gasps and side conversations broke out among the coven and the Infernal Three banged their gavel to regain order. A brief recess was given so both sides could prepare… Zelda ushered her family outside and immediately began to pace, she could feel her blood pressure ratcheting up.
She whipped off her sunglasses. “As if things weren’t dire enough, you go and hire this mortal pettifogger behind our backs.”
Eyebrows shooting up, Webster turned to her. “With all due respect, madam, I am well-versed in witch law.”
“Oh, I know exactly who you are, Mr. Webster. I remember you sniffing around my brother years ago. A hanger-on, dilettante.” Zelda spat back at him, this man could very well be the reason Edward thought it a good idea to bargain his child in return for marrying a mortal. She didn’t know for sure, but she knew the man’s reputation and wouldn’t put it past him—wouldn’t put it past him to try and make up for it now by representing her niece.
Sabrina’s gazed switched between the two of them rapidly. “Wait, you knew my father?”
Inclining his head, Webster turned his gaze back to Sabrina. “He’s the reason I came to Greendale. Your father taught me witch law, offered me comfort when there was none. He helped me out. I’d like to return the favor.”
Before Zelda could cut in again, the church bell tolled, telling them they’d run out of time and had to return to the trial. She quickly replaced her sunglasses, hoping to hide the torrent of emotions she was sure her eyes would give away, and heading back indoors—knowing Webster's acquaintance with Edward sealed the client contract in her niece’s eyes.
The trial continued, Sabrina stood in front of the Infernal Three and the coven and gave testimony. Faustus was talented with words and soon riled up the audience to shouting at Sabrina, but Webster was equally talented, and Zelda felt a small spark of hope that perhaps this man’s presence hadn’t doomed them after all.
But when Webster demanded evidence of the promise, of a contract, Faustus too happily produced the Book of the Beast and flipped it open. Zelda thought she might throw up, they found it. How? How had they even known to look? Had the Dark Lord been that intimately involved in the preparation for this trial? She turned her head, unable to watch what Sabrina’s reaction would be to this secret. This would condemn her girl faster than anything… and she helped do it.
Then, then Faustus called her to the stand and Sabrina looked at her in confusion but relinquished her spot to allow Zelda up, a quiet, “Aunt Zelda, what’s happening?” Demanded of her as she reluctantly and shakily took her place, agitatedly smoothing the front of her coat.
“Ms. Spellman,” Faustus began, and then softer, “Zelda, take us back to this date written here.” And she knew he was only doing what the Dark Lord commanded, but in that brief moment she hated him for making her do this.
Zelda kept her sunglasses in place, to mask the fact there were tears in her eyes… knowing this would hurt Sabina. “Of course, your excellency.” She replied, proud of how steady her voice sounded. “I…” She had to pause to take a breath. “I accompanied my brother into the Greendale Wood. In his arms, he carried his newborn daughter, Sabrina. When we reached a clearing, he placed the babe on an altar, and…” The words caught in her throat, her mouth worked uselessly for a moment before she was able to spit out the horrible truth. “Signed her name in the Book of the Beast.” Zelda finished in a rush, hands fisting the fabric of her coat as murmurs broke out once more among the onlookers and Hilda watched her in wide-eyed disbelief. “Promising her soul to the Dark Lord.” She added quietly, knowing Faustus would be obligated to ask her what this implicated and not wanting to give him the chance.
The look of betrayal on Sabrina’s face cut her to the core, but her niece’s expression quickly transformed into anger. A hard, “what?” Escaping her as she stared at her aunt.
Her chin trembled, despite how she clenched her jaw—tears never helped anyone and they most certainly wouldn’t help now. All she could do was stand here and take the consequences.
Sabrina confronted her the moment they entered the house. “Now it makes sense! All your strong-arming trying to get me to sign. You were just trying to cover up the fact you already pawned me off to the Dark Lord like a used car!”
The accusation might as well have been a slap for how Zelda started. “You were never meant to find out! You were meant to choose the Path of Night and sign your name willingly. That way—”
But Sabrina just shook her head in disgust. “That way, I never would’ve found out about my father’s betrayal? And yours?!” She shouted tearfully, and Zelda swallowed, eyes glazing over with her own tears which she hurriedly blinked away, certain Sabrina would only scoff at them and think them fake. She lowered her voice, trying to defuse the situation a little. “Edward needed a witness.” Zelda explained gently, hating the hurt in Sabrina’s face.
“Why would he do that to me?” She demanded.
And here it was, was this time to tell them all everything? It was the perfect opportunity, she’d likely never have one like it again. But she couldn’t, not when Sabrina was already so devastated, but her niece deserved some of the truth.
Struggling for a moment to share even a small piece of the secret she’d been carrying for over a decade, Zelda forged ahead. “A certain bargain had been struck, and the price your father paid for it was your name in that book.”
“What could’ve been worth it?” Sabrina asked, brows furrowed in anger, confusion and hurt.
Zelda inhaled slowly through her nose. “Permission to marry your mother. The Dark Lord granted it in exchange for—”
But Sabrina had heard enough. “For me… his daughter. And you stood there, and you watched him do it, Aunt Zelda! You helped him do it!” With that Sabrina stormed off, leaving the rest of them in the parlor.
She wanted to shout back that the deal had been made without her knowledge, that she’d been against the whole thing, that she refused at first, slammed her brother into the wall and cursed him at length before he threatened to do it without her. But Zelda swallowed the hurt and the words that wanted to burble up her throat. Sabrina needed someone to blame. And her father was dead and often idolized so while Sabrina may be temporarily angry with him, she’d never really blame the man—which left Zelda.
So, she took it.
Took the anger spewing from this girl she raised. The child needed a bad guy, Zelda could be that. She’d played the role long enough, why not add another reason on top of it? Pressing her lips together, Zelda nodded at Ambrose and Hilda and made her way upstairs as well, hoping to hide how deeply Sabrina’s words cut.
Though she longed go to the basement with the flog—a good whipping would distract her and help cleanse some of the guilt currently overwhelming her—Zelda’s back had barely begun to heal from her last punishment, and Hilda would likely follow her soon; it was too big of a risk. So, with a dejected sigh, Zelda got ready for bed.
As predicted, Hilda entered the room moments later. “Are you alright, Zelda?” She asked tentatively, changing for bed as well.
“Of course,” she replied airily, throwing her decorative pillows to the side and climbing into bed, grateful she mastered the art of reining in her emotions within minutes long ago.
Too bad for her, her sister had mastered seeing through her masks. “Sabrina said some hurtful things.” Hilda remarked, slipping under her own covers.
Wetting her lips, Zelda shrugged, trying to brush away her sister’s concern. “Yes, well, what teenager hasn’t? And besides, she’s not entirely wrong. While I didn’t approve of Edward’s action by any means, and there was nothing I could do to change the deal he made, I still could have told her.” And she thought helping Edward fulfill his price would help keep him alive…. Paying his price should have kept him alive.
Hilda’s next comment broke through Zelda’s musings. “Oh, but to tell a child their life and soul were signed away a few days after birth? That is a scary thing to learn.” She observed, playing with the quilt on her lap.
Gaze returning to her sister’s, Zelda huffed softly. “I know. So, I decided to spare her the fear, thinking she would sign the book and it would never matter, that no one would be the wiser about what Edward did. That he sold his daughter and I helped.” She whispered wretchedly, once more wishing she’d been able to flog herself for causing Sabrina so much pain.
“You could try explaining it a little more to Sabrina, why you kept it a secret…” Hilda suggested, clearly not missing Zelda’s miserable tone.
She shook her head. “Sabrina is justified in her anger; I won’t try and take that away from her. Besides, I don’t think she wants to speak to me right now and wouldn’t listen if I tried.” She leaned heavily against her headboard, her back exploding in pain at the pressure, but it was all she could do to punish herself at the moment.
Giving her a sympathetic look, Hilda tried again. “You don’t always have to be the ‘bad guy’, Zelds. Edward was in the wrong, you didn’t have a choice. Sabrina—"
“Sabrina knows little of her father, and I will not place this on him—though that is where it belongs—and have her hating the idea of him the rest of her life. A girl should be able to idolize her father.” She murmured, unnecessarily smoothing her blanket over her legs and trying not to think of her own father. “And really, it was a big, terrible secret to keep. I should have known better than to hide it. Nothing stays a secret forever.”
And if Hilda averted her eyes and squirmed slightly at the statement, Zelda dismissed it. Whatever secret Hilda was hiding could wait, they had to make it through the trial first. So, she turned her back to her sister and laid down, quickly turning off the lights to disguise that Sabrina’s words about betrayal had several tears sliding down her cheeks. Zelda had to give Webster some credit, his sheer audacity at suggesting that the Court of Witches had no authority over Sabrina because of her duality was clever. But it was ultimately fruitless and put Sabrina in a more dire position than before. As Faustus was then forced to demand Sabrina be tested to see which aspect of her duality was stronger using mortal methods that killed many witches and mortals alike centuries before.
Then the option to be stripped and searched in full view of the coven for a witch’s mark was offered, Zelda immediately leaned forward and placed a hand on Sabrina’s arm, both she and Hilda subtly, but adamantly, shaking their heads at the idea. They would not allow their niece to be subjected to that. But Sabrina niece and her lawyer seemed to consider it. And when they got back to the house, Zelda couldn’t even sit at the table with them as they discussed the possibility.
“Absolutely not! I forbid it,” she exclaimed, pacing the room and smoking.
Hilda’s voice cut in sharply. “Sit down, Zelda, before you collapse. You’re skin and bone.”
She turned and glared at her sister, but Hilda’s eyes were filled with concern—and not just because they were still aging rapidly, but because she knew Zelda had barely eaten since Sabrina ran from her baptism almost a week ago. Ignoring her sister, Zelda continued to pace.
Recapturing their attention, Webster cut in. “Sabrina, I have to ask. Do you even know if you have a mark? Let’s start there.”
Before Sabrina could answer, however, Faustus entered the kitchen. And Zelda once more felt the acute loss of her magic—had she had her powers she’d have received a warning he entered the property. “Perhaps there’s another way,” he offered, coming to a stop in front of the three at the table. Zelda was quick to abandon her pacing and came stand next to him. “You’ll excuse my unannounced visitation, but I come bearing felicitous tidings.”
He then offered a very generous deal, no punishment in the Pit and Sabrina would be able to visit her mortal friends. All she had to do was sign and go to the Academy full time, praise Satan, Zelda wasn’t sure she’d have been able to dissuade Sabrina from the strip search for a mark.
But the moment Faustus left, Webster announced they would not be taking the deal. That it was a trick, that what the Dark Lord offered should never be taken at face value. Zelda tightened her grip on her cigarette holder, more aware of that fact than any of them realized… and yet? What if they lost? What would happen to her girl then?
Sabrina murmured that she wanted the night to think on it and bade them all goodnight before heading upstairs. Zelda pinched the inside of her arm and followed Sabrina out of the kitchen but made her way to the office instead. She knew sleep would evade her, so she pulled several witching law books off the shelf and started to peruse them, just in case.
They gathered in the kitchen a little before the trial at Sabrina’s request. When they all settled, Sabrina told them she wasn’t going to take the deal, that she’d submit to be searched for a witch’s mark.
“I don’t have a witch’s mark, so there’s nothing to lose.” Her niece stated, and Zelda couldn’t fathom how she could agree to such a thing so calmly.
“Except your dignity,” Zelda couldn’t help but mutter and she immediately pressed her back against the chair in punishment. Why, why couldn’t she discourage her niece without the sarcasm?
Sabrina eyed her. “Aunt Zelda,” she warned tightly, likely trying to remind Zelda she was not currently in Sabrina’s good graces.
Trying to ease the tension, Ambrose jumped into the conversation. “Back into the fray, then, eh cousin?”
Her niece nodded and then directed her next comment to Webster. “When they find out I don’t have a mark, Mr. Webster, what happens then?”
Standing proudly, Webster declared. “We demand a retrial. In human court, where you’re innocent until proven guilty.” Though they all knew the coven would never take the case to human court, it would be ludicrous, which, Zelda supposed, was the point.
“And we demand that my aunties’ powers and youth are restored. It’s non-negotiable.” Sabrina added firmly, shifting to look at them.
Zelda lowered her cigarette and leaned forward. “Thank you for that, sweetheart,” she attempted a smile but failed. “But to be stripped and pawed by the Infernal Three—" She shuddered; visions of her girl being violated filling her head.
The only response was a look of antipathy. “I’ve had worse done to me.” Sabrina snapped, and Zelda sat back, jaw clicking shut. Now Sabrina was comparing her secret to being publicly groped? Zelda pushed against the back of the chair a little harder, at least then she could blame the tears forming in her eyes on the physical pain. Sabrina continued her little speech and then left to wait outside, Webster following.
They sat there for a moment in miserable silence, Zelda pushing against the seatback harder and harder when Hilda suddenly slammed one of the dishes against the table. “It keeps getting worse and worse for her!” She struggled to stand up as quickly as she wanted, Ambrose hurriedly moving to assist her.
“Where are you going?” Zelda asked tiredly as Hilda groaned and shuffled past her.
Grunting, Hilda waved a hand. “Upstairs, don’t follow me. Don’t wait for me. Just get her to the court.” Hilda instructed fiercely, her tone surprising Zelda and Ambrose alike. Though as she walked away, Zelda could have sworn she heard Hilda state she wasn’t the only one with secrets.
Not liking where this might lead, but also needing to get Sabrina to the Church of Night for her trial, Zelda pushed herself up from the table and made her way outside to join the others.
Hilda burst into the room, crying out stop, and Zelda felt relief wash over her. Whatever her sister had planned she arrived just in time to save Sabrina.
Only, only it was a, a Catholic baptism? No, no, no. Zelda’s head spun, and she was having a hard time catching her breath, what would the church do? Images of Hilda burning at some stake swam before her eyes. Hilda had protected Sabrina but potentially sacrificed herself in the process.
The hinged doors in the floor of the church flew open, flames licking the entrance and Zelda flinched. So the Dark Lord wanted to bargain… she glanced at Faustus and he looked ill, he knew he’d been bested in court, and this would not end well for him. Zelda felt a pinch of concern, but that was quickly overwhelmed by her worry for Hilda and Sabrina.
Practically pushing her family outdoors as they waited for the private meeting to end, Zelda rounded on her sister the moment the doors shut behind them.
“How could you, Hilda?” She demanded, eyes wide.
Hilda looked at her in disbelief. “How’s it any different than your secret with Edward?” She demanded, clearly feeling she shouldn’t be reprimanded.
A disbelieving huff emanated from her. “It’s completely different! A Christian church?!” She retorted, the part of her secret that had been revealed wouldn’t have gotten anyone killed. Hilda was surely facing that possibility for participating in a ritual for the false god.
Sabrina cut into their argument, demanding to know why her mother hadn’t wanted to tell her father. When Hilda gave a possible answer, Sabrina shook her head, unsatisfied. “So, they were both deceivers.” She observed, not too subtly sweeping her eyes over her aunts as well to let them know she thought they fit in the same category.
“Sabrina!” Zelda admonished. “Honor thy father and mother.” No matter how little they may deserve it at times, she thought, but what she’d said to Hilda was true; children should be able to look up to their parents. While there came a point in every child’s life when they became disillusioned about their parents, Zelda had hoped that Sabrina would never have to be.
“No more lying, aunties. Do you understand?” She peered closely at Hilda. “No more lying to me about my own family,” she turned her attention to Zelda. “Ever again.” And though Zelda knew she was lying just by agreeing to this, she nodded, as did Hilda. But there was a difference between lying and protecting… or so she’d told herself for years.
The bells ringing signaled them to come back inside, sighing, she and Hilda trailed after Sabrina slowly, leaning partially on one another as they went.
They’d won. Beelzebub help them, they’d won. Zelda slumped slightly in her pew, Sabrina was safe… though what would happen to Hilda remained to be seen. But, one thing at a time.
“Full powers will be restored to the Spellman family,” Faustus decreed as he ended the proceedings.
Thunder boomed and lightning cracked through the sky and Zelda’s powers flooded back into her system, rolling and crashing as it went, and Zelda couldn’t help but shoot up at the sensation. “Praise Satan,” she gasped, her magic surging through her as if was equally as happy to be back where it belonged. Several coven members shot her looks, so she quickly added, “I’m young again.” Raising a hand to her cheeks as if to reaffirm this. Yes, she was young again and that was grand. But she was no longer vulnerable, and that was what mattered.
Happily, their little unit made their way outside, the rest of the coven teleporting away now that the excitement was over. Sabrina moved to say goodbye to Daniel Webster, and though he’d been an enormous help, Zelda could say that she was happy to see him go.
It was nearly three in the morning when they all got settled in at the house. Zelda had finished locking up and refreshing her wards when the phone rang. She froze for a moment, sorely tempted to let it continue to ring. Because she knew who would be on the other line and she knew what he was calling about.
Reluctantly, Zelda picked up the phone, “Spellman residence,” she answered, hand trembling. And though she anticipated this, her breath still got caught in her throat when Faustus’ voice filtered through the device.
“Zelda,” and she could hear how tired her was, she could relate.
Swallowing, “what’s the price?” She whispered, clutching the phone tightly.
“Hilda is to be excommunicated.” He informed her with a heavy sigh, and she was lucky that his covered up the sound of her relieved gasp.
“Excommunicated?” She repeated, just to be sure, and if he mistook that her voice trembled because of fear instead of joy that was fine with her.
The clink of ice against glass echoed over the phone, “yes. All things considered it is a light punishment for what she did. As part of her excommunication, your sister will no longer be welcomed by the coven, welcome at coven events, or offered the protection of the Church of Night. Will you relay this on to her?”
Zelda smiled, “yes, of course.” She murmured, ensuring that her tone did not betray her true feelings.
“And for Satan’s sake, everyone’s sake, Zelda. Please get your family under control.” He muttered, and she knew then that his loss in the courtroom had cost him dearly, likely in more ways than one; the Dark Lord was not forgiving.
That pinch of concern was back and this time it stayed now that she knew her family was safe. But there was nothing she could do to help him, not when her family had been the cause of all this grief to begin with. “I’m trying,” she sighed quietly, before offering her humble thanks and acceptance and hanging up the phone.
Hilda was only to be excommunicated, no death or years in the burning Pit. Zelda pressed her forehead against the wall next to the phone. It appeared that she got to keep what remained of her family a little longer.
She didn’t share this relief with Hilda, making the announcement as ominously as possible—Hilda had cast doubt on their devotion to the church, and that was dangerous. And Zelda still needed to maintain the front she’d created so long ago. If Hilda wasn’t involved with the church it was left only to Zelda to play nice with the coven, to be the liaison for the Spellman family, to try and smooth things over and keep them smooth. Though that was getting increasingly difficult to do.
A housebound nephew, a niece that defied that Dark Lord at every turn and now an excommunicated sister…. It was a wonder any of them were still alive.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Faustus reread the letter that had been on his desk when he got in that morning. It was from Lilith, demanding that Sabrina be put through a particularly vicious harrowing; by command of the Dark Lord, of course. He had to ensure that she would be strong enough to serve him when she finally signed the book.
The words, though moderately polite, still held threatening undertones as to what would happen should he interfere and make the harrowing Sabrina was to receive less severe. Faustus adjusted his collar uncomfortable and swallowed hard, the lesson he’d learned after losing the trial had him reluctant to defy the Dark Lord in any way.
Sighing, Faustus called the weird sisters into his office. “Ladies,” he began, knowing the trio would be more than up to the task. He knew they enjoyed harrowing new students, but he’d always kept them on a leash. Harrowings had gone too far in the past and during his time as headmaster he’d seen to it that the brutality and cruelty of the tradition had lessened—unfortunately, the Dark Lord did not want Sabrina to experience this ‘watered-down’ version of a harrowing, and Faustus wasn’t about to disagree.
Zelda walked into the kitchen as Sabrina expressed her surprise at the protection charms Hilda had prepared for her. Zelda rolled her eyes, the spells she placed on Sabrina every year would more than protect the girl from any minor hexes and ill-will, even more serious curses; rendering Hilda’s little trinkets irrelevant.
“Honestly, Hilda what next? Crystals? Sage?” She remarked dryly, pouring herself an expresso.
Hilda frowned at her, “I was concerned, Zelda, that she was gonna get bullied.” She stated in a tight voice, “you know how cruel girls can be at that or any age.”
Before Zelda could respond to that comment, however, Sabrina broke in. “Don’t worry about me, Aunt Hilda. I can take care of myself.” She reassured, examining the charms. Zelda smiled and glanced at Sabrina, yes, her girl could take care of herself.
“I know,” Hilda responded affectionately. “Ooh! What if you take Salem in with you? Or we could teleport him to you.”
Zelda looked at her sister in alarm, that would get Sabrina bullied faster than anything. “Nonsense. Only babies and ninnies take their familiars to school.” She noted, lifting the cat off the counter and placing him on the floor—really, as if they didn’t have animal hair everywhere else, they could at least keep the kitchen relatively clear of it. “Remember when you tried to bring your spiders? How all the other students laughed and called you names?” She reminded Hilda, arching a brow and trying to evidence that that was the exact reason Sabrina shouldn’t bring her familiar.
Hilda scoffed and muttered something under her breath that Zelda didn’t catch, but she ignored it, turning her attention to Sabrina—needing to convey to her that the Academy really was an enjoyable place… or at least a place where one could learn tremendous things and make dear friends.
“My years at the Academy were amongst the happiest of my life. The books I read, the friendships I cultivated. It was like being part of the most marvelous salon, arguing about ideas, philosophy.” Zelda smiled nostalgically to herself, “your father and I would get into such debates.” She recalled, taking a sip of expresso.
Sabrina furrowed her brow, “hmm, really? Because you seemed to be on the same page about signing my name in the Book of the Beast.”
The words were like a physical blow, hitting her dully in the gut and leaving her temporarily speechless. Hilda chose that time to interrupt about breakfast and how she would then drive Sabrina to school.
Zelda was grateful for the moment to compose herself, but she had to interrupt her sister there. “Absolutely not, Hilda.” She declared, standing up from the table, Sabrina’s comment robbing her of her appetite. “You’ve been excommunicated, or had you forgotten?” Really, Hilda needed to be more mindful of the what her excommunication meant, or she would risk angering the Dark Lord once more… and they wouldn’t be let off so easily the next time.
“Oh, how could I forget when you’re reminding me every other minute.” Hilda replied somewhat tersely, as she played with some of her kitchen utensils.
She was the nag now, of course, but someone had to keep track if they were to remain alive. “As a consequence, you’re not allowed within spitting distance of the Academy or any Church of Night property, for that matter.”
And from the affronted look Hilda shot her it was as if Zelda had been the one to excommunicate her and not just the one reminding her of the terms of her punishment. “Well, I can give my niece a bloody hug before she goes, can’t I?”
So, while Hilda gave their niece her ‘bloody hug’, which Sabrina returned immediately with a smile, Zelda pursed her lips and looked away. Though she and Hilda had both lied to Sabrina, she felt that Sabrina had accepted, and forgiven, Hilda’s lie much more readily.
Perhaps it was because Hilda’s lie had freed Sabrina, while Zelda’s had condemned. Or perhaps it was simply that Sabrina loved Hilda more and that made it easier to move on. Satan knew Zelda had a difficult relationship with her niece, and perhaps that could explain the still frosty nature in her interactions with Sabrina.
Regardless, they needed to get going if they wanted to be on time, so Zelda poured out the remains of her coffee and didn’t touch the food Hilda had set out. “Sabrina, when you’re finished grab your bag and meet me out at the car.” She left the room, leaving Hilda to titter about one thing or another with their niece in peace.
Once outside, Zelda lit a cigarette, leaned against the car and took a long draw, flooding her system with nicotine. She felt mildly bad for Hilda, it was another big first day of school that she wouldn’t be able to attend. Though, it truly was a small price to pay in return for participating in a Catholic baptism. As she waited, however, Zelda found herself wishing that Hilda could have come… if only to act as a buffer between her and their niece. But her thoughts were interrupted by Sabrina joining her and the two climbed into the car without a word.
As they drove, Zelda tried to tell Sabrina more about the Academy, about all the exciting things she’d get to do, all the wonderful things she would learn, how Zelda’s favorite spot had been at a study desk in the library that was situated next to the window overlooking the pond next to the school. But Sabrina just stared out the window, making no acknowledgement that she’d heard Zelda.
When the railroad tracks appeared, Zelda internally sighed, she hadn’t been sure how much longer she’d have been able to keep up the one-sided conversation. “This means the Academy is just around the corner. The tracks help deter mortals from wandering over this way,” she explained, pointing up ahead to where the top of the building peeked through the trees.
“I can walk from here.” Sabrina stated, leaning back to pull her bag into her lap from the backseat.
“What?” Zelda glanced at her, “nonsense, I can drop you off at the front—” She gestured towards where the building was becoming more visible, but Sabrina was already opening the car door. “For the love of Lucifer!” Zelda slammed on the brakes and waved a hand to shut Sabrina’s door before she could go anywhere. “What are you doing?”
Sabrina scowled, “I told you, here’s good. I don’t need to be dropped off on the steps like some little kid.” She threw the door open once more and got out.
Wanting to appear independent was something Zelda could understand, so she let Sabrina’s manners slide and leaned towards the open door. “Have a good time, if you need—”
But Sabrina slammed the door shut on the rest of her sentence and stalked away, shoulders hunched, bag slung over her shoulder and bouncing against her leg in her hurry to hop onto the abandoned tracks and make it to the Academy. Zelda resisted the urge to get out of the car and shout after her niece that the grudge she was harboring should really be directed at Edward, that she had done the best she could given the situation.
Instead, Zelda ran her tongue over her teeth and put the car in park before shutting off the engine. Though they were close to the school and Sabrina wasn’t a baby, there were still dangerous things in these woods, and she wasn’t going to leave until Sabrina reached the front door. Zelda drummed her fingers along the wheel as she waited, irritation mounting as Sabrina slowly made her way down the tracks until she paused and then stepped off the tracks to approach the Academy.
Nodding, Zelda restarted the engine and maneuvered the car around to head home. Worrying the inside of her lip and trying to figure out why Sabrina found it so easy to forgive and love Hilda and not her.
Zelda spent the rest of the day restlessly going through mundane paperwork, how she hated this aspect of the mortuary…. How she hated the mortuary overall, it was such dreary work; though it was convenient at times.
After botching a file four times in a row, Zelda gave up and went to her room to change. She pulled on a pair of worn, but comfortable, jeans she’d used often when Sabrina was small and chasing her in dresses impossible. Then a thick cream sweater and a scarf before finishing the ensemble with hiking boots—though she’d never admit it to anyone, she rather enjoyed hiking. Zelda teleported herself to the edge of the Greendale woods and started up a rather steep hill. The physical exertion was distracting, the clean air refreshing and keeping an eye out for any manner of danger pushed all thoughts of Sabrina’s ever increasing distance from her mind… at least for a time.
When she reached the top of the hill 30 minutes later, Zelda smiled and inhaled deeply. There wasn’t another human in sight, solitude could agree with her quite nicely sometimes. She remained there for several hours, taking in the sounds and breathing slowly and deeply—Hilda would have been pleased had she known, would say this was a good way to control her blood pressure.
It was only when the sun started to dip that Zelda was forcefully reminded of some memories she’d been pushing down all day. Her first night at the Academy… a shudder ran through her and suddenly the quiet solitude, which had been so peaceful moments before, seemed sinister. She teleported back home and changed with the wave of her hand. There was nothing to fear, she scolded herself pacing the room slightly, her harrowing had been long ago, and the tradition had mellowed drastically before being put out of practice for good two decades ago when a student truly went mad from the ‘games’. Sabrina was perfectly safe.
Yes, Sabrina was safe she repeated over and over as she made her way downstairs to join Hilda and Ambrose for dinner.
The first call she got from the Academy was not the one she’d been expecting. If Zelda was honest, she’d been hoping that Sabrina would call after her first day of classes and enthuse about them to her aunt, apologizing for saying she’d never wanted to go, and could she sign the book so that she could attend full time?
Zelda knew it was a foolish fantasy, but still, she’d hoped. Which was why she was shocked when Faustus called her to tell her Sabrina’s familiar was there. For a moment, Zelda wanted to go find Hilda and curse at her, for surely the presence of Salem at the Academy was her sister’s doing. But she pushed the violent urge down and told Faustus she would be there immediately.
She teleported to the steps of the Academy and made her way to Faustus’ office, the halls were empty, all the other students still in bed or readying for classes. Sabrina was already seated in one of the chairs when Zelda entered, her niece glanced at her briefly, a contrite expression automatically tugging her features before she remembered that she was angry with her aunt and her face transformed into something distant and neutral.
“Honestly,” Zelda breathed, “the first day?” The remark didn’t come out nearly as sternly as she’d planned… it just sounded tired.
Faustus raised his brows at them and then dove right in, going on about how familiars were not allowed at the Academy, so Salem would have to go home with her. Zelda wasn’t completely listening, really, if this was solely about the cat Faustus could’ve teleported the thing to their house with a note. But then he moved on to what appeared to be the heart of the meeting.
“Secondly, and I feel I must ask this, are you happy here, Sabrina?” He asked, and there was something in his tone that Zelda couldn’t place. But she didn’t waste time trying to interpret it.
“Of course she is, Faustus.” She answered for her niece, Sabrina needed to be happy at the Academy, because otherwise the Dark Lord may come to think that the ‘dual citizenship’ deal he made wasn’t necessary if Sabrina constantly longed for her mortal school.
Faustus glanced at her and then turned to Sabrina, “picking fights with other students. Complaining about your schedule.” He offered a few examples of her niece’s displeasure.
Zelda furrowed her brow, she’d been banking on Sabrina at least enjoying the course work. “What’s this now?”
Sabrina shifted to look at her, “I didn’t come here to major in herbalism or Latin, Aunt Zelda.”
A bubble of relief buoyed inside her, this was something she could fix. “Well, of course you didn’t. If this is what you’ve got her studying, it’s no wonder she’s feeling restless. She’s not being challenged. Hilda and I taught her almost all there is for Latin and herbalism. Really, Faustus, she could easily test out of those.”
Straightening in her chair slightly now that she knew Zelda was on her side, Sabrina cut in, “I told Father Blackwood I wanted to study conjuring. Like my father.”
Zelda smiled at the thought, it also didn’t hurt that conjuring would require intense dedication and studying, to the extent that it might pull Sabrina’s mind completely from the mortal world she loved to dwell in.
Faustus, however, had other thoughts, “Zelda, I can’t put her in conjuring without being sure she’s ready. It wouldn’t be safe. For her or the other students.”
It was a sound argument, but one that was easily overcome. “Then test her.” Zelda offered confidently, knowing that whatever Faustus came up with would keep Sabrina occupied for some time and hopefully out of trouble.
It also was a good way to show Sabrina that she supported her while also not being reckless with her niece’s safety—if she didn’t pass the test then perhaps Sabrina would throw herself into the subject in order to beat the High Priest. And if she did pass, which Zelda assumed she would, hopefully Sabrina wouldn’t act out as much and would truly start to enjoy her time at the Academy. A win-win if she’d ever seen one.
The High Priest was less than pleased with Zelda’s suggestion, knowing exactly what she was doing. But he stood and unlocked his cabinet and pulled out a puzzle all the same. Zelda’s heart dropped, though she was quick to regain control of her face which she knew had dropped as well, when she saw Faustus’ solution.
Sabrina tilted her head, “what is it?”
Anger started to build inside her, was Faustus truly going to test Sabrina this way? Was this to get back at her for challenging him and that ridiculous schedule he’d given her niece in the first place? “It’s an Acheron Configuration, if I’m not mistaken.” She answered stiffly, eyeing the device with dislike. “An arcane puzzle.”
“A variation on it, yes.” Faustus replied, turning the puzzle over in his hands as he sat back down. “It’s a test of mental and actual dexterity.” He trailed off, attention getting lost as he gazed at the device. Faustus blinked and came back to himself and offered it to Sabrina. “Solve it, and you can join conjuring class.”
“Or go mad trying.” Zelda cut in, glaring at Faustus as Sabrina took the configuration and cradled it in her arms.
Faustus gave her a sly grin. “That won’t happen to your niece. Only the weak-willed fall prey to the Acheron’s fascinations.”
Zelda narrowed her eyes but couldn’t help but agree. If nothing else, Sabrina was strong-willed. “Quite right. Sabrina will prove herself her father’s daughter.” She smiled proudly at her girl.
“I had forgotten how fiercely maternal you can be, Zelda.” Faustus observed, watching her intently and she knew he was referring to her dealings with the intruders and how she’d claimed Sabrina came before everything and that was why she couldn’t marry him. Unsure how to respond, Zelda merely lifted a brow in return. “There is a personal matter I’d like to discuss with you… in private, if your niece will excuse us.” He added, giving Sabrina a meaningful look.
Cocking her head in acknowledgement, Zelda answered for her niece once more, though she kept her eyes on the High Priest. “Of course, she will,” and as Sabrina stood to leave, she turned her attention to her niece. “And Sabrina,” she paused until she was sure she had the girl’s complete attention, “behave.”
Sabrina smiled warmly at her for the first time since the trial. “I will, Aunt Zelda. Even though I’m still missing my pajamas.” With that, Sabrina left, closing the door behind her.
Zelda furrowed her brow, “pajamas?” She inquired, looking at Faustus.
He shook his head and waved a dismissive hand. “Childish pranks, I like to let them sort it out themselves when possible. Otherwise I’d never rest.” Zelda smirked and thought of all the times she’d let Ambrose and Sabrina figure things out themselves simply because she’d been too tired, and that was when it was just the two of them and one certainly old enough to know better. She couldn’t imagine running a school full of newly minted witches and warlocks.
“What is this matter you wish to discuss?” She saw no reason to dawdle there, she had a busy day at the mortuary, and this had already set her back.
Faustus frowned and leaned against one side of his chair. “Zelda, Lady Blackwood has miscarried twice before. This distresses us gravely.” Her mood sobered immediately, no longer laughing at pajamas and childish pranks. “But now that I sit here with you, I feel… comfort.”
Oh, how she hated that such simple words could tug her lips up into a smile. Because they had been a comfort to one another once, years ago. But his next words reestablished that they were, indeed, a long way from those intimate times.
“Sister Spellman, would you be a midwife to her?”
And Zelda’s mask fell, her mouth dropping open just a bit at the request. “To Constance?” Her heart squeezed painfully for a moment—just a moment. For what could have been. But it passed swiftly, she had children, she had Ambrose and Sabrina. Zelda felt no jealously over someone else’s children and she certainly wouldn’t begrudge anyone a child simple because she hadn’t given birth to one. But still, this was, this was an unusual request.
“Faustus, it’s been years since I’ve delivered a child.” She reminded him, brushing her hair back. Yes, it had been years, though she’d despised it, she simply hadn’t had the energy, the ability, to run both the mortuary and be a midwife in addition to overseeing the household and trying to wrangle Sabrina.
Something had to give, and she’d sacrificed what she’d loved. Zelda had much preferred bringing life into the world as opposed to seeing it out. But the mortuary was a family business, she would never leave what her father and Edward had built up. And it wasn’t as if she could stop being a Spellman or raising Sabrina… So, that had left her no choice but to abandon the career she’d loved, the one she’d worked tirelessly at to become the best. Faustus wasn’t wrong, she’d never lost a babe, not in all her decades of practice… how many midwives could say that? But her skill in the field hadn’t mattered, her desire to remain in the field hadn’t mattered, her family came first so she’d let it go.
“Why me?” She inquired, though she’d never lost a babe she’d have thought their… history would have excluded her as a potential candidate for the job.
“Lady Blackwood,” he offered with what could have been an apologetic grimace. “She wanted you to be her midwife, was adamant actually. Threatened curses of untold proportion and potions slipped into my drink should I fail to acquire your services. She knows you’re the best and we don’t want to lose any more children. Please, Zelda.” He implored, leaning forward, “your High Priest is asking you.”
Zelda nearly rolled her eyes at the final addition, she’d have done it without the religious incentive. Despite this, Zelda found herself nodding minutely and Faustus sagged back into his chair in relief.
“I know this is short notice, but seeing as Constance is quite far along, would you mind seeing her tonight? We will provide dinner.” Faustus was giving her an entirely different look than before, and it unsettled her a bit.
Still, Zelda once more found herself nodding. “I would be honored.”
Faustus inclined his head, “thank you, I will see you in tonight, Zelda.” He smiled and bent over some paperwork.
As she stood and took her leave, making sure to take Salem as she went, Zelda smiled slightly at the thought of being a midwife once more. She missed the work dearly, and no woman deserved to lose a child, not if she could help it. It also wouldn’t hurt to be in the good graces of her High Priest—especially given recent events.
When Faustus found her at the end of the day and told her Zelda Spellman had agreed to be her midwife, Constance had exhaled in relief. Despite her suspicions that her husband lusted for the woman, Zelda was truly the best midwife there was, and Constance refused to risk losing another child because of her husband’s inability to keep it in his pants.
“I have invited her over for dinner tonight in thanks, and to conduct her first examination of you and the babe.” He added as they exited the Academy to teleport home.
Constance nodded, she’d already waited too long to hire a midwife, but the others in the area hadn’t prevented her previous miscarriages and she hadn’t been sure Zelda would come out of her early retirement; though short notice, it was for the best that Zelda came over immediately.
When Zelda arrived at their home thirty minutes later, however, the way Faustus looked at her had Constance questioning her assumption that it was only lust that her husband felt. She could care less if he had an affair, it certainly wouldn’t be the first and she’d had her own fair share; arranged marriages among witches rarely led to love and fidelity.
But the way he softened around Zelda, a gentleness coming out that Constance had never seen before, it had an odd sense of jealousy welling up inside her. Was this why he’d tried to convince her to ask the other Spellman sister, claiming Hilda was also a talented midwife? Because he didn’t want to be in close proximity to the head of the Spellman household…. Or because he did and had wanted to hide that fact?
It hadn’t mattered, Constance flat out refused his suggestion, Hilda had been excommunicated for participating in a baptism for the false god, she couldn’t have that presence around the High Priest’s heir. And the younger Spellman didn’t have the same reputation as a midwife as her sister—yes, she was competent, but she wasn’t Zelda. But now, watching her husband all but fawn over this witch, Constance somewhat regretted her decision.
Zelda was perfectly proper, of course, she even seemed a little oblivious to the not so subtle undertones of Faustus’ words and actions. As they ate, she courteously admired the house, asked about decorations, recipes for the dishes they were eating and potential baby names. They discussed the Satanic choir and how Sabrina was fitting nicely into her role—Zelda had practically glowed when Constance praised the girl.
“Your niece has a lovely singing voice Zelda, and I was impressed with her ability to sight read music. I take it that is your doing?” Constance murmured, watching her over the rim of her cup.
Zelda beamed, “Sabrina is very talented. I just nurtured her natural gift and helped her learn to read music.”
“Don’t be so modest, Zelda,” Faustus cut in. “You have a lovely voice yourself, surely Sabrina learned much from you.”
Constance didn’t miss how a faint flush crept up Zelda’s neck at her husband’s compliment. Though she played it off politely, her reaction only deepened Constance’s suspicions and jealousy. Faustus had mentioned, when they arranged to marry, that he’d just exited a relationship with someone and that he didn’t foresee himself ever coming to love her in their marriage because of that.
She hadn’t cared, Constance had known she wouldn’t love him either—the marriage was purely political. That, and Constance was trying to forget her own love who had died several months before. So, there they were, two idiots running from the past by recklessly diving into the future. They’d agreed to an open marriage, as long as there would be no pregnancies that didn’t specifically come from a pairing between the two of them—Constance didn’t want any other bastards trying to take what should belong to her future children.
It had been a good arrangement, jealousy nonexistent on both their parts… until now. Until Constance saw an entirely different side of this man she’d been married to for a little over a decade. Until she saw that he could be soft and caring and so much more… just not with her. It was this realization that had the jealousy bubbling up. Not that her husband loved or lusted for Zelda, but that he could have been far more than just civil with Constance during their marriage and he had just simply chosen not to be.
No, apparently that was a side he reserved for Zelda Spellman and Zelda Spellman alone. Constance twisted the napkin in her lap in an effort to regain control over herself, the pregnancy hormones certainly didn’t help. Well, if nothing else Constance now knew that Zelda was the one that Faustus had been running from, she was the one that had gotten away. And this was information that she would store for later… it might prove useful should she ever need to leverage her dear husband in the future.
For now, though, she’d lead Zelda to the spare bedroom, allow her to shoo Faustus away so that she could conduct her exam, and let this woman care for her child. Besides, didn’t the saying go, ‘keep your enemies close’?
Dinner wasn’t nearly as bad of an affair as she’d expected. Zelda had kept up a steady conversation with Constance, practically ignoring Faustus for most of the meal. Though with the looks he’d been giving her it had been somewhat difficult. She knew he had a better mask, why he wasn’t employing the use of said mask, Zelda wasn’t sure.
Thankfully, she was able to eat quite quickly and usher Constance further into the house for her exam. Once alone, Zelda was able to fully focus on the medicine, on her patient and it was like trying to dance again for the first time in years.
But the song was one she’d known by heart for most her life, and though there were a few missteps at first, as she fumbled her tools, Zelda quickly fell back into that familiar pattern. A sense of peace washed over her as she fluidly moved and worked around her client. She ran more tests than she usually would for a first visit, but Constance was rather far along, and Zelda had some catching up to do.
As she was finishing up, Zelda sighed in contentment. Maybe, maybe she could take on a few clients as a midwife now that Sabrina was at the Academy. If she took it slowly, didn’t overextend herself it would be doable… and it would add something to look forward to throughout the week other than the arrival of another dead body.
It was then that she felt a slight disturbance in the wards she’d placed around the house. She glanced at her watch and frowned. It was much too late for a mortuary client, perhaps one of Sabrina’s friends had forgotten she was gone for the weekend and had come looking for her? That was a likely explanation, but Zelda still quickly packed up her tools, scheduled their next appointment and was on her way home in five minutes.
When Zelda arrived home, however, there was no one waiting on the porch. Though odd, and seeing as how she hadn’t sensed the new presence leave the wards, Zelda made her way inside considering the possibility that her wards needed a tune up. That could wait until morning, though, right now all she wanted was to end this wonderful evening with a stiff drink, her favorite record and a good book next to the fire in the parlor. But as she moved further into the house, she found the source of the disturbance in her wards. A woman was descending the stairs—clearly having been up in their living quarters.
“Excuse me, can I help you?” And though it was technically a question, her tone conveyed that the woman had no business being upstairs in her home. It wasn’t just the woman’s presence upstairs that bothered her, there was something else off… an aura of power and magic that was not usually in the house. The sensation filled Zelda with unease, and she eyed the witch in front of her—for the woman was certainly magical, Zelda could feel the power radiating from her. Perhaps she’d sweep the house for spells once this witch is gone.
“So sorry. I was looking for the powder room and that lovely little English lady that told me to wait had been gone for so long—”
Zelda narrowed her eyes, distrusting this woman. “And you are?” She interrupted.
“Ms. Wardwell. I’m one of Sabrina’s teachers, but… I came here to make some funeral arrangements.” She trailed off, as if sensing that Zelda didn’t believe her.
“I see. And the woman you spoke to, where did she go?” She glanced towards the mortuary office, but the open door gave her full view of the empty, darkened room.
Wardwell’s eyes flitted towards the door under the stairs, “the basement, I believe. Yes.” Zelda gave her a thin smile and stepped aside to indicate that that she should leave. Knowing that Zelda wasn’t going to entertain her any longer, Wardwell made for the exit. “I shall be on my way.”
Zelda gave her a curt nod and followed closely behind her, closing the door with a definitive snap before locking it. She’d contemplate this witch and what her presence meant later, right now she had more important things to investigate.
Dropping her medical bag on the ground, Zelda made for the basement muttering “Hilda, what game are you playing at?” As she hurried down the stairs. The lights were on in the morgue, but she didn’t hear anything, which never boded well. “Hilda, where are you? Where’s Ambrose?”
“Zelda?” Came a small voice, and Zelda followed it into the examine room.
“Dear Satan!” She cried when she processed the scene in front of her. Crossing the room in three quick steps, she kicked the candles away, effectively breaking the spell. It wasn’t the safest way to bring someone back from the astral plane, but it was the quickest and based on the psychopomps flitting around the ceiling Ambrose needed to have been brought back minutes ago.
Ambrose shot up, gasping for air causing both her and Hilda to jump and cry out. She waited a second, to make sure that Ambrose was indeed alright before diving into a lecture she’d have thought the two in front of her were much too old to hear.
“Have you two completely taken leave of your senses?!” She demanded, heart pounding as she switched her glare between them for an explanation—but they avoided her eyes. “Astral projection? Of all the stupid, reckless things you could do—”
Hilda turned to her then, “it was well in hand.” She retorted.
“In hand? In hand? Is that why there are still a few psychopomps flying around our morgue! Not to mention that you left a client alone, upstairs, which it totally unprofessional, Hilda.” And dangerous, she hadn’t liked the energy emanating from that Wardwell woman.
But Hilda’s back was to her again, under the pretext of checking on Ambrose who was still recovering from his time in the astral plane. “Only for a few minutes, she had the catalogue.” Her sister grumbled, rubbing Ambrose’s arm slightly.
She bit back a scoff, clearly Hilda did not see the same dangers in allowing strangers, magical ones at that, roam their house freely. Honestly, her sister’s blind trust would be the death of her someday. But that was an argument for later.
“And Ambrose, my dear felon, you are housebound. You are forbidden from leaving the grounds, and that includes your spirit.” Her nephew looked at her with wide eyes, though she couldn’t say if his expression was from his projecting, fear of her, or… or if he was nonverbally communicating with Hilda that he couldn’t believe Zelda was being a killjoy once more. The little nod he gave to Hilda and the ghost of a smile had Zelda thinking it was the latter. “Clean this up and pray that the Dweller didn’t sense your presence and share it with the Council. If you think being housebound is bad, Ambrose, your situation could certainly be worse.”
With that, Zelda spun on her heel and made her way back upstairs, trying to ignore how Hilda giggled and started to ask Ambrose about his time. It was going to be a long night sweeping the house for any stray spells that may have been responsible for that aura she’d felt when she arrived home.
But as Zelda reached the kitchen, she realized that the odd aura, that sense of unease… it was gone. She sighed, it must have been the ripples from Ambrose astral projecting for far too long. It had nothing to do with that Wardwell woman, she was just rude and nosy and had decided to poke around while left unattended. There was no reason to spend most of the night going through each room searching for hidden spells and wrongdoing.
The years had made her paranoid. Rubbing her forehead, Zelda poured herself a particularly strong drink and stood sipping it at the counter… no longer in the mood to celebrate a pleasant and successful evening of midwife work. The peace and happiness she’d felt just hours before from once more submerging herself in work she loved had vanished.
This, this was why she couldn’t take on clients, be a midwife again. Because she’d left her family alone for a few hours and they’d pulled illegal and life-threatening stunts while she was gone. Why she ever thought, even for a moment, that she could take up midwifery again, when she knew her family came first.
It had been a stupid, wishful dream. Thinking she could just take back up what she’d sacrificed before. “Idiot,” she muttered to herself, knocking back the rest of her glass and pouring another before heading upstairs.
She considered a quick punishment, just a few strokes with the flog would be sufficient. Would reopen some of the wounds from the previous week, would remind her why she couldn’t put herself or her wants before the family. But the dull ache that was spreading through her at the realization that she would indeed, not be taking up midwifery again outside of this one client was punishment enough. The dashing of her hopes, so soon after they’d been lifted, was punishment enough, was enough to remind her of her place and her duty.
So, no. She didn’t feel the need to compound the emotional punishment with a physical one. Instead she drained her glass, dressed for and climbed into bed, and pretended to be asleep when Hilda entered the room some time later.
They were sitting in a slightly strained silence the next morning at breakfast, though they each acted as they normally did. Zelda was grateful when the phone rang, and Hilda stood to answer it. If nothing else, it would give them something to talk about other than the fact that she’d ‘crashed’ their little astral projecting party the night before.
Hilda tittered excitedly, “it’s Sabrina! It’s Sabrina!” She announced, popping her head around the corner briefly before returning to the phone.
Zelda hesitated, imperceptibly, for a moment. Unsure if Sabrina would want to speak to her given their interactions since the trial and too clearly remembering the look Ambrose and Hilda had exchanged last night—one that conveyed she was on the outside of this family and its love and joy. But she then remembered the warm smile Sabrina had given her after she’d backed her niece concerning her schedule… and it was that gesture that had Zelda thinking that, perhaps they were on better footing now.
If nothing else she could at least listen to Sabrina’s, hopefully enthusiastic, recounting of her second day at the Academy. But the words that filtered through the phone connection when Zelda took the receiver from Hilda so that they could both listen did little to boost her spirits.
“Uh, I’m okay. But I need your and Aunt Zelda’s help.” Sabrina whispered in a somewhat shaky voice in response to Hilda’s question.
Frowning, Zelda adjusted the phone so that it was a little closer to her. “Sabrina? This is Zelda. What kind of help? What have you done now?” Because as glad as she was that Sabrina had called for help, her niece’s track record was against her.
There was a lengthy pause, “children are dying at the Academy, Aunt Zee, and no one is doing anything to stop it.”
The statement sent fear careening through her, but it seemed unlikely that deaths could be occurring without some kind of uproar from the parents. “Dying? Dying how?”
“Students have been harrowed to death by other students. And the weird sisters… are harrowing me.”
The red was back, her vision blanketed with it. “Are they now?” She responded, tone low and dangerous. She spun on her heel as Hilda finished reassuring Sabrina on the phone, already gathering her things—her girl was in danger… in a place that was supposed to keep her safe. She wouldn’t stand for it. Apparently, she had been wrong in her assumption that the tradition of harrowing had ended, now it just occurred further under the radar. She should have known better. It was tradition, and witches were notoriously bad at breaking traditions.
“Zelda!” Hilda bustled after her, having hung up with Sabrina. “I’m not—”
“I don’t care what the church or Faustus says, Hilda. This is about Sabrina’s safety. Your excommunication be damned, you’re coming.” She interrupted curtly, pulling on her fur. Hilda’s eyes widened, but she nodded and grabbed her own coat. “Ambrose, we’ll be back later.” She announced, already heading out the door.
Ambrose chuckled and called after them, “give ‘em hell, Aunties!”
They arrived at the Academy seconds later. Zelda straightened her dress, stood tall, lifted her chin a notch and marched inside; Hilda trailing after her with much less authority. She ignored the questioning stares from the students as they parted to let her through, she gestured for Hilda to wait in the hall and then barged into Faustus’ office without so much as a knock.
“Where is my niece?”
He looked at up at her bewildered, as much by her sudden appearance as her demand. “I hardly have her schedule mesmerized, Zelda.” He remarked, when he regained his composure. “Has she done something I’m not aware of yet to warrant this unannounced visit?”
But she was in no mood for his games, his playful taunts. “I want to see my niece, now. And then we can talk.” She lifted a brow in challenge, and Faustus could likely tell from the set of her jaw that she wasn’t going to budge on the issue.
Sighing, Faustus called for his secretary. “Please collect Ms. Spellman from class and bring her here.” The woman nodded and left with a brisk step that Zelda appreciated.
They waited in a tense silence after Zelda ignored all of his attempts to needle the reason she was there out of her and refused to sit down when he made the suggestion. When Sabrina arrived several long minutes later, Zelda released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Sabrina sighed in relief and smiled, hugging Zelda hard. “You came,” she murmured against Zelda’s shoulder tightening her hold a little before letting go. And Zelda didn’t miss the dark circles under her girl’s eyes, how her shoulders hunched slightly as if to protect herself from an impending blow. It lit a fire inside of her.
“Of course, now, wait outside with Hilda. I won’t be long.” She instructed, tucking some of Sabrina’s hair behind her ear. Sabrina looked ready to argue, but when Zelda widened her eyes and tilted her head, Sabrina closed her mouth, nodded and scurried out, shutting the door behind her.
Faustus groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hilda is here? For the love of Lucifer, Zelda, you know she can’t—”
Zelda was in no mood to hear about what her recently excommunicated sister could and couldn’t do, she had bigger problems. “Why is there harrowing going on at this Academy?” She demanded, turning her attention from the door Sabrina had left through and back to the warlock in front of her. “I thought they’d been phased out decades ago.”
“Zelda, harrowings have always been a part of the Academy. They were never gone, just less intense, which meant less students mentioned them. We would never do away with them completely, they’re tradition.” He gave her a confused look, which was justified, she’d never gone against traditions before. “Besides, you even participated in some. You yourself were harrowed.” He reminded her, as if she could ever forget. “Harrowed others,” Faustus raised a brow and looked pointedly at the door where Hilda was waiting on the other side.
She bristled at the statement, what she’d done was not comparable to the atrocities happening now. “I never killed a child.” She replied coldly, the hairs on the back of her neck lifting at the thought.
He had the audacity to smirk at her then, “never killed a child other than your sister.” He countered, and before Zelda could argue that the first time she’d killed Hilda and thrown her in the Cain Pit they were hardly children anymore and it had had nothing to do with harrowing, Faustus continued. “Your sister who is violation of her excommunication by coming here.”
Tightening her hold on her sunglasses, Zelda retorted, “I would contend that the circumstances demanded it.”
“And I would contend that the Church of Night is only as strong as its weakest member, and that a good harrowing forges the weak.”
Zelda took a step closer to him then, having kept her distance for fear she would slap him otherwise for letting Sabrina be harrowed. “My niece is not weak.” She tipped her chin up and punctuated each word with a small hand gesture.
A smile tugged at Faustus’ mouth at her adamant assertion and he shrugged slightly. “Then really, Zelda, what is there to worry about? Besides, the last time child died during a harrowing was decades ago*. Whatever spirits Sabrina saw are from long ago, so why get involved?”
Did he really need to ask? Did he truly not already know, that whenever Sabrina’s safety was at risk, whenever Sabrina called for help… she would always get involved.
“What if it were your child being harrowed?” She asked, hand already on the door knob. Their eyes remained locked for a moment, and suddenly images of what could have been, the children that could have been had she not run, flashed between them. It was a rare occurrence of uncontrolled telepathy, both of them so unguarded and raw that the thoughts had passed easily between them.
Faustus broke eye contact first, a sad smile on his lips. “I will look into it, Zelda. But as I said,” he brought his eyes back to hers, “there hasn’t been a death from harrowing in decades.”
Nodding curtly, Zelda followed his lead and ignored the sentiments and images that had burst into her mind and left the office, shutting the door behind her.
Sabrina and Hilda both standing quickly at her appearance. “What did he say?” Sabrina asked, as Hilda looked at her anxiously.
“He’s going to look into it,” Zelda sighed, stopping in front of the pair.
Sabrina scrunched her nose, “and you believe him?” Zelda could practically feel the derision coming off of her niece, and it hurt that she had so little faith in her aunt.
“Of course not.” Zelda scoffed softly, she knew that the points Faustus had made about traditions and the mellowing of the practice were valid. That she’d been foolish to assume that harrowing had stopped completely and that Sabrina would be spared the experience in the first place… but she also knew that Sabrina wouldn’t have called them about dying children if it wasn’t true. While dramatic, their niece would not have exaggerated on something as important as that. So, she placed a hand on Sabrina’s shoulder and steered her down the hall away from the administrative offices, “take us to the children,” she instructed, and Sabrina beamed.
Sabrina took them to the middle of the woods, and Zelda didn’t miss how Sabrina shuddered as they made their way deeper into the trees. Before she could reach out a comforting hand, though, Sabrina was calling out.
“Quentin? Will you please come out? We, uh, we want to help.” Sabrina murmured, scanning the area for the little spirit. “And feel free to bring the others.”
Zelda was about to suggest a quick conjuring spell when the wind rushed through the trees and multiple presences made themselves known behind them. The trio turned slowly and there was almost a dozen of them, ages ranging, but all so very young. Much too young to have been harrowed, much too young to have been at the Academy in the first place.
Hilda gasped softly, “oh, the poor dears! Your heart breaks for them,” she murmured, removing her sunglasses and Zelda mimicked the movement.
“I, I think they’re bound to the Academy because they died here.” Sabrina offered, and Zelda’s heart clenched.
None of this was okay, harrowing, though cruel, had still somewhat been child’s play when she and Hilda attended. This, this was something else entirely, something that she wouldn’t stand for. “Witches hurting witches. It’s unspeakable.” And from how Hilda and Sabrina looked at her, Zelda knew she’d allowed a little too much emotion to leak into her voice…. But it couldn’t be helped, not when there were the spirits of children standing in front of her.
Sabrina glanced between her aunts and the children, “how can we free them?”
It was a noble thought, to free the children. But likely one that wouldn’t do them much good in the long run. Zelda took a few steps forward and bent over so that she was eye level with them. “Is that what you want, children? To be released from here?”
One of the youngest, the one Sabrina had called Quentin, stepped forward and shook his head. “Where would we go? This is our home.” He looked to the other children and then around the woods and they nodded in agreement.
“Yes, it is.” Zelda smiled grimly and swallowed at the thought of these dark woods being home to any child, even if that child was a spirit, but she certainly wouldn’t force them to leave… that was why she had asked what they wanted. She straightened, crossing her arms. “So, what do you want then?”
The children dropped their gazes then, scuffed their toes in the dirt and fidgeted, clearly something on their minds that they were unwilling to say.
Hilda, thankfully, stepped forward then and offered a solution, throwing a little shade at Zelda as she did. Zelda merely averted her eyes, pressed her lips together and pinched the inside of her arm where she had them crossed—it wasn’t anything she didn’t deserve.
As her sister conspired with the children, Zelda took Sabrina aside. “And, how are you?” She inquired softly, so as not to disturb the plotting.
Chewing her lip, Sabrina kept her eyes on the children. “Angry.” She stated, turning her gaze to Zelda. “This shouldn’t be happening.”
Zelda nodded, eyes drifting back to group and lingering on Hilda’s back. “You are right, and we’re working to fix it. But, in the meantime, how are you?” She asked again, emphasizing the last three words.
Some of Sabrina’s bravado leaked away now that she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do, leaving behind a little girl who’d been harrowed. “I—, I heard my mom and dad last night.” She admitted softly, “they spoke to me. Or some demon took on what I imagined their voices would be like and it spoke to me. And then, then I had to listen to them die….” Sabrina shuddered and pressed closer to Zelda without thought. “Them and Harvey, Roz, Susie, Ambrose and Aunt Hilda. All of them. I had to listen to all of them die over and over, begging me for help. And I couldn’t do anything.” She lifted her eyes and they were glistening.
Quickly, Zelda tugged her niece into a tight hug, one hand rubbing comfortingly up and down Sabrina’s back as the girl slumped into her, arms wrapping around her waist. Zelda murmured soothing sentiments and tried to ignore the fact that Sabrina hadn’t listed her in the list of people she cared about and had to listen to die. Well, given the past few years, hell, the past week and a half alone, could she really be surprised by this? Blinking rapidly to dispel the impending tears, Zelda pulled back from Sabrina slightly. “Why didn’t you say something yesterday morning when I was here?”
“What?”
“Sabrina, I know harrowing lasts three nights, I was here yesterday. Why not tell me?” Zelda pressed, wondering if her relationship with her niece had become so damaged that she no longer felt that she could come to Zelda for help and protection.
Sniffling, Sabrina ducked her head. “I thought it only lasted one night,” she confessed. “And the first one wasn’t, wasn’t too awful. Especially once Salem came to comfort me.”
The realization dawned on her, and she berated herself for not connecting the dots sooner. Had Zelda figured how why the goblin had felt compelled to go to Sabrina and not thought it some ploy of her sister’s, Zelda might have been able to spare Sabrina a second night of harrowing. “Darling, I—” she began to apologize, though before she could finish Hilda stood up and turned to them.
“We’re all set here.” She announced brightly, smiling at them, though it faltered a bit when she continued. “Though Sabrina will need to let the weird sisters bring her out here tonight for her last harrowing session if it’s to work.” Hilda grimaced in apology.
But Sabrina nodded and moved away from Zelda, “I understand. What will happen?” And the group moved a little closer together as they explained their scheme, Sabrina and Hilda bending over to be more on the children’s level.
Zelda hung back, allowing them to group together and share. She hated that Sabrina would still have to go through part of her last night of harrowing. But it made sense, and it really was a lovely way for these poor children to get some of the revenge they deserved.
Her gaze drifted back to Hilda, wondering how many times her sister had truly imagined revenge, how many times Zelda should have ended up in the Cain Pit and not Hilda. But her sister was too kind, and while she may dream of getting revenge or setting the Greendale woods on fire like so much kindling… she never would.
They were readying for bed, each of them uncharacteristically quiet the entire evening, too caught up in their own thoughts and memories to talk much. But it was nearing witching hour, and soon the weird sisters would be dragging Sabrina out of bed for a third time.
Hilda sniffed and broke the silence. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep a wink until I know she’s all right.”
Zelda paused, brush still held aloft from where she’d been combing her hair. Swallowing, and keeping her back to her sister, Zelda put the brush down. “Hilda?”
“Yep?”
She licked her lips and dipped her head briefly before carrying on. “When we were at the Academy, if I—, if I pushed your harrowing too far…” She let the sentence hang there, her chin trembling just a bit when she caught a glimpse in her mirror of Hilda turning to face her.
“If?” Hilda repeated incredulously. She took a deep breath, “you were ruthless.”
It took her a moment to find the words, the ones that Hilda deserved to hear, should have heard long ago. An agreement that she had been ruthless. It had been, and likely still was, unusual for siblings to harrow one another. Typically, a student was given a pass, so to speak, from harrowing a new student when that person was a family member.
But Zelda had known what would happen if she let the other girls harrow Hilda. Her night terrors from the events of her own harrowing plagued her even now. She knew as awful as she had been, it would’ve been worse had another girl led it. It would’ve been like hers and Zelda couldn’t let that happen.
She also knew if she had gone ‘easy’ on Hilda that it would only have led to a second harrowing—one that Zelda wasn’t privy to. So, she’d harrowed her own sister. She’d been cruel and ruthless—and she’d protected Hilda from something unquestionably worse.
Not that she’d ever told Hilda any of this.
Besides, Hilda had a right to her feelings of betrayal and anger. She wasn’t going to try and make Hilda feel as though she was no longer justified in those sentiments by telling her the truth. It wasn’t as if the years at the Academy following the harrowing had repaired the damage Zelda had wrought on their once close relationship.
Zelda had gained a reputation. Anyone cold enough, crazy enough to harrow their own sibling wasn’t someone to be messed with. She’d embraced it, played the part and did what was necessary to maintain the façade. It kept trouble away not only from her, but also Hilda. For while Zelda might have been allowed to torment her sibling, Satan help anyone else who dared—or so she’d had her friends spread the word after the incident where Hilda snuck her spiders in.
So, barring telling the truth, Zelda did what she should have the moment she finished harrowing Hilda. She swallowed hard and apologized. Years too late. But she apologized, unable to meet Hilda’s eyes for the shame. She waited a moment, before standing and stiffly leaving the room, knowing that if she stayed Hilda would hear her cry.
“Aren’t you gonna go to bed?” Came a tentative question and it had Zelda pausing in the doorway and meeting Hilda’s eyes for the first time all night.
She struggled for a moment, to get the words past the lump in her throat. “I, I thought I might stay up and read.” She managed, indicating that she was in the same boat as Hilda in terms of not being able to sleep until they heard from Sabrina.
And Hilda smiled at her, smiled and offered to put the kettle on. Satan, what had she done to deserve such a kind sister? For surely, given everything she had done, Zelda did not deserve forgiveness, and kindness. But she was too weak to turn it away, so she’d nodded tearfully and continued down the hall, Hilda padding quietly behind her.
Perhaps, perhaps this meant they were moving forward… that they could be the sisters they once had been. Before so much else had gotten in the way.
Faustus sighed and rested his head in his hands when he heard of how the Spellman girl had bested the weird sisters. He’d done all he could to fulfill the Dark Lord’s wish that the girl be brutally harrowed to better prepare her for servitude and yet it had not gone as planned; much like the Dark Baptism, much like the trial. Now he needed to find out what had gone wrong and how he would report this to Lilith when she inevitably came calling.
Prudence entered his office warily, “you asked to see me, Father Blackwood?” He rarely saw her so meek.
He didn’t look up from the letter in his hands for a moment, mulling over the words Lilith had written, her demands for the harrowing. “I did, Prudence.” He put the letter down and looked up at her, the office doors swinging shut behind her making her jump. “The three of you, senior students, and one of her. A hedge witch with only some homeschooling, a half-breed. Yet she bested you.” He stood up, slamming his fist onto the desk, enraged that he once again would be paying the price for others’ ineptitudes. “She humiliated you!”
The girl flinched and he saw her jaw working, likely wanting to dispute the statement. But she swallowed whatever argument she had and instead stated, “there’s no excuse, Father. It will not happen again.”
“I hope not,” he moved out from behind his desk and paced over to the fire. “The Dark Lord wants Sabrina educated at the Academy. But he also wants to make sure she is strong enough to serve him. In order to see that she is, perhaps Ms. Spellman should suffer a little while she is here.” Faustus glanced over his shoulder at Prudence and raised a meaningful brow. She nodded and left quickly, shutting the doors behind her.
Grumbling, Faustus poured himself a drink and stared into the fire, hating the words that had just left his mouth, knowing this would only cause him headaches later. Because, despite common belief, he had a zero-tolerance policy for bullying in his school—often punishing the wrongdoers harshly to set examples when he heard of it. Harrowing didn’t count, it was tradition and every student went through it and childish pranks like stealing pajamas he let slide (for his own sanity).
But more severe forms of bullying, he usually didn’t stand for those. One certainly couldn’t run a school of Satan worshipping witches and warlocks without strict ground rules… otherwise the school would be in utter chaos every day and the number of students going home with curses would be astronomical. So no, he didn’t abide by bullying, mostly because of the headaches and paperwork, but also because of reasons he’d sooner keep to himself least it be thought he’d gone soft.
And yet, here he was, breaking that policy and giving the worst of his bullies full permission to torment Sabrina. This wouldn’t end well, he could already sense it. Whether it be Sabrina taking care of the situation herself or Zelda bursting back into his office, full of righteous anger and fire…
Well, he wouldn’t mind a fired up Zelda in his office more, if he was honest. But it still wasn’t an ideal situation. The sooner they could get Sabrina to sign that Book of the Beast the better. Faustus downed his drink and poured another, knowing it was going to be a long semester.
They’d dozed off, against their wills. They’d been determined to stay up the whole night just in case Sabrina called and needed additional help. But as some point or another, they’d both fallen asleep.
Ambrose woke them the next morning, a smirk on his face and the phone in one hand. “Aunties, just thought I’d pass along the message that Sabrina is alive and will be home tonight.”
Hilda had tutted and gotten up to go make breakfast, while Zelda held out her hand expectantly for the phone. Ambrose frowned and handed it over, a grumpy “she hadn’t finished the story,” escaping him as he trudged out of the room.
“Sabrina,” Zelda drawled, happy to hear her niece’s voice. “Tell me all about what happened.” She could practically hear her niece smiling over the phone as she dove into how they stopped the harrowing and bested the weird sisters.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Sabrina had come home Sunday afternoon, her past three nights at the Academy satisfying the initial requirements of her deal for dual citizenship. Zelda had been overjoyed when Sabrina announced she was going to stay in and work on the Acheron Configuration instead of going out with her mortal friends as she normally would have done. Perhaps progress was being made after all.
It had been a relatively calm afternoon that had bled into a calm evening—Zelda had been stunned but relieved…her blood pressure was much too high these days. As she and Hilda settled in for the night though, her sister’s inability to read a book without childish gasps and squeaking was wearing some of that calm feeling thin.
After yet another squeal, Zelda turned to her roommate. “Oh, for the love of Lucifer, Hilda, will you please calm down?”
Hilda flushed and fanned herself slightly with the book, “Sorry,” she giggled, turning to Zelda. “It’s just, it’s rather good. Saucy.” She added with a snort that had Zelda rolling her eyes.
“There’s only one book you should be reading, sister, in light of your excommunication.” Zelda closed the book in her hands and held it up, “our Dark Lord’s Satanic Bible.” She stated archly… though since her break with her faith she’d often swapped book covers and read anything else while pretending it was the Dark Lord’s word.
She truly did read that horrid book far more than she liked, but to play the part of a devout witch convincingly she had to be able to spout off excerpts from the bloody thing. Also, it wasn’t as if she’d ever admit to borrowing a few of Hilda’s romance novels and reading those when her own books didn’t suffice—saucy indeed. Though Zelda managed to read them without acting like a schoolgirl, her face utterly blank even as she read the most… descriptive scenes.
Hilda eyed the Satanic Bible and scrunched her nose in poorly concealed distaste—even before her excommunication she’d rarely read the thing. She changed the subject as well, clearly not wanting to have a discussion about the Dark Lord or his word.
“It’s nice to have Sabrina back home, isn’t it?” Zelda tilted her head slightly in agreement, dropping her gaze and reopening the book. “I missed her terribly,” Hilda added softly, lips pulling up into an affectionate smile.
Scoffing lightly, Zelda didn’t even lift her eyes off the page. “If Sabrina’s three-day absence so affected you, perhaps your life could do with some more purpose.” She glanced at Hilda as she finished. It was an unnecessarily cruel remark, but she was still raw from her apology for the harrowing and she felt weak and vulnerable because of it. Hilda did nothing to make her feel that way, of course, but the rawness had Zelda slipping in these acidic comments nonetheless in some poor attempt to rebuild her normally prickly walls.
Hilda sat up a little straighter in bed at that, “actually, now that you mention it… I’ve been thinking about applying for a job at the bookstore in town. Dr. Cerberus’s bookstore.”
Her eyes widened, Hilda couldn’t seriously be considering immersing herself in the mortal world. Not after barely scraping through the trial. “You mean that hovel run by that lunatic trash peddler who dresses up like a vampire?” He was a truly odd man, of all the magical and mythical beings he’d chosen a vampire.
Her remark had Hilda wilting slightly, “yeah…”
“And what about your duties here, at the mortuary?” It was selfish. Zelda knew she was being selfish, but she’d given up midwifery for the family business years ago and had been reminded, not so kindly, just the other night that she once more could not pursue something for herself. Was it wrong of her to want to deny Hilda her desire to pursue her own interests? Absolutely. But a secondary, and more reasonable, part of her also knew that handling the mortuary without Hilda would be difficult, so she did not take the petty, selfish words back.
Hilda sighed, “for Satan’s sake, Zelda, must you be so negative about every idea I have?” She looked at the ceiling as if begging for patience before gritting through her teeth, “honestly! Sometimes, it just makes me want to—”
Whatever Hilda had been about to say was drowned out by a scream down the hall. They both sat up, alert and before they could do anything else, Sabrina burst into the room, another scream proceeding her.
“Sabrina?” Zelda asked, already getting out of bed, Hilda following suit.
Their niece locked the door and pressed her hands against it for a moment. “What’s the matter?” Hilda demanded, flustered.
Sabrina started to breathlessly explain that she’d solved the Acheron Configuration and, in the process, had managed to loose a demon in the house. Zelda sighed, one evening, was one evening of relative peace too much to ask for? Sabrina hadn’t even been home one night and this.
Propping herself up against the bed, Zelda pulled her slippers on. “What kind of demon?” She asked tiredly.
“I don’t know, a demon-demon. A scary demon!” Sabrina exclaimed.
Zelda suppressed an eye roll, what a wonderfully helpful description that was. “Calm down. If the entity came out of the Acheron Configuration it can be put back into the Configuration.” It was an easy enough solution, she clapped her hands together and approached Sabrina. “Where is it? The puzzle box?”
The dread that filled Sabrina’s face told Zelda what she needed to know before her niece mumbled, “I must have left it in my room…”
Alright, well, that made things a bit more difficult but not impossible. Before Zelda could think of a way to recapture the beast, a banging issued from the door.
“Spellmans….” The voice rasped as the banging continued.
Frowning, Zelda eyed the door. “Well, this is simply perfect.” She muttered, a demon that knew their name? This situation was rapidly going from bad to worse, a demon shouldn’t know their name, that it did meant it had a grudge. And what had she called the puzzle test just the other day? A win-win?
She moved to the opposite wall, briskly traced the seam of the hidden door with her finger and pulled the handle that appeared in the middle of the wall. Sabrina looked at the door stunned, by obeyed when Zelda instructed, “follow me, quickly!” The sound of the demon’s nails scratching down the bedroom door and additional banging echoing after them.
They reappeared in the office downstairs, the bookcase sliding open and back shut once they’d used it, Sabrina’s baffled expression would have amused Zelda under any other circumstance. She ushered them out into the foyer, glancing around for any sign of the demon, but from the shrieks and banging it was still upstairs.
Ambrose appeared from the basement, Zelda sighed in relief and felt a twinge of guilt for not checking to see if he was in the attic before escaping to the lower level. It didn’t matter now, they were all downstairs.
“What kind of demon?!” Ambrose demanded, eyes shifting between the three of them and Zelda felt a swell of pride. At least one other person in this family had their wits about them in an emergency. But seeing as they didn’t have the answer, it didn’t matter.
“Whatever kind it is, we have protocols in place.” She held up her hands to try and calm the rest, Sabrina was still breathing a little heavily and Hilda flinched at every sound issuing from upstairs.
Her sister looked at her, “we, we do?”
Honestly, it was as if their family meetings about what to do in case of fire, tornado, possessions and demons were all for naught. She’d have to hold another one after this. “We seal the house to contain the entity, to prevent it from escaping into the world where it could cause rampant, wanton chaos.” The others just gave her wide-eyed looks of disbelief… had none of them paid any attention? Why did she bother?
Ambrose regained himself first, “okay, let’s do this.” He took Zelda’s hand and then reached for Sabrina’s. Zelda smiled slightly at him for his relatively clear thinking and took Hilda’s hand as well.
They’d just finished the incantation when nails dragged along the railing and the demon hissed, “Spellmans.” Their heads turned slowly, hands still clasped to get their first real look at the dangerous creature running amok in their house. “You’re his family, aren’t you? My captor’s kin. You smell like Spellmans.” The voice was gravelly and hard to listen to, Hilda released her hand and wrapped an arm around Sabrina comfortingly.
Zelda took a few steps forward and stood between her family and the demon. “Know this, demon. Our house is sealed with an incantation we, and only we, know. If you harm us, you’ll never escape it.”
It was a good insurance policy, one that Zelda had thought of years ago when she’d been coming up with plans for any and all possible scenarios that may occur while raising a housebound warlock and a half-witch, half-mortal child. The demon was, unsurprisingly, less than pleased by her announcement.
“Another prison?! No, no, no.” The creature started to descend one of the sets of stairs, but Zelda held firm, keeping herself between the demon and the others. “Edward Spellman imprisoned me in the Acheron puzzle for 70 years! I’ll not be caged again.”
Ambrose moved a little closer, his hand brushing against Zelda’s in reassurance. “What you do want, Hellspawn?”
A croaking laugh emitted from the demon as it continued its slow approach. “First, revenge on the family of Edward Spellman.”
Hilda exhaled sharply through her nose, “did you have to ask, love?”
“And then, freedom, so I may fill the world with my sublime nightmares.” The demon continued, unphased by Hilda’s interruption.
But Zelda smirked, the creature had given itself away, she could capture it much easier now that she knew what kind of demon it was. She didn’t need Hilda’s fervent whisper about it being a sleep demon, or the fact that they’d be at the creature’s mercy should it manage to put them to sleep.
She marched over to the packages that had arrived yesterday and pulled out the first urn she saw, holding it aloft, she started to recite the binding spell that would once more imprison the foul demon. Wind rushed through the foyer and the demon screeched as it was frozen in place before being sucked into the urn.
Zelda slammed the lid on tight and smiled, her emergency planning had worked. “And that is how you trap a demon.” She stated calmly, turning to face her family, each of whom was in an absurd position. Zelda couldn’t decide which she found more entertaining, the fact that Hilda covered her ears, Ambrose’s mortal fighting stance or Sabrina’s slack jawed expression.
Nodding, Zelda made for the kitchen, sealing the urn as she went. No reason to risk someone accidently knocking the thing over and setting the demon free. The others followed, Hilda putting on the kettle as the rest of them settled in at the table.
“A nice cup of tea to soothe the nerves,” Hilda sang softly as she poured the tea for each of them.
Rolling her eyes, “my nerves are fine, sister. Which is more than I can say for you lot.” Zelda looked around the table at her family. “Running around like headless chickens.” As she sipped her tea, she started planning a new series of family meetings to review their strategic plans, clearly it was needed.
A Cheshire-like smile spread across Sabrina’s face then. “At least this means Father Blackwood has to let me into conjuring class now, right?” She looked at them all, “I mean, I solved the Configuration.” She added smugly.
“And learned a valuable lesson, I hope.” Zelda noted, tilting her head at Sabrina. “Never open a magic box if you don’t know what’s inside it.”
Sabrina lifted a shoulder in acknowledgment and then furrowed her brow. “One thing I don’t understand… Why would my father trap a demon inside of it?”
Zelda and Hilda exchanged a look, one of reluctant defeat. Though Edward had been dead a long time now, it was never fun to admit that a sibling had been right all along.
Sighing, Hilda explained, “your father suffered from terrible insomnia. He always said it was a sleep demon tormenting him.”
“All those years, we assumed he was being dramatic, but clearly not.” Zelda added, putting her tea down. While she hated to admit she was wrong, she also couldn’t hide the pride in her voice at her next statement. “And clearly, he got the better of it.”
Ambrose shook his head, “surely, he must have known the Configuration would be opened one day? Why not leave a note?”
She scoffed lightly, no, Edward was too narcissistic to have left a note. “He likely never imagined that anyone would be canny enough to solve his puzzle.” Zelda turned an appraising eye onto Sabrina and smiled at her proudly. Her girl was clever alright, though they’d have to work on her proactive instead of reactive thinking if Sabrina wanted to study conjuring and demon banishing.
*Sabrina cocked her head, “my mom was the key.” She announced softly, smiling.
Zelda’s own smile slipped off her face at the mention of Diana—her feelings still far too mixed when it came to the woman. Hilda just hummed in confusion. Sabrina explained that it had been a sketch in one of Edward’s journals that had given her the clue. Zelda frowned, had her brother felt the need to tinker with the solution to the puzzle nearly 55 years after trapping the demon because he knew no one would guess that Diana was the key? Therefore, ensuring the demon would remain imprisoned? Hilda’s voice pulled her from her thoughts though.
“Oh, that’s marvelous, isn’t it Zelds?” Hilda seemed a little too self-satisfied that it had taken a half-witch to solve the puzzle.
She was tempted to say it had nothing to do with Sabrina’s blood and everything to do with her brain, but another sarcastic remark won out. “Yes, it’s divine that Sabrina’s duality almost got us killed.” Again, she added in her head, wondering how bad it was that she was already losing count of the number of times their lives had been in danger since Sabrina had run from her baptism.
Hilda deflated a bit at her comment, “right… Okay, let’s finish our tea and call it a night, shall we?”
She, she was teaching Path of Night school again? Zelda frowned and looked at the children sprawled out on the rug in front of her. This didn’t make sense, she hadn’t taught this since Edward’s death. Her excuse being that she was too busy, which had been true, but she also hadn’t been able to help further the lies spread by the Dark Lord any longer either, especially not to children.
So this, so this…. She took a fortifying sip of the drink next to her as she held up the book for the children to admire—she must have resumed teaching to try and make up for something. Maybe Sabrina running from her baptism, the results of the trial, helping put a stop to the tradition of harrowing… Yes, that must be it, she’d determined that she needed to reaffirm her faith in the eyes of the coven, and this had been one of the easiest ways.
Sighing in relief that she’d figured it out, Zelda continued the lesson with the children, only to be interrupted a moment later by the weird sisters appearing in her parlor.
“Sister Zelda,” they chorused, “we bring you news from the Nine Circles. Our Dark Lord has chosen your house for a special honor. Once a year, he assumes the shape of man to visit his more devout disciples and break bread with them.”
Her head reeled as the trio went on to announce that the Dark Lord had chosen the Spellman home as one of his destinations, how he would honor them with his presence at dinner…. Tonight.
She knew her face didn’t reflect the joy she ought to feel, if she were a properly devout witch. Knew that it was blank with horror and her eyes shining slightly because of panic induced tears. When the girls left, snapping the doors closed behind them, Zelda sat frozen in fear for a moment. Then she shot up, calling out for the one person who could help her get through this mess. “Hilda? Oh, Hilda?!”
Thankfully, her sister appeared through one of the doors in the wall, when had they gotten so many doors? Zelda shook herself, they had much more important matters than doors to worry about.
“The Dark Lord is dining with us,” she announced in a trembling voice, clutching the book she’d been reading to the children tightly to hide her shaking hands. “Tonight! Can you imagine?”
She certainly could. The Dark Lord would come and see that she was a fraud. That she’d been lying for years to protect her family. But she couldn’t turn him away without the same outcome. So, she tried to convey the expected excitement when she told Hilda of their unwelcome dinner guest.
But then Hilda suggested vegetable pie and it was all wrong. Satan was an avowed carnivore, only a meat dish would do and if they didn’t serve his favorite, well, he would know for sure that Zelda was a fake. And his favorite… she sighed, eyes landing on the portly child sitting on the floor, still stuffing his face with cakes.
Beelzebub help her, she’d have to roast the poor thing—but if it was this child or her family… well, so be it.
But he’d spurned her dish, selecting Hilda’s pie and sending Zelda away. She stifled her panic and sobs poorly until she reached the kitchen. Not only had she needlessly sacrificed a child, but also Hilda, sweet Hilda who did not have a wicked bone in her body, was being courted by the Dark Lord. Zelda could hear their flirtations and laughter from the other room.
No, she couldn’t let that happen. She knew what the Dark Lord was capable of—she couldn’t, wouldn’t, let him take her little sister. Edward would never have allowed such a thing. Then music started to filter into the room, and he requested a dance.
Zelda gulped and threw down the towel she’d been wringing in her hands. What was she to do? What? She couldn’t think, not with that damned music playing. Covering her ears, Zelda paced the room, but it did nothing. She still couldn’t focus. And she had to focus, had to, Hilda’s life depended on it. Zelda hit herself in the head several times, pain made everything clearer.
Only, this time it didn’t. She still could not think of how to explain everything to Hilda after all these years of secrets. She needed time to think, to come up with a plan, and she needed Hilda safe and out of the way while she did it.
And what place was safer then dead and buried in the Cain Pit for five hours or so?
Yes, that would be enough time for Zelda to come up with something. So, she’d watched and waited until the Dark Lord left before stalking up behind Hilda where she stood in the kitchen doing dishes, all but floating after her encounter with the Dark Lord. She swallowed hard and then cracked the shovel over her sister’s head. Hilda crumpled onto the floor, dead from the single blow.
“You didn’t even want to join the Church of Night.” Zelda whispered wretchedly. Why had her sister suddenly changed her mind that the church and the Dark Lord were such a wonderful thing? Why couldn’t she have kept her opinion that she didn’t really need the church? That would have kept her safe from the Dark Lord’s advances.
Setting the shovel aside, Zelda grabbed her sister’s wrists and dragged her bodily towards the garden. “You never even loved him,” she sniffed, rolling Hilda into the pit. “He just seduced you, the Dark Lord does that. Seduces you with a belief system, with the chance of love, with power… and then he steals it all away at the smallest slight.” She threw shovels full of dirt on top of her sister. “No, this is for the best, this will keep you safe. You’ll understand one day.”
She was still cleaning the dirt from under her nails, running through potential explanations in her head when the front door opened and closed.
“That was a speedy resurrection, sister.” She observed, voice hoarse from crying.
But it wasn’t Hilda, the Dark Lord had returned already, not even a full hour after he’d left… and he was asking for Hilda. The scrub brush fell from Zelda’s hands with a clatter as she whipped around. She pressed herself back against the counter, hating how vulnerable she felt.
“I’m not my sister’s keeper.” She tried to sound blithe in her response, but her trembling voice gave her away. Of course, she was, she was her entire family’s keeper… it wouldn’t do to admit that now, however. But the Dark Lord just stared at her. Unnerved, Zelda stuttered, “I, I do—, I don’t know where she is.”
He saw right through her, he was the Father of Lies, after all. Zelda was quick to apologize for her actions and to try and explain it away as a game she and Hilda played… though it hadn’t felt like a game in years. But her sister always came back, always. No matter what awful thing Zelda did to her, Hilda always came back.
“Not this time.” The slightly manic smile on her face vanished at the Dark Lord’s words. “This time, she is gone from your life… forever.”
Grief like she’d never experienced crashed over her, it was worse than when Edward had died. Because while she should have stopped him from getting on that plane, he’d ultimately put himself in the situation that had led to its crash. But with Hilda…. With Hilda it was all her fault.
Sobs wrenched themselves from her as she dropped to her knees, legs no longer able to support her in her agony. The Dark Lord looked down at her in disgust before spinning on his heel and walking away. Zelda paid him no mind, curling into herself, wailing and the occasional ‘no’ escaping her lips.
A hand was suddenly on her shoulder, long and clawed, the voice it belonged to crooned to her, “poor Zelda.”
When she turned her head to find the source she gasped, a demon, a demon… that damned demon that she’d trapped? How was this possible? How was it that it was demanding the spell to unlock the house, promising to bring Hilda back to life. But even in her grief-stricken state, Zelda knew that nothing could bring Hilda back.
She’d lost her sister for good, so what was the point of helping this demon? She deserved this hell, she did. So, instead of helping this demon, she screamed, sobbed and screamed some more, arms curling around her stomach as she pitched sideways so that she could pull her knees up as well.
The demon scoffed and pulled away, muttering to itself. “Too much, too much. Out of practice from 70 years in that prison. I broke her too quickly…” But then it stopped its pacing. “No, not too much. You deserve this. You’re just like your bastard brother. Too clever, too strong. You’re the one that sealed the house, that trapped me again. Well, while you may have been the only one with wits enough to trap me… you aren’t the only one who can release me.” The demon tilted its head to a near 90-degree angle, “maybe I’ll go check on your niece and nephew.” It taunted, baring its pointed teeth.
Zelda lifted her head from the ground at that. “No,” she whimpered, “not the kids. Not my kids.”
Batibat cackled, “they’re not yours, Zelda. Never have been, never will be,” she intoned sinisterly. “They’re just the awful offspring of your horrid brothers. They asked you to watch over them, didn’t they? And oh, how you’ve failed. One housebound and bitter and the other who can’t stand the sight of you? On top of all that they’re trapped in my nightmares as well…oh, how you have failed Zelda Spellman.”
She shrank from the accusations, fingers tightening their grip on her dress. “No, no that’s not true. I’ve done right by them. Done the best I could.” She whispered, almost to herself.
Moving so that she towered over Zelda, Batibat leered, “is that what you did for Hilda?” She asked, pointing to the corner where her sister’s dead body had just appeared. “The best you could,” the words come out mockingly, sounding petulant in the demon’s mouth.
Flinching at the evidence of her failure, Zelda turned her head away, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Face it, Spellman, you’re a failure. You hurt your family, over and over. And on those rare occasions when you do protect them, they spurn you for it.” Batibat danced away a bit and then crouched in front of her. “A reject and a failure… no wonder you broke first.” The demon spat, before standing up and stalking out of the room.
Zelda shivered and tried to make herself as small physically as she felt… Batibat was right, she deserved this.
Lilith should have left the dreamscape immediately after waking Sabrina. This was still Batibat’s domain, and in her astral form Lilith had no real power to pull from to protect herself should Batibat make good on the threats she’d made.
But there was one Spellman she hadn’t run into while searching for Sabrina. And Lilith loathed to pass up the opportunity to gain insight into the Spellman matriarch’s mind. That, and well, the woman had captured her attention the other night. She hadn’t been fooled by Lilith’s smooth voice and the lie that had fallen readily from her lips. Zelda’s resistance to one of her succubus tricks had intrigued her.
The eldest Spellman was powerful, hellishly so, and Lilith had never felt anything quite like it. If the Dark Lord wanted another soldier, why not just pick an extremely formidable witch that was already devoted to him? Instead of this moody teenager who would likely be much more trouble than she was worth even after she’d signed. And, not that it mattered, Lilith had a feeling that under the right circumstances she and Zelda would get along wonderfully. But it wasn’t Lilith’s job to question her master, so she let the matter lie… to an extent, she was still in the dreamscape, after all.
What she found, though, shocked her.
She knew Batibat’s abilities allowed her to prey on the most vulnerable aspects of an individual’s mind, taking the deepest fears and then twisting them further. But to witness how quickly, how easily, the demon had shattered Zelda… it brought Lilith no joy. No joy to see such a powerful woman curled into the fetal position on the ground, taking great gulping breaths between sobs.
The fact that Batibat had been able to accomplish this with so little resistance indicated two things. One, that the demon was out of practice and had overdone the nightmare, expecting, as Lilith had, that Zelda would be the most difficult to break—it didn’t help her in any way to completely break a subject like this, not when trying to extract information; this made the demon all the more dangerous to the outside world should she escape. And two, that there was much more to Zelda Spellman then Lilith had given her credit for. She wouldn’t have thought the death of a family member to be the witch’s greatest fear, after already losing so many the pain could hardly be novel… though to be fair she’d missed everything in the nightmare leading to Zelda’s current state, multiple factors likely caused this. Nonetheless, she stored the information away for future reference.
Kneeling, Lilith hesitantly reached out her hand and stroked the red locks back from Zelda’s face. The witch didn’t even move, just kept staring vacantly ahead as tears poured down her face. Irritated that she’d even made the effort to comfort when it yielded no result, Lilith manhandled Zelda into a sitting position, brushing off her clothes and smoothing back her hair a bit.
Zelda remained upright, but sobs continued to wrack the woman’s body, threatening to send her toppling back over.
Though she wanted to help, the family did not deserve to pay for the mistakes of their dead former patriarch, Lilith was running out of patience. She knew this wasn’t how the redhead normally acted, that it was all the nightmare, but still.
Snapping her fingers in front of the woman’s face, Lilith scolded her. “Now really, Zelda. Out of everyone I thought you would be the strongest, the hardest to break. You need to pull yourself together.” This seemed to get through to a small piece of the regular Zelda; she stopped crying at least, her breathing evened out—only the occasional hitch in it, though her chin was still quivering.
“There we are,” Lilith smiled encouragingly, rubbing her hands along Zelda’s upper arms. “This will all end soon, I promise.” She felt absurd doing this, but women needed to stick together in this realm and every realm, so she remained there for another minute until she sensed another presence entering the nightmare.
It only took her a moment to figure out who it was, and Lilith growled in frustration. She had specifically told Sabrina not to go back to sleep—was this how Zelda felt all the time? Dealing with her wayward niece? Lilith sighed and brushed her fingers along Zelda’s cheek, knowing the woman wouldn’t remember Lilith’s intrusion into her nightmare.
“I am sorry you must deal with Sabrina’s insubordinate behavior on a daily basis, how you manage not to put her in that marvelous Cain Pit of yours every other day is beyond me. Just know that I too am working to get her to sign the Book of the Beast.” She stood then and hid around the corner just as Sabrina rushed in, dropping to her knees in front of her aunt.
It was then that Lilith realized the girl was lucid dreaming and searching for help, perhaps she was cleverer than she appeared… likely the influence of Zelda. But it was no use, though Zelda was much improved from just a moment before, she was still in no state to assist her niece. Pity, she would have been Lilith’s first choice in allies as well… too bad Batibat had ravaged Zelda’s mind so quickly.
Clicking her tongue softly in disappointment, Lilith left to return to the waking realm before anything noticed her presence.
Zelda shuddered from the phantom touch to her cheek and blinked. But whatever had caused it was gone. She would have suspected it was something sinister had she not felt better now than she had throughout this entire ordeal.
The feeling lasted only mere seconds though, Sabrina was suddenly in front of her and dread filled Zelda. No, her girl couldn’t be here, couldn’t know what she’d done. Sabrina hated her enough as it was, she would never speak to Zelda again when she realized Hilda was dead by her hand.
But she couldn’t hide the truth, Sabrina hated it when she hid the truth. So, she tearfully confessed her crimes, Sabrina’s face hardening as her gaze found Hilda’s body.
“Aunt Zelda, you’re in a nightmare. None of this is real. Hilda is alive and sleeping next to you, I promise!” Sabrina exclaimed, touching her hand and Zelda flinched back expecting only more pain. Sabrina’s expression softened for a second but then hardened once more. “I don’t have much time and I need your help. There’s a sleep demon in our house. She’s the one who put you in this nightmare and I need you to tell me how to defeat her.”
She knew better then to believe this version of Sabrina. Her niece was never so understanding of what Zelda did…. This, this was just another trick of the demon’s, a way to trick her into unsealing the house. No, she wouldn’t do that, she wouldn’t.
So, she crawled over to her sister, sobs and apologies falling from her lips as she pressed against Hilda’s side for comfort. She’d meant to protect and all she’d done was destroy. When she lifted her eyes once more Sabrina was gone… not that it was a surprise, but the abandonment still cut deeply. Zelda was truly and irrevocable alone.
Zelda woke with a strangled gasp and laid motionless for a moment, trying to reorient herself. She sat up slowly and shifted to see Hilda breathing a little heavily, but awake, on her side of the room. Relief washed over her, and Zelda’s first instinct was to hug her sister and apologize. She was part way to throwing back the covers and doing just that, but Hilda’s look of horror froze her to the spot.
“I just had the, the most vivid dream.” Hilda murmured, not looking at Zelda but past her, as if she couldn’t stand to make eye contact. Batibat’s words of rejection echoed in Zelda’s mind and she swallowed hard.
“Yes, so did I.” At her response, however, Hilda’s eyes jerked to hers and they made the same realization. They both gasped their niece’s name and hurried out of bed and downstairs after finding Sabrina’s room empty.
They ran into Batibat on their way to the kitchen, trapped in an extraordinary amount of spider webs, a small smile tugged at Zelda’s lips, her girl was clever. Just then Sabrina came back, frowning at the various objects she was carrying in her arms.
When she saw them, however, she inhaled and dropped them, engulfing both of them in a single hug. “Aunties! It worked, oh, thank Satan.” She pulled back and smiled, “I used what you both said to recapture Batibat.” She grinned and gestured unnecessarily to the demon stuck in the parlor doorway. “I just wasn’t sure what to hold her in.” Sabrina bent over and started to pick up the items she’d grabbed from the kitchen.
Hilda tutted, “not my good Tupperware!” She snatched several pieces from Sabrina and marched them back into the kitchen.
Sabrina huffed in amusement and turned to look at Zelda, wanting to share the moment of amused disbelief. Zelda managed a half smile that didn’t reach her eyes, Sabrina’s expression turned to one of concern but before she could push the subject, Hilda came back holding a mason jar.
“There, this’ll work much better.” She smiled and handed Zelda the jar to retrap the beast. Ambrose joined them then, shook his head and made for the kitchen, likely to get some alcohol, Zelda was sure she wouldn’t be far behind him.
Quickly imprisoning Batibat once more, Zelda followed the others to the kitchen and placed the jar on the table. She was checking the lid for the fourth time as they sat at there, needing to ensure that the demon would not be getting out again, when Ambrose raised a brow at her. She merely stated, “not as intricate as an Acheron Configuration, but a jam jar will do just as well.” He inclined his head at her and took another drink.
Hilda glanced at her and smiled before turning back to wrapping up Sabrina’s forearm, the girl having sustained an injury during her time fighting the sleep demon. Zelda kept her eyes averted, taking drink of the whiskey Ambrose had been kind enough to pour for her.
There was a moment of contemplative silence, each of them still lost in the nightmares. Zelda looked up then, finally making eye contact with her niece.
“I, um,” she fumbled, but pushed forward. “I owe you an apology, Sabrina. When you came to me, in my dream, I was… lily-livered. Hysterical. Cowardly.” Zelda was about to continue, say she was useless and hadn’t been able to protect her. And that was her role in this family, as head of the house, she was the protector. Hilda was the caregiver, the nurturing one, and sometimes Zelda begrudged her for it. For how easily emotions came to her sister, how freely she felt she was able to express them. Perhaps that was one of the reasons she was so cruel…. Something she hoped to rectify soon.
But Sabrina interrupted her, “only in the dream, Aunt Zelda. Only in that terrible dream.”
Zelda dropped her eyes back to her drink, undeserving of Sabrina’s soft tone and absolution. Though Sabrina had brushed away her apology, implied that none of them could be held responsible for how they acted, Zelda knew that wasn’t true. Both Hilda and Ambrose had managed to be clear-headed enough in the midst of their nightmares to assist Sabrina. Only Zelda had been lost… had failed.
Silence fell over them once more after Sabrina assured them that she didn’t remember what they had all dreamed of… Zelda didn’t believe her, but she could see that Hilda and Ambrose were relieved by the statement, so she said nothing. They remained there for some time, drinking tea or whiskey, none of them quite willing to be on their own quite yet.
Eventually, though, Zelda looked at the clock and groaned. “Alright, time for bed.” No one argued, just stood, a little unwillingly, and made their way upstairs.
Sabrina called Harvey the moment she was alone again, she knew it was late but she had to hear his voice. When he sleepily bade her goodnight, stating that he would see her in the morning in Wardwell’s class, a shock spiked through Sabrina. In the mayhem of the demon she had completely forgotten that Wardwell was the one who had woken her to begin with… but how had she known they were in trouble? And how had she had the means to help?
Swinging her legs off the bed, Sabrina got dressed again, there were questions that Ms. Wardwell had to answer, and she certainly wasn’t going to wait until morning to ask them. She paused when she heard the creak of her aunts’ door and the murmur of voices. A bit of guilt pinched at her, she knew one of them would come to check on her… most likely Aunt Zelda, and she couldn’t risk them finding out where she’d gone or why.
So, she’d called Salem to her, instructed him to stay in the bed and glammered him once more to take her likeness. Standing back Sabrina checked her work, it looked like she was asleep in bed. Nodding to herself at a job well done, Sabrina flicked off her light and carefully climbed out her window.
Zelda made it to the room first, and hurriedly opened her trunk, pulled out her flog and hid it in the folds of her robe as Hilda entered. “I forgot something downstairs. I’ll be back in a bit,” Zelda stated already moving past her sister to the door. Hilda eyed her but nodded, heavy-lidded from the foxglove she had taken, and headed to bed. Zelda paused in the hallway as she noticed the light seeping out from under Sabrina’s door, moments later, though, the light went out.
Another ten minutes passed before Zelda risked cracking open Sabrina’s door, her niece had refused the foxglove Hilda had offered everyone, explaining that she’d used some to lucid dream and didn’t want to risk taking any more. But from the even breaths coming from the bed, Sabrina was fast asleep.
Zelda entered carefully and stood next to Sabrina’s bed, gently brushing back a stray lock of hair from her face. “I’m so sorry, little one,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I failed you tonight, but it won’t happen again—I swear.” She pressed a featherlight kiss to Sabrina’s forehead and then left, quietly closing the door behind her.
Sniffling a little, Zelda then poked her head into Ambrose’s room, his snores greeted her, though she resisted entering even further. Ambrose was a much lighter sleeper and would likely wake if she tried to kiss his forehead, and after everything they’d been through her family deserved some sleep. A faint smile tugged at her lips briefly at a particularly loud snore and Zelda closed his door before making her way to the basement where she wouldn’t disturb anyone.
She’d failed tonight. As a witch, an aunt, the protector of this family. Her little girl had come to her scared and looking for help and she’d failed her—too lost in her own nightmare to be of any help.
It was still unclear how they’d gone from sealing the house and her trapping Batibat in the urn to the nightmares. Perhaps Sabrina had never had the chance to warn them and it’d all been part of the nightmare all along… but then how had they sealed the house?
Frustrated, Zelda threw her robe onto the exam table and speared her hands through her hair before snatching up the flog once more…not even bothering to count the strokes as she turned the night’s events over in her head again and again, trying to piece together what had happened. What had gone wrong.
The incantation sealing Batibat in the house had worked, that much was undeniable. It was why they’d been thrown into the nightmares in the first place. Zelda recited the spell she’d used to capture the demon in the urn, unable to see where she’d gone wrong with that. And from what Sabrina had told them, she’d used the exact spell Zelda had when trapping Batibat the second time, recalling what Zelda had done and mimicking it.
She’d sealed the urn too, the container’s lid not nearly tight enough for her and the possibility of it being knocked off too high. Her arm continued to move mechanically as she reviewed the spell she’d used on the urn and was unable to see where she’d messed up.
Where had she gone wrong? Where? Where? Where? The whip connecting with her back with each word.
The urn. Her arm stopped at the realization. In her haste to trap the demon, she hadn’t checked the composition of the urn she’d selected, she’d just assumed it was gold and therefore resilient enough to hold Batibat. But looking back, Zelda realized it was one of the prop urns they’d ordered to have on display in the office for clients—one that looked real but wasn’t in case any clients had sticky fingers. She’d trapped the damned thing in a container made of nickel with a faux gold finish, no wonder Batibat had gotten loose again. Sealed lid or no, nickel simply could not hold a demon… it was demonology 101.
*Glass, silver, gold, and a host of other metals could hold demons, while nickel, tin, wood and other more common household items could not. There were theories about why this was, something to do with how the Mother of Demons enchanted her children to protect them from the absurd number of overenthusiastic clergymen who’d been running around centuries ago. Blaming everything on Satan and performing exorcisms and banishments with abandon. They didn’t often find a real case of demon presence or possession, but in case they did, the Mother of Demons saw to it that common items could not contain her children—and seeing as clergymen were often poor and often did not have access to precious metals or glass... Well, while her children might be momentarily confined in whatever the clergymen used, they would soon be running freely amongst the mortals and causing chaos.
How could she have been so careless as to not check the container once she’d captured the beast? Choosing the urn at first wasn’t the problem. It was that she hadn’t ensured that the urn could continue to hold the demon afterwards… how could she?
Her arm resumed its motion, hitting harder than before in retribution for her laziness, her recklessness and what it had cost her family. She continued for some time, only stopping when her arm trembled and burned with fatigue, her back littered with wounds, blood trickling hotly from more of them than not.
The next morning Sabrina turned to her at the breakfast table, “Auntie? Can you, can you talk to Father Blackwood today? Make sure that he adds conjuring to my schedule? I don’t want to go in later this week and have to miss out on more classes because I have to fight with him about it.”
Zelda arched a brow, “you made a deal with him, he said if you solved the Configuration you could be in the class. I don’t see why he wouldn’t—”
Sabrina leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table as she implored her aunt. “Please? I know what he said, and I’m sure he’ll honor the deal…eventually. But he listens to you and you’re helping Lady Blackwood with her baby, so it’ll go so much faster and easier if you bring it up…” Her niece gave her the biggest puppy dog eyes, as Hilda liked to call them, and smiled sweetly.
Rolling her eyes, Zelda lifted her paper back up. “Fine. I wanted to search the library for new midwifery books anyway, though I doubt anything has changed in my years of retirement, it never hurts to check.”
Her girl whooped and bounced out of her chair, “thank you Auntie Zee!” She crowed, far more excited about this class than Zelda would have anticipated. “Alright, I’m off to school. But we’ll talk tonight about conjuring, right?” Sabrina looked at her hopefully and picked up her bookbag.
Smiling, Zelda nodded. “Of course, I’ll pick up any books and coursework you may need to catch up while I’m at the Academy. And we can work our way through them.” Sabrina beamed and thanked her again, pecked her and Hilda on the cheek before racing out the front door.
Hilda looked at the door and shook her head. “Someone is in a chipper mood, all things considered.”
Zelda merely hummed and went to collect the Configuration from Sabrina’s room as proof. Too busy suppressing how happy Sabrina’s new enthusiasm for the witching realm, despite her recent encounter with a demon, had made her to respond further.
She’d gone to the Academy's library first and found two books on midwifery, though from her brief perusal of them it didn’t seem as though she’d learn anything new. Zelda then made her way to Faustus’ office and knocked on his door this time, waiting patiently, her bag of books slung over one arm.
He frowned when he saw her, but admitted her just the same, stepping aside and allowing her to sweep past him.
“Zelda, what can I do for you now?” Faustus asked, arching a brow as he leaned against the front of his desk while she took a seat.
A smug smile lifted the corner of her lips and she reached into her bag and pulled out the now open Acheron Configuration, setting the device on his desk. The way his eyes widened made Zelda chuckle. “I take it Sabrina can expect to be in conjuring class later this week?”
Faustus snatched up the puzzle and turned it over in his hands, still struck silent. “What?” The question came out more like a demand and a growl than anything, and Zelda smirked, proud that her girl had solved something in days that a several centuries old warlock hadn’t been able to in years.
“Yes,” she confirmed coolly, “my niece is quite clever. Now, are there any books or coursework I can take with me so she can start catching up?”
He didn’t move immediately, still examining the device. “When did she solve it?” Faustus looked up at her.
Memories from the night before assailed her, swallowing and averting her eyes, “last night.” She informed him primly. But he knew her too well, could read her tells, Faustus put down the puzzle and touched her hand.
“Are you alright?” He asked softly, brushing this thumb against the back of her hand.
Her hand twitched at the touch, Batibat’s clawing fingers still too prominent in her mind for her to distinguish the comforting touch he was providing from the demon's. “Of course,” she tried to sound scornful. That the idea of her being anything but fine was ludicrous. Her declaration didn’t come across nearly as affronted as she’d intended, though. Standing and rounding the chair, Zelda smoothed her dress. “If there are no conjuring books or work that Sabrina needs—” Her sentence trailed off and Faustus frowned slightly but stood and gathered some materials.
“It will replace her Latin course.” He murmured, handing her several things which she slipped into her bag along with her midwifery books. "You were right about her being able to test out of it."
Zelda nodded and turned to leave. She was almost to the door when Faustus caught her elbow. She squeezed her eyes shut and then turned to look at him.
Faustus led her to the couch, and she had a quick flashback to when he’d done the same thing over 10 years ago and asked if he could formerly court her. His voice brought her back to the present. “Zels, you’re obviously not okay. You didn't even gloat when I said you were right. What is going on?” He questioned softly, eyes forward as if he knew looking at her directly would spook her, though his hand did slide from her elbow down to her wrist, one finger stroking her pulse point when it reached its destination.
She moved to leave, not wanting to stay there where he could so easily monitor her reactions with his finger on her pulse. His hand clamped down on her wrist, “Zelda…” And there was that soft tone again, the one that used to always draw her in. Turned out that it still could, Zelda sank back into the couch and he loosened his grip and resumed brushing his fingers along her skin. “Something is bothering you, I know you’ll just bottle it up if you don’t talk about it. And Satan knows there are precious few you’d ever consider talking to.”
Was she really that obvious? Was she such an open book these days that he could tell that her mind kept drifting back to their encounter with the demon; her nightmares flooding her senses even now. “I assure you, I don’t know what—”
He exhaled in exasperation and turned to face her. “Must you always be so difficult?” He sounded irritated, well that made two of them. Who did he think he was that he could ask these things of her, ask her to still be emotionally vulnerable with him (to the extent that she was vulnerable with anyone, which wasn’t very)? “We were once close, Zels,” he noted, as if reading her mind, before catching her eye; she looked obstinately forward. “You can still come to me, confide in me.” He tried again.
Zelda wanted to laugh, she’d never confided in him, not truly. Well…. Perhaps a little. About the stresses she felt from her various responsibilities. About her worries that she’d never be a good mother to Sabrina. About… well, maybe she had confided in him, turned to him for support for things she’d once been accustomed to shouldering alone; and had shouldered alone since she’d ended things. But she’d never truly confided in him, not about the biggest, heaviest burden Edward had left her, not about her break in her faith.
But she knew Faustus wouldn’t let the matter drop and if she didn’t give him something he’d start to dig. And that was the last thing she needed. Really, what was it to confess, at least part, of what had happened last night? So, she pressed her lips together and turned to him.
“Was it that apparent? That something is bothering me?” She asked, buying herself some time to determine how much she wanted to share.
Faustus smiled at her then and lifted a hand and tucked some hair behind her ear tenderly. “Only to someone who knows you well—so, very few.”
Shivers raced down her spine at the touch and she had to force herself to focus. Surely, he had a motive, for prying. But she couldn’t think of one. Perhaps… perhaps he still harbored some feelings towards her, Satan knew why, but could he truly be motivated by wanting to ease whatever was bothering her? The patient look in his eye and how his fingers played with the end of the strand of hair he’d tucked away had her stupidly wanting to believe that he still cared in some capacity.
It was this childish wish that had Zelda opening up. “If you must know, you should be glad that you didn’t solve the Acheron Configuration.” Faustus furrowed his brow and opened his mouth, but she forestalled him by lifting her free hand. “Edward trapped a sleep demon inside and neglected to tell anyone, the bastard.”
Faustus’ eyebrows shot up, “a sleep demon?” Intrigued he scooted closer, his leg pressing against hers from hip to knee.
“Yes, we were up half the night sealing the house and re-trapping the cursed thing.” She admitted, and though she longed to discuss her nightmare, how much it had shaken her, discuss the guilt that still sat heavy in her chest at her failure, Zelda said no more on the subject. “If it seems like something is bothering me, it’s because I’m tired Faustus. Nothing more.”
He smiled impressed, and then eyed her, as if suddenly realizing that she wasn’t telling the whole truth, but he let it slide knowing if he pushed too far he wouldn't be able to talk her into staying. “Well done, though I’m not surprised that you recaptured the beast. The realms are better off without another sleep demon in their midst. You have the gratitude of the church.” He murmured, and when his eyes flickered to her lips and he started leaning in, she didn’t stop him, didn't want to.
Not today, not when she needed whatever comforting contact she could get—even if it came at a price. If it could chase away the fear, the rejection, the insecurity that was roiling through her then she was more than willing to pay.
But as his hand slid up her arm and onto her back to draw her in, Zelda gasped at the pain that erupted from her ravaged back. The pain, as always, clarified everything for the moment. She couldn’t. Not after all this time, not after all she’d given up to ensure her family’s safety. She couldn’t give in to him again, no matter how much she wanted to, no matter how kind he was being. He would always have to be the one that she let get away.
And though ending up with her dress rucked up around her hips as she rode the High Priest on the couch in his office was a deliciously enticing picture, it was one she couldn’t, wouldn’t, risk.
She pulled away, “no gratitude necessary, Father Blackwood, but appreciated.” She murmured, standing up and giving him a close-lipped smile as she stepped away from the couch and his magnetic presence. “I will make sure Sabrina is ready to start her conjuring class the next time she is at the Academy.” Zelda nodded and picked up the bag she’d let fall to the floor when they first sat down.
Faustus blinked, clearly thrown by her sudden change, but nodded slowly. “Of course, see that she is ready, Zelda. The term has been in progress for over a month now, she will need the help.”
A part of her withered a little at his reaction. She should be glad that he followed her lead, hadn’t pressured her. And yet, yet part of her wished that he’d be bold and grab her, tug her into his lap and kiss her hotly. Only breaking their lips to tell her that he’d wanted her all along and not Constance.
It was foolish, though, and Zelda Spellman was many things, but foolish wasn’t one of them. And despite what Hilda had said all those years ago, it wasn’t alright for her to want this, to want love; not when it could come at such a high price. So, she hurried away before her resolve crumbled and she threw herself at the man she’d never really moved on from to begin with.
Instead she rushed home and buried herself in work, buried herself in her midwifery books, and buried herself in reviewing Sabrina’s lesson materials so that she could help her niece when she got home.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
After their encounter with Batibat, Zelda was grateful for a few peaceful and routine-filled days. Business at the mortuary continued as usual, until her sister marched into the office and informed her that she was, in fact, going into town and applying for the position at the bookstore.
“It’s not like I can return to midwifing like you did, Zelda. No one will want an excommunicated witch delivering their child.” Hilda added with a decisive nod and standing up straighter.
Setting down her pen, Zelda pushed her glasses up into her hair and cocked her head to study her sister. It was a sound argument, and though she wanted to keep her family from meddling with mortal affairs, she was trying to be better since the nightmare. Which was why she’d held out her hand and offered to revise Hilda’s resume.
Stunned, Hilda handed over the paper and promptly sat in one of the chairs across from the desk, nervously picking at her hands as Zelda read through the document.
Zelda furrowed her brow when she reached the end of the page, “this is it?” She lifted her gaze to her sister, incredulous. “Hilda, you’ve left off so much. You’ve been helping run a business for decades. Well,” she paused and considered her statement, “you can’t say decades, that would raise flags. But there are many skills you’ve acquired over the years that you neglected to list.”
“But we run a mortuary, not a bookstore, Zelds.” Hilda pointed out, baffled.
Waving a hand, Zelda started to make notes in the margins. “Nonsense, you can easily tweak the skills you have so they apply. This store holds events, yes?” Zelda looked to Hilda and she nodded weakly in return. “You plan and host funerals, or events, all the time; that’s relevant. You also know how to assist clients, or whatever they’re called at a bookstore.” Tapping the pen to her chin, Zelda then made a few more notes. “If that odd man still finds issue with it, what you lack in exact experience you can certainly make up for in enthusiasm. Besides, you’re a quick learner.” Zelda handed the resume back and smiled thinly at Hilda.
Her sister just stared at her, reaching, almost unconsciously, for the resume and taking it back. Hilda opened her mouth to respond, but Zelda but her off.
“Now, if you’ve got nothing else, I still have a business to manage.” She raised a brow and picked up the phone, acting as though she had phone calls to make.
Shaking her head, Hilda grasped Zelda’s hand and squeezed it briefly before leaving, likely to go use Ambrose’s laptop to revise her resume.
Zelda watched Hilda leave and something inside her clenched painfully at the thought of her sister leaving, it felt like too close of a parallel to her dream. But Zelda knew if she tried to hold onto Hilda tighter, she would lose her for good… and she wasn’t strong enough to lose another family member, under any circumstance.
Sighing, she returned the phone to the receiver and turned back to the paperwork in front of her, she needed to get this done before Lady Blackwood’s appointment this afternoon.
Constance held her breath as Zelda bent over her stomach, trying to find a heartbeat, figuring it would be easier to hear without the sound of her lungs in the background. But her efforts were for naught, Faustus kept pestering the woman, asking her what she heard. Constance couldn’t see Zelda’s face, but she could practically hear the woman roll her eyes in exasperation.
His insistence on being there was new. Yes, he’d shown interest in her previous pregnancies, having an heir was important to him and Constance knew, if nothing else, Faustus would love and dote on their child. But he’d never pushed to come to her appointments before.
Perhaps it was because this was their third attempt and he felt if he showed up to these things it would somehow alter the outcome. Or perhaps, it was due to the one change from her previous pregnancies… the person conducting the appointments.
Zelda’s voice interrupted her thoughts, “there’s a heartbeat.” She announced confidently, a smile on her face. “Just as there was the last time.” She looked at Faustus and raised a brow as if to say he was worrying for nothing; Constance could have told him that.
Sighing in relief, some of the tension drained out of Faustus. “Praise Satan. How long before we can determine its sex?” He questioned, and now Constance wanted to roll her eyes. Men and their need for male heirs.
“It’s still a bit too early in Lady Blackwood’s gestation,” Zelda warned them, replacing her earring. “But I’ll collect a urine sample and see what we can find out.” The woman smiled at Constance knowingly, as if they were having the same thought about male heirs. And though Constance didn’t want to, she found herself liking Zelda in that moment.
Not to be deterred, though, Faustus pressed on. “What about Lady Blackwood’s blood pressure? Earlier today she felt faint.”
Another kind of smile crept onto Zelda’s face, one that seemed to find Faustus’ concern sweet, and the feeling of comradery Constance had a moment before disappeared. Regardless of that smile, Zelda shooed Faustus away, suggesting he give them space so the exam could be conducted in a more efficient manner.
Constance should be relieved Zelda was sending him away, but the fact that she could order Faustus around displeased Constance, no one should be able to do that but her…. And even she couldn’t. Needing to act as though she had some say in the matter, Constance spoke up.
“It’s fine, Faustus. Take some air.”
He seemed reluctant to go, but nodded, “very well. I’ll be outside.” He lingered a moment longer, watching Zelda with an intensity the situation didn’t warrant, but eventually he brushed past her and left.
As soon as the door closed, Constance pulled her shirt shut and murmured, “it’s a rather trying time for us.” Why she’d shared this she wasn’t sure, it wasn’t as though Zelda would acknowledge or was even aware of her part in the ever-growing rift between her and her husband. Of course, the rift had always been there, but now it was expanding, and Constance couldn’t help but blame Zelda and her renewed presence in Faustus’ life.
“Carrying a child of night to term should be the most joyous 13 months in a witch’s life.” Zelda replied from behind her, and Constance could hear the soft clinking of bottles as Zelda prepared a potion, likely for her blood pressure.
And though Constance was conflicted about Zelda, she found herself opening up to her. “I agree. Except, two of our children have already been called home by the Dark Lord before their births.” This wasn’t a topic she discussed much it was painful, but for some reason she felt Zelda would understand.
Constance peeked over her shoulder and saw a sympathetic expression on the woman’s face. “The High Priest told me,” she murmured, “I’m so very sorry.” And the sincerity in her tone almost made it alright that Faustus had told her about the lost babes.
Shifting on the table, Constance looked back at the ceiling. “Of course, he told you,” she muttered, playing with the buttons on her shirt. “Why?”
Zelda resumed working on the potion, “I was reluctant to come out of retirement. I hadn’t practiced in years and delivering the High Priest’s child is a daunting responsibility. But he explained you both had, had lost your previous children. I, I didn’t want you to have to experience that again, not if I could help. I am sorry if you feel as though my knowing violates your privacy, but it did convince me, and I hope that makes a difference for this child.”
Damn these pregnancy hormones, Constance was starting to like this woman again. Blinking away tears, Constance continued, “my husband wants a son, Sister Zelda. A male heir…” Constance would settle for a living babe, she didn’t care the gender.
Coming back to stand by her, Zelda patted her leg soothingly. “Well, we’ll know soon enough if it is the Dark Lord’s will.” She handed her the specimen jar to fill.
Nodding, Constance sat up, with Zelda’s help, and got slowly off the table. Undecided whether Zelda was a bigger threat or asset to her, Constance thanked her and made for the bathroom.
Zelda went upstairs to update Faustus while Constance was in the bathroom and cleaning herself up. She found him pacing in the garden. “Faustus,” she called out softly.
He turned sharply to face her, “is everything alright? The babe?”
The concern radiating off him made her smile, she closed some of the distance between them and squeezed his forearm. “The babe is fine, Faustus. As far as I can tell it is healthy and growing as it should. Once I run the tests on Constance’s sample I will know more and inform you immediately.”
Slumping against the fence, Faustus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just, don’t want to lose another one.” He murmured, “I know I’m being overbearing, but Lady Blackwood did feel faint this morning. And I thought, I thought she might be losing—” He trailed off, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.
“I will do everything in my power to ensure your child is safely delivered into this world, Faustus.” She ducked her head to catch his eye and he smiled slightly. “But you do need to relax, your stress does not help Constance’s and therefore does not help the baby.” She gripped his hand where it lay on his arm, “alright?”
A sigh escaped him, and he nodded raising his eyes to meet hers directly. “Thank you, Zelda. I cannot say it enough.” And before she could process it, he’d pushed off the fence and engulfing her in a hug, her head tucked neatly under his chin, and his arms banding warmly across her mid- and lower back. She couldn’t help how her arms automatically came up and encircled him in return. “Thank you,” he breathed once more and released her, smiling softly and cupping her cheek before heading back to the house.
Swallowing, Zelda fought a blush and followed, only to see Constance exiting the front door and making her way slowly down the porch steps with Faustus assisting her. Though they’d done nothing improper, Zelda couldn’t help the worry building inside her that Constance had seen them.
Not long after the Blackwoods left, Hilda returned from town, practically glowing as she came into the kitchen.
“Zelds, I got the job!” She announced, grin widening even as she wrung her hands with nerves.
Letting the paper droop, Zelda cocked her head at her sister. “Of course, you did. You were overqualified for the position; the man would have to be an idiot not to hire you.” She flicked the paper back up, but not before she saw Hilda’s nose wrinkle in joy at her comment.
And though she couldn’t see Hilda anymore, she could feel her sister hovering indecisively; trying to determine if she was going to hug Zelda or not. Ultimately, Hilda just flapped her hands slightly, murmured a ‘thanks, Zelds,’ and busied herself with the batch of lemons she’d moved to the kitchen that morning.
This was good, Zelda reminded herself, it was. Hilda was clearly happy about it and it was an acceptable alternative to midwifery. Perhaps a little too mortal, but what choice had the Church of Night left her sister in terms of employment when they excommunicated her?
They spent the next 20 minutes in companionable silence, Zelda had just retrieved her ashtray when Sabrina burst in, her voice proceeding her into the kitchen.
“Aunties, we have a big problem.” She declared, setting her bag on one of the stools.
Rolling her eyes, Zelda returned to the kitchen table. “Mephistopheles save us from the melodramatics of a teenage witch,” she uttered, sitting back down and picking up her paper.
The comment made Hilda chuckle and shake her head, but her attention was on their niece. “How was school, love?”
Instead of talking about school, though, Sabrina started to go on about demonic possessions and Harvey being attacked by said demon. As awful as it was that her friends had to restrain the man and that Harvey was attacked, this in no way indicated demon involvement—the man could simply be sick.
Lowering her paper, Zelda stated as much. “Sabrina, cases of actual demonic possession are extremely rare despite what the false god and his propaganda machine would have you believe.” She knocked some ash off her cigarette. “Your friends have seen too many horror movies and we’ve been spending a lot of time on your conjuring work recently, that’s why demons seem feasible.”
It was a logical explanation, teens, mortal or not, put too much stock in the media and allowed themselves to be carried away with it. And she and Sabrina had been working to catch Sabrina up on her conjuring class. For the past few nights, they’d sat together at the kitchen table, going over the text book and Zelda teaching Sabrina some of the basics that would likely have already been covered in class when she started.
Sabrina, though, seemed unimpressed with Zelda’s interpretation of the situation, one hand planted on her hip. Zelda merely lifted her paper back up, sure this was simply the teens overreacting.
“Have they called a doctor yet?” Hilda asked, drawing Sabrina’s attention to her. “Because they have to rule out every other possibility first. Like epilepsy, or schizophrenia, Tourette’s.”
Another valid point, and yet Sabrina did not want to see sense. “Aunties, my mortal friends are talking about demons. What if they start talking about witches next? The entire coven could be exposed.”
A ridiculous jump, but it had Zelda lowering her paper once more. “Who’s talking about witches?” She raised a teasing brow, “give me their names and I’ll make sure they stop talking about anything.” A wicked smile played on her lips, “permanently.” Sabrina rolled her eyes at the statement and Zelda couldn’t help but take it a little further. “It’s just terrible when teenagers slip into comas, isn’t it, Hilda?”
Not nearly as amused, Hilda just gave her a look and went back to her lemons.
“Susie is my friend. I won’t leave her in a house with a dangerous, possibly possessed man.”
Sighing, Zelda set her paper down entirely. “We are not to involve ourselves in mortal affairs.” Really, why was this such a difficult concept for her family to understand? But she knew Sabrina wouldn’t let this go, so she offered some advice. “But, tell your friend not to touch the inhabited person, if they are inhabited. That contact would make them vulnerable to attacks.” She nodded and returned to her paper.
“Wha, what kind of attacks?” Sabrina demanded, losing some of the color in her cheeks.
Zelda knew right away she’d said the wrong thing in her attempt to help, but she couldn’t leave it at that, or Sabrina would do something reckless to protect her friends from whatever threats she thought might come. “Psychological. Demons prey on your fears, your… shame.” She glanced at Hilda, the fear and shame Batibat had twisted and tortured her with concerning Hilda and the rest of her family still brutally fresh in her mind. “Etcetera.” She added, pressing her lips together, glad they hadn’t noticed her pause.
The defiance left Sabrina’s voice, and fear replaced it. “Harvey, Roz and Susie had to tie Uncle Jesse up. They all touched him and they’ve all had visions or visitations since then.”
Hilda looked up from her work, “get them to bathe in a bit of blessed water from the Sea of Galilee, that always does the trick.”
Looking between the two of them, Sabrina groaned and grabbed her bag before going upstairs.
Once Zelda was sure their niece was gone, she folded her paper and turned to Hilda who was already coming over and sitting at the table. “This may actually be a case of demonic possession,” Zelda admitted quietly, taking a draw from her cigarette. “How are we to keep Sabrina from getting involved? This isn’t just about meddling with mortals; the Dark Lord doesn’t take kindly to witches messing in demonic affairs when it doesn’t concern them either.”
Rubbing her forehead, Hilda shrugged her shoulders. “I think it’s too late to keep her from being involved, Zelds. These are her friends, she’s not going to just sit by and let it happen.”
She dropped her head back and looked at the ceiling, breathing deeply. “Well, at least she can’t do anything about the demon itself. No witch can excise a demon once it’s taken full possession, she’s safe in that regard.”
Hilda nodded, “it’s not much, but it’s something.” She gave Zelda a thin smile, squeezed her arm and got back up to finish the lemons.
The phone had almost turned over to voicemail when Zelda reached it, she’d been finishing up with their last client of the day, and Satan knew where Ambrose and Hilda were. “Spellman Sisters Mortuary,” she tried not to gasp, “this is Zelda.”
Faustus’ voice greeted her curtly, “Zelda. Do you want to know what your niece was asking about in conjuring today?”
Rubbing the back of her neck, Zelda leaned against the wall next to her. “I take it it wasn’t related to the coursework and you’re not calling me to praise how well she’s doing.” She replied dryly, propping the phone on her shoulder so she could check her pockets.
“Exorcisms.” He stated, “she was quite adamant about learning what could be done if the Devouring Worm was in possession of a mortal.”
Zelda halted her search for a cigarette, “I assume you told her such things were illegal and impossible for a witch to conduct.” Whatever good that would do, her niece was nothing if not tenacious, evidenced by her refusal to let the matter go after talking with her and Hilda. But the Devouring Worm, that was new information.
A low chuckle echoed over the phone, “of course, Zelda. But she got this look in her eye. One that reminded me of a certain red-haired witch when she took something as a challenge to be conquered.”
“Oh Satan,” she muttered, knowing that look all too well and what it could lead to.
“My thoughts exactly, though I have no clue how Sabrina could possibly do anything about this demon, I thought I should warn you.” He informed her.
Just then the front bell rang, frowning, Zelda peered around the corner and caught a glimpse of Hilda answering it. Then a familiar figure entered, though Zelda couldn’t say why she recognized this person.
Bringing the phone back to her mouth, Zelda uttered a vague thanks and goodbye, her focus on the woman who was now following Hilda into the parlor. Hanging up the phone, Zelda quickly made for the same room.
Hilda turned at the sound of her heels, “ahh, Zelda, this is Ms. Mary Wardwell, one of Sabrina’s teachers.” Her sister remarked, pouring some tea for their guest.
Her eyes widened, that was it. She was the woman who’d been nosing around upstairs the past weekend. Zelda had forgotten about the witch completely in the process of dealing with Ambrose’s illegal astral projecting, protecting Sabrina from being harrowed and Batibat’s… visit.
“You’re the one who was snooping upstairs.” She remarked bluntly, eyeing the woman.
She had the decency to at least fake her abashment. Eyes downcast, Wardwell responded in a breathier voice than Zelda remembered her having previously. “I admit, I was looking around and it wasn’t for the powder room. You see,” Wardwell sighed softly and took the tea Hilda offered. “This is rather awkward to confess, I wasn’t supposed to let you know of my presence… but with everything Sabrina has been getting into, I thought three witches were better than two.”
Zelda crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow expectantly, “and what do you know of Sabrina’s recent activities?” She inquired suspiciously.
“Well, I’ve been keeping an eye on her. We recently ran into one another in the mines, she’s identified the demon in poor Jesse Putnam as Apophis.”
She already knew this thanks to Faustus’ call, so Zelda’s reaction was less dramatic than Hilda’s. “I understand why Sabrina was in the mines, why were you?”
Spinning the cup on its saucer nervously, “as I said, I was keeping an eye on Sabrina. It was what Edward wanted.” Wardwell supplied.
Lie. The thought popped into Zelda’s mind before she even fully processed what Wardwell claimed. Narrowing her eyes, Zelda pressed for more details, “what do you know of my brother?”
“I… I was his acolyte.” She offered, wringing her hands, “his student, then his secretary.”
She’s lying, this time she knew for sure though. Zelda visited her brother often during his tenure as High Priest, she was familiar with every one of his acolytes and had been on a first name basis with his secretary. His secretary who’d been a lovely witch at the ripe age of 851 and was employed mostly out of the generosity of her brother’s heart because she was half blind and deaf.
But Zelda saw no reason to let Wardwell know she’d been caught. Why not let her dig herself deeper into this grave while Zelda did some investigating of her own? “You were his secretary, while he was the High Priest at the Church of Night?” Zelda repeated as if to clarify, but really she wanted to hear the details again, cement them in her mind so she might use them as weapons later.
“Yes,” Wardwell replied a little breathlessly and licked her lips. “You see, I sought him out. I was excommunicated from my own coven, the Church of Shadows in New Hampshire.”
The excommunication bit was a nice touch, Zelda thought scathingly, it got Hilda on her side faster… her sister squeaking in sympathy and clasping the woman’s hands. Zelda resisted the urge to snatch Hilda’s hands away and pull Hilda behind her. Instead she allowed Wardwell to keep spinning her tale; it would be easy enough to debunk.
Zelda had countless connections in this and surrounding areas, one didn’t get to where she was within the church without cultivating a healthy and wide-reaching network. And it just so happened one of her old Academy friends had married into the Church of Shadows decades ago. She would be able to tell Zelda instantly if this woman had ever been a part of their coven.
Sloppy, Zelda judged. Wardwell hadn’t even taken the time to come up with an infallible backstory… well, if she wanted to simply hand Zelda more ammunition, Zelda wasn’t going to stop her, so she let the woman keep talking, lighting the cigarette she’d been craving since Faustus called.
Wardwell went on spewing drivel about the cause of her excommunication—falling in love with a mortal and attempting to marry him. Which drove her to find Edward to begin with, eager to apprentice with the High Priest with such modern beliefs.
Ahh, and there was the part of the lie designed to entrap Sabrina. The star-crossed lovers, a witch and a mortal. Zelda almost wasn’t able to restrain an eye roll.
Then came the part of the lie that Zelda refused to stomach, refused to stay quiet about.
Wardwell shifted so she was looking at Zelda, but still holding Hilda’s hands. “And before he died, Edward charged me with keeping an eye on Sabrina.”
“Why would Edward ask you to keep an eye on her? We’re her legal guardians.” She snapped, knocking the ash of her cigarette a little forcefully, losing her calm exterior for a moment.
Dipping her head, Wardwell reached for her tea once more. “Your brother was cautious, overly-cautious, especially when it came to Sabrina, as I’m sure you know. I was to be an extra, invisible layer of protection.”
And the lie evolved. Yes, Edward was protective, but cautious was not the word Zelda would use. He traded his daughter for a marriage license, after all.
“Why would you agree?” Zelda demanded, “surely, you had better things to do than hover unnecessarily around my family for sixteen years.”
“Zelda—” Hilda remarked, looking at her with wide eyes that were supposed to mean she was being rude.
Wardwell pressed her lips together and picked at her dress. “I’d fallen in love with him.” She murmured, and there was even a slight glistening of tears in the woman’s eyes when she lifted her gaze. Zelda’s eyebrows shot up, oh, she was good. Excellent even. Someone should give her an award for this marvelous acting.
But she knew better. Edward would never instruct a stranger to watch over Sabrina without warning her first. He’d have known Zelda would take out any person who paid too much attention to her niece. There was no reason to ruin her advantage by stating this though. Zelda would allow this Mary Wardwell, or whoever she was, to believe she’d pulled one over on them… for now, at least until Zelda could do some digging of her own.
They were all saved from having to pursue this latest confession by the front door opening and closing. Knowing it was Sabrina, Zelda moved from her spot by the door and settled on the couch next to Wardwell. Perhaps a little closer than strictly necessary, and perhaps she rested her free hand along the couch behind the woman; it was a not too subtle demonstration of dominance, this invasion of personal space.
The proximity also allowed her to better examine the woman’s magical signature, it was different than when they’d first met. Wardwell’s power was still there, just muted. As if she hadn’t expected Zelda to catch her the first time and so she’d allowed her magic to filter into the air freely. Now, she was hiding it, though Zelda wasn’t sure why, it did nothing to assuage her suspicions.
Her action didn’t go unnoticed and if anything Wardwell seemed amused by it, a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. This reaction, in addition to the lies, told Zelda the woman next to her wasn’t who she claimed. The demure school teacher Wardwell was playing would be intimidated, would nervously shift away, trying to discreetly put space between herself and Zelda. It was a tiny slip, one no one else noticed, but it was enough to strengthen Zelda’s resolve to ruin this woman for her interference, for interjecting herself into their lives under false pretenses.
To her credit, Sabrina wasn’t impressed with Wardwell either. In fact, she seemed annoyed by her teacher’s presence. Unfortunately, Zelda couldn’t let Sabrina know she felt the same, not yet. She needed Wardwell to believe they’d bought her lies hook, line and sinker. Which was how she found herself waving away the woman’s presence as though it were nothing.
“I wish I could say we were surprised, but this is just like Edward, isn’t it, Hilda?” She stated, leaning around Wardwell to glance at her sister. Hilda furrowed her brows, clearly not thinking the same but she just hummed in response. Zelda quickly forged ahead before Hilda could give her away. “It’s insulting, of course, that he didn’t think we’d be up to the task of protecting you ourselves.”
Not looking at any of them, Wardwell cut in. “Well, maybe you aren’t.”
Zelda gripped the back of the couch tightly to prevent the curse itching in the tips of her fingers from flying at this woman and her audacity. “I beg your pardon?”
In a tone that was far too patronizing for Zelda’s liking, Wardwell elaborated. “Sabrina has been finding herself in increasingly difficult predicaments since fleeing her Dark Baptism.”
“That is a good point,” Hilda added unhelpfully.
The two stated these things as if Zelda weren’t fully aware of the danger Sabrina kept finding herself in lately. As if Zelda weren’t shouldering the burden of trying to keep her girl safe. “Quiet, Hilda.” She didn’t need Hilda siding against her at the moment.
Impatient, Sabrina interrupted their side conversation. “Aunties, Ms. Wardwell. Jesse Putnam is going to die if we don’t do anything! And my friends will be next. And if I can’t get help from the Church of Night, I’ll get it from the Catholic church down the road.”
Something cold spread through Zelda at her niece’s declaration. “Have you lost your mind!?” She demanded, “turning to the false church for help? Has your Aunt Hilda’s excommunication taught you nothing?” How could it not have taught her the Dark Lord is vengeful and does not take forays into the false god’s realm lightly?
But Sabrina refused to see it that way, “I don’t see what choice I have. Father Blackwood said there is no exorcism rite for witches to perform.”
She should have heeded Faustus’ call, asked more questions. Because now this woman was claiming there was a rite for a witch exorcism, one Edward had created, one she conveniently had the instructions to with her; it was too coincidental. When she went a step further to say they give these tools to Sabrina so she might perform the rite herself, Zelda about killed the woman.
“I’m sorry. Are you actually suggesting that my niece perform an exorcism?” The edges of her vision were tinting red. No, Sabrina had been in enough dangerous situations lately, performing an exorcism—on a powerful demon such as the Devouring Worm, no less, would not make that list. Regardless of how eager Sabrina was to see this through.
Wardwell only egged Sabrina on. Pulling back from the woman, Zelda confronted her. “You claim your entire raison d’être is to protect Sabrina.” It was a statement, not a question and her tone left no room for question that Wardwell’s actions were going against this calling.
Turning slightly to face her, Wardwell raised a brow in challenge. “Well, it is. And I shall be with her, of course. And at the first sign of danger, I’ll spirit her away.”
It was too dangerous, besides the risk this posed to Sabrina an exorcism would draw the fury of the Dark Lord without question. Her heart jumped into her throat, standing restlessly and knocking the ash off her cigarette, Zelda protested.
“No. I won’t allow it. I forbid it.” She crossed her arms tightly, hoping to hide the fact she was shaking.
The look Sabrina gave her was downright superior and her tone even more so, “Aunt Zelda, I’m not asking you for permission. I’m doing it. And if Ms. Wardwell wants to chaperone me, fine.”
All those hours, all those hours spent huddled next to each other pouring over textbooks and chatting, smiling and even laughing with one another as Zelda explained some foreign and extreme concept; all the progress they’d made in their relationship… apparently, it’d all been in Zelda’s head.
And then, then Hilda sided with them. It was a sharp blow, her sister going along to the exorcism felt as though she agreed with Wardwell in that they’d been doing a lackluster job in protecting Sabrina. Even when Zelda reminded Hilda that the church expressly forbids exorcisms her sister had been flippant, saying she had nothing to lose.
She wanted to scream that they had so much to lose. Their lives being the foremost price the Dark Lord would name for performing this rite—he’d stolen Edward's for less. Forcing those words down though, Zelda tried logic, stating none of them were ordained and therefore unable to even complete the rite.
Wardwell’s words barely registered, Edward’s rite didn’t rely on higher powers, just the power of the individual witch performing the exorcism… the room was starting to spin, her blood pressure surely far too high.
“What are we waiting for?” Sabrina asked, and Hilda and Wardwell eagerly got up off the couch.
Taking a small step forward, Zelda looked at her girl. “Sabrina, you can’t possibly trust this stranger, can you?” Her voice softened at the end, the unspoken, ‘over me’ hanging in the air.
Sabrina stated she didn’t have any other choice and left, the others filing out after her. Another figurative blow, this one more acute than before. How? How had they gotten to this point? The point where Sabrina cared nothing for Zelda’s input and trusted strangers over her?
Unsure what else to do and worry swirling violently inside her, Zelda stalked back and forth in the foyer, spinning her rings and glancing at the door with every pass as if hoping her family hadn’t abandoned her for some reckless mission with a witch they didn’t know and certainly couldn’t trust.
Poor Ambrose was the only one left in the house with her, and therefore stuck listening to her vent her concerns. She barely listened to his interpretation of Lady Blackwood’s test results, glancing at the card he handed her only long enough to register that Constance was pregnant with twins.
“For the love of Satan, what have I done to deserve these women in my life?” She muttered, still pacing.
Ambrose smiled wryly, “you’re lucky, I suppose.” Huffing, unamused at Ambrose’s subtle reference to himself, Zelda continued.
“I refuse to put the safety of my niece in the hands of a spinster schoolmarm and a British batwit.” She spat, uncertain what she was the angriest about—this Wardwell swooping in out of nowhere and providing the means to an illegal and highly dangerous ritual, at Hilda for encouraging the entire thing, or at Sabrina for not trusting her.
Or, or possibly she was the angriest with herself. For not being able to talk sense into her family, for not having strong enough relationships with them that they believed her when she said this was a horrendous idea.
Sighing, “they’ll get her killed,” she murmured fearfully, almost to herself.
Ambrose’s hand on her shoulder stopped her, “not if you help her, they won’t.” He looked at her with soft, understanding eyes, as if he was aware of the internal battle she’d been fighting for so long.
Zelda knew he was right. Knew what she needed to do, but if they were caught, if the church found out…. She wouldn’t have her connections to protect them anymore. None of that would matter, though, if something happened to Sabrina. And hadn’t she just sworn to not fail her niece again, and here was another demon threatening Sabrina? Squeezing Ambrose’s hand in thanks, Zelda headed for the door.
She wouldn’t fail as a protector again.
The wind whipped her hair and thunder crashed above her as Zelda raced into the house and up the stairs—following the panicked noises coming from the far bedroom. She’d been right, they were going to get Sabrina killed.
Sabrina’s voice sounded over the storm as Zelda reached the door, “something’s wrong. I’m not strong enough!”
Bursting into the room, Zelda didn’t even pause to take in the scene, “yes, you are!” She cried out, Sabrina started this, she had to be the one to finish… that didn’t mean Zelda couldn’t help though. Her resolve to only help almost broke immediately when she finally set eyes on the Devouring Worm. Her vision nearly eclipsed with red, the demon was hovering menacingly over Sabrina while Hilda and Wardwell cowered. “I call upon Cybil Leek,” Zelda declared, holding up a hand to keep the demon at bay. She could have, and dearly wanted to, throw the bastard through the wall, twist its’ neck and rupture its’ heart for going after Sabrina. But she restrained herself, all she’d accomplish would be the destruction of the vessel the demon possessed.
So, instead of obliterating the beast herself, Zelda settled for calling upon her ancestors. Mentally asking them for their strength and to help her protect her niece while she urged Sabrina to continue.
When they expelled Apophis, Sabrina moved to examine it where it lay, weakened, on the ground. Zelda caught her arm and held her back, “Sabrina, don’t.” She cautioned, knowing the demon would latch onto the closest warm body to try and survive.
Sabrina, to Zelda’s astonishment, listened. She turned her attention to her aunt and for the first time in ages, Zelda saw admiration and awe in her expression. The look stunned her. It had been a long time since she’d been viewed as anything other than another one of the villains in her niece’s life—Zelda found she’d forgotten what it felt like to not be seen as the bad guy; it was a wonderful sensation.
A pathetic croak emanated from the corner, drawing their attention back to the demon.
“Now what?” Sabrina looked to them, flushed with excitement but lost on what to do next.
Zelda started to approach the thing, wanting to crush it to dust when Wardwell bustled forward, snatched a blanket off the bed, bundled the thing in her arms and rushed outside. Sabrina and Hilda were quick to follow, but Zelda trailed after them a little more slowly, skeptical.
Why not just dispose of the thing? Yes, it was a higher demon but in its current state it could certainly be killed. All the realms would be better off without this particular demon. So, why was Wardwell content with tossing it down a well and trapping it with the stone seal? Why would she allow it to crawl back to the underworld and give it time to recover and attack again when it was inevitably freed by something later on?
She was so caught up trying to decipher Wardwell’s intentions she almost missed Sabrina’s comment.
“Thanks to all of us. Including you, Aunt Zee.” Sabrina added, lifting her attention from the well. “What made you change your mind?”
Gazing at Sabrina, Zelda thought of how close she’d come to dying tonight. The close call had her wanting to be truthful. To tell Sabrina she’d been scared for her, that she’d needed to make sure Sabrina was safe because she loved her and was doing everything in her power to keep her safe despite what Wardwell claimed earlier.
But the words didn’t come, those kinds of words never came easily for her. Which was why she’d yet to try and make outright amends with Hilda after their encounter with Batibat—settling for small gestures like resume revisions…. It was also why she found herself making some dismissive remark about witnessing history and educational purposes. Hilda raised a brow and smiled softly at her, clearly seeing through the excuse, but she said nothing for which Zelda was grateful as Sabrina and Wardwell accepted the response without question.
“Don’t get too big for your britches, Sabrina. You’re grounded.” She informed her.
Sabrina looked genuinely surprised, “grounded?”
Honestly, just because they’d saved a man didn’t negate all the illegal things Sabrina had done to save said man. “A mortal punishment for interfering with mortal affairs.” She cocked a brow in challenge, waiting to see if Sabrina would fight her on it. But Sabrina merely closed her eyes and sighed, accepting the punishment.
Then Hilda suggested tea, well, tea wasn’t exactly what Zelda was craving but home sounding magnificent. Only Sabrina invited Ms. Wardwell to join them and that idea was far from magnificent. Thankfully Wardwell declined, Zelda quickly agreed the teacher should be off; she didn’t trust her for a moment and did not want the witch in her house again.
Wardwell’s story didn’t have holes, it was one big hole, not a shred of truth within it. And even if Zelda doubted her origins to begin with, Wardwell’s willingness to put Sabrina in danger directly contradicted her claim that she was there to protect. No, if she’d been commissioned by Edward, she never would have provided Sabrina the means to perform an illegal and extremely perilous rite.
Zelda kept watch out of the corner of her eye as Sabrina said her goodbye before joining them. Though tempted to turn around and ream the woman for not ‘pulling Sabrina out at the first sign of danger’ as promised, Zelda kept moving. She’d have to keep an eye on this Mary Wardwell, discreetly of course. She knew if she forbade or discouraged Sabrina from seeing her teacher in any way it would only backfire on her.
They only just entered the house when Ambrose’s voice rang out, “Aunties! We have company.” His tone was warning enough, and Zelda rushed forward to enter the room first. Faustus was seated in one of the chairs, eyes blazing and gripping his cane so tightly his knuckles were white.
“Father Blackwood,” Zelda greeted evenly, “to what do we owe the honor of this visit?” She knew she was laying it on thick, but they’d just returned from an exorcism so a little overcompensation couldn’t hurt.
From his expression, though, he already knew. “It has come to my attention, Sister Zelda, that you, Sabrina and your excommunicated sister have just performed an unauthorized exorcism.” Faustus couldn’t even look at her.
Clutching her coat, Zelda shrugged minutely. “Word travels fast amongst the damned, it seems.” She observed coolly, her exterior not betraying her inner turmoil. This, this was why she’d wanted to kill the demon and not just banish it back to Hell. It’d apparently arrived and started spreading the word of witches performing exorcisms immediately.
Ambrose looked at Zelda earnestly, “for the record, I did not inform him. His excellency had an inkling and… humbled us with a visit.” She smiled softly at him and nodded, letting him know she was aware he wouldn’t sell them out in such a way.
This inkling must have been all of Sabrina’s questions in class and seeing as how her niece told the High Priest what demon they were dealing with Faustus knew the timeline to perform the rite was short. Zelda really should have heeded his call.
Faustus pushed out of his chair, furious and rightfully so. Zelda herself still should have felt the same. But it had all been replaced with Sabrina’s admiration, her approval. And Zelda knew that wasn’t how good parenting was done. A parent shouldn’t crave those things from their child, shouldn’t allow their actions and emotions to be ruled by a child’s approval. But she and Sabrina had been on opposing sides for so long now… it was nice to be on the same side for once.
When he threatened the entire family with excommunication, she was half-tempted to let him. Excommunication seemed like it would be rather freeing at this point; no more pretending, no more stress as to whether the coven or the Dark Lord would find out. It wasn’t in the cards, though, despite the dangers of her subterfuge it was safer to be shielded by the church than shunned by it. She hadn’t been lying when she’d said witches without covens were easy pickings.
So, when Faustus demanded a reason not to send them packing, Zelda smiled and played her trump card. “I can give you two.” It wasn’t exactly how she’d planned on telling Faustus he and Constance were expecting twins, but it was certainly the most advantageous time to do it.
As Zelda glanced around, indicating to her family as she spoke, Hilda, Ambrose and Sabrina were all watching her with pride and awe as she leveraged the High Priest into leaving them be. Faustus frowned, hating that he’d been outmaneuvered but acquiesced with a nod.
“I’ll see you out, then.” Zelda murmured, heading to the front door and leaving Faustus no choice but to follow.
He caught the door as she was opening it, though, and pushed it shut again. “Zelda, what the fuck were you thinking?” Faustus hissed, peering over her shoulder briefly to ensure they weren’t overheard. “Of all the moronic and dangerous things…” He pressed his lips together and breathed forcefully out of his nose, trying to calm himself. “Why provoke the Dark Lord? Hilda was excommunicated for a baptism from sixteen years ago. Now an exorcism?! How do you think Satan will react? Your entire family could be in peril. And not just yours, but mine.”
Zelda blinked, unsure how his family came into play. “Faustus, what—”
Gripping her arm, Faustus explained, his eyes a little wild. “I’m your High Priest and you managed to find a work around so you could conduct an illegal exorcism rite on a mortal without my knowledge. Yes, I had an inkling, but I never expected it to all happen so quickly that I couldn’t stop it. The Dark Lord doesn’t have kind views of High Priests who cannot control their flock. He was irritated when I didn’t secure Sabrina’s signature in the book, he was incensed when I lost the trial… how do you think he’ll feel now?” He demanded, releasing her arm and spearing his hand through his hair.
“I never wanted this, Faustus.” She whispered fervently, needing to explain why she’d risked the safety of so many people. “I was content to let the possession run its course. But it was a relative of one of Sabrina’s mortal friends, her friends were at risk of being possessed next once the beast was done with its host. Sabrina spoke of going to the Catholic church for assistance.” Faustus took a step back at that, finally he seemed to comprehend the difficulties Zelda dealt with on a daily basis. “Then this Mary Wardwell, who I’ve never heard of and don’t trust further than I could throw her, comes out of nowhere with the exact instructions for a witching exorcism.
“Sabrina was going to complete the ritual without me, Faustus—she actually tried. If I hadn’t shown up…” Zelda shuddered, the image of Apophis looming over her girl flashing through her mind and fear trickled through her at how close they’d come to serious injury and death. “I wasn’t going to let anything happen to Sabrina. I know the position I’ve put myself in, and you. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing to be done for it now.”
His demeanor changed when she mentioned Wardwell, did he know her already? Had she come to him as a High Priest, asking to be allowed into their coven? From Faustus’ tired and annoyed expression, he didn’t like the woman either. Before Zelda could probe the issue, he sighed and put his hand on the doorknob.
“I’ve done what damage control I can. I don’t think there should be too much backlash, but I make no promises.” He cracked the door open.
Catching his arm, Zelda bit her lip before murmuring, “thank you, Faustus. I—”
Shaking his head, Faustus brought his eyes back to hers. “Don’t thank me, Zelda. Whatever mess comes from this, I will shield my children first.”
She raised a brow, “of course. And I will shield mine.” He nodded curtly at her and left, closing the door behind him with a snap. Exhaling slowly, Zelda made for the kitchen where she knew her family would be, likely being plied with Hilda’s tea.
Sabrina looked to her immediately when she entered the room, a broad smile on her face. “Auntie Zelda,” she began, the same admiring look still on her face. “That was—”
“Ah,” she headed her niece off, “it’s late and an exorcism takes a lot out of a witch. Off to bed.” And Sabrina listened for the second time that night without argument, and Zelda felt as though maybe they’d finally turned a corner and reached a place where they could as least communicate.
As Sabrina scampered up the stairs, Ambrose pushed a glass of whiskey across the table towards her, whistling lowly. “I’m impressed, Auntie Zee,” he grinned, taking a sip from his own drink. “That was well played, you didn’t even hesitate. Didn’t even pause to think. You just outwitted the High Priest as though it were nothing.”
Taking a seat, Zelda silently toasted Ambrose and took a long draw, relishing the warmth the alcohol sent racing through her. “Well, when it comes to the safety of this family…” she offered, propping her feet up on the empty chair opposite her. Hilda smiled and said nothing, but she did reach over and squeeze Zelda’s hand.
Though she knew what they’d done was right and it was exhilarating to have performed the first witch exorcism, Zelda knew they’d only managed to dig themselves deeper into a hole… regardless of how this all panned out. Finishing her drink and baying Hilda and Ambrose goodnight, Zelda headed upstairs, making a detour in Sabrina’s room first.
Her niece beamed at her when she came in, “auntie, I—”
“Will never put yourself in that kind of position again.” She cut in, Sabrina’s brow furrowed, taken aback. “You will not be so reckless with your safety and the safety of others. You will not experiment with untested spells and magic, especially not under the circumstances you put yourself in tonight. You will not…” Her voice trailed off, unable to say that Sabrina would not trust strangers over her again. “You will not scare me like that again.” Zelda managed to finish, “do you understand?”
Eyes glistening, Sabrina nodded, twisting the blanket resting in her lap. “Yes, auntie, I—”
Pressing her lips together, Zelda nodded and turned back to the door. “Good. Now, get some rest, it’s been a trying night.”
A soft sigh escaped from Sabrina, so quiet Zelda almost missed it. “Of course, Auntie Zee, good night.”
“Night sweet girl,” she whispered in return, switching off Sabrina’s light and heading for her own bed.
Faustus left the Spellman house and teleported straight to his office at the Academy, knowing it was the most likely place to find Lilith. She had some explaining she needed to do—he’d never expected her to interfere with the Spellmans so directly, to the point of drawing Zelda’s suspicion. Though her presence at the exorcism clarified some things, there were still far too many blanks that needed filling.
He’d barely been in his office for five minutes and he sensed her presence, he’d gotten much better at that, even if she hadn’t shown herself yet. But he was impatient tonight and in no mood for her games.
“Care to explain why the Spellmans conducted an exorcism?” Faustus asked icily, pouring himself a double of scotch and knocking half of it back.
Lilith’s shadow danced on his wall for a moment before the demoness herself materialized. Rolling her eyes, she slinked through his office and helped herself to a drink as well. “Don’t get your unholy undies in a twist, Blackwood.” She purred, taking a sip. “This is just another step in Sabrina’s journey to sign the book. The Dark Lord knew beforehand what would happen, there won’t be any consequences.” She huffed in amusement, as if his concern over consequences was childish.
Baffled, Faustus braced himself on his desk, “Sabrina almost died.” He gritted out, “Zelda had to step in. Surely, the girl’s death would throw a wrench into your and the Dark Lord’s plans.”
Scoffing, Lilith perched herself on the arm of one of the chairs in front of his desk. “As if I’d let her die.” She retorted scathingly, he just raised a brow and waited, eventually she continued. “Zelda’s interference was unexpected, though not unwelcome. Sabrina was right, she’s not strong enough, not yet. I overestimated her. The idea was to have Sabrina conduct the exorcism almost completely on her own, it would have pushed her further down the path. Zelda’s presence dampened that progress a little, but it still got the job done…” Suddenly, Lilith’s face lit up, a cruel smile spreading across her lips. “And what concern is it of yours if the girl did die? You could care less for our plans…. No, it’s not the Dark Lord’s grand scheme you worry about. You worry how Zelda would be affected if something happened to Sabrina.” Standing, Lilith rounded the desk and stopped next to him. “My, my Faustus, if I didn’t know better, I’d say your infatuation with a certain Spellman matriarch had grown into something… more.”
“Good thing you know better,” he remarked stiffly, trying to edge away from her discreetly, his response only made Lilith laugh.
“I can see why you like her, though.” Closing her eyes, Lilith leaned against his desk and as if reliving the night’s events in her head. “All that power,” she rolled her shoulders sensually. “Zelda could have performed the rite solo. The ritual really is all about the power of the witch… and oh, Zelda’s power.” Lilith bit her lip, eyes still closed. “And it’s all contained in such a stunning package too,” she reopened her eyes and they were a shade darker. “Zelda is a rather enticing witch, maybe if I want to get closer to Sabrina… I should get closer to her aunt.” She lifted a brow.
Scowling, and not dignifying her comments with a response—as it would only egg her on, Faustus returned to the topic he’d come here to discuss. “So, no consequences for the events that transpired tonight. For anyone?”
Lilith dropped her head forward in exaggerated boredom, pouting that he hadn’t taken the bait about Zelda. “No, as I said, the Dark Lord was aware of what I was planning.”
The remaining tension drained out of him. “Why not just inform me?”
“Because I needed your little performance at the Spellman’s to be genuine.” She smiled coyly and took his chin in her hand, “and you played your part of upset and righteous High Priest marvelously.” Lilith praised, using a tone one would on a small child. She chuckled when he jerked away from her touch and she finished her drink.
Unable to believe it would be that simple, Faustus narrowed his eyes at the demoness. “So, so no one is in danger.” He pressed, needing to hear those exact words.
Sighing impatiently, Lilith set her glass down and pushed off the desk. “No one is in danger. Satan, you’re a broken record.” She muttered, and then grinned. “Well, no one except Uncle Jesse. But that’s no concern of yours,” she teased and was gone before he could interpret the statement.
Faustus groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose as he slumped into his chair. How he wanted to dispose of that woman. He knew he couldn’t, the Dark Lord wouldn’t approve, but that didn’t stop him from imagining her demise by his hand half a dozen ways.
At least, he topped off his drink, at least Zelda would be safe. Zelda and his children. Children plural, children two, he grinned, twins… what good fortune. Overwhelming, certainly, he hardly felt prepared for one baby, let alone two, but it was an unholy blessing.
He leaned back in his chair and sipped on his drink, getting lost in the daydreams of what his future children would look like. Inadvertently picturing them with his blue eyes and soft red-gold hair, or his darker complexion with piercing green eyes. With these images in his head, Faustus drifted off.
She slept fitfully. One would think after the adrenaline rush of an exorcism Zelda would have at least slept deeply. But her dreams had been haunted by Batibat’s images now compounded with Apophis going after Sabrina.
The nightmares were still swirling around her head by the time she made it downstairs, so she’d remained quiet at breakfast. Allowing Hilda to try and comfort Ambrose while she hid behind her paper. Zelda wanted to ease Ambrose’s melancholy, to tell him she’d talk to Faustus about his sentence… but considering she’d essentially blackmailed the man last night to keep them from being excommunicated, she didn’t think her words would do any good.
That was when she overheard Hilda exclaim Mr. Putnam’s name on the phone followed by condolences. She nearly dropped her paper as she listened to Hilda inform Sabrina that Jesse died over night, his heart giving out.
Standing abruptly, and ignoring Ambrose’s inquiring look, Zelda made her way upstairs and fumbled the lock on the bedroom door, her breathing harsh and uneven.
It’d been for nothing. They’d jeopardized everything and the man died anyway. Swearing, Zelda swept her belongings off her dresser and paced away, clenching and unclenching her hands. She’d exposed them to the wrath of the Dark Lord. She’d allowed Sabrina and Hilda to participate in something she knew the church expressly forbade and then joined herself out of necessity.
Perhaps if she’d just gone to start with, snatched the instructions from Wardwell and teleported to the Putnam residence, then she could have completed the rite by herself. The Devouring Worm would be dead then, not dumped into some hole and allowed to go back to Hell and spread tales. It might not have made a difference for Jesse Putnam, but it would have made a difference for her family and their safety.
But she hadn’t done that, instead she’d forbade Sabrina from going, been resolute in sitting on the sidelines herself… only to cave. She dropped onto her bed, head buried in her hands. Zelda couldn’t help but see a pattern emerge, her saying no and giving in even though she knew the idea was dangerous or bad.
Unable to say no, to refuse. The public schooling, advertising for a familiar, rejecting her Dark Baptism, eliminating harrowing, the exorcism. And these were just the big ones, there were countless instances of less importance that could join these; the exorcism only the latest on an ever-growing list.
Like father, like daughter—both had Zelda wrapped around their fingers, whether they’d realized it or not. Saying no and then getting involved anyway by trying to swoop in and clean up the messes left in the wake of her more virtuous family members.... It would be the death of her.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Only a few days after the exorcism, Zelda reached out to her old Academy friend in the Church of Shadows. She would have done it sooner but finding Sabrina’s old yearbook so she could show Abigail a picture of Mary Wardwell took longer than she anticipated… the damned thing was stuffed in her niece’s closest with her other school memorabilia.
The differences between the woman depicted in the book and the one who’d recently inserted herself into their lives were striking. Aside from the changes in physical appearance, there was even a notable difference in the way Wardwell held herself; a confidence, a power present now that hadn’t been before.
Further vindicated in her suspicions, Zelda tapped a pattern into her vanity mirror and waited. Abigail answered promptly, a broad smile on her face.
“Zee! It’s been ages, you look marvelous.” Her friend enthused, settling in front of her own mirror.
Coming from almost anyone else Zelda would have taken the words as empty flattery, but Abigail had always been her most genuine friend and the comment brought a smile to her face. “And you look dreadful,” she teased, “is, is that part of a frog leg in your hair?”
Swearing, Abigail tugged the offending item out. “The boys have recently discovered they can get into my potion ingredient cabinet and I’ve been trying to right the chaos they wrought for the past two days now. Apparently, this was stuck to the cabinet ceiling.” She eyed the thing with disgust and put it down with a somewhat amused shake of her head. “What can I help you with? Your witching board message sounded urgent.”
“I need a favor,” Zelda started, holding up the picture of Wardwell. “This woman, Mary Wardwell, suddenly came into our lives and I don’t trust her for a moment. She claims to have been excommunicated from the Church of Shadows, this would have happened approximately seventeen years ago, if not a few more. Can you look into it for me? See if you can find any record of her at the church?”
Abigail peered at the photo, “course I can, Zee. Can I get I copy—”
Zelda murmured a quick spell and a duplicate of the photo appeared in her hand, she pressed it against the mirror and another quick spell, and the thing was absorbed into the mirror and deposited in front of her friend.
Arching a brow, “thank you,” she said, plucking the photo off her mirror and examining it more closely. “Care to tell me why I’m looking into this witch and you’re not handling this the old way?”
An amused huff escaped Zelda, “the old way? You mean when I scared the Beelzebub out of someone to get what I wanted?”
“Exactly,” Abigail’s eyes shone with excitement, “where’s the Zelda Spellman that confronted any and everyone without hesitation?”
“Back in the past where she belongs,” she drawled in return, a nostalgic smile on her lips. “Besides, this particular fact-finding mission requires a more subtle touch… as least on my end. Do all of the confronting you please on yours.”
Laughing, Abigail shook her head. “What was the name again? Mary Warden?” She asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.
Rolling her eyes at Abigail’s games, Zelda retorted, “Wardwell. From—”
Waving a hand, Abigail laughed a little more, “approximately seventeen years ago, yeah, yeah.” She smiled and tucked the photo away. “I’ve got you, Zee. Might take a little bit to go through the church records, but I think I should get back to you in about a week.”
Zelda smiled, “thank you, Abs, really. Now how are the little—” Before she could finish the question a loud scream sounded in the background, followed by a drawn out call of ‘mom’. “Duty calls?” She asked, remembering when Sabrina and Ambrose would go at it.
“Love of Lucifer,” Abigail muttered, already standing and picking up the frog leg from before. “Be thankful yours are old enough to know better.” She sighed.
Smirking, Zelda lifted a brow, “oh, Abs, we have much to catch up on if you think mine know better,” Chuckling, the two bade one another goodbye and Zelda wiped her mirror clean.
It was progress. Progress to finding out who Mary Wardwell truly was and what her intentions were. Zelda had so far only confirmed what she already knew, that Wardwell had no affiliation with Edward during his time at the Church of Night—no records existed of her being a student, acolyte or employee.
All she could do now was wait and see what Abigail dug up. Well, wait and figure out how to broach the topic with Faustus… he was hiding something about the woman and Zelda intended to find out.
A week passed and nothing. Zelda resisted contacting Abigail, either by witching board, mirror or phone—she knew her friend was busy, she just wished she’d get back to her sooner. She was about to bother her, fingers hovering over the glass of her mirror when Sabrina shouted out. Something about a massacre.
Exhaling slowly, Zelda descended the stairs dreading what she knew would greet her. Wrinkling her nose, Zelda eyed the intestines with distaste; so much for a peaceful holiday of watching overgrown mortal men pummel one another over a leather ball. She even had money on a few of the games… pity she wouldn’t be able to watch.
Sabrina looked at all of her family members in shock, their response to the entrails clearly not meeting her expectations.
“It’s a message from the Council, Sabrina. It means our family’s been selected to participate in this year’s Feast of Feasts.” She informed her, already heading to the kitchen to get the whiskey.
Her niece hurried after her, “the what?! And what do lamb organs have to do—”
Closing her eyes, Zelda decided she’d need the whole bottle. Carrying it over to the table with a glass, Zelda called out for everyone to join her. It would be best if Sabrina heard the origins of this grisly holiday from all of them.
Once they were seated, Zelda began to explain. “Feast of Feasts, Sabrina, is one of our coven’s unholiest holidays. It’s similar to mortal Thanksgiving, but—”
Ambrose huffed at her attempt to compare the traditions, “the menu is slightly different.” He interrupted, clasping Sabrina on the shoulders before sprawling on the bench at the table.
They took turns telling the tale of Freya. She’d hoped to let Sabrina remain in the dark about this particular witching tradition for a while yet. It was gruesome and Zelda hated it herself, tried not to think of it at all and for the past seven years or so she’d succeeded. She and Hilda hadn’t been selected to participate for some time, for which Zelda was immensely grateful.
It seemed their luck had run out.
Sabrina was rightfully confused and disgusted when she realized they were talking about cannibalism. But Zelda couldn’t let her know she felt the same, it would only encourage her niece to run further from the church.
“The Feast of Feasts is an annual demonstration of our,” she swallowed hard, “devotion to the Dark Lord. Fourteen families from the coven are selected to participate in a, uh, a lottery. The families then choose someone to represent them.” She glanced at Hilda and her sister’s eyes were shining. Pushing past her desire to cry as well, Zelda forged on. “A tribute, as it were.”
Ambrose cut in, “only ladies are eligible, because—”
“It is the Dark Lord’s will.” Zelda finished in as chipper a tone she could manage, though she could feel tears stinging at her eyes as well. “In any case,” she inhaled deeply and then went on to explain how the tribute drew a lot to see if she would be queen.
There was some slight push back on Sabrina’s part, not that that surprised Zelda—she’d have been stunned if there wasn’t. But that didn’t change anything. Didn’t change what she needed to do.
“Since Hilda’s been excommunicated, only Sabrina and I are eligible for the lottery, which means that I will represent the family in tomorrow night’s drawing.” She stood as if her statement that she might be selected as the main dish at a cannibalistic ritual was a conversation ender.
Sabrina’s hand on her arm and her protest gave Zelda pause and had her sitting back down. She could count the number of times in recent years that Sabrina had instigated physical contact with her. And her niece’s genuine concern, how she equated the loss of Zelda with the loss of her parents—if she hadn’t been tearing up before, Zelda certainly was now.
“That’s sweet, Sabrina… but your Aunt Hilda and I have participated in many lotteries over the years, and the Dark Lord has never seen fit to, reward” she forced the word out, hating that she had to act as though this tradition were a privilege. “Reward us with being queen. I have no reason to believe this year will be any different.” She managed, proud of how steady her voice was. “So please, the Feast of Feasts is happening, and like it or not, we are participating.” Knocking back the rest of her drink, Zelda stood to leave once more, making sure to grab her decanter of whiskey on the way to her room—she’d need it to get through this damned holiday.
Oh, she hated this tradition, down to her very bones she hated it. Even before her faith had broken all those years ago, this was one part of the Church of Night she’d never quite agreed with—witches killing witches. It horrified her, always had and for once she and Sabrina were completely of the same mind.
It was murder and cannibalism, not an honor. But she’d be damned if she even let Sabrina near the lottery. No, she’d keep her niece as far away from it as possible. So, it wasn’t even a question, it would be her name in the lottery tomorrow and no one else’s.
And if by some unholy chance she was selected… well, at least her last act would be to protect her girl.
The next morning Zelda had the beginnings of a headache, which was a testament not only to the amount of alcohol she’d consumed, but also the amount of stress she was under. Frowning, Zelda went to the bathroom and was splashing water on her face when her mirror pinged.
Hurrying to answer, Zelda hadn’t even fully sat down before Abigail’s face appeared in the mirror.
“Hey, sorry for the early morning wake-up, but Satan, do I have some information for you. Or, well, lack of information, really.” Her friend jumped right in, only half paying attention to the mirror and eating a scone. “There is no one, and I mean no one with a name even remotely resembling Mary Wardwell ever attending the Church of Shadows, let alone getting excommunicated from it. I went back fifty years and even doubled checked the picture you sent against the records in case she changed her name.” Abigail swallowed her bite and cocked her head at Zelda. “I don’t know who that witch is, but she’s not from here, Zee.”
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Zelda sighed. “Lovely.” It was the answer she’d expected, but she’d half hoped Wardwell was telling at least part of the truth—it would have given her some information to work with.
Abigail frowned, “Zee, what is going on? Who is this woman?”
Hand moving to massage the back of her neck, Zelda shook her head. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” She paused, knowing she should ask after the kids but not having the mental energy to spare she merely said goodbye. “Have a good holiday, Abs, thank you so much for your help.”
Sputtering, Abigail held up her hands. “Whoa there, Zelda…. What happened? You were all fire and vengeance the other day, what—”
“We were selected for the Feast.”
Sympathy softened Abigail’s posture and expression. “Oh, Zee…”
Pressing her lips together, Zelda fiddled with the brush sitting in front of her. “Sabrina has to come this year,” she added quietly.
Tilting her head, Abigail nodded, “well, she is of age now… though that never makes the first Feast easy. Does she know what to expect?”
“We’ve explained the concept, but that never really prepares you for, for the event itself.” Zelda was still playing with the brush, eyes down.
Abigail tapped on the glass to get her attention, “do you want me to come down and visit? I can be there in 30 minutes, just a quick teleport. We weren’t selected this year and none of my kids are old enough anyway.”
Though sorely tempted, Zelda refused. “Abs, that’s not, you have plenty going on there with the kids, and Rebecca and the coven. You don’t—”
“I know.” She interrupted gently, “but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t make the time, Zee.”
Sniffing, Zelda nodded in thanks. “I appreciate it. And no matter how much I’d like to say yes, I need to focus on Sabrina and getting her through this.”
A soft sigh emanated from her friend. “Zee, you’ve been focusing on that girl for sixteen years now. I know she’s your kid, but make sure you’re focusing on and taking care of yourself too, okay?”
“You mean besides drawing to see if I get to be eaten tomorrow?” She tried to joke and redirect the conversation.
Giving her an unimpressed look, Abigail continued as though she hadn’t interrupted. “I know how you get, putting everything on yourself. Ah!” She held up a hand when Zelda made to cut in. “Zelda, I’ve known you since the Academy. You push yourself to perfection no matter how much it burns you out in the process. Just, just take care of yourself, if not for you, for me?” Abigail gave her a puppy-dog face, making Zelda chuckle. “I know we haven’t gotten together in years, it’s easy as a witch to let seven years slip by without a thought. But I still love you, Zelda Spellman, so you better take care of yourself.”
Zelda cleared her throat, reciprocated the sentiment and promised to call after the Feast. As she cleared the mirror, Zelda’s heart ached, she’d managed to push down the hurt from missing her Academy friends for years now—telling herself she had too many other things to do. Perhaps, perhaps if things settled down in the next few weeks, she’d be able to get together with them—even if it was only an astral projecting date like when they were all traveling after graduation.
Feeling bolstered from her talk with Abigail, Zelda started to get ready for the day.
Only, only she’d gotten ready too fast. Zelda had nothing else to do but wait and it was killing her; even football couldn’t distract her from her churning stomach. Hilda attempted to help, Zelda could tell she felt guilty about not attending; though there was some relief in there too. Not that Zelda could blame her sister, she’d be relieved if she never had to participate in another Feast of Feasts again as well.
Eventually, Zelda couldn’t stand being in the house any longer and left far earlier than necessary. To use more time, she walked through the woods to the church, hoping the cool air and crisp breeze would calm her like it did on her hikes. There was no such luck though, the cloud hanging over her head today was much harder to shake than the one she’d been running from the last time she’d hiked.
Too soon the church appeared through the trees—she was still almost twenty minutes early. Sighing, Zelda pushed through the double doors and into the cool interior of the church, inhaling the earthy scents deeply as she did. There was no one else there yet, though everything was set up, leaving her nothing to do but pace and worry.
Faustus entering the room interrupted her thoughts, though he’d yet to notice her, his head bent over the open unholy Bible in his hands. Zelda cleared her throat gently, not wanting to startle him, she still did.
Shocked, though not unhappy from what she could tell, Faustus greeted her, “Zelda, you’re early.”
“Couldn’t stand listening to Hilda complain about not getting to come this year.” She lied smoothly.
He smirked, clearly sensing the lie but not calling her out on it. Instead, he set his book down and leaned against the table in the front of the church. “You look lovely, Zels,” he murmured, eyes sweeping over her and his mouth twitching a bit with a smile.
Smoothing her hands over her dress, she nodded. “Thank you, you clean up nicely yourself, Faustus.” She replied, unable to keep her eyes from taking in his ceremonial mass robes, her lips mirroring his.
“Zels, about the other week, after the, the demon banishment.” The way he danced around the word exorcism made Zelda smile, and she only felt safe smiling because the Dark Lord usually didn’t wait this long to deal out a price if there was one to pay—it had taken her four nights in a row without sleep to believe this. Faustus continued, recapturing her attention, “if I was overly harsh…”
She arched a brow, stunned. “Nonsense, I would have reacted far more rashly in your position. I believe we were let off easy by all accounts. The fact that we are not all six feet under is an unholy miracle.” And it could only be the fact that there’d been no serious consequence that had Faustus hinting at an apology.
Smiling, he shook his head. “I almost did react in such a manner. But with you, it seems, I can never—” Faustus cut himself off as the back door opened and several other tributes filtered in. Ducking his head in frustration, Faustus brought his eyes back to her. “Please take your place with the others, Sister Zelda.” He instructed, the High Priest mask back in place.
A little relieved, Zelda nodded and did as she was bid, going to stand next to Mildred who was, as always, disturbingly eager for the Feast to begin.
More coven members filtered in and Sabrina still was not among them. Though it was not required of her to be there since Zelda was the family representative, her absence worried Zelda. She knew her niece too well to think she was sitting innocently at home waiting to see if her aunt had been selected.
There was no time to dwell on it for long though, the ceremony started, and Constance walked down the line in front of the tributes, holding the box of paper slips up. Zelda was just reaching to draw her slip, aware of how Faustus’ eyes were burning into her, when the door banged open.
“Stop!” Sabrina cried out, striding up the center aisle. Zelda would have snatched her paper anyway, but Constance had lowered the box and turned to face Sabrina as well. “I’ll draw. I’ll draw for the Spellman family.” She announced firmly, staring at Zelda.
A light sweat broke across Zelda’s skin, “Sabrina, what in Satan’s name are you doing?” She hissed, fear clawing at her throat.
Sabrina then demanded to be allowed to take her place, to draw, or… Zelda could denounce the whole affair, call it barbaric as Edward had once done.
Never before had Zelda felt such a strong urge to slap her niece—the fool didn’t understand. It had to be her, it was the only way to maintain both her connections in the church and protect Sabrina. If she denounced the tradition, then excommunication was only a moment away—that was certain.
She’d have to play the odds. Zelda knew punishment and trouble would follow if she called the Feast barbaric. But the odds were in Sabrina’s favor, only a 7% chance she’d be selected as queen. Unwillingly, Zelda told Faustus that there wasn’t an issue, that her ‘brave’ niece wanted to represent the family. Stalking off the stage, Zelda kept her aloof façade as she took a seat; though her insides were twisting violently as she told Sabrina to select her paper.
Zelda didn’t miss the look of disappointment on her niece’s face, how it disappeared and was replaced with anger and determination as Sabrina straightened her shoulders and marched up to the table. Of all the times Sabrina could have challenged her, challenged the church… why did it have to be now? In such a public forum?
But there was nothing to be done now.
Upon the order to burn the papers, however, Zelda couldn’t help but lean forward, anxiously gripping the extra fabric of her dress. Willing, praying, and perhaps letting a silent spell escape her to place that damned slip of paper in another’s hand.
It burned red. Zelda exhaled shakily, releasing the breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding, and unclenched her hands. She’d played the situation right. The relief of it made her head spin and if she was a second slower in standing than the rest of the coven because of it… no one noticed. Though saddened that such a young, promising witch was to be queen, Zelda only cared that Sabrina had been spared.
Neither one of them spoke a word the entire way home. Each of them seething. Once they were in the kitchen though, Zelda found she could no longer restrain her anger.
“Do you realize how close you came to being sacrificed?” She demanded, twisting her fingers a little painfully.
Sabrina had the gall to look surprised, “I didn’t think you would let me go through with the drawing!”
The comment stunned her for a moment, was, was Sabrina testing her love for her? Now wasn’t the time to contemplate that, though, so Zelda recomposed herself.
“Oh,” she intoned, “so it’s my fault that you decided to play a game of chicken with me in front of the entire coven. That’s rich.” She yanked off her gloves and shoved them into her bag. For the love of Lucifer, she’d have to knock some sense into this child before she got them all killed… or worse.
Their conversation was interrupted, though, by the arrival of Prudence. The girls disappeared upstairs, and Ambrose wandered off as well, leaving Zelda and Hilda in the kitchen by themselves.
Hilda turned on her the moment the kids were out of ear shot. “How could you let her do that?! We agreed, if we were ever to be invited to attend once Sabrina came of age that she would never draw. It was your rule! You swore by it.”
Putting down her food, a proud smile touched on Zelda’s lips. Hilda didn’t let this side of her personality show often, the side that had bark and bite, but the fact that it was coming out now was good. They’d need some of that fire to get Sabrina through this.
“I did,” Zelda acquiesced, replying to Hilda’s rant. “But Sabrina left me no choice. I cannot be excommunicated as well. Who would be able to check on Sabrina at the Academy if I was? Take care of harrowings, fights with classmates and scheduling issues? You’re not allowed on church property, which means you’re not allowed at any future trials, Satan forbid there are any; but I have to be able to go. Who would be in all the future lotteries?” Zelda stood, appetite gone as Wardwell’s words that they couldn’t take care of and protect Sabrina echoed in her mind. “I knew the odds. And I played them correctly.” She declared, hating that her eyes were being to glaze over with tears.
Her sister was silent for a moment, stunned by Zelda’s outburst, then nodded—if a little unhappily. “I understand. But that doesn’t mean I like it.”
A shuddering laugh escaped her, “then we’re on the same page, sister. I didn’t like it either. Sabrina is getting reckless, we need to work together if we are to keep her safe.” Zelda gripped Hilda’s hand for a moment before leaving the kitchen, plotting and strategizing on how to survive the Feast when she knew Sabrina would be doing all she could to throw a wrench into it.
The next day passed with little incident, praise Satan, Sabrina had taken Prudence to mortal school with her, Ambrose was busy in the morgue and Hilda was at the bookstore. For the first time, she’d relished in the opportunity to do something as mundane as paperwork for the mortuary; things had been far too stressful of late.
She’d been about to wind down for the evening, read a good book and listen to her records when the phone rang. Sighing, Zelda answered it, barely suppressing her annoyance at the caller’s gall for interrupting her night. The voice on the other end snapped her out of that mood though.
A panicked babble about cramps, pain and other symptoms that were lost in what sounded like a flood of tears greeted her.
“Constance!” Zelda interrupted, “where are you? I will teleport immed—” She stopped, “you’re already on your way? Constance you shouldn’t be driving…” The wards alerted her to an incoming presence and moments later a car horn sounded from outside. Knowing who it was, Zelda hung up the phone and rushed to the front door to see Constance hoisting herself out of a car.
Trying to calm the woman, Zelda ushered her inside and down the stairs to the morgue so she could exam her in private.
But it became increasingly clear that Zelda wouldn’t get any sort of exam done with Constance in this state. Stating loudly that she was going to get something for her nerves, Zelda rushed upstairs and put on some of Hilda’s calming tea and setting a timer spell before going straight back to the basement—not wanting to leave Constance by herself for long.
“Constance you must calm down. This is hardly good for the twins. Breathe with me,” she took the woman’s hand and placed it on her chest, so Constance could time her own inhales and exhales. It worked a bit, Constance calmed slightly, no longer hyperventilating, though a sheen of sweat covered her brow. Carefully, so as to not disturb her further, Zelda probed her patient. “Where is Faustus? Why didn’t he bring you? You shouldn’t have come here on your own…”
Eyes going round, Constance gripped Zelda’s hand hard. “No. Faustus cannot know, I—” and her breathing started to pick up once more.
Holding up her hands, Zelda made soothing noises, “let’s not think about Faustus, can you tell me what—” Just then the timer spell went off at the same time as the wards around the house, Sabrina was home. “Hold that thought, your tea is ready, I will be back in a moment.” Nodding reassuringly, Zelda hurried up the stairs to catch her niece before she disappeared further into the house. “Sabrina, thank Beelzebub, I need you.”
Confused, Sabrina looked at her. “For what?”
“I’ve got Lady Blackwood downstairs on the verge of hysteria; your Aunt Hilda is at that ridiculous book store, but I’ve got a pot of her calming tea on the stove. Fetch it and come down.” She instructed, already heading back down the stairs before Sabrina could reply.
Zelda barely entered the room again when Constance started to rapidly spout off what happened, grasping Zelda’s hand in hers while the other rested on her swollen stomach.
“At first, there were cramps, then I saw blood. I was spotting. My babies, are they alright?” Her breathing was increasing again, her grip becoming slightly painful.
Pressing Constance more fully onto the table, Zelda soothingly rubbed her hand. “Tranquil thoughts, Lady Blackwood, you’re fine.”
Shaking her head, Constance pressed her lips together. “I can’t lose my babies. Faustus would never forgive me. I don’t want to fail him.”
“Nonsense, you wouldn’t be failing him. He could hardly blame you if the Dark Lord called your children home early.” She patted Constance’s hand and turned to where her niece was standing. “Sabrina, pour the tea.”
Efficient as ever, Sabrina already had the cup prepared. “Already poured, Aunt Zee.” Sabrina’s quick work and steady hand when faced with an anxious pregnant woman made Zelda proud, a small smile tugging on her lips—perhaps Sabrina would be interested in learning more about midwifery…
The thought vanished when Constance sat up and eyed the tea suspiciously. “It’s not poison, is it?”
Keeping how alarmed she was by this assumption hidden was difficult, but Zelda managed it. “Of course not. It’s chamomile with a calming tincture. Drink up.” She handed Constance the cup and saucer, keeping her hands up so she could tilt the cup a bit to ensure Constance drank the whole thing. “Finish every drop, that’s a good girl.”
“What’s happening? What’s wrong with me?” Thankfully the tincture kicked in quickly, Constance, though still worried, seemed less panicked than before.
Zelda gently explained that Constance was having a panic attack, causing her blood pressure to become abnormally high. The most logical explanation was that Constance performed some complex magic recently, almost all mothers did it, forgetting how it could stress the pregnancy. She expected Constance to relax, to confess that she had, automatically going to complete some task with magic. But the answer Constance gave her was far from one she could ever anticipate.
“It was dangerous, but I had to do it.” She nodded slightly, almost to herself, as though to reaffirm in her mind that whatever she’d done had been the right thing. Constance turned to Sabrina, “you understand, don’t you?”
Sabrina blinked, face blank with confusion. But Zelda lifted a brow minutely and jerked her head towards Constance, trying to convey that Sabrina needed to play into whatever was happening. Catching on, Sabrina agreed, claiming she understood. Zelda hid a smile, her clever girl.
“You know what they’re really like. Always whispering and… and plotting and I think they’re going to kill my babies,” she whimpered, looking back at Zelda.
This was far worse than Zelda imagined, “no one is going to hurt your babies. You just have a touch of third trimester hysteria, nothing more.” She helped Constance lay back down, though not quite common, third trimester hysteria certainly seemed to fit this scenario. The fact that Constance was carrying twins likely worsened the symptoms as well.
But Sabrina, too curious for her own good, couldn’t let it go. “Who’s plotting?”
Scoffing, Constance settled onto the table more fully. “Those weird sisters,” she gasped, “those sluts.” Zelda froze at the venom in Constance’s tone, exchanging a brief look with Sabrina. But Constance wasn’t done yet, “I won’t let them conspire against me. My children will come first.”
This was the most advanced case of third trimester hysteria Zelda had even seen, perhaps if she could get Constance to talk through it, she could help her see there was no threat. “Why? Why should the orphans wish you any harm?”
“All three of the, they think they’re so clever. Planning to take what belongs to my children. They would’ve done anything. Hurt them, curse them. So, I had to hurt them first.” Constance remarked, calmer now than she had been the entire time; it sent chills through Zelda. “Kill one, and the others are no threat, or consequence.”
Looking to Sabrina, Zelda knew that Constance’s hysteria had driven her to do something awful. Swallowing, Zelda poured another cup of calming tea and handed it to Constance. “Drink up and rest. If your blood pressure is lower when you wake you can leave.”
Smiling gratefully, Constance thanked her, acting as though she hadn’t just admitted to plotting murder.
Giving Constance a thin smile in return, Zelda took Sabrina by the shoulders and guided her upstairs. They ended up in the kitchen, Zelda paced a bit before leaning against the counter. Sabrina’s voice stopped her racing thoughts.
“What did Lady Blackwood mean by ‘her children’ come first?” She questioned, hands gripping the back of one of the chairs.
Pouring herself a cup of calming tea instead of reaching for a cigarette, Zelda furrowed her brow, thinking. “I wonder if Constance might think Father Blackwood has other children.” At Sabrina’s astonished expression, she continued. “He wouldn’t be the first High Priest to have dropped the odd bastard child here and there.”
It was all about the line of succession, because legitimate or not, any child of a current High Priest could lay claim to the title. Sabrina rushed away, out the front door and off to the Academy to find Prudence.
Zelda sighed and moved out to the porch to finish her tea. It was likely, that Faustus had other children. Witches lived long enough, often had enough dalliances to leave several bastards in their wake. What was curious was Constance focusing in on Prudence as a possibility.
But, thinking back on it, Faustus had always shown the girl preference; in his own subtle way. Made sure she was taken in at the Academy, kept safe, and Zelda was certain she’d heard Prudence boast that the High Priest treated her as a daughter before. Could it be that she truly was?
It would make sense.
Setting aside her now empty cup, Zelda conjured a cigarette and lit it, drawing deeply and holding the smoke before releasing it slowly. Well, she might as well wait until Sabrina came home, surely her niece would have some plan concocted and Prudence roped in by the time she returned.
It was dangerous, this plan. Bold. But dangerous, dosing the High Priest and his wife with truth potion, though clever, could end horribly. When Sabrina suggested it, Zelda had closed her eyes and prayed to Satan for patience.
But she had heard herself the rantings of a hysterical Lady Blackwood. It merited investigation. Which was how she and Hilda found themselves digging through old books trying to find their mother’s truth cake recipe.
“Got it!” Hilda stood up triumphantly, holding the little card aloft.
Zelda came and stood next to her, looking over her sister’s shoulder. “You have everything you need?”
Nodding, Hilda smiled, “I believe I do.”
“Alright, anything I can—”
Laughing, Hilda pointed out the door. “You can get out of my kitchen, Zelds. You remember the last time you tried to bake?”
She did. It had been almost a decade ago—Sabrina desperately wanted a birthday cake like her mortal friends and Zelda had caved and tried to make one. Hilda was out checking on a pregnant client who was overdue and Zelda, incorrectly, assumed baking would be easier than cooking.
The scorch mark from her attempt was still faintly visible on the wall, if you knew where to look and the light was coming through the window just right.
Smothering a laugh, Zelda settled for a smirk. “I’ll leave you to it then. I need to make sure the rest of the house is in order. It wouldn’t do to have anything remiss that might tip off our guests.”
“Zelds,” Hilda called when she reached the door. “Is there anything you’d like to ask Father Blackwood while he’s under the effects of the cake?” She asked innocently, pulling out ingredients.
And Satan help her, “if I didn’t need you to make this cake, Hildegard, you’d be in the Cain Pit.” She snapped, and Hilda deflated a bit. It had been some time since her last impromptu burial, some time since Zelda had even threatened her sister with it. And truthfully, Zelda had no intention of tempting fate and having the nightmare Batibat showed her come true.
But, no harm came from instilling fear and discouraging certain topics of discussion. With a raised brow, Zelda marched out of the room to prepare the rest of the house.
The evening progressed rather smoothly, for which Zelda was immensely grateful. The cake was served and both Faustus and Constance had finished their servings. Testing the waters, Sabrina turned to Faustus and asked why he’d decided to reinstate the Feast after Edward died.
“The Dark Lord revealed that I must return to our centuries-old traditions.” He punctuated each word with tap of his fork on his plate.
Sabrina didn’t let the topic continue though, she subtly moved the conversation to the Feast happening that night, speaking of how they would all miss Prudence. Constance wasn’t able to fight the effects of the potion when it came time for her to speak
“I won’t.”
The room went still, and a low level of magic started to vibrate in the air as the tension thickened. The look of horror on Faustus’ face deepened as Constance continued to speak, the truth tumbling out of her shocked mouth.
When she revealed she’d enchanted the lottery box to favor Prudence because she thought her and the other weird sisters were his seed, the look of horror turned to one of steely anger. Though Zelda was astonished Constance had actually meddled with the Feast, she was also grateful—because without her interference it could have been Sabrina.
Sabrina happily informed them, when Constance exclaimed she didn’t know why she was confessing, that they’d eaten truth cake, which meant they couldn’t lie. Before Faustus could get a word in, the vein in his forehead standing out, Sabrina continued.
“Did you interfere with any other parts of the Feast, Lady Blackwood?” She asked innocently.
The woman was trying to fight now, pressing her lips together hard and grinding her teeth, but the potion won out. “I selected two of the families this year as well.” Hatred burned in Constance’s eyes, but she kept talking. “Most were drawn at random, as our Dark Lord wills, but I chose Prudence and your family on purpose.”
A spell flew to Zelda’s fingers at the news, she restrained it though, barely—the woman was pregnant. “My family.” She ground out, the gratitude she’d felt moments before evaporating completely. “Why?” It was more a demand than a question.
Turning to sneer at Zelda, Constance growled, “in case the enchantment to pick Prudence didn’t work. Then I could at least try and get rid of you. I never thought you’d allow your niece to draw.”
Plates rattled slightly against the table, and Zelda wasn’t sure if it was her anger or Faustus’ causing it.
“Constance, how dare you interfere with the Dark Lord’s will. Have you any idea the scandal, the blasphemy you’ve brought upon the church? The consequences you’ve brought upon us?” The glass in his hand shattered, causing the children to flinch.
Regardless of his temper, Prudence asked if he was, indeed, her father. Faustus fought the spell more effectively than Constance, though he still lost in the end. Then the poor child asked about her mother, and Zelda exhaled quietly, already knowing the witch must be dead, Faustus confirmed her assumption a moment later.
“By your hand?” Her niece demanded, narrowing her eyes.
Zelda’s widened, “Sabrina!” She admonished quietly, that may be something Prudence didn’t want to know. Learning you’d been targeted to be sacrificed and eaten, that your father was your headmaster, and that your mother was dead was enough disturbing information for one night.
But the question had already been asked and Faustus compelled to answer it. Prudence only shed a tear or two at the revelations, though she seemed more upset by the fact the Dark Lord hadn’t chosen her for queen than anything else.
Then came the final play, they’d discussed this before the Blackwoods arrived, if it was revealed that Constance had a hand in the Feast events, how they would proceed. Sabrina laid it out perfectly, Faustus would outlaw the tradition this year and all years to come, claiming it to be the will of the Dark Lord; and Constance’s treachery would never be revealed.
Prudence made other demands, petulant ones, dresses and thrones; she had the High Priest at her mercy, she could ask for so much more. Perhaps that was only how Zelda thought, though. No matter, the demands would help sell the lie all the better.
Zelda could tell, however, from the girl’s rigid posture, that she was struggling with processing all of tonight’s events far more than she was letting on.
Negotiations were made and the second they were done, Constance stood and whisked away as quickly as her ever expanding girth would allow.
Faustus stayed behind, though, and eyed each of them at the table. Stating stiffly, “Sister Zelda.”
Knowing what that tone meant, Zelda nodded and gestured for the children to leave the room. They did so reluctantly, Sabrina lingering the longest, clearly unwilling to leave her aunt at the mercy of the High Priest they’d just duped. It wasn’t until Zelda smiled at her reassuringly that Sabrina pursed her lips and left. The gesture warmed Zelda’s heart, ever since the exorcism Sabrina had been more attentive.
Barely waiting for the door to close, Faustus shoved out of his seat and rounded the table. “Why?” He demanded, expression stony.
She merely arched a brow at him and stood as well, not letting him use the height difference as a power play. “Because your wife all but confessed to tampering when she visited me last night.”
Running his tongue over his teeth, Faustus took another step closer, almost pinning her to the table. “Why?” He repeated with a growl.
And really, what harm came from being honest with him? Especially since he had no choice but to be honest with her? “For Sabrina.”
He nodded, not appeased but at least understanding. Pacing away for a moment, Faustus spun on his heel and was back in her space within seconds, his eyes burning with something altogether different from anger. “I fathered Prudence before we, we… I never did or would have with anyone, not when I was with you.” He stated abruptly, hands coming to a rest on the table on either side of her, effectively trapping her.
Flustered by his proximity, Zelda swallowed. “Well of course, she’s slightly older than Sabrina. We didn’t, weren’t—” And she wasn’t sure how to finish, not wanting to say they’d been together because that implied a relationship; so, she skipped the description entirely. “Not until Sabrina was almost four, so it hardly matters.”
Faustus gazed at her sadly, as if she’d missed the point of his declaration. Instead of clarifying, he tilted his head at her, “is there anything else you’d like to ask me, Zels?” He questioned softly, one hand coming up to brush some stray hairs behind her ear, letting his hand linger there.
Blinking, Zelda tried to determine what game he was playing. Faustus was still very much under the influence of the truth potion. Was he suggesting she ask him something about the two of them? Their past? If she’d hurt him when she’d rejected his proposal? If he’d ever loved her? Was he trying to tell her, in his own way, that he still cared? Did he want her to ask why Constance felt the need to target her?
Or…
Or was he simply trying to get her to ask something so he could be the one to reject her this time? State he’d felt nothing, and it had always been political; cut her as deeply as she might once have thought she cut him. Could it be he was trying to suss out her feelings to use them against her?
This was too dangerous. She couldn’t risk asking him anything along those lines—especially not after what they’d done. Faustus would be looking for an angle to restore the balance between them. She was tempted to ask if there was anything he’d like her to ask, turn the tables on him. But it was a risk she couldn’t take.
She wasn’t sure what she’d do with the answer.
So, no. Zelda wouldn’t ask him what she wanted. But she could ask him about what she needed. Taking a small shuddering breath, Zelda side-stepped him and put some distance between them so she could think.
“How do you know Mary Wardwell?” She knew she would never get such honest answers from him concerning this woman at any other time.
Faustus’ face dropped in disappointment, she’d clearly not gone in the direction he’d been hoping for, but he quickly adopted a neutral expression once more. “She came to my office, back in October and introduced herself.”
Knowing he was being as vague as possible while still fulfilling the potion’s compulsion, Zelda pressed for more information. “Did she say she’d been excommunicated from her former coven?”
“No.”
Lips twisting, Zelda spun her rings. She needed to avoid yes or no questions. “Who sent her?” She doubted Faustus would know what she meant, that he’d just look at her in confusion, but to her astonishment he answered promptly.
"The Dark Lord.”
Zelda faltered at that, she wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. She knew Wardwell wasn’t commissioned by Edward, but the Dark Lord himself? This was troubling. “What does she want?”
Sighing, Faustus crossed his arms and leaned against the table. “For Sabrina to sign the Book of the Beast. Don’t we all,” he added in a grumble.
“Why?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Faustus half shrugged. “Because the Dark Lord commands it. Apparently, he didn’t trust either of us to get the job done. I was displeased when I discovered her purpose as well, but considering everything that has happened…”
Shaking her head in agitation, Zelda started to pace. “Why not come to me? To her family?”
He gave her a helpless look, “I don’t know, Zels. She doesn’t share much with me.”
“But if her goal is to get Sabrina to sign, why push the exorcism?” She stopped her pacing and looked at him searchingly.
“When I asked the same, she claimed it was a step on Sabrina’s journey to signing.” He replied.
The silverware started to skitter across the table, “it was planned?” Zelda growled, hands clenched tightly. “She put Sabrina in danger, intentionally.”
Holding up his hands to pacify her, Faustus took a step away from the table in case any utensils went airborne. “I didn’t learn of it until after, that it was planned. She came to my office after I spoke with you that night. Likely to make sure I hadn’t excommunicated your family, though you’d already convinced me otherwise.” A smile tugged the corner of his mouth at the memory.
“Why didn’t you tell me she was here, her plans for Sabrina?” Zelda demanded, a little hurt that he’d kept something pertaining to the safety of her child from her.
As if sensing this, he closed in on her again, in a comforting manner this time. Taking her hand, Faustus stroked his thumb across the back of it. “I’m still not entirely sure what her plans are, Zelda. Like I said, she doesn’t share with me. All I can say is that she came to me before the Dark Baptism, told me to stay out of her way and the Dark Lord had commanded her to make sure Sabrina signed.” When she looked away, he gently put a finger under her chin and redirected her gaze back to his. “I never thought she would go to such lengths, that she’d endanger your niece. But I was instructed not to tell anyone. And when the representative for the Dark Lord tells you to do something…”
Pursing her lips, Zelda stepped away from him again. Though she understood, knew she’d have done the same in his position, she still needed to process all this new information. “You need to leave.” She brought her eyes back to him and he was reaching out for her again, looking like he wanted to provide comfort.
“Zelda, please. I—”
“Faustus,” she cut in, then exhaled slowly. “I, I am not angry with you. I can see why you withheld the truth, I’d likely have done the same. But I still need to, to think and you,” she smiled ruefully, “you have a Feast to prepare for.”
He nodded solemnly, stopping to press a brief kiss to her forehead on his way out.
When she had the room to herself, Zelda slumped into one of the chairs, pinching the bridge of her nose. This, this was far more complicated than she’d anticipated… the Dark Lord himself had sent a witch to ensure Sabrina signed.
The fact that the Dark Lord was so interested almost paralyzed her with fear, something icy gripping her chest. Zelda knew Sabrina’s name in the book was a price that needed collecting, but these measures seemed extreme. There had to be more to it. But now that she knew Wardwell was so closely connected to the Dark Lord, her previous plans for confronting the woman were off the table.
Satan wouldn’t appreciate any harm coming to his messenger.
A few minutes later, Sabrina poked her head back into the parlor, interrupting her thoughts. “Auntie?” She asked carefully, fully entering the room when she realized Faustus was gone. Zelda sat up straighter and schooled her face, but Sabrina hadn’t missed her initial body language. Touching her arm, Sabrina furrowed her brow, “is everything alright? I thought tonight went pretty well…”
Smiling, Zelda cupped Sabrina’s cheek. “It did, all things considered.”
“What did Father Blackwood…”
Standing, Zelda crossed her arms. And knowing she couldn't warn Sabrina away from Wardwell just yet, she lied. “He just wanted to make sure that I’d still be Constance’s midwife. Her pregnancy will be a difficult one and he still thinks I am the best person to see his babes into this realm.” Giving her niece a half-smile, Zelda continued, “he just wants to see and keep everyone safe.”
Sabrina frowned, “he didn’t keep Prudence safe,” she muttered.
She raised a brow, “Faustus didn’t think Prudence needed to be kept safe from this, it’s part of the Feast, something that the Dark Lord told him to reinstate. He would have reacted the same no matter who was chosen and offered them up for sacrifice. And, let’s not forget, Prudence didn’t think she needed saving. Until a few hours ago she was quite content with her fate.”
Mulling this over, Sabrina nodded. “Okay… I suppose it makes sense. I guess I can’t blame him for the Feast… though he could have told the Dark Lord no.”
Zelda’s eyebrows shot up, “no, he couldn’t have, Sabrina.”
Her niece rolled her eyes, assuming Zelda was being dramatic. “Fine, I can’t really be mad at him for the Feast or for how everything’s played out. Besides, he agreed to end the tradition, so there’s that!” Sabrina beamed.
“There’s that.” Zelda repeated, relieved there wouldn’t be any additional strife between Faustus and Sabrina. “Now, there’s only an hour and a half until we have to be at the church. Go get the others and clean this up, your Aunt Hilda has done enough without having to clear the table and do dishes.”
Nodding, Sabrina left and fetched the others. When they all trooped back into the parlor, Zelda pulled Prudence aside and into the office, sitting her on the couch against the wall that only got used when extended family came to help with funeral arrangements.
Though Zelda knew she wasn’t someone the girl would normally confide in, Prudence had had several bombs dropped on her and from what Zelda had observed, she wasn’t likely to express much weakness to her sisters. “Are you alright?”
Prudence scoffed, “of course. Why wouldn’t I be? Why should it matter that Blackwood is my real father? Why should it matter my mother killed herself over something as trivial as marriage instead of staying alive for me? Why should it matter Lady Blackwood tried to murder me via cannibalistic ritual? Why should it matter that not even the Dark Lord wants me?” A lone tear streaked down her cheek despite her flippant tone. “Why should it matter?” Her voice broke slightly and suddenly she slumped against Zelda’s side.
Freezing for a moment, Zelda regained herself and wrapped an arm tentatively around the girl; surprised when Prudence melted further into her and rested her head on Zelda’s shoulder. Zelda made small, comforting noises, cradling Prudence close.
After several minutes, Prudence pulled away and turned her head. Zelda allowed the girl a moment to compose herself, knowing she would have wanted the same had the roles been somehow reversed.
Clearing her throat, Prudence turned back to her. “Thank you, Ms. Spellman,” she stated, face clear of any anguish the night had caused. Zelda mentally applauded the girl’s mask, it was close to perfect, such a shame she’d mastered the skill at such a young age though.
“Of course, now, go help the others. We don’t have much time before we need to head to the church.”
Prudence nodded and stood to leave, smoothing out her dress. When she reached the door, though, she paused and turned slightly. “If this wasn’t the Dark Lord’s will, how much else isn’t?”
Exhaling slowly, Zelda couldn’t help but see so much of herself in this young woman; though Prudence had been disillusioned, at least to an extent, far sooner than she had been. Standing, Zelda clasped her hands in front of her. “That is a dangerous question,” she remarked softly, “be careful who you ask it.”
The girl tilted her head in understanding, knowing that while Zelda wouldn’t tell anyone she was questioning part of her faith, that didn’t mean others wouldn’t. Zelda wished she could have a real conversation with Prudence, warn her, protect her. But she couldn’t do that without giving herself away.
Besides, sometimes ignorance was bliss. If only she could go back to a time when she’d been oblivious to the true nature of the Church of Night—life had been so much simpler.
So, it would have to be enough that they spared Prudence the fate of queen. Squeezing the girl’s shoulder, Zelda ushered her out back into the parlor.
Faustus teleported to the Academy immediately after leaving the Spellman house, knowing his wife would be there (it was closer to the church than the mansion). His assumption was confirmed by the car parked outside when he arrived at the school.
He strode into the school and into his office. He hadn’t even gotten the door all the way open when something crashed into the wall next to his head.
"What took you so long, dear husband?” Constance spat, launching a book at him this time. “Pining after Zelda Spellman again?” And though he fought it, Faustus couldn’t restrain the “yes,” that escaped his clenched teeth. He should have asked Zelda how long the effects of the cake lasted… hopefully not too long or lying to the entire coven about the Feast being cancelled would be difficult.
“Did you get what you were looking for?” She sneered, picking up one of his glass paperweights, rolling it between her hands.
Keeping an eye on the weight, knowing it’d be a projectile soon, Faustus moved further into the room. “No.”
Constance scoffed, “oh, so she kept her legs closed to you this time?” She shouted, throwing the paperweight at his head.
Prepared for this, Faustus halted the object midair, snatched it up and set it down out of reach. “I’m not sleeping with her.” He ground out.
That silenced Constance for a moment, clearly, she’d thought he’d been fucking Zelda for some time now. “But you want to,” she accused.
Huffing, Faustus ran a hand through his hair. “Of course, I do. Half of Greendale does.”
Shaking her head, Constance leaned against his desk. “Oh, but it’s different for you though, Faustus. Everyone else just lusts for her, understandably, she’s gorgeous, powerful and smart.” Sniffing, Constance cut herself off, agitated by what the truth cake was having her say. “But you,” she refocused, “you love her.”
Faustus struggled against the spell, not wanting to hear what it would force him to say—he’d purposely refused to name his feelings for Zelda for a decade now. But the effects were weakening, and he managed to hold back the words.
Constance scowled, evidently feeling as though she’d been robbed of concrete evidence she could use against him.
“What does it even matter, that I lust for Zelda?” He asked, deliberately avoiding another ‘L’ word. “We’ve never been faithful, you were quite the ‘voracious slut’ yourself before falling pregnant.”
Infuriated, she picked up a stack of graded papers and threw the pile at him; only half reached their target, the others fluttering uselessly to the ground. “Because she gets a side of you that I don’t. You can be kind, soft and considerate, but only with her!” She blinked, “why am I still compelled and you are not?” He smirked at her disadvantage, "likely the pregnancy prolongs it a bit." Then he registered her words. “I’m considerate of you!” He exclaimed, offended. “Of the babies!” She corrected, “checking to see if I’m okay, if I’m comfortable for their sake, not mine.” Taken aback, Faustus stared at her, “you’re, you’re jealous.” He remarked, stunned. Twisting her lips, Constance marched across the office and grabbed a vase. “Yes!” She shouted, hurling the object at him—he caught this with magic as well. “Is that why you tried to kill her? Because, because of jealousy?” He approached her slowly, face thunderous. Though he knew he wouldn’t touch her, he badly wanted to hit something. “Prudence, Prudence at least makes sense; no matter how horrendous it is that you targeted my daughter. She could pose a threat to the twins’ inheritance. But Zelda—”Backing away from his wrath slightly, Constance glared at him. “Zelda Spellman is a threat to me! Because if she ever chose to, she could claim you. And you would go willingly, eagerly.” She scorned, eyes filled with hate. “You’d leave me and the twins for her in a heartbeat.”
Faustus shook his head, “that’s where you’re wrong, Constance.” He murmured, bringing up a hand to brush her cheek. “I would never leave the twins.”
Before she could reply, an alarm spell went off. Reminding them that they needed to be at the church. They eyed one another for a moment, hatred rolling off each of them, but they knew the roles they had to play. So, straightening their shoulders, they made their way out to the car to head to the church.
Neither one of them acknowledging that that had been the most honest conversation they’d had in the entirety of their marriage.During the tense, but silent, drive to the church, Faustus thought back on his conversation with Zelda. Still reveling in his luck that she hadn’t outright asked who Mary Wardwell really was. Instead, she’d worded her questions, unknowingly, in a way that allowed Faustus to hide Lilith’s true identity—he’d avoided using names for a reason when referring to the demoness.
As much as he wanted to tell Zelda the truth, the Dark Lord was still the one giving orders and if he’d wanted the Spellman aunts in on the plot they would have been from the start.Due to Sabrina’s position as handmaiden, they had front row seats to the event, along with the other potential tributes. Mildred was going on about how ravenous she was, having fasted for days, Zelda grimaced at her eagerness. Even at her most devout Zelda had never been the fanatic Mildred was. Turning her attention to the front of the church, Zelda made eye contact with Prudence as her sisters sang. The girl sat proudly, her face revealing nothing. But there was a rigidity in her posture that would give her away only to someone looking for tells. Sensing Prudence’s apprehension, Zelda raised a brow minutely and gave a small nod of encouragement; to which Prudence lifted her chin a notch in return.
Thankfully, attention was diverted when Faustus entered, assisting Constance to her chair. When he announced that Prudence would not be able to fulfill her duties as queen, a low, angry hum of conversation started among the coven.
And when he announced the Dark Lord had come to him to reveal that starting now and for years to come the Feast would not be sanctioned, Mildred stood abruptly, interrupting Faustus before he could finish. She shouted a “praise Freya!” Before slitting her own throat and crumpling to the ground. The entire coven froze for a moment, Faustus blinked and glanced at Zelda, unsure of how to proceed but knowing he had to do something.
Even in his brief moment of hesitation, the other members had stood, creeping forward, eyeing Mildred hungrily. Faustus shot her an apologetic look before declaring, “hail Mildred! Queen of the Feast!”
The coven eagerly echoed the cry and surged forward, snatching up knives and dropping to their knees to devour the witch. Faustus and Prudence joined moments later.
Gasping, Zelda pressed Sabrina back, trying to partially shield her from the scene. They stood there transfixed in horror and disgust as others continued to push past them. Suddenly, Zelda got ahold of herself and ushered Sabrina out, everyone else too preoccupied to pay them any mind or notice they hadn’t participated.
On the walk home, Zelda wrapped her arm around Sabrina tightly. Needing to reassure herself that her girl was alright, even if they hadn’t managed to end the bloody tradition, at least Sabrina was safe. She only released Sabrina when they reached the front porch. Sighing heavily, Zelda trudged up the steps and into the house in a trance—seeing Mildred die over and over in her minds’ eye. She’d known the witch for decades. Sabrina’s voice stopped her as she made her way up the steps to her bedroom. “Aunt Zelda?”Swallowing, Zelda turned partially, hand still gripping the railing for support. “Yes, Sabrina?” All she wanted was large quantities of alcohol to drown out the images in her head.
“What would have happened if it was me who was selected queen and not Prudence? Would you have let them do to me what was done to Mildred?”
Her chin trembled and her stomach turned sour at the very thought. “Never.” She stated with conviction, already pivoting to ascend the steps once more.
“But if it was the Dark Lord’s will?”
The words sliced through Zelda. She’d have thought recent events were enough to prove to her niece that she would do absolutely anything for her. “It wouldn’t have mattered,” she answered, disappointed Sabrina felt the need to confirm that Zelda would have protected her. She nodded firmly and turned to head upstairs once more. Not one to let matters rest easily, though, Sabrina trailed after Zelda slightly, “how would you have stopped it?” She didn’t turn this time, “by any means necessary.” She answered thickly, thinking the likely scenario would’ve been to offer herself up in Sabrina’s place. Possibly pulling the same stunt as Mildred, slicing her own throat before they had a chance to touch Sabrina if a swap wasn’t permitted. Sensing Sabrina was going to push further, Zelda headed her off. “Now please, Sabrina. I’m tired.” Her voice cracked a bit as she patted the railing and rushed up the stairs to hide her tears. The Feast did this to her every time they were chosen to attend. She’d have night terrors for weeks. When she was young, she’d imagined her mother dying, being ripped apart. Her aunts made appearances in these night terrors as well, and when her sister was old enough to attend, Hilda joined the rotation. These particular terrors abated when Edward banned the tradition; only to start anew once the practice was reinstated all those years ago. Zelda was fully aware that Sabrina would now feature in these terrors as well.
Zelda was just pouring herself a glass of whiskey from the decanter she’d never brought back down from the other night, when the phone rang. Sighing, Zelda picked it up, knowing it was for her.“I’m not in the mood, Faustus,” she answered tiredly. Faustus’ voice greeted her. “Zelda, I am sorry. But what was I supposed to do?”Scoffing, Zelda propped the phone against her shoulder and finished pouring her drink. “You took the easy way out,” she accused, not wanting to listen to his excuses.
“I took the smart way out,” he countered angrily. “You saw the coven closing in like vultures, they barely waited for my approval. Had I said no, they’d have rioted and eaten Mildred anyway.” He sighed and it sounded like he was thumping his head lightly against a wall before he continued. “Besides, you know the consequences of faking the Dark Lord’s will-he already came to punish Constance. It took everything I could think of, granting him boons to fulfill at any time of his choosing to spare her for the twins’ sake. If I had faked it as well by claiming he no longer supported the Feast…”
She knocked back her drink, poured a second, smaller serving and knocked that back too. She understood his actions, the same as she understood why he’d hidden Mary Wardwell from her… that didn’t mean she liked it. She told him as much before baying him goodnight. “Faustus, it has been a trying night. I’m going to bed, I suggest you do the same.” “Damned dreams, Zels.” He murmured and hung up. Shaking herself, Zelda got ready for bed. Repeating to herself that they’d survived another year and the likelihood of the Spellmans being picked again next year were slim. It was done. It was done and they were safe. Trembling slightly, she climbed into bed, quickly drank another measure of whiskey and turned out the lights, the alcohol lulling her to sleep. Hilda had tried to stay awake. Wanting to hear all about how the coven had taken the news. But after she and Ambrose returned the parlor to its usual state, she’d fallen asleep reading a book sitting in front of the fire.
The phone ringing woke her up, though someone else answered it before she could collect herself. Glancing at the clock, Hilda started and shot out of her chair. Sabrina and Zelda should have been back for a little while now.
Setting her book aside and putting out the fire, Hilda rushed upstairs. She knocked on Sabrina’s door first and found her niece sitting cross-legged on her bed in her pajamas, hugging her stuffed rabbit. There was a haunted look on her face.
“Oh, love, what happened? Why didn’t you and Zelda wake me—"Turning to her, several tears slipped down Sabrina’s face. “We saved Prudence. Father Blackwood was about to end the Feast for years to come when, when…” She trailed off, shuddering. “Mildred,” she managed, clutching her rabbit tighter. At the mention of the name, Hilda knew what had happened. “Oh lamb,” she murmured, sitting next to Sabrina and pulling her into a comforting embrace. “I am so sorry you had to see that. It must have been awful.” She smoothed a hand through Sabrina’s hair and her niece melted into her. “Auntie, I don’t want to impose, but could I get some tea with—”Hilda was already standing, “foxglove. Of course, darling, I’ll be right back.” She bustled off and used magic to hurry along the boiling of the water. Once she’d brought it to Sabrina and seen the sweet girl off to sleep, Hilda furrowed her brow and marched to the bedroom she shared with her sister. More than a little miffed that Zelda hadn’t taken care of Sabrina before going to bed. But the remonstration died on her lips when she entered the room. Zelda was twitching and whimpering in bed, pleading with an unseen force to spare her family. Knowing what was coming next, Hilda cast a silencing spell on the room just in time to keep Zelda’s scream from waking the kids.
Hurrying over, Hilda shook her sister awake. “Zee! You’re having a nightmare.” She informed Zelda when she sat up abruptly. “Want me to make you anything?” Violently shaking her head, Zelda curled up into a ball, pale and tears streaming down her face. “I dreamt it was Sabrina,” she confessed in a whisper. “I failed her, Hildie.”
Making shushing noises, Hilda climbed onto the bed with Zelda, allowing her sister to rest her head in Hilda’s lap. “Oh, Zee,” she murmured, running her fingers soothingly through Zelda’s hair. “It was only a dream, Sabrina is safe in her bed down the hall. You made sure of that.”“We both did,” Zelda corrected, still shivering. “I’m sorry,” she added, “for all the awful things I’ve ever done to you. I’ve been the most wretched sister and still you comfort me after a night terror. Thank you.” She whispered. Humming, Hilda continued to stroke her sister’s hair, knowing Zelda would be lulled back to sleep by the gentle, repetitive action. She’d gotten it down to a science, soothing her sister’s night terrors. They’d already been in full swing by the time Hilda arrived at the Academy. She wasn’t sure what happened to Zelda in the few years before Hilda started school, but Zelda never spoke of it; was resolute her time at the Academy was some of her best years. For the most part that might be true, but Hilda knew her sister better than to believe the statement outright.
Hilda also knew Zelda’s night terrors had increased tenfold in frequency after Edward died and they took Sabrina in. So, yes, Hilda had quite a bit of experience calming her sister’s night terrors. When Zelda eventually quieted, going limp and heavy against her, Hilda carefully extracted herself and slid off the bed.
She researched it once, what caused night terrors in adults. Conditions like anxiety and PTSD came up again and again. Hilda had wanted to bring this up with her sister multiple times, concerned as to what was weighing on Zelda so much that it manifested itself in her dreams repeatedly. But she never found the courage… perhaps now, now that Zelda had apologized for the second time in a month, was finally softening towards her again, showing some vulnerability, perhaps now Hilda could broach the topic.
Perhaps she could help her big sister carry whatever burden she’d put upon herself to hold.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
She woke at dawn the next morning, heart pounding and a light sheen of sweat covering her. Another night terror, though not as intense as the ones that tormented her most of the night. Wiping her face with a shaky hand, Zelda went to the bathroom to clean up—no sense in attempting to go back to bed, visions of the feast still danced behind her eyelids.
The dullness of a morning routine calmed her, slowed her heart rate and helped her forget, momentarily, the horrors that had plagued them recently. The slight pinging from her vanity mirror pulled Zelda from her thoughts and had her scurrying to answer the call on her handheld mirror and moving to the garden so as to not disturb Hilda…. She’d interrupted her sister’s sleep enough already.
As she settled on one of the benches outside, Abigail’s face greeted her in the mirror.
“There you are! You promised you’d call me after the Feast!” Her friend exclaimed, lifted a remonstrating brow.
A watery chuckle escaped Zelda, “I did, I did, but—” And she couldn’t stop how her eyes glazed with tears. Before she could say anything else, Abigail stood up and walked out of sight. Confused, Zelda called after her but to no avail.
Suddenly, her friend materialized in front of her. “What happened, Zee?” She asked softly, wrapping her robe more tightly around her to fend off the chill before holding her arms open.
Zelda didn’t answer at first, just stood and walked into Abigail’s waiting arms, and holding her friend tightly. “Do you remember Mildred?” She whispered, eventually pulling back from the hug and sitting on the bench once more, Abigail joining her.
“She was between our year and Hilda’s, yes? Skittish little witch, if I remember correctly, never quite right after her harrowing—though that one wasn’t us; we were never that bad.” Abigail looked across the yard, though her mind was clearly in the past. “She became absurdly devout, right, wouldn’t hear a single word against what was written in the Satanic Bible—even parts the Anti-Pope himself stated were outdated?”
She hummed in acknowledgement and then told Abigail everything that occurred in the past 24 hours—even the fact that they drugged the High Priest and his wife. Abigail had always been her dearest friend, and until Edward’s death there’d been nothing she hid from her; she saw little reason to censor this particular story, it put no one in danger.
Though Abigail’s face was expressive throughout the retelling, she remained quiet, only squeezing Zelda’s hand every now and then. When she finished, Zelda sagged against Abigail slightly, the weight of everything simultaneously lifting because she shared and settling more heavily on her shoulders at the reminder that this was only the latest event to rock the Spellman house.
“Satan, Zee, that’s, that’s… no wonder you’re so stressed, and then everything with this Wardwell woman.” Abigail shook her head and wrapped a comforting arm around Zelda. “What does Hilda say?”
Blinking, Zelda pulled back slightly and looked at her friend. “What does Hilda say about what? The Feast? I told you it was her cake—”
Waving a hand, Abigail interrupted her. “No, not the Feast. About Wardwell.” Zelda looked away then, spinning her rings instead of answering. Abigail waited another moment and then continued. “Surely Hilda suspects the woman as well…” She probed, refusing to let the matter drop.
“I wouldn’t know, I haven’t discussed it with her.” Zelda muttered, brushing her hair back. “Though Hilda seemed doubtful about certain aspects of Wardwell’s story, she seemed sympathetic to others. The witch did some things right.”
Abigail sighed, “Zee, you need to talk to and confide in your sister. She—”
Lips pressed into a thin line, Zelda pushed off the bench and began to pace. “I know what my sister is, Abs. She is good, kind, loyal and smart and I will not put her in harm's way as I navigate this viper’s nest.”
Another sigh, but this one sounded defeated. “You don’t have to shoulder all this alone.” Abigail murmured, still sitting on the bench. “Have you at least spoken to Sabrina about it? Warned her away from Wardwell?”
The comment made Zelda laugh harshly, mirthlessly. “Warn her away?” She asked incredulously, pacing a few more times before restlessly sitting back down next to Abigail. “You haven’t seen Sabrina in a long time. She ran from her Dark Baptism, Abs. Went up against the Dark Lord in court, this thing with the Feast….” She left out certain events, like the exorcism, Zelda was still waiting for the other shoe to drop for their part in it, so the fewer people who knew the better. “Every time I try and tell her no or warn her against something it only encourages her to pursue the course more, no matter how reckless. The number of sleepless nights I’ve had…” She trailed off, her tone only half joking.
Suddenly, Abigail stood. “Where is she? This niece of yours?”
Confused, Zelda just stared at her. “Asleep most likely.”
“Not for long, she clearly needs a talking to; needs to know the stress she’s causing.” Her friend elaborated, marching toward the house and talking over her shoulder as she went. “It’s astonishing you don’t have an ulcer or haven’t been hospitalized for your blood pressure. If she’s set on defying you and Hilda, regardless of the circumstances, then perhaps someone outside the family needs to speak with her.”
Quick to her feet, Zelda caught Abigail by the elbow and led her back to the bench, a small smile on her lips at her friend’s tenacity. “Not necessary, Abs. Besides, I doubt it would have much impact.” She shrugged a shoulder ruefully.
Abigail raised a brow and crossed her arms. “You don’t think your niece would be concerned about the harm she is causing you?”
Brows flying up in alarm, Zelda shook her head vehemently. “Harm?! It’s not harm, she—” Zelda began to argue, she couldn't let anyone see the damage, but Abigail spoke over her.
“Oh, so you think this is healthy, then? Sleepless nights? Missed meals? Chronic stress? Probably some level of anxiety just waiting to see what she’ll do next and what the consequences will be.” Abigail looked at her sympathetically and had she been anyone else Zelda would have cursed her for it. But Zelda was honestly just glad someone noticed the extent to which recent events had affected her.
Shaking her head, this time more gently, Zelda smiled a little. “The offer is appreciated, Abigail, and so is your concern. But this is what it means to raise a teenager.”
It wasn’t.
She knew it wasn’t. Raising a teenage witch should have entailed nagging her niece about homework, sneaking out and not cursing her new roommates at the Academy. Not worrying herself to near exhaustion while trying to keep her family safe from the Dark Lord’s wrath after whatever Sabrina’s latest stunt entailed.
But she wasn’t going to tell Abigail that; she’d shown enough weakness as it was. Clearing her throat, Zelda continued, “besides, it would do more harm than good, talking to Sabrina. She is headstrong and dislikes hearing anything that goes against what she believes is right.” She lifted a hand to the back of her neck, rolling it slightly side to side.
An amused huff emanated from Abigail. “Sounds like someone I know. Someone who threatened the entire Academy after her little sister was bullied for smuggling her familiars in.” Abigail squeezed her hand once more. “Your niece seems to have inherited your protective streak, Zee.”
Resting her head in her hands, Zelda scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Abigail elbowed her in the side. “It’s true. You might not do flashy things like try to end the Feast of Feasts, but you were and are constantly protecting those you love. You just do it in silence… and often without taking credit.”
“You’re being ridiculous, Abs.” She sighed, head still in her hands. “I’m just… I’m just tired,” she whispered, hating herself for admitting it but also feeling relieved for finally saying it out loud.
Making a sympathetic noise, Abigail tugged Zelda into a hug. “I know,” her friend murmured, rubbing a soothing hand over her back. “I know. Perhaps if you shared some of the burden with someone, someone who is maybe experiencing the same things as you, trying to raise a willful niece…”
Zelda shoved away from Abigail. “Hilda doesn’t need to know, doesn’t need the stress. I can handle this on my own.” She retorted, crossing her arms.
Rubbing her forehead, Abigail stood as well and placed her hands on Zelda’s upper arms. “I know you can, Zee. But just because you are strong enough to handle it doesn’t mean you have to be.” She lifted a brow and then pulled Zelda into another hug. “I must be off, I left Rebecca to handle the boys all on her own. She’ll manage just fine, of course, but it’s always best not to be outnumbered.”
Holding her friend tightly, Zelda wished Abigail could stay, that they could get more than a thirty-minute conversation squeezed into their busy lives. “Keep in touch? It’s been too long, and I missed you.”
A low chuckled escaped Abigail, “same goes for you. Take care. Bye, Zee.” She pecked her once on each cheek and backed away a little. “Oh, and Faustus Blackwood is back in your life?” She intoned, grinning wickedly, “don’t think I didn’t miss how you glossed over that part of the story. We’ll talk more about him later,” and before Zelda could dissuade Abigail of the notion, she was gone.
Shaking her head, Zelda sat back down and remained outside for a little longer, watching the sun fully rise and trying to ignore the fact that it would be an incredibly busy day at the mortuary… Thanksgiving wasn’t a happy time for some mortals; or so they’d learned over the years.
With one final deep exhale, Zelda went back inside to face what would likely be a draining day.
It’d only been an hour since Abigail left, but Zelda had already talked to three different clients at length on the phone and two bodies were on their way in. To top it all off, Hilda was no where to be found, which left Zelda to handle the paperwork, the phone calls, coordinating drop offs and dealing with the families when they arrived. Where the heaven was her sister?
Her stress levels, briefly managed by talking with Abigail, were skyrocketing once more. A brief reprieve from the phone allowed Zelda to cast a quick spell, one that would tell her where in the house Hilda was hiding. Only the spell came up empty. Hilda wasn’t there.
Annoyed as well as stressed now, Zelda marched into the parlor where she could hear Ambrose and Sabrina talking. “Where’s your Aunt Hilda?” She demanded, striding into the room, a little harried.
Sabrina furrowed her brow, “she’s working at the bookstore, Aunt Zee. Remember, it’s Black Friday.”
She’d already begun to pace away at the mention of that infernal bookstore, what had been a good idea before was a nuisance now, but at her niece’s declaration of it being Black Friday, Zelda froze. “It most certainly is not.” She countered, heart pounding hard before she realized she hadn’t missed the holiday. Even with everything going on she’d never forget such an important church event—how the rest of the coven would talk if the Spellmans didn’t show up for Black Friday celebrations. Their position was precarious enough without that kind of attention.
The kids eyed her for a moment, wary of her tone. “No,” Sabrina corrected, “I don’t mean the witches’ Black Friday. I mean it’s Black Friday for mortals. It’s the busiest shopping day of the year.”
Spinning her rings, Zelda exhaled. That explained why Hilda was gone so early, she must have left while Zelda was talking with Abigail. The phone ringing again brought her back to the moment, and it only frayed her nerves further.
“It’s also one of our busiest times.” She muttered to no one in particular, “the Kemper bodies are already on their way, and Satan knows who else.” She answered the phone, perhaps with a bit of a clipped tone, but considering everything they’d been through in the last 48 hours, let alone the past month, Zelda figured she could be forgiven.
But as the voice on the other end of the phone spoke, Zelda’s irritation vanished, and her stomach dropped. “No, we hadn’t heard.” She replied softly, eyes going to Sabrina immediately. Swallowing, Zelda covered the phone and gently informed her niece about the accident down at the mines.
Eyes wide, Sabrina set her things aside, “but Harvey—” She started, gripping the couch cushions.
“Go. And pray to Satan he’s all right.” Zelda murmured, not that Sabrina needed much encouraging. The girl was up off the couch and hurrying away. Zelda watched anxiously as Sabrina left, hoping for her sake that the boy was safe. Frowning, she lifted the phone back to her ear to get more details, Ambrose watching her intently the entire time.
When she finally hung up the phone, Zelda exhaled loudly and rubbed her forehead. When she lifted her eyes, she found Ambrose still studying her. “What?” She snapped, in no mood for his mischief.
Cocking his head at her tone, Ambrose lifted a shoulder in what was likely supposed to be a nonchalant manner. “It’s just, auntie, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you encourage Sabrina to be with Harvey before. And now you’re praying to Satan for his life?”
She scoffed, “you know damn well I’m praying for her sake. Can you imagine how much it would destroy her if that mortal boy dies?” No, Zelda didn’t want to think about what it would do to Sabrina if she lost her first love, even if he was a mortal.
Persistent as ever, though, Ambrose pressed on. “But Aunt Zee, it wasn’t long ago that I saw hellfire in your eyes and the intent to curse said mortal boy off the face of the Earth when you thought he’d defiled my sweet cousin.” He noted, inspecting his nails, though a smile tugged at his mouth.
“Well, of course. No parent wants to hear about their fifteen year-old child ‘going to the next level’, especially before her Dark Baptism and with a mortal.” Zelda huffed, trying to dismiss Ambrose’s observations.
Her nephew lifted a brow at her word choice, but merely commented, “have you gone soft, Auntie Zelda?”
She scowled at him and swatted in his general direction. “Off with you. A busy day just got busier and I’ll need your help.”
Ambrose merely hopped out of reach and waggled his eyebrows at her playfully before going upstairs to change. Once he was out of sight, Zelda plopped onto the couch the kids had vacated and rested her head on the back. Just when she thought life couldn’t get any more taxing, the mortals had to go and have a tragedy…. The phone rang again, and Zelda groaned before hoisting herself back up to get back to work.
They were so swamped it felt like she blinked and the day was gone; Zelda couldn’t even be certain she’d eaten all day. It wasn’t until 7:30pm that she got the messages Hilda and Sabrina had left earlier in the day. Explaining where they were and why they wouldn’t be home for the night.
Though Zelda didn’t like the thought of either of them being gone for the night, the accident in the mines making her want to keep her own family close in case misfortune was contagious, she didn’t ask them to come back. Knowing they were where they needed and wanted to be, even if it wasn’t where Zelda wanted or needed them to be.
Ambrose having gone upstairs to wash away the day, Zelda ate some toast and made her way to her bedroom. Just because she couldn’t have her family physically close that night, didn’t mean she couldn’t check on them.
Setting up a ring of candles, Zelda carefully laid down in the middle and uttered the spell for astral projecting. She checked on Hilda first, appearing on the opposite side of the street of the bookstore. Her sister was busy keeping the volunteers refreshed, offering a warm drink and the occasional listening ear when someone wanted it.
Zelda smiled, her sister… so good, so kind. This, this was why she kept things from Hilda, so that she could do wonderful things like this; Zelda often felt she needed to pour all her energy into her own family, leaving her unable to spare much for anyone else. But Hilda, Hilda was built to give her energy to others, and it wouldn’t be right to force her to focus all of that on three people simply because Zelda struggled sometimes.
Sighing, Zelda hid around the corner before projecting to her next destination. Suddenly she was in the middle of the Greendale woods, the mines visible only as lights in the distance and the occasional voice drifting through.
That’s when she noticed Harvey’s truck and the quiet voices sounding from the truck bed. She crept a little closer, just needing to hear Sabrina’s voice before she left. Oh, her sweet girl, so much love to give, just like her Aunt Hilda. Murmuring a quick protection spell over Sabrina, and then Harvey just for good measure, Zelda backed away.
Satisfied, she ended the spell and sat back up, thinking. It was likely her sister and niece would be in town or out by the mines for the duration of the rescue. The least Zelda could do was to try and see if the rescue efforts were worth it.
Refreshing her candles, Zelda laid back down to project once more, this time her destination was the mines. Before she could finish the spell, though, Ambrose walked in and broke her concentration.
“Auntie, you need to eat. I know this because I need to eat, and you ate less than… me.” He trailed off and stared at her. “What are you doing?”
And though she was looking at him upside down, Zelda still managed to arch her brow at him. “What does it look like?” She drawled, settling back into her original position.
She heard him set down the plates of food he’d brought up for them before he replied. “It looks like you’re astral projecting.”
A snort escaped her. “How clever of you to figure that out,” she teased. “Now, if you don’t need anything,” she placed her hands on her chest, readying the spell, when Ambrose stepped into her circle an disturbed the balance necessary to enter the astral plane. “Ambrose,” she warned, cracking an eye open.
He squatted next to her prone form. “Are you going into the mines to search for the missing miners?”
“I—” She started to deny and then stopped. When had she become so easy to read? “Perhaps.” Zelda bit out, pushing on his knee a little to urge him out of her circle.
“Let me.”
Rolling her eyes, Zelda propped herself up on her elbows to better look at her nephew. “Ambrose, we’ve been over this. You are housebound and not allowed to leave, including your spirit.” She remarked, cocking her head. “Now, remove yourself from my circle, you’re interrupting my spell.” She settled back down and closed her eyes. When he didn’t move, she sighed. “If you insist on being here, you can watch over my body, hmm?” It was a compromise; Zelda didn’t normally allow anyone in the room when she projected. But she could sense Ambrose wasn’t going to be intimidated into leaving her alone, not tonight.
He ignored her offer. “Yes, I am a felon.” Ambrose acknowledged, “so if anything were to happen, if we were accused of meddling in mortal affairs… well, there’s not much more they can do to me. Besides, you’re stronger than I am. If there is something unsavory in the mines and the projector needs pulling back, well, you’ll have a better chance of reeling me in than I would of you.”
Damn him, it was a solid argument. And when Zelda sat up completely, the knowing look on Ambrose’s face told her he knew he’d already won. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Zelda shook her head. “You’re not going to move unless I agree to that arrangement, are you?”
Ambrose grinned at her crookedly, “no.”
Giving him a small, reluctant smile, Zelda patted his cheek. “Help me up then.”
Several minutes later, they’d swapped spots and Zelda was second guessing why she was allowing this. But Ambrose just peered up at her and smiled, “ready?”
Kneeling by his head, Zelda poked his shoulder. “The moment I see a psychopomp, just one, I am bringing you back. I don’t care how far you’ve gotten, understand? I am not risking you for some mortal that may already be dead.”
“I love you too, auntie.” Ambrose replied cheekily, though his smile was sincere. At her unamused glare he reached over and squeezed her hand. “I understand,” he nodded seriously and then assumed the position, chanted the spell and was unconscious.
It felt like an eternity, waiting, watching vigilantly for any sign of those infernal sparrows. But she didn’t need to worry about them, or even waking Ambrose up. He came back on his own only minutes after going under.
Rubbing his back and handing him a glass of water, Zelda waited for him to recover. After a minute she couldn’t stand it. “Well?”
Ambrose looked at her morosely, “it’s bad, auntie.” He rasped, paling slightly as he recalled whatever he’d seen. “There wasn’t a living thing down there.” Disappointment rolled through her, though the news was unsurprising, that didn’t make it comforting. Then Ambrose continued, “the collapse, it was… I don’t think it was natural.”
Her eyes snapped up to meet his, “what?”
“There was magic in the air, auntie.” He informed her, rolling his neck and stretching his back.
A shaky exhale left her, “well, the mines are dug deep into the ground and have been around for as long as I can recall. It’s possible they hit a natural pocket of magic while digging—” Zelda explained. The Greendale mines were impossibly old so the chances of the magic being natural were high, and it was likely that the aged magic was responsible for Ambrose’s experience; untouched pockets of natural magic grew stronger over time and could feel off when encountered.
But her nephew shook his head. “I don’t think so, Aunt Zee. This magic was different, it felt deliberate. Not a hovering presence as if it had been drilled into, but as if someone sent it there with a purpose.”
Groaning, Zelda stood and helped Ambrose up before they settled on the edge of her bed. Rubbing her temples, Zelda tried to recall the last time her life hadn’t felt as though it were hurtling through the universe with no regard to her attempts to slow or control its course. Ambrose’s voice recaptured her attention.
“What do we do, Aunt Zelda?”
“We tell Sabrina the truth about the older Kinkle boy, and the others. But we do not mention that you think the cause is unnatural. There were many mortals down there, we have no way of knowing who or what caused the collapse or for what reason. If we tell her without all of the information—”
Ambrose chuckled humorlessly, “my reckless coz will likely go off on one of her misadventures and cause more trouble.” He offered.
An affectionate smile curled Zelda’s lips, “exactly.” She murmured, running a hand over her face tiredly.
Reaching over, Ambrose took her free hand from where it’d fallen limply into her lap and squeezed. “I was thinking of having a late dinner and a nightcap. Want to join me, auntie?” He asked, standing up and heading to the door.
Zelda nodded and stood as well, picking up the plates of food Ambrose brought up as she followed him down the stairs.
Hilda and Sabrina arrived home early the next morning, the wards alerting Zelda to their presence. She hurried downstairs, knowing neither one of them would be around or awake for long after their grueling night.
She caught them before they even got inside, it was easier than giving them the opportunity to disappear into the house. “Come inside, the both of you.”
When they’d all settled at the kitchen table, she and Ambrose gently broke the news; that there were no survivors in the mines. And oh, her sweet girl, she wanted to stop the pain her boyfriend was experiencing. She wanted to keep other people from getting hurt as more search parties entered the mines.
Unfortunately, Zelda had to tell her no, again. And this had nothing to do with the church or their recent perils and everything to do with protecting witches as a whole and their secret existence. The natural order must be maintained, it was one of their basic tenets as witches.
Thankfully, Sabrina seemed to understand. As horrible as the circumstances were, they could not interfere. Zelda kissed the top of Sabrina’s head and got up to answer the phone that just started to ring, waving Hilda to sit back down and rest.
“Spellman Mortuary, this is Zelda.”
It was Mr. Kinkle. Asking about funeral arrangements for his son. Zelda furrowed her brow, of course she knew the boy was dead, but his father… perhaps they’d picked up work at dawn and discovered what she and Ambrose had known for hours?
Carefully, not wanting to upset anyone in the kitchen further, Zelda carried the phone into the office and shut the door. “Yes, Mr. Kinkle, of course you can come by this afternoon to decide on the details.” She paused and listened, still slightly confused by the whole situation. “Yes, I will see you then. I am so sorry for your loss.” Zelda hung up and stayed in the office for a while, needing to focus on something, anything other than the tragedy in the mine and it seemed paperwork was her most convenient distraction.
She hadn’t realized how engrossed in the work she’d become until the front door banged open and she heard Harvey yelling, ranting about his father, insurance payouts and no body.
The words hit Zelda dully, so the man hadn’t searched through the night and the early morning hours and found his son. Pressing her lips together, Zelda did her best to refocus on the day ahead… it would do no one any good if she got emotional now.
Only, only she wasn’t able to completely hold everything in. She’d made it through the planning with Mr. Kinkle, of course, she was the epitome of professionalism. It was when it came time for the funeral, that she struggled.
She was barely even able to have a conversation with Ambrose without her voice thickening with tears. And it didn’t go unnoticed.
“Auntie Zee, are you crying?” Her nephew asked, incredulous, though his voice was no clearer than hers. It’d only been a single tear, and she blamed it on pollen as she attempted to press the offending drop back into her eye. They both knew better, but Ambrose was kind enough not to comment on it again beyond a tight smile.
Just, just given recent events it was far too easy for her to picture Sabrina in the casket in the other room—had the exorcism gone sideways, had Sabrina drawn the wrong slip of paper at the Feast of Feasts…. Yes, it was far too easy to picture Sabrina in the casket, to the point that it was now one of the rotating night terrors that plagued her.
And as she observed the family, more importantly, Mr. Kinkle, Zelda couldn’t help another well of emotion. This time, though, it was disgust. She normally wouldn’t waste energy on feeling anything towards a mortal, their presence so fleeting it was pointless in her mind. But how could this man not even try and find his son to bury?
Zelda knew she would move Hell itself if it meant getting Sabrina or Ambrose back. How could this mortal man have so little love in his being? So, yes, perhaps a tear or two escaped her; at how easily it could have been Sabrina, at the lack of love shown by this man who claimed to be a father.
At least it was only Ambrose. Zelda was confident he would never tell anyone his ‘cold-hearted’ auntie cried at a funeral, a mortal one, no less. Not that anyone would believe him, she hadn’t even cried at Edward’s funeral, why would she shed a tear now? Regardless of whether Ambrose told, or anyone believed him, this was two times in as many days that he’d seen her soft or weak…. She’d need to work on her masks after this; she couldn’t let them slip again.
Her control over her emotions wasn’t improved by any means when Harvey stood to speak. As he struggled to string a sentence together, a pang of sympathy shot through Zelda. She knew what it was like to lose an older brother, to lose your protector and the one who understood you when no one else did.
She also knew what is was like to bury an empty casket. The lack of closure. How it could eat away at you, how the memories of all the what-ifs and should-have-dones replayed over and over. Zelda was impressed Harvey was managing this well, had she not had the heartbreak balm for Edward’s funeral she’d have been an incoherent mess.
Somehow, he soldiered through, though Zelda suspected Sabrina helped him along with some spell or another. It seemed like a good idea… until the fight broke out.
It was wretched to see, and she and Ambrose moved as one to end it, but they were too slow. The altercation knocked the casket over, spilling the damaged helmet onto the ground. The poor boy fled, Sabrina following immediately after.
Zelda made sure to block Mr. Kinkle’s path, under the pretense of helping him right the casket. But the horrid man soon pushed past her and marched outside. Making sure to throw a look at Hilda and Ambrose to corral the other guests, Zelda trailed after Mr. Kinkle, coming to a stop a slight distance away, watching and determined not to interfere.
But when he raised his hand to his child, well, she was getting used to seeing red by now. Moving on instinct, Zelda did something she’d never imagined she’d do; she meddled in mortal affairs.
And not just meddled, but used magic on a mortal, to protect a mortal, in front of other mortals. But Lucifer help her if she was going to let a child be struck. “Mr. Kinkle!” Her voice carried clearly across the grass; her own hand raised to hold his in place. “This is your son’s funeral. Might we honor his memory and compose ourselves? Your guests are leaving, I suggest you do the same.”
She dropped her hand, freeing the man from her magic. He backed away from Harvey, confused and unsure, flexing his hand as if to try and figure out why it hadn’t done what he wanted. Zelda felt a savage pleasure course inside her at his evident fear.
A surge of desire to visit him later that night and unleash her full might as a witch shot through her. But she’d interfered enough, and with potential witnesses too. So no, she wouldn’t visit Mr. Kinkle and make him experience the terror he likely inflicted on a daily basis. But she could stand there menacingly as he retreated from his son, skirting around her in fear, too afraid to meet her eyes.
Smirking, Zelda turned to tend to the other guests, mentally flipping through various hexes to pick the perfect one for the man now rushing to his car and leaving his only remaining son behind. Her smirk morphed into a scowl; perhaps multiple hexes would be in order.
Hilda found her after all the other guests disappeared and they’d restored the parlor to its normal state; setting a glass of whiskey down next to her. “Well, that was an eventful day.” She commented, taking a sip of her sherry.
Huffing, Zelda lifted the glass towards Hilda in thanks before taking a long draw. “Eventful doesn’t begin to describe it.” She muttered, gaze still on the fire.
“I’m not sure what surprised me the most,” Hilda mused, “the fight, Mr. Kinkle’s actions, or that you used magic in the presence of several mortals.” When Zelda whipped around at the statement, her sister merely lifted a brow. “What? You thought no one noticed?”
Zelda paled, “people noticed?” She croaked; how could she have been so careless? Of course, someone had seen her, Zelda had just assumed they wouldn’t understand what was happening, that they wouldn’t link her raised hand with Mr. Kinkle’s frozen one. She’d just endangered them all.
Noticing her distress, Hilda set down her glass. “None of the mortals,” she reassured her quickly, and Zelda exhaled shakily, fears quelled, and took another drink. “What I meant, was I noticed.” She smiled, and if Zelda had to name the look on her sister’s face, she’d say it was one of pride. “Oh, and Ms. Wardwell.”
The small glow that’d ignited in Zelda’s chest at Hilda’s expression died. She’d certainly been aware Wardwell was at the funeral; had watched her carefully as she spoke to Sabrina. But seeing as how Tommy was likely a former student and Harvey a current one, it’d been perfectly proper for the woman to be there.
That didn’t mean Zelda wasn’t suspicious, but she’d soon had more immediate concerns, like the Kinkle men, to deal with than worry about the subtle moves a certain witch might be making in the few minutes she was in the house. And with everything that happened, Zelda doubted Wardwell had been able to achieve much.
But she didn’t like the fact that Wardwell saw her perform magic in the presence of mortals. It was dangerous. It gave Wardwell something on her where before Zelda had been the one holding all the cards.
No matter, the witch had limited access to Sabrina, seeing her only at school. And if Wardwell tried to leverage Zelda in any way with this new development to see Sabrina more… well, Zelda was prepared with her own stash of information.
“Any one else?” She asked, coming back to the conversation Hilda started.
Shaking her head, Hilda picked her drink back up. “Just the two of us. Well, and Sabrina and young Harvey, but he has enough going on I doubt he’ll give the occasion a second thought.” Finishing her drink, Hilda stood. “I’m off to bed, I should know better than to pull all-nighters at my age and with the rescue called off I’m not needed at the store. Sabrina is out, meeting someone at Dr. Cee’s, I think Harvey.” She shrugged lightly and covered a yawn. “Night Zelds,” she squeezed Zelda’s shoulder as she left the room.
Zelda stared back at the fire and nursed her whiskey. After the crazy day she’d had, this was the best thing she could have asked for to wind down, whiskey and silence.
When the doorbell rang only ten minutes later, Zelda truly considered ignoring it. Likely it was some customer thinking because they were a mortuary and dealt with death, which followed no schedule, that normal business hours didn’t apply to them.
But as the bell rang again, Zelda sadly vanished her whiskey, straightened her dress and made for the door—knowing Hilda was getting some well-deserved rest and Ambrose was squirreled away upstairs and therefore unable to hear the bell.
When she opened the door, Zelda blinked, taken aback. “Father Blackwood!” His title escaping her lips in her surprise. Surely this wasn’t about her use of magic on a mortal earlier. “We’ve had quite the day here, but do come in.” She stated, a little sarcastically, seeing as how he’d brushed right past her and into the foyer. Hazarding a guess, and not wanting him to think she was guilty of meddling, Zelda asked if he was there for an update about Constance—who was still her patient despite the recent Feast debacle.
“In fact, I’m here to see your nephew.” He informed her, hanging up his hat and coat.
Zelda’s heart leapt to her throat; she never should have let Ambrose astral project. Not a second time, the witching council had found out and now they’d sent Faustus to dole out the punishment. Clearing her throat, Zelda nodded. “And what would that be about?”
Raising a brow, the corners of Faustus’ lips twitched up. “Always so protective,” he teased before turning slightly more serious. “One of my acolytes, Luke, brought your nephew’s case to my attention. I admit, I promised to look at it solely as a goodwill gesture with no intent of acting on it. But as I reviewed his dossier, I was impressed and then surprised at the length and severity of his sentence.”
“Surely you weren’t unfamiliar with it to begin with,” Zelda remarked, crossing her arms. “He is a felon in your church, technically under your charge.”
Faustus lifted his hands to acquiesce, “Ambrose’s sentence was determined and given in Italy, where his crime occurred. It was also before my time as High Priest at the Church of Night here in Greendale, so I did not follow it closely. And, I confess that reading up on your nephew’s circumstance, when it was already decades into the sentence and he was behaving, was never high on my to-do list considering everything else I took on after Edward passed.”
She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. This had to be some way for him to get back at them for dosing them with the truth cake the other night. But as much as Zelda wanted to turn Faustus away, she couldn’t. His offer to answer anything she wanted while he was under the effects of the cake gave her pause—made her want to believe in him and that he was there to help Ambrose.
Ultimately, though, it wasn’t her decision to make. Nodding slowly, Zelda directed Faustus to the parlor, refreshed the fire with a flick of her wrist and went to find Ambrose. When she found him in the attic and told him why Faustus was there, Zelda couldn’t help but caution him. Based on the broad grin on her nephew’s face, though, she could tell he’d already decided to trust the High Priest.
Framing his face, Zelda smiled softly. “Good luck, keep your head about you. Don’t accept anything up front, ask for time to consider the offer. If he doesn’t give that to you, then something is wrong with the offer to begin with.”
Bouncing excitedly, Ambrose nodded. “Of course, of course, auntie. I know.” He pecked her on the cheek and then bounded off to the parlor. She followed at a much slower pace, pausing at the bottom of the stairs to eye the door.
Zelda considered eavesdropping on the conversation. But she shook herself and went into the kitchen to pour herself that drink she hadn’t gotten to finish and to contemplate what to do about the High Priest.
As she nursed her whiskey, Zelda kept an eye on the front door to make sure Faustus didn’t leave without her knowing. Though she wasn’t entirely sure what she’d do when he finished speaking with Ambrose, she knew she had to talk to the man.
Her family was defying the church in some way every other day, or so it seemed—Dark Baptisms, false god baptisms, trials, harrowings, exorcisms, the Feast of Feasts… it’d put them in a precarious position, one Zelda intended to rectify.
And one way to re-secure their position, to remind Faustus her faith in the church was as strong as ever and that she needed to church, was to ask for a Satanic confession. It would show him she still believed in the church and its ways, that she was contrite about her role in flouting the church’s ways… yes, a Satanic confession was just what was needed.
She also believed this particular request would be difficult for Faustus to refuse, it was his duty as High Priest, and Zelda didn’t think if she merely asked for a word that he’d stay. But considering the last few times he’d been in the Spellman house she’d threatened him and then drugged him with truth cake, she couldn’t really blame him for any wariness.
Smiling, Zelda finished her drink just as Ambrose opened the parlor door and thanked Faustus, stating he’d consider the offer and tell him in the morning. Ambrose nodded at her as he mounted the stairs, and though Zelda badly wanted to follow him and discuss what happened, she had other matters to attend to.
Which was how she found herself purring her request in his ear; she knew what buttons of his to push, and physical proximity was the easiest…. Not that she really minded, her body practically hummed when it brushed against him before she moved to the parlor, Faustus trailing after her.
They’d settled in chairs across from one another, as appropriate for a confession, but they didn’t hold these positions for long. Faustus telling her to kneel in front of him, holding out his hand for her to take with a slight gleam in his eye.
Zelda barely restrained an eye roll but did as she was bid. She knew how to play their old game; seeing who could subtly, or not so subtly, tip the power scale in their favor. And recently she’d tipped it more and more in her direction—the manipulation after the exorcism, the truth cake, refusing to ask him what he wanted once he was dosed, leaving him somewhat exposed.
Yes, right now Zelda had more power out of the two of them in whatever kind of relationship this was. So, Faustus instructing her to kneel before him was just his way of trying to tip the scale back in his favor.
She’d humor him, let him think he was winning this round. It cost her nothing to give him this, to let him think he was in control when really she was orchestrating the entire encounter. So, she knelt and took the hand he offered, pressing her lips to the back of it just so she could watch him poorly suppress a shiver at the contact. Yes, she knew their game well.
When she’d come up with the idea of a confession, Zelda intended to make up the whole thing. But as she knelt there, the truth, as much as she could tell of it, came tumbling out.
“I’ve fought to hold the Spellmans to the mark since Edward’s death.” She exhaled shakily, her grip tightening on his hand. “But we’re a fallen family. Half-mortal, house-arrested, excommunicated. There are times I feel like I’m running a halfway house for wayward witches.” While she did sometimes feel as though she ran a halfway house, what she didn’t mention to Faustus was that she was chief among them. A witch with broken faith, upholding a charade that’d lasted a decade and a half… it was too much.
Too much. And she found herself uttering something she tried to bury except for during her punishments. “I’m failing, Father.” Tears filled her eyes and constricted her throat at the admission. And though she no longer put stock in Satan or his confessions, it was a relief to voice her concerns, her failings, even if they weren’t completely true, and to not hold it all in for once.
Faustus swallowed hard and squeezed her hand hard at her last statement and a strange expression crossed his face. And for a second, she thought he might lean closer and tell her she was speaking nonsense, that of course she wasn’t failing.
Instead, he pressed back into the chair, sitting so stiffly that Zelda wondered what he was trying to hold back. Part of her didn’t want him to hold back. After a moment Faustus cleared his throat and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles.
His next words were a balm she didn’t realize she needed. “Unlike the false god, the Dark Lord accepts our weakness. He knows we are made of flesh and failure. This is our nature, Zelda.”
It was a relief. A relief to hear that her anxiety and weakness were common. And when he moved to the edge of his seat and engulfed her hand between his, stroking his fingers along the back of her wrist and hand soothingly, expressing that he too experienced weakness and failure, Zelda wanted to kiss him. Kiss him for listening so intently, for comforting her, for telling her her fears were valid and normal, for letting her know she wasn’t alone. Heaven, she wanted to kiss him just to kiss him. But she forced herself to focus on what he was saying.
“Of course you know, Constance threatened my faith with her transgression at the lottery.” He shared, still grasping her hand between his. “I never…” he paused and sighed. “I’ve always prided myself in how strong my faith is in our Dark Lord. Never once failing to do as He asked, even in the face of the most difficult devotions. I may not have been the most enthusiastic follower at times, as you know I was reluctant to be the prosecutor in Sabrina’s trial when surely a less public recourse could have been taken. And when He asked me—” Faustus caught himself and stopped talking abruptly, as though he’d almost given something away. He focused on tracing the veins on the back of her hand for a moment, quiet.
Curious, Zelda squeezed his hand, “Faustus?”
Inhaling deeply, he brought his gaze back to her. “Let us say what happened with the Feast and the consequences we almost paid because of them was not the first occasion to make me question my faith.” And Zelda’s heart stuttered at the admission; so, even the High Priest doubted their venerable Dark Lord. “This time though, what Constance did, falsifying the Dark Lord’s will, attacking Prudence, attacking you, it…” Faustus exhaled slowly and started to play with her fingers. “What I mean to say, Zelda, is you are not alone in your struggle. We are but flawed beings, as the Dark Lord knows, so we must resist from holding ourselves up to unreachable and perfect standards.”
A small smile touched on Zelda’s lips and she wanted to kiss him all the more. She knew he was holding something back, but then again, so was she. In any case, this entire interaction had taken her by surprise, she hadn’t expected to actually feel better… apparently the truth, or parts of it, could be useful. The smile almost turned into a smirk at Faustus’ next words, how Constance was denying him.
This, this wasn’t a surprise, the hostility rolling off that woman was palpable… or maybe that was only towards Zelda now. Regardless, Constance refusing Faustus was news she hadn’t expected to hear but didn’t find particularly shocking. What else she didn’t find shocking was this turn in the conversation; she had been the one to start their game anew with no consideration for personal space, after all.
But he was alluding to more, telling her in not so many words that he knew what it was like to be rejected by someone who was meant to be close to you. That he understood her and her uncertain relationships with her family. Of course, she knew he was also hoping for something physical to come of this encounter. But his next words only confirmed that she hadn’t been wrong in reading between the lines.
Faustus leaned in closer, “to be forsaken, untouched… that is not the Dark Lord’s will, for any of us.” His voice trembled a little with emotion and Zelda couldn’t remember a time in recent memory when she’d seen him so raw, to the point that he confessed about doubting his faith, about his feelings, about rejection.
And oh, how she agreed, how she could relate. Zelda was tired of being forsaken by her family, and for mortals no less. First Edward with Diana, now Sabrina with Harvey, and Hilda with the bookstore. Only Ambrose was left and that was because he had no choice, he was forced to be there. And soon he might forsake her as well.
She was tired of being untouched except when her life was on the line. And his touch, he gave his touch so freely, so willingly and expecting nothing in return; all the reassuring hand squeezes, tender forehead kisses, and gentle caresses of her cheek from the past few weeks flooded her mind. And Zelda found that she didn’t want to push Faustus away anymore, not when all she wanted to do was pull him in.
So, she didn’t object when he fell to his knees and kissed her hungrily, his hands pressed hard against her body, drawing her up and closer as if he couldn’t get enough. For the first time in years, Zelda allowed herself to want, allowed herself to be selfish as she eagerly kissed Faustus back.
While this wasn’t what she’d anticipated when she’d started their interaction, Zelda certainly wasn’t going to complain. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t notice how easily they fell back into sync. Lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the passionate kiss. And Zelda knew she would be lying to herself later on, when she replayed this moment in her head over and over, when she denied feeling far more than lust when he pulled back slightly and cupped her cheek tenderly, an action that contrasted so vastly with the fierce way he’d been kissing and clutching at her seconds before.
He’d peered into her eyes and Zelda couldn’t help but sigh and sink back into another kiss, clasping onto his forearm as his other arm banded around her back and held her closer.
She knew it was wrong, that letting Faustus back in would only create more problems. But Zelda couldn’t find it in herself to care, not now. Not when someone was finally willing to give instead of take from her. Now when his fevered touch and kisses soothed something inside her that she’d neglected for years.
So no, she didn’t complain when the kiss intensified once more, when Faustus’ hand crept from her cheek and into her hair while the other reached up and tugged the zipper on the back of her dress down. His hand greedily slipping beneath the fabric to caress the bare skin of her upper back, only for him to growl in disapproval moments later; his exploration of her skin interrupted by the silk slip she was wearing under her dress.
Unable to help it, Zelda smiled into the kiss at his reaction, and Faustus had no choice but to pull away to finish divesting her of her dress. He was quick to free her arms and to push the fabric down so that it pooled on the ground around her knees.
“Satan, Zelda,” he murmured, pausing a moment as his eyes swept over her; pupils dilating with desire as they traced her body and then snapped back to her face. “I—” She cut off whatever he was about to say with a searing kiss. She was done talking, they’d finally crossed the line, after all these years… after denying herself for so long, she wasn’t going to let words delay them now.
Her hands stripped him of his shirt and ridiculous ascot, though aesthetically pleasing, Zelda couldn’t help but relish in throwing it aside so she could assault his neck with her lips. She then made quick work of his belt before pushing his pants down, leaving him in his boxers. Faustus groaned in response and slid his hands under the hem of her slip and yanked it up and away in one smooth motion, timing it perfectly with her pulling back to attack the other side of his throat.
A gasp escaped her, but a wide smile pulled on her lips. It wasn’t as though she’d been celibate during their time apart; far from it, Zelda had had a number of lovers over the years, though they were all just a way to itch a scratch whenever her own ministrations didn’t suffice. But Faustus, he’d always been able to surprise and pleasure her in ways no one else could, reading her and giving her what she wanted without her voicing a thing.
And their years apart hadn’t robbed Faustus of his knowledge of her body. Heat was already pooling in her stomach and working its way lower as his hands roamed over her, caressing, rubbing and gripping her in all the right places.
But she didn’t want to be teased or played with, not today. So, Zelda wrapped one arm around his neck and pulled Faustus down and on top of her while the other pushed his boxers down.
Kissing her eagerly, Faustus followed her down to the floor willingly. He broke away for a moment, a whispered spell leaving his lips and suddenly their clothes were no longer awkwardly hanging off them but piled several feet away on the floor.
Zelda hummed in approval and pulled Faustus in once more.
She came suddenly, a praise Satan on her lips with Faustus following moments later, his voice growling her name in her ear. When he finally stilled, Zelda was stunned when Faustus held his position—partially hovering over her, propped on his elbows and her legs wrapped loosely around his waist.
To be honest, she expected him to pull away, dress with a wave of his hand and be out the door within the matter of a minute. He’d certainly gotten far more than he’d initially come for, after all. But Faustus didn’t move, other than to gently smooth back some stray hairs off her face. He simply watched her, eyes filled with some emotion she refused to acknowledge, let alone name—though it was reminiscent of how he’d gazed at her almost a decade ago.
Needing to break the moment before she read too much into it, Zelda tilted her head. “Faustus?” She asked, furrowing her brow a little.
The corner of his mouth tugged up with a smile and he leaned in for a soft kiss. Zelda couldn’t help but return it, and when he lowered more of his weight onto her and deepened the kiss, she welcomed that as well.
But a thump upstairs broke them apart, and Zelda could have sworn she saw disappointment flash across his features when he slowly pulled away and picked himself up from the floor to dress. In another unprecedented move, Faustus dressed without magic, as if hoping to prolong their interaction.
Following suit, Zelda stood and started to dress manually as well, not wanting to appear overeager to hide what they’d done; though she did wave a hand to dispel the smell and clean the carpet. Once back in her undergarments and slip, Zelda abandoned getting dressed in favor of a cigarette—nothing quite matched the rush of nicotine after sex. She’d just taken her first long draw of nicotine when she felt Faustus come up behind her.
“Satan, Zels,” he murmured, “I missed you.” He swept her hair over one of her shoulders and paused a moment before kissing the back of her neck, his hands ghosting along her still mostly bare back and shoulders. “Why did we ever stop?” He asked, peppering her skin with more kisses as his hands slid down and wrapped around her waist from behind and pulled her closer.
A million reasons why popped into her head, but for some inexplicable reason, Zelda didn’t name one. She just hummed and leaned into his embrace, wondering when he’d gotten so gentle. Because even when they’d started all this, so long ago, the touches had always had some sort of edge to them, a hunger… Satan, even moments ago they’d had a rather frenzied fuck on the carpet.
But she wasn’t going to say anything, the world was hard enough; intimacy didn’t always have to be too. So, she let his hands brush along her sides, rasping against the silk of her slip as his mouth continued its slow path along her neck.
Sadly, Faustus ended his reacquaintance with her body and rested his chin on her shoulder. “I must go, but I imagine I’ll be back tomorrow for Ambrose’s decision.” His arms tightened around her minutely as he spoke and she pressed back against him more heavily, relishing in the physical contact and comfort while she could, while Faustus was the one initiating it. “I hope to see you tomorrow as well,” he added, placing a lone last lingering kiss on her neck before he was suddenly gone; having teleported away.
She immediately missed his warmth but shook her head at her sentimentality—he’d only wanted the sex; she shouldn’t delude herself into thinking it was more. Flicking a wrist, Zelda was fully dressed and the fire doused.
Checking to make sure he’d teleported his coat and hat with him, which had been hanging in the hall, Zelda headed upstairs. Perhaps they could do this again, a physical relationship, that is. She’d certainly missed it—the pleasant ache between her legs a delicious reminder. It’d worked for them before, the physical part, and now Faustus was married so there was no need to worry about either of them wanting to take things further.
Yes, perhaps this was something they could try. Perhaps this was something Zelda could do for herself. Smiling at the thought, Zelda went to get ready for bed; exhausted now for an entirely different, but much preferable, reason.
Faustus reappeared in his front hall, humming quietly as he hung up the coat and hat he’d almost forgotten at the Spellmans. A wide smile spread across his face when he caught sight of a smear of lipstick on his collar when he passed a mirror on his way to the kitchen.
She finally let him back in. Confided in him, asked for help and reassurance and he provided it and lifted some of his own burdens by sharing as well. They’d always been good at that, easing one another’s burdens—even when they were at their worst and most competitive in the Academy, they’d been good. The interaction in the parlor had reminded him so fiercely of their time together before that he couldn’t help but push his luck and kiss her.
And she let him. Had returned the kiss with equal fervor.
It set him on fire, body and soul. Satan, that was what it was supposed to feel like when you kissed someone, when you had sex with someone. He’d forgotten, or perhaps, perhaps Zelda was the only one capable of making him feel this way…. Faustus found himself preferring the latter.
Making his way to the kitchen to pour himself a drink, Faustus was already reliving the night and hoping to reenact the events the next day. The sounds of her little gasps and moans, the feel of her skin against his, the way her perfume had surrounded him... now that the sensations had been re-seared into his brain, Faustus certainly couldn’t let her go, not again. Sipping on his drink, he made his way to his bedroom, Constance likely already asleep in hers.
As he readied for bed, taking an occasional sip of scotch as he did, Faustus couldn’t help but glance in the mirror at the nail marks Zelda left along his shoulders and back. Thankfully his tattoos were enchanted to withstand damage, otherwise she’d have worn streaks through the ink long ago.
His admiration for how she marked him faded then, the marks he’d seen on her back before he left floating before his eyes. Was that what she liked now? They’d always enjoyed a little pain with their pleasure… some biting, nail scratching, light bruising, maybe a little blood drawn here and there. But Zelda, she’d clearly progressed to a more intense level of pain and pleasure in their time apart—a level that left permanent scars.
Well, Faustus frowned a little, if that was what she wanted… he could provide that.
The next morning, after having waited the required amount of time for Constance’s urine to ferment, Zelda conducted the spell which would reveal the genders of the babes she carried. If nothing else, when Faustus came later she could share this information with him. And it would mean she wouldn’t have to contact Constance to let her know—the fewer interactions she had with the witch the better.
She waited impatiently for the spell to settle, playing with her necklace as memories from last night flashed before her eyes. Shaking herself, Zelda stood and paced the room. She wasn’t some school girl with a crush to be mooning over some man. Yes, the sex had been incredible, yes, she wanted to do it again… and again. But that didn’t mean her thoughts had to be drifting to the man with frightening regularity.
Her timer dinged, alerting her that the spell was ready. Taking a deep breath, Zelda opened the small box gingerly. A two headed snail… well, it appeared as though the Dark Lord was finally giving Faustus the heirs he so desired.
Carefully, Zelda carried the box upstairs with her to the kitchen. This was excellent news, though gender spells did have margins for error, especially with twins, the omen of a two-headed snail would please Faustus all the same. And perhaps, perhaps he’d be wanting to celebrate the news…
Smiling Zelda prepared a cup of tea and picked up her paper, though she had trouble focusing on the print in front of her. Her mind already jumping ahead to the delights the rest of the day might hold. When Hilda breezed through the kitchen on her way to work, Zelda wasn’t exactly inconspicuous in her morning-after glow. But her sister merely eyed her oddly and was out the door, that ridiculous wig wobbling slightly on her head.
Ambrose found her soon after Hilda left. And where Hilda had failed to fully pull Zelda out of her thoughts of the night before, Ambrose’s voice completely captured her attention.
“Auntie Zee, I need your advice.” He perched himself on top of the counter next to where she was standing. “About what to do with Father Blackwood’s offer.”
Folding her paper, Zelda turned to face Ambrose. “I cannot make this decision for you, darling.” She placed her hand on his knee comfortingly.
Her nephew nodded and picked up the spoon she’d used to stir her tea and fiddled with it. “I know, auntie, but I still want to know what you think.” Ambrose looked at her imploringly.
And really, she already couldn’t say no to either of the kids, and this was a relatively innocent request compared to astral projecting. Smiling softly, Zelda nodded and moved to take a seat at the table, Ambrose joining her immediately.
“Father Blackwood told me that if I gave up my co-conspirators in the plot to blow up the Vatican that I could go free.” Ambrose informed her without hesitation.
Zelda mulled this over for a moment, “it’s the same deal the Anti-Pope offered you when you were first sentenced, correct?”
Resting his forearms on the table, Ambrose nodded, “it is.”
“Do your reasons for not turning in your co-conspirators still stand?” She asked, tilting her head slightly to study him.
A sigh escaped Ambrose, “my reasons are—”
She held up a hand, “your own. I’m not asking for you to tell me why you came to your decision in the first place.” And he visibly relaxed at the comment. Though Ambrose was open with his aunts about most things, that part of his life was still shrouded in shadow and secrets; and they let him keep it that way. Satan knew he had control over little else at the moment. “What I am asking, darling, is if those reasons still hold true. If they do, then I think you have your answer.” She looked at him closely, wishing she could give him the right answer here. “If those reasons no longer seem valid, or even if you doubt some of them… then perhaps you need to reconsider.”
Furrowing his brow, Ambrose traced a whirl in the table with his thumb nail. “And which one will win me my freedom, auntie?”
Zelda reached over and rested her hand on his forearm. “Don’t think of it that way, Ambrose.” She warned him, knowing the boy was desperate for freedom but also knowing if he achieved it in the wrong way his mind would never be truly free. “Which way would you be able to live with in the centuries to come? That’s the question you should be asking yourself.” She squeezed his arm encouragingly.
The lines in Ambrose’s forehead smoothed out, though he pressed his lips together. “Thank you, auntie. I think I’d already reached this conclusion, but I just needed to talk it out, hear it from someone else.” Lifting his gaze, Ambrose gave her a small smile before standing, pecking her on the cheek and heading back upstairs.
She watched him leave and exhaled slowly before reaching for a cigarette. As much as it pained her to not be able to fix this for him, Zelda knew it was a decision he had to reach on his own.
With a slight flick of her fingers, her paper flew over to her and she started to read it once more. Fifteen minutes later, the door bell rang.
Ambrose came hurtling down the stairs before stopping right in front of the door, straightening his clothes and composing himself before opening it. “Father Blackwood,” he greeted, stepping aside to let the High Priest inside.
“Brother Ambrose,” Faustus returned, hanging up his things. “I hope you have an answer for me.”
Nodding jerkily, Ambrose held out his arm to direct Faustus up the stairs. Only when the two disappeared did Zelda drop the paper and rub her temples. She dearly hoped Ambrose would make the right decision, he’d paid his price, he deserved some freedom… to not be locked up here with only her, Hilda and Sabrina as company; and occasionally that boy Luke. Her nephew was meant for far greater things than being cooped up in the Spellman house.
Zelda waited ten minutes before going to take up her spot in the hall, blocking the only way to the stairs. The approach certainly wasn’t playing hard to get, but Zelda didn’t care, she wasn’t in the mood to play that particular game. Besides, he’d already had her the night before, why bother pretending he hadn’t?
So, Zelda caught Faustus in the hallway, told him she needed to show him something… in private. He followed willingly, and when she produced the box with the two-headed snail, he looked at her in confusion.
“What does it mean?” He brought his eyes back to hers.
Snapping the lid shut, Zelda shook her head minutely. Of course, he didn’t know, it was a midwife’s saying. “Snips and snails, Faustus.” She clarified, setting the box aside before going on to explain that it was likely the Dark Lord had seen fit to give him two boys.
The way Faustus’ eyes lit up and how he murmured, “twin sons?” All but melted Zelda’s heart, and it sent heat into other body parts as well.
She went on to call him blessed, knowing it would stoke his ego and, at the same time, stoke his libido. Just as he knew her body, she knew his. And when his eyes darkened slightly, she pressed herself against him and went for a kiss.
Only, only he stood stiffly and did not return her affections. He’d, he’d rejected her. And every insecurity that had been lifted from their encounter came back with a crushing force…. The insecurities and fear. She overstepped, somehow misunderstood the situation, how he acted afterwards, claiming he hoped to see her today as well.
What had she done?
Horror rolled through her, but she kept her voice surprisingly calm. “Faustus? After the other day…”
He interrupted her, claiming they’d shared a moment, shared weaknesses but that he’d been wrong in his response. And then he said those next, dreaded words. “I was remiss not to assign you penance.”
No, it couldn’t have been only a one-night stand to him. It couldn’t have, but the stern expression on his face did not bode well. “Penance?!” She repeated, astonished and insides twisting.
“Flagellation, Sister.” And Zelda’s throat tightened at the word, surely not…. “To strengthen the body and will. Thirty lashes should suffice. I assume you have a cat o’nine tails?” He looked at her expectantly, and Zelda’s breath stuttered in her lungs.
Blinking, she forced herself to reply steadily, “I do… somewhere.” It was an easy lie to tell, and one that was out of her mouth before she realized it. Zelda knew exactly where it was; where she’d left it after Batibat visited them the other week—in the trunk at the foot of her bed.
Perhaps it was best she’d lied, admitting to having the whip readily on hand might make it appear as though she had much to atone for—she did, not in regard to the church, but she knew Faustus wouldn’t make the distinction; and why would he? To everyone else she was still faithful, so they’d see her punishments as a result of transgressions against the church, not her failing her family. Faustus’ voice brought her back.
Nodding, Faustus dropped his cane onto the bed. “Good, we’ll do it here then. Your door has a lock, I presume?” He remarked, taking off his coat as well.
“It does, but… I don’t understand.” She admitted, hands clenching at her sides, palms sweaty. It was one thing when she punished herself this way, but if Faustus did or asked to witness her punishing herself…
His voice cut through her thoughts once more, and though he spoke of flagellation, the context of his words, the tone he used told Zelda he meant to use the act sexually.
Once she realized what he meant, that he wasn’t rejecting her, that he still wanted her, some of the terror dissipated, but she still paused. Unsure if she could involve what she’d so long ago associated with punishment with a scenario meant for pleasure.
And she knew Faustus meant for them both to enjoy the experience, a little pain had always enhanced the pleasure—at least with them. So, he just wanted to up the game… it wasn’t unheard of, using whips and other toys during sex. Zelda herself had a wide variety of tastes and was certainly adventurous in the bedroom… but she had her limits, and this felt like one.
“How does that sound?” Faustus asked, undoing the cuffs of his shirt and lifting a brow.
Without responding, Zelda moved to lock the door despite the fear spiking through her. When she hesitated still, Faustus swept up behind her, pressing the length of his body against hers and she could faintly feel his increasing arousal—he likely thought she was being coy by not answering, returning his earlier aloofness with some of her own. So, he repeated his question.
Her attention wasn’t fully on his words though, it was on how his hands wandered down from her rib cage to her hips, how he nosed aside her hair and pressed heated kisses along her neck—pausing at the junction where her neck met her shoulder to sink his teeth in.
His actions had her all but moaning her agreement, that the situation sounded entirely appropriate. Despite her reluctance for the lashes themselves, she dearly wanted what would follow. She was being selfish; this wasn’t at all about saving face with the church or keeping her family safe. The confession alone would have been enough to accomplish these tasks.
Everything after it, this, this was selfish, this was for her. And she craved it. Craved the contact, the closeness with someone—anyone really—but especially Faustus… so she started to undress as well. Once they were both down to their underwear, a quiet spell enlarged the bed and Faustus took up his position on the bed; palms flat on the mattress, back slightly hunched and head bowed.
Fiddling with the whip, Zelda came to stand behind him. She was supposed to flagellate him first, but as she raised her hand, she realized she couldn’t do it. Not even to get the physical intimacy she’d been so starved for in recent years.
It was hard enough to do it to herself, but to someone else? Even if he was willing? No, Zelda couldn’t. Faustus noticed her tentativeness and glanced at her over his shoulder. To try and cover her reluctance, Zelda trailed the end of the whip lightly up his spine, making him shiver, before pressing herself against his back and nipping at his ear lobe.
“How about,” she nipped again, this time at his neck, “you go first?”
Faustus’ brow furrowed for a moment, but he nodded, and they switched spots. Zelda braced herself on the bed, hands gripping the comforter in tense anticipation. If she was lucky, he wouldn’t be able to wait after whipping her and would want to move immediately into sex; meaning she’d be off the hook for flagellating him in return.
As for the lashes themselves… well, what were thirty lashes to her? She’d moved past that number a long time ago. It was also unlikely Faustus would strike her with the brutal blows she was accustomed to dealing herself. So, this might not be so bad, this might be enjoyable…. She’d just convinced herself that the experience wouldn’t be horrible when she heard a deep sigh behind her.
Turning to look over her shoulder, Zelda was surprised to find him playing with the end of the whip uncertainly. “Faustus?”
Running his tongue over his teeth, Faustus heaved another sigh. “I can’t.” He shrugged a little. “I know this is a taste you’ve acquired since we parted so many years ago, and I thought I could partake. But this seems like too much pain, it would overshadow the pleasure. I won’t hurt you.” He lifted a brow then, as if to ask her where this left them, but his comment had her baffled.
“A taste I’ve acquired?” She repeated, shifting slightly to see him better. “You’re the one who suggested it.”
“Only because I thought you’d enjoy it.” He held up the flog, “and I thought the role play, High Priest and parishioner, would make it more fun for you…” He trailed off, clearly as confused as she was now.
Shaking her head, Zelda stared at him. “Role play? Why would I want—”
Faustus threw up his hands, “because I saw—” And then he froze, as something dawned on him. “Those, those aren’t from pleasure.” He whispered.
The comment clarified nothing for Zelda, “what are you talking about, Faustus?”
Dropping the whip, Faustus joined her on the bed and carefully turned her so that he could see her back. His hands coming up to trace along the faded scars of past punishments long past and the pink ones of recent punishments. “Oh, Zels…” He breathed, “what have you been doing to yourself?”
His quiet tone, the gentleness of his hands, it was all too much. She’d never intended for anyone to find out, let alone Faustus. And even if he had, Zelda never would have expected him to react in this way, to care—it was an approved form of penance in the eyes of the church, after all.
But when had he seen her scars to even infer they’d come from new sexual proclivities? She stiffened then, realizing then that the night before, when he’d been peppering her shoulders and back with kisses before leaving, that was when he’d seen the marks and assumed. He’d, he’d been kissing her scars.
Tears pricked her eyes at the thought, but Zelda didn’t want to confront this, not here and certainly not with him. So, instead, she spun to face him completely and lurched forward to kiss him hard. One hand gripped the back of his neck to pull him down on top of her while the other slid down his chest and then lower still.
She nipped and scratched and tried to regain her footing by falling back into their usual lust fueled pattern of slightly rough and hurried sex. But Faustus refused to be tricked into it. Instead, he was gentler with her than he’d ever been; his exploring hands firm but not bruising and his mouth insistent but not domineering. As though he wanted her to know that he knew she wouldn’t break, but that didn’t mean he needed to try and test the limit.
A shuddering exhale escaped her at the implication; that he might understand her even better than she believed. But she couldn’t think of that, it would only cause trouble, so she managed a ragged, “please, Faustus,” before dragging them both further into desire.
When they finished, she moved to get out of bed immediately. The intimacy she so craved was overwhelming now that she received it. Faustus, though, had other ideas and wrapped and arm around her waist and pulled her against him, kissing her back and shoulders once more.
“Faustus,” she murmured, and she hated how weak she sounded. “I think you should go. The others could be home any—”
His hold on her only tightened further. “Zelda,” he whispered, “don’t—”
Unable to hear how he would finish that sentence though, Zelda cut him off. “You need to leave.” Her voice wobbled, undermining her statement.
Sighing, Faustus rested his forehead on her shoulder. “Will you at least promise me something?” He asked, his arm not loosening one bit.
“Faustus,” she warned.
“Promise me something and I will leave.” He offered, and Zelda knew it was a trap, but it was the out she needed before feelings that had been dormant for so long did more than stir.
Warily, Zelda nodded. “What?”
Pulling back slightly, Faustus pressed another kiss to the scars crisscrossing her back. “The next time you feel compelled to do this,” his lips traced along the marks again and she shivered, “contact me instead. Phone, astral project, show up in my office, in my house, at the church, whatever means necessary.”
She broke free of his embrace then and stood, pulling her robe on. “And if I refuse?”
Why? Why was she fighting him? He wanted to help, he was the first person to know—and only person if she had anything to say about it—why was she pushing him away? Maybe because some old habits died harder than others.
“Zels,” Faustus murmured softly, sitting up and reaching for her. But Zelda remained obstinately a step too far, her arms crossed forebodingly. Rubbing his forehead, Faustus looked at her a little helplessly. “Then I just may feel the need to speak with Hilda.”
The comment might as well have been a slap. “So, it’s blackmail now, that’s what we’ve come to?” She glowered at him, lips twisting.
“Zelda, that isn’t what—”
But she interrupted him, “just know that is a two-way street, Faustus Blackwood, and I know a good deal about you that I’m sure others would be interested in hearing.”
He stood angrily then, throwing the blanket back and gathering his clothes. “I’m trying to help,” he spat, jerkily pulling on his pants and then his shirt without doing the buttons. “I don’t want you hurting yourself. I don’t know what made you start, but I want to help you see that you don’t need—”
Anger flashed through her as well, “don’t tell me what I do and don’t need, Faustus.” She countered, sneering at him. This, anger was so much better than whatever else she’d been feeling moments ago. Anger she was comfortable with, anger she knew, was acceptable.
But Faustus apparently couldn’t let things lie. Because he closed the distance between them in a few strides, shirt hanging open, and captured her lips in a possessive kiss. “Well, maybe I need you,” he stated frankly, taking her aback. “Maybe I need you to be safe,” he kissed her neck then, “and healthy.” Faustus kissed her shoulder, his hands holding her tightly against him. “Maybe I need you, Zels.” He repeated, sealing his mouth over hers once more, and it felt as though he were trying to pour something more into the kiss… Zelda was just too scared to interpret it.
When they broke, Zelda shook her head. This was already crossing the line from a carnal relationship to something else… and she wasn’t sure she could break it off again if that was the case. So, it was best to head it all off now, she never should have tried to have something for herself in the first place.
“Faustus, I—”
“Tell me,” he growled, resting his forehead against hers. “Tell me now swear to Satan, that this isn’t what you want. That it means nothing to you. Convince me you want nothing to do with me, Spellman, and I am gone.” He hadn’t called her by her surname since their Academy days, and the blast of nostalgia only caused more stirrings in those not so dormant feelings. “Tell me and I will not darken your door again and you can whip yourself to death if you please.” Despite his words, his hands tightened where they were gripping her hips. “Tell me you want nothing from me.”
Zelda’s mind leapt to all kinds of scenarios in which he was tricking her. The Dark Lord having found her out somehow and sent Faustus to suss out the details. Or perhaps he trying to get back at her for how much trouble her family was causing.
Surely it had to be something. Why else restart this? Why else fan a flame that should have been dead for years now? But she couldn’t place all of the blame on him, it took two to tango, as the saying went, and she’d been the one to initiate the dance.
So, even though it would have been smarter, better, to parrot those words back at him, that she wanted nothing from him. She couldn’t.
Not when he’d been the first person she’d felt she could talk to about her failures and still be accepted (she refused to tell her family and Abigail would only try and brush away her concern and bolster her; which wasn’t necessarily bad, but it wasn’t what Zelda needed). Not when he was holding her tightly, almost reverently.
“Faustus,” she whispered, a tear streaking down her cheek as she pressed her lips together.
He ground his teeth, “tell me. Yes or no, Zelda.”
“Yes. I want—” The words left her before she could stop them and Faustus’ lips were on hers to keep her from taking it back. This kiss was greedy, possessive and it thrilled her. And when he tugged the tie on her robe and pushed it off her shoulders before lifting her back onto the bed, well, Zelda couldn’t find it in her to regret what she’d said.
Faustus teleported away from the bedroom, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he’d been in the Spellman house far longer than he should have been. Zelda cleaned herself up before heading down to the kitchen in search of food; she was famished.
When she got there, though, Ambrose was sitting at the table with an unopened bottle of champagne in front of him, looking troubled.
“Ambrose,” she exclaimed, suddenly guilty for not thinking of his outcome earlier. “What happened? With your sentence?” It had to be good, why else the champagne…
Her nephew didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Partially, yes, but you’d have known that an hour ago had you not been locked in your bedroom with the High Priest.”
His tone stunned her. “What I do in my bedroom and with whom is no concern of yours.” She replied haughtily, the joy at the news of his loosened sentence evaporating. Out of everyone in the family she’d thought Ambrose would be the least critical of her—at least in this aspect.
“It is my concern when you feel you have to sell yourself to help me.” His voice cracked and tears welled in his eyes, though he still refused to look fully at her. “I know I’ve been rather melancholy lately. And I’ve made no effort to hide it, you and Aunt Hilda always let Sabrina and I feel so freely. I never thought, never imagined it would affect you to the point you’d try and help me feel better, by getting my sentence lifted. That you’d make that happen by paying for it, with your, your body.” The tears spilled over now and Ambrose buried his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Auntie Zee. I never meant—”
Rushing over to him, Zelda smacked her hand on the table to get his attention. “You stop that nonsense, immediately.” She demanded, face flushed, but she refused to let Ambrose believe she’d sell herself like a common whore.
Though a small voice in the back of her head told her if it came down to it, if it was that or let something bad happen to her family… Zelda would certainly do just that. But this certainly wasn’t that kind of situation. “Your new freedom was won by you and you alone.” She informed him firmly, taking Ambrose’s chin in her hand and forcing him to look at her. “Do you understand me?”
He blinked and swallowed hard. “But, last night, I came down to ask your advice about the deal then, only I heard you and Father Blackwood…” Zelda froze, the thump they’d heard last night, the one that had interrupted them. She’d known it’d been Ambrose; she just hadn’t thought it was because he’d caught them. “I didn’t think much of it; you deserve to have some fun. Satan knows you need some kind of outlet after everything that’s happened. But then today, after Father Blackwood lessened my sentence, promised to help me lift it completely. I went to find you right away; I was so excited to share, and I heard again…” He trailed off, expression tortured.
Sighing, Zelda sat next to him. Normally, she’d never share her sexual escapades with Ambrose, but this was a unique circumstance. “You know full well, Faustus and I have a history. And it goes back even further than you’re aware. We’ve just rekindled it, that’s all.” She smiled softly at him. “It has nothing to do with you. As if I’d sleep with someone just to reduce your sentence,” she scoffed playfully, and he smiled.
“I’m sorry, auntie, I just didn’t know what to think and I had to make it right if the worst were true.” He rubbed the back of his neck a little sheepishly.
Zelda kissed his forehead and chuckled. “I love you, my dear felon, but not that much.” She teased, pulling away and conjuring up some champagne glasses before popping the cork of the bottle with another wave of her hand.
Laughing fully, Ambrose stood and hugged her hard. “I love you too, auntie, sorry for the, the uh, misunderstanding.” His embrace tightened minutely before he released her and sat back down, face exuberant now that he knew his freedom had been his own doing.
Clapping her hands together, Zelda beamed. “Good, now, let’s celebrate.” She poured them each a healthy measure. “I know Hilda is at the store, we can celebrate again when she gets home tonight. But where is your cousin? I’ve hardly seen Sabrina since the funeral yesterday.”
Ambrose dropped his gaze once more and shifted slightly. “Spending time with Harvey, I think.”
She eyed him for a moment, unsure why he was acting a little oddly. Perhaps because she’d made her thoughts on the mortal boy rather clear and after their conversation, he didn’t want to upset her by bringing up the mine incident again.
No matter, this would blow over as all mortal things did and her family would soon forget the entire thing; it’s what witches did best if they wanted to remain sane while mingling with mortals. Until then, until then they’d celebrate what happiness they could.
And right now, Zelda lifted her glass and clinked it against Ambrose’s, there was a good deal to celebrate; her nephew was happy and discussing how he'd negotiated his freedom. Smiling, Zelda decided to focus on that, that and her time with Faustus... yes, perhaps things were starting to look up.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
She and Ambrose spent most of the afternoon celebrating. Drinking, ordering in food, and laughing over old memories. It was one of the most care-free days Zelda had had in ages, and she couldn’t be more thankful for it—perhaps things were turning around.
This thought was only further validated when, a few hours later, Faustus sent her a message via witching board, asking her if she would meet with him. For more ‘Satanic confessions’ he added at the end, and Zelda could practically see him winking at her. Of course, he was trying to make light of the blunder from earlier while also referencing how their first ‘Satanic confession’ ended; he was trying to turn it into something of an inside joke and it warmed Zelda in a way she refused to voice.
She knew she shouldn’t be so eager to see Faustus again; it’d only been a few hours. Maybe Zelda could blame the champagne, for this light and bubbly feeling that had her gravitating back to Faustus so easily. Or maybe she could blame how tightly Faustus had held her, how fiercely he’d kissed her, how he’d said he needed her, how he’d offered to help as he delicately traced her scars.
Whatever was to blame, Zelda found herself replying, after waiting an appropriate amount of time—no need to appear desperate, that she supposed she could rearrange her schedule to accommodate a meeting with him... again. When she set the board down and caught sight of her reflection in a mirror, Zelda was shocked to see a wide smile on her face.
Clearing her throat and schooling her face, Zelda went and told Ambrose that she planned on being gone for several hours. Her nephew just gave her a teasing wink before bounding up the stairs to call Luke and share the good news about his sentence.
Pleased she had at least one family member’s approval, not that Zelda planned on telling anyone else, she made her way upstairs to freshen up. Once done, Zelda pulled a coat on over her dress and teleported herself to the church, finding Faustus already there and leaning casually against the stone wall.
“Zels,” he murmured, forgoing any formality and kissing her chastely. “I thought we might want a more private location for our future confessionals.” Faustus grinned wickedly at her and pressed his hand on the small of her back as he led her into the church.
Glancing around skeptically, Zelda raised an eyebrow at him. “This hardly seems like a ‘private’ space, Faustus, any coven member could walk in and interrupt.” While Zelda didn’t necessarily mind voyeurism, she preferred to keep this particular dalliance a secret.
A low chuckle escaped Faustus and he pressed closer into her side as they wound their way through the church. “As much as I’d love to fuck you on the pulpit, Zelda,” his nails bit into her hip at the statement, “I was thinking, we’d try something else.” Faustus stopped in front of a door and held it open for her.
Zelda peered down the stairs and mentally shrugged, well, it was better than possibly being interrupted by her family or some student should they attempt the Academy. Faustus trailed after her, locking the door behind them.
When they reached the bottom, Zelda barely had a chance to take in the dark, rather dingy cellar they’d ended up in, before Faustus was on her, pressing her into the cot he’d likely conjured there right before she arrived.
She should be more cautious. Shouldn’t allow herself to be pulled in, to lose herself in this, in him; it would only make it more painful when it all fell apart. When it was somehow revealed that he’d been using her the whole time.
But, as she was getting dressed, Zelda couldn’t help but think how even if he was using her for some ulterior motive, she didn’t mind. With everything going on recently, it was an unholy blessing to be able to escape and not be Zelda the Spellman matriarch but just be Zelda the witch; even if just for a few hours. And, oh, how Faustus found glorious ways to fill those hours.
It was likely a mistake, letting him back in, but Zelda didn’t want to stop the game they just started to play again—not when they were both so good at it. So, though it went against the anxious and paranoid part of her brain that had been reigning her life for so long, Zelda smiled as she finished up the buttons of her jacket and turned a playful smile Faustus’ way.
“If I’d known this style of Satanic confession was an option for Church of Night members, I’d have taken it up years ago.” She inhaled deeply, her flesh still tingling slightly from the last few hours. “I feel positively reborn in fire.”
Faustus’ head snapped to her when she mentioned starting this earlier, though he quickly hid his face behind a towel, wiping the sheen of sweat away. He then bent and picked up a piece of the cot that had broken off at some point during their activities and wiped it down, it had likely gotten wet from the cellar floor. “Yes. Penance of the flesh is the purest form of worship. It offers us both punishment and pleasure.” He looked up and eyed her neck where moments before a lovely bite mark had adorned her skin—evidence of the ‘punishment’.
Zelda smirked and picked up one of the candles scattered around the room to light a cigarette, taking a deep draw before she turned to face Faustus completely. “Though I do wish we could meet someplace less… damp.” She remarked, eyeing the piece of cot in his hand that he was still drying off.
He gave her an apologetic look, “unfortunately, we must keep our ‘devotions’… secret.” Faustus set the broken cot piece aside and pulled his suspenders on. The motion was distracting and had Zelda picturing pulling him close again using said suspenders to go another round… but it was already late, and she needed to get home before someone suspected anything. She was so caught up in her mini fantasy and thoughts she almost missed Faustus’ next words. “I miss the old days. When all witches were polyamorous, and monogamy was just for mortals. One of the false god’s puritanical edicts.”
The words sliced through her a bit. Where before she would have been thrilled to have a ‘liberated’ relationship with him, because it would have meant nothing serious, now her heart sank. Zelda had thought after this morning… after he’d been so gentle with her, had whispered such kind words that there might be something more to this than sex.
But she’d had her chance at monogamy with Faustus, a decade ago when he suggested marriage and she’d spurned him, ran away to protect her family. Zelda knew she’d missed her only opportunity for that kind of relationship, but somehow, her mouth still formed words to the contrary. “I don’t know, there is something to be said about having a single partner with whom you explore all the realms of agony and ecstasy.” His eyes are round when he looked up at her and Zelda made a show of smoothing her dress before bringing her eyes back up to his—by then his expression is more guarded, as though he’d realized his studying look startled her, however, a tender smile was still on his lips.
Faustus had slowly looked up from where he’d been buttoning his vest, heart pounding at what Zelda said. Though he’d just praised liberated flings and polyamory, he’d only been doing that so he wouldn’t scare Zelda away again. He’d only just gotten her back; he wasn’t going to ruin it by revealing that what he felt very likely ran much deeper than lust.
And now, now she was hinting that perhaps monogamy wasn’t too awful. He couldn’t be sure how serious she was, she’d said the comment rather flippantly, as though not to overplay her hand as she’d unnecessarily run her hands over her dress, checking for wrinkles. But Faustus was almost positive there’d been a gleam in her eye and a hopeful upward tug of the corner of her mouth at the suggestion of monogamy—with the right partner, of course. Perhaps he wasn’t alone in these blasphemous feelings after all.
Besides, polyamory was for warlocks who weren’t satisfied, who’s needs weren’t being met. And Zelda Spellman had never left him unsatisfied. She challenged him on intellectual, spiritual, and physical levels. Left him guessing, left him wanting more of her in every capacity. And, looking back on their interaction later, Faustus thought that this might be what prompted him to make his next offer.
Looking at her softly, Faustus fiddled with the last button on his vest. “Zelda, as you know, nothing is more important to me than the birth of my twin sons.” She smiled at the mention of the boys and this only spurred Faustus on further. “Yet, more and more, I worry Lady Blackwood is not the mother they need.”
Zelda furrowed her brow, given how frantic Constance had been of late, her rash decision with the Feast of Feasts and how she refused to let Zelda treat her third-trimester hysteria, she could hardly blame Faustus for being concerned about the well-being of his children once they were born. But his next words stunned her, nonetheless.
“Would you consider being an unholy godmother to them?”
Her mouth opened slightly in surprise; she’d have thought her failures with Sabrina would exclude her from any such offers. But Faustus was still gazing at her with that look and how could she refuse?
“Yes,” she murmured softly, “I would be honored to be your boys’ Night Mother.” She tipped her chin up and a proud smile crept across her face and Faustus wanted to kiss her. Kiss her for saying yes, kiss her and tell her that it pained him that she wasn’t the biological mother to his children and only their Night Mother.
But he restrained himself, knowing that would likely send her running. Instead, Faustus grabbed his coat from where it hung on the wall, taking the chance to rearrange his expression into something more neutral. Turning back around, he continued, impressed with the steadiness of his voice given his excitement. “There is also the matter of Lady Blackwood’s classes at the Academy, she tires easily these days. And I can hardly permit her to be around Prudence and her sisters; not after she attempted to kill one of them. Throwing them all into the same room on a near daily basis is asking for homicide, though who would make it out alive,” Faustus shrugged, unsure who would come out on top. But he refused to risk his children by having Constance interact with the weird sisters regularly—a hysterical pregnant woman and three vengeful teenage witches were not a good combination. “Would you take them over? Be the Satanic Choir’s interim director?”
Zelda didn’t respond at first. His reasoning was sound for replacing Constance at the Academy, she just never imagined he’d pick her. “Faustus, I—”
“Have the loveliest signing voice I’ve ever heard.” He cut in, stepping closing to her. “I only wish you’d taken up the position years ago. But I know the choir would thrive under your tutelage.” A broad smile stole across her face before she could stop it and Faustus closed the space between them even further. “Is that a yes?” He questioned softly, one of his hands coming to rest on her hip—and oh, if they started this again she’d be here til witching hour.
Nodding, Zelda couldn’t rid herself of the ridiculous smile on her face. This job offered so many things. It would help restore her position within the church, it would get her out of that damned mortuary, praise Satan, and… a traitorous little voice piped up in the back of her mind, it would allow her to spend more time in close proximity to the man now placing lingering kisses on her neck.
So, she agreed. For reasons that would protect her family and for selfish reasons as well. But how often in recent years had her desires aligned with what was needed to protect her family? Not often at all, so who could really blame her for accepting?
The next morning at breakfast Hilda threw her questioning looks, likely because she hadn’t teleported back to their room until well after midnight. But her sister didn’t ask anything outright, Sabrina and Ambrose were at the table as well which afforded her a certain level of protection from her sister’s nosiness.
When Hilda hung up the phone and announced the bodies of the miners had been recovered and would be arriving later that day, Zelda turned the page of her newspaper. “And Satan willing, they’ll bring some closure to those young men’s families.” She knew how difficult it was to move on from a death when there wasn’t closure. The thought reminded her of the disastrous funeral the other day. Lowering her paper, Zelda turned to her niece. “By the way, Sabrina, how is Harvey coping with it all?” She normally wouldn’t ask after the mortal boy, but Zelda found she could relate to him on a slightly irritating level. And, well, she wanted to hear if there’d been any more altercations with that abhorrent man Harvey was forced to call a father. Because if she found out that repulsive man had harmed the boy… well, she just might be willing to interfere with mortal affairs again.
“He’s hanging in there.” Sabrina replied a little vaguely before turning to Hilda and asking when the bodies were arriving.
Zelda furrowed her brow at the pitch of her niece’s voice, but it was possible she was just worried about Harvey having to come and claim his brother’s body. As much as Zelda had wanted the closure that burying Edward’s body would have provided, she was also somewhat thankful she’d never had to have that version of her brother in her mind—though her night terrors often were creative enough, at least with those Zelda could brush them off as figments of imagination and not the real thing.
When Ambrose insisted on handling the bodies after she received them, Zelda saw no reason to argue, she honestly hated dealing with the bodies. Besides, she had plans later. “The High Priest has appointed me Directrix of the Satanic Choir.” She announced to her family happily.
Hilda cooed, “oh, when did he do that?”
Lifting her paper back up, Zelda muttered, “never you mind, Hilda.” And though Ambrose pressed his lips together to hide a smile, Zelda knew he would keep her secret for her. There was so little she got to have to herself, and Zelda didn’t want to tell Hilda about Faustus, not yet. Especially since she wasn’t sure what Hilda would do, she was odd when it came to him—equally supportive and cautious. So, Zelda made some quips about Hilda’s job—knowing it was meanspirited and uncalled for but also the best way to discourage Hilda from probing further.
They were all doing their part to restore the Spellman name, and perhaps that would take some of the attention off their family. If they could prove they were all good witches and warlocks maybe Zelda wouldn’t need to worry about the Dark Lord or the coven coming for them. Maybe she could focus on the good, the good that seemed to be piling up in front of her recently.
“Good things are coming. I can feel it in my bones.” She informed them, still smiling, and for the first time in a while, things were truly looking up. She had a new position at the Academy—so much more entertaining than the mortuary business, she and Sabrina were closer than ever after the exorcism and Feast of Feasts, and then there was the business with Faustus. So, though she’d never been one for optimism, life showing her again and again that it was cruel, Zelda chose to believe, this time, that good things were coming.
The rest of the morning was uneventful, Zelda received the bodies of the miners, relocated them to the basement and then made her way to the Academy. Faustus greeted her politely, and led her to her classroom, his hand firm on her back—though it was positioned much higher than usual.
“Here it is,” he announced, opening the door and ushering her inside.
Zelda inhaled deeply, a content smile curling her lips. “It’s lovely, Faustus.” She murmured, taking in the pews and stage.
He walked a step behind her as she made her way further into the room. “We changed the location, choir was once held in room 66, but it appears as though the former teacher placed some kind of curse on the room so it expels certain students and faculty members.” Faustus cleared his throat and shrugged when Zelda looked at him over her shoulder, brow lifted in amusement.
“Well, it makes more sense to practice in the theater anyway. The students will get a better handle on the acoustics and won’t have to alter anything during performances.” She supplied diplomatically, though Zelda couldn’t help but wonder if she’d have been repelled from the old room as well or if only Faustus and the weird sisters were unable to enter.
Before he could reply, students started to filter in. Faustus came and stood next to her and once the students had taken their places, he introduced her. “As you are all aware, Lady Blackwood is on leave for the remainder of her pregnancy. Professor Spellman will be taking over as interim director of the Satanic choir.”
Zelda noticed several of the students exchanging relieved looks and wondered how long some of them had been waiting for this. Given that the last time she’d seen Constance, the hysteria full blown and paranoia controlling the woman’s every interaction, Zelda could easily assume the students weren’t surprised by the change in staff.
“I will be back towards the end of class to check on your progress.” Faustus lifted a brow and then left.
The rest of the class passed by with little fanfare, Zelda had each student sight read a small piece, just to verify they were in the right section before getting into more complicated material. No one gave her trouble, either because she gave off the vibe that nonsense wouldn’t be tolerated or because Prudence and her sisters usually led the pack in terms of disruption and they were behaving, Zelda wasn’t sure. But she didn’t question it.
Nearly 45 minutes later, Faustus slipped back in and Zelda directed the students to sing a song that would showcase each of their abilities best—it was merely a bonus that it was from a mortal movie where a nun abandoned the false god to pursue her own desires.
When she glanced at Faustus, he seemed impressed and gifted her with a small smile. Before the song could finish, though, one of her students screamed and pointed behind them. Agatha had stumbled into the room, her nightgown covered in the front with what appeared to be dirt.
The poor girl uttered a “help me,” before collapsing to the ground. Zelda quickly dismissed most of the students, allowing Prudence, Dorcas and Nicholas to stay behind, knowing they were the ones most likely to have an answer for what happened.
Faustus turned to them, face hard. “How did Agatha end up a living cadaver? Tell me everything. At once!” He added when the children shot furtive looks at one another.
As they explained, Zelda’s surroundings spun so dangerously she was surprised to find herself still standing when she finally comprehended what they were saying. Sabrina had performed a resurrection to bring back the Kinkle boy… how could she?
Though Zelda wanted to deny it, the dying witch in front of her, coupled with the word of three other witches, was evidence enough of her niece’s grievous actions. She raised Sabrina better than this, better than to meddle with the darkest of arts—ones not even she touched. Even Ambrose in his most rebellious phase had only played with reanimating animals.
Turning to Faustus, Zelda clenched her hands. “Your Excellency, I knew nothing of this, I swear it.” If she had she would’ve done anything to stop it. It was becoming increasingly difficult to protect Sabrina when she insisted on dabbling and interfering in matters she had no business with. “But I can—”
“You can what?” He cut her off, “control Sabrina? Punish her? No. You’ve proven time and again that you cannot.” His anger was justified, and well placed. A young witch was dying before them, one of their students. And it was because of Sabrina…. Because of Zelda, her and her inability to control her niece’s dangerous whims.
Zelda knew Faustus was right, and as he instructed the girls to take Agatha to the infirmary, Zelda also knew she’d failed again. Her conviction to say no to Sabrina, to not make the same mistakes she did with Edward had been for nothing. Her attempts at reintegrating herself with the church, often at the cost of her relationships with her family, just so she could protect them… had been for nothing.
As Faustus started to stalk away, intending to deal with the resurrected Kinkle boy, Zelda rushed after him, placing a hand on his arm to stop him. “Please, Father, allow me.” She used his title, not only because the students were still within hearing range, but also to show him she was at his mercy. “Sabrina is my niece, my responsibility. Her transgression is mine. Whatever she did, I will undo.” She pled, desperately, not wanting him more in the middle of this than he already was. “Give me a chance to make things right. I will not fail you again.”
Her words were directed at Faustus, but she also meant Sabrina. Somehow, she had managed to fail her niece once more—by being oblivious to her plans. How could she not have anticipated this from Sabrina?
Faustus eyed her, as if trying to determine if this was something he could let be handled by someone else or if the Dark Lord would come for him for not dealing with it personally. “Do it, then.” He ground out.
Exhaling unsteadily, Zelda breathed a “thank you,” before hurrying away, praying to Satan she could do all she claimed. Otherwise… it would be the death of them all.
Once out of sight, Zelda teleported home, shouting for her family. Only Hilda and Ambrose answered her call, both looking rather shaken. And Zelda knew, right then, that they were aware of what was happening.
“Someone better explain this to me, now.” She growled, already pacing the foyer, the lights along the wall flickering from her poorly restrained fear and anger.
Ambrose glanced at Hilda and then indicated that she should follow him to the basement. Livid, Zelda marched down the steps, Hilda immediately behind her.
“We told her not to,” Ambrose started, watching her warily. “But Sabrina was adamant, I didn’t think she’d be able to do it. Not without a Book of the Dead.” He twisted his hands, “so I didn’t think it was something to worry you two about. I told her there was a balance, that she couldn’t just bring Tommy back. I thought that was the end of it. But then, I came across her, Prudence, Dorcas and Nick out in the garden, messing with the Cain Pit. They’d performed the ritual, sacrificed Agatha and were going to bring her back.”
As Ambrose explained further, showing her the marks on the corpses and Hilda piping in when she came into the story, having found out much later about the incident. Zelda’s insides churned, this was far worse than anything she could have imagined Sabrina doing.
Running her tongue over her teeth, Zelda rounded on Ambrose. “Swear to me, swear to me you didn’t give her that book.” She knew she must look a bit wild, because Ambrose took an involuntary step back and shook his head vigorously.
“No, Auntie, I swear. I know the consequences, I tried to tell Sabrina of them. I don’t even own that book.” He looked at her imploringly, begging her to believe him. And Zelda could sense he was telling the truth, but if that were the case, where had Sabrina gotten it? Zelda spun on her heel and strode upstairs, the other two scurrying after her.
“Zelds?” Hilda asked, when they reached the foyer and she continued up the stairs to the upper level. “What are you doing?”
Without turning, Zelda spat out. “I’m going to search Sabrina’s room for that cursed book.” Before she reached the final landing, though, the wards went off, alerting her that Sabrina was coming home. Taking several deep breathes, Zelda turned and found Hilda sitting at the bottom of the steps and Ambrose off to the side.
Of course, of course they were going to let her be the one to confront Sabrina about this. Maybe it was because she was the last to know and therefore still had to say her piece. But part of Zelda knew it was because they were used to her being the bad guy. Just as well, anger was boiling up inside her.
Just then, Sabrina came through the door, calling for them. “Aunties? Are you here, I need—”
Gripping the banister tightly, Zelda interrupted her. “I frankly don’t care what you need, Sabrina. But I’ll tell you what I need. An explanation. For why a Spellman was practicing necromancy on a mortal boy in Greendale.”
When Sabrina looked to Hilda for help, her sister shook her head minutely. “She knows everything, love.”
“And why, in Satan’s name, she would drag other witches into her reckless, stupid, selfish plans.” Zelda waited for an answer, one that Sabrina readily supplied.
She did it for Harvey. Beelzebub grant her the strength no to end this child she raised and loved. All of this for a mortal boy—and so history repeats—like father, like daughter…. Risking it all for a mortal and not caring what collateral damage was caused in the process.
“How did you even know what spell to use?” She demanded, “Ambrose says he didn’t give it to you.” Zelda added, starting to descend the stairs.
“I didn’t.” He verified solemnly, not quite meeting anyone’s eye.
Sabrina paused for a bit, then made eye contact with Zelda once more. “Ms. Wardwell.”
Zelda barely refrained from tearing her hair out. She’d known that witch was no good when she encouraged an exorcism. But she’d kept her distance after learning she was the Dark Lord’s minion, she’d needed to come up with a game plan, but now, now Wardwell had assisted Sabrina in a resurrection?! “She gave it to you?” Her voice dropped to a dangerously low volume as she slowly continued her descent, white knuckling the railing as she went to try and contain herself. She would end that bitch—would make an exception to her witches don’t kill witches rule, it no longer mattered how close to the Dark Lord the woman was… Zelda would kill her for dragging Sabrina into this.
“No. No, I… I took a book from her office.” Sabrina interrupted Zelda’s thoughts.
Looking up to the ceiling for patience, anything really, Zelda took a few more steps. “Oh, so you’re a thief, as well as a murderer.” Lovely, just the cherry on top of everything.
But Sabrina just looked at her in confusion, “murderer?”
Zelda brought her gaze back down and stared at Sabrina. “You killed a witch, didn’t you?” Slit her throat without hesitation or flinching from how Prudence told it… the idea made Zelda nauseous.
“Just for a few minutes.” Sabrina muttered petulantly.
The words shocked Zelda. “This is not a joke, Sabrina!” She was shouting now, panic bubbling inside her. “You’ve thrown off the balance.”
And still, still Sabrina argued, refusing to see the reality of the situation, claiming she could rectify it all. “Fix what?” Zelda demanded. “There’s nothing to fix and he can’t be saved.” How could her niece not understand the gravity of her actions? Simply because things miraculously worked out in the past did not mean they would work out now. “It’s done, Sabrina. He belongs in the ground and that’s where he’s going.” Zelda informed Sabrina, making her way down the last few steps.
She’d told Faustus she could handle this, and she would—as much as she disliked the idea the mortal boy was dead already. It wasn’t as if she would be truly killing him. What Sabrina declared next floored her. Mortal limbo?
“If you what?” She whispered, horrified.
Sabrina went on to discuss needing to be anchored to the plane but the ringing that started in Zelda’s ears made it slightly difficult to focus. Shaking her head to clear it, Zelda clenched her hands.
“Sabrina… I have just spent the very last of my credibility with the High Priest… begging. Begging him to let us clean up your mess, to take care of this atrocity ourselves, to save our family in the eyes of the coven.” Her hand came up and pressed against her stomach hard, trying to calm the roiling and nausea. “We’re standing in a grave, young lady, all of us, and you want to dig it deeper!?”
But Sabrina’s face scrunched in anger. “I don’t care about the High Priest, Aunt Zee. I care about what’s right. And about Harvey. And his brother.”
Zelda wanted to scream at Sabrina that she had to care about the High Priest, he held their lives in his hands. That despite her history with the man he was sure to do what was necessary for his own preservation and the preservation of his family when the Dark Lord came for retribution. And if that meant throwing the Spellman family into the flames, Faustus would do it. And Zelda wouldn’t blame him for it either, because she’d do the same in a heartbeat if the situation were reversed.
She had done everything she could for years, years to ensure their safety from the church and the Dark Lord and Sabrina had knocked it all down in a matter of weeks after her rejected Dark Baptism. Zelda had given everything and it still hadn’t been enough, because her niece had to meddle, to interfere, to break every witch law at every turn.
Surely, life couldn’t continue like this. It would break her for sure… cleaning up these messes. But before she broke, she had to fix this one last thing. So, she tried to convince Sabrina another way, explaining to her that she didn’t have the magical capacity necessary to cross the barrier. She was only sixteen, after all, not some Grand Magus.
While her girl was strong, Sabrina hadn’t even been able to perform an exorcism by herself. There was no possibility of her opening a portal to mortal limbo. In time, Zelda knew Sabrina would be a powerful witch, after she’d finished at the Academy, gotten a few decades under her belt. Her niece’s power would likely rival her own, and Zelda took pride in that. But now, oh now Sabrina’s overinflated sense of power was going to kill them all.
The statement about Sabrina’s abilities only made things worse.
“And you’re not my mother, Zelda, so stop acting like you are!” The words were delivered clearly, firmly and with eye contact, just like Zelda had taught her. And two-hundred years in the burning pits would have been less painful.
Unable to maintain her mask, Zelda’s lips quivered, and she flicked her gaze away, attempting to hide how deeply the words had hurt. Before she could gather herself to respond, though, Hilda was standing next to her and yelling, actually yelling, at Sabrina.
“Oi! You do not speak to your Aunt Zelda like that. Not ever!” Hilda exclaimed, pointing a finger at Sabrina.
Zelda had done nothing to deserve Hilda’s defense, but she appreciated it more than she’d ever be able to say. It had given her a much-needed moment to compose herself to keep the tears from spilling over as they had done on Hilda’s cheeks.
“It’s fine, Hilda.” She murmured, though it was anything but. “You heard her, she’s not a child, and I’m—” Zelda licked her lips. “I’m not her mother. She’s a grown-up witch now, and it’s time she learned how the world, the realms, really work. Everything. Has. A. Price.” She paused, wishing more than anything that she could spare her girl—no, not her girl, Sabrina had been clear about that. Zelda wished she could spare Sabrina this lesson.
But she was left with no choice. “Edward learned that lesson.” Zelda swallowed, images of a plane crash she’d never seen flashing in her mind. “I learned it.” The memory of that lesson welled up, but she culled it and buried it once more; now wasn’t the time. “It’s your turn now. Try to save this mortal, even if it rips the membrane to pieces. But don’t pretend it’s not for selfish reasons.” Zelda looked at her niece and took a deep breath, she knew from experience when something was being done for selfish reasons. “And don’t” come crying to me when it all blows up in your face.” With that, Zelda spun and headed upstairs. Desperately needing to get away from everyone before she lost the internal battle with her emotions and they came spilling out.
When she reached their room, Zelda pressed the door shut and retrieved her flog. Her breaths were coming in ragged bursts; she’d failed. Pacing the room, Zelda tapped the flog against her leg as she moved, head whirling with the events from the past hour.
And to think, she’d been stupid enough to believe good things were coming. This was just life reminding her she didn’t deserve good things. She didn’t deserve them because she’d failed. She hadn’t protected anyone.
The Spellmans would become extinct and it would be because of her incompetence. Her inability to save her family. Zelda knew she should go after Sabrina, or better yet, just go to the Kinkle house and dispose of the poor husk of a boy her niece had resurrected—it would mean keeping her word to Faustus.
But she couldn’t.
Once more she couldn’t deny Sabrina what she wanted to do—even with everything hanging by a thread. Sabrina had to learn this lesson, though, nothing else Zelda did got through to the girl; perhaps this would.
Dropping the flog onto her bed, Zelda laid on the floor to astral project, not even taking the normal precautions of lit candles against psychopomps. The last thing Zelda heard as she entered the astral plane was Salem meowing at the closed door. It didn’t take long to find Sabrina; she was walking through the woods with Wardwell—Zelda really would have to kill that woman—towards where the portal could be summoned. Keeping a discreet distance, Zelda hid behind a tree and watched as Sabrina shouted the spell to open the portal.
To Sabrina’s astonishment, the portal opened. But Zelda hadn’t missed Wardwell mouthing the words in unison with her niece. That bitch was manipulating her girl, allowing Sabrina to believe her power was greater than it was…. Which would only lead to more reckless behavior in the future, of that Zelda was sure.
Sabrina didn’t linger long, she disappeared into the portal, Wardwell acting as her anchor. Zelda ignored the psychopomps as they gathered, flitting around her in increasing numbers and agitation. But she wasn’t going to leave until Sabrina emerged, even if she could sense the Dweller of the Abyss starting to lurk around the edges of her periphery.
When Sabrina burst out, the Kinkle boy in tow, Zelda collapsed behind the tree where she was hiding. The relief flooding her was short lived though, the boy quickly disintegrating. Wardwell blamed the soul-eater, Zelda had other ideas, one that involved more manipulation and deceit. But she had to get back to her body before the psychopomps took her—they weren’t looking much like harmless sparrows anymore.
Ending the spell, Zelda sat up gasping, hand on her chest and Salem circling her, hissing and swiping at the psychopomps that had started to dive bomb her. He must have changed form to get through the door. Stroking the cat’s head as the birds reluctantly disappeared, Zelda rubbed her forehead with her free hand.
She knew Sabrina’s lesson wasn’t done, but Zelda didn’t need to watch anymore. Didn’t need to see the heartbreaking scene between her niece and the mortal boy she’d torn everything down for. Besides, Zelda had her own lesson to carry out. Though thankful for his earlier assistance, Zelda picked up Salem and deposited him outside of the room, closing the door. It wasn’t his job to watch out for her—it wasn’t anyone’s.
Stripping down to her slip, Zelda picked up the flog. She paused, just for a moment, Faustus’ plea for her to come to him the next time she felt compelled to hurt herself echoing in her mind. But she shook her head at her own idiocy. If she went to Faustus, he’d know she hadn’t handled the situation as promised. Zelda knew Sabrina ultimately would, it was a lesson her niece had to learn. But Zelda doubted that was what Faustus expected when she’d begged him to let her handle it.
So, no, she couldn’t go to Faustus, leaving only this… as usual. Besides, this entire ordeal had likely destroyed whatever semblance of a relationship they’d managed to build over the past few weeks. It was just another lesson for her; don’t indulge in personal things, it only caused pain.
There was another kind of pain that needed to be dealt with first, though. So, she lifted the flog and began to whip herself. But, but it wasn’t helping. The punishment didn’t fit the crime. This time her failure was too big to be whipped away.
Sabrina had performed necromancy, slit a witch’s throat without hesitation—even if she’d planned to bring Agatha back, she’d had no qualms about the violence. About the murder. Heaven, Sabrina hadn’t even considered it murder, that was how tremendously Zelda had failed. It was her doing that’d led to this. Zelda’s own actions against Hilda. She’d done this. Sabrina was supposed to be better than her. She’d raised her girl right, but at the same time provided an example of violence being acceptable as long as the victim could be revived.
The whip moved faster, harder. Zelda couldn’t let Sabrina grow up to be like her; she was a failure, a reject—her girl needed to be better. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she continued to strike her back, alternating sides and hoping that if she went long enough, hit hard enough, it would make up for her failures in raising Sabrina. She’d barely begun, only 32 lashes in, hardly even broken the skin when Hilda entered. Apparently, in her haste to get Salem out of the room, she’d forgotten to relock the door.
“Zelds?” Came a gentle voice, “I noticed psychopomps…” She began, voice raising in pitch in confusion at the sound as she opened the door. “No! No, no, no, no, no! Stop it!”
Zelda managed to get a few more brutal strikes in before Hilda grabbed her arm and only then did she stop, panting hard.
Snatching the flog from her, Hilda tossed it aside, eyes already shining. “Zee, why would you do that to yourself.” She carefully guided Zelda to the bed and sat beside her.
But she couldn’t form any words, all Zelda could do was take short, shaky breathes. It was only when Hilda shifted to try and get a look at her back that Zelda found words, both needing to distract her sister from the damage and to release some of her inner turmoil. “We were wrong.” She whispered tearfully.
“What?” Hilda blinked and brought her eyes back to Zelda’s, though they drifted towards her back again.
Sniffling, Zelda shifted on the bed, hating how weak she sounded but the floodgates were open now. “All those years ago…. We should never have taken Sabrina in.” She breathed, barely audible. “We should’ve let Diana’s family have her.” Maybe if they’d done that they wouldn’t all be slated for torture and death for the resurrection of a moral boy.
Hilda shook her head slightly and mouthed a soft no at the suggestion. But Zelda couldn’t stop, the words kept coming.
“It was my arrogance. To think that I could raise her. Guide her.” She gulped, shivering from her aborted punishment and the emotional whirlpool swirling inside her. Because while she may have raised Sabrina, she hadn’t done it properly. Sabrina had followed more of Zelda’s example than her words; internalizing how Zelda didn’t focus on religion when Sabrina was young and therefore seeing it as acceptable to defy the Dark Lord. Her niece had also internalized how Zelda didn’t even flinch at violence, whether it be the violent ends of the corpses in the morgue, her actions towards Hilda, or even her actions towards anyone who was a potential threat to her family. Sabrina had seen all of this, absorbed it, and then went and slit another witch’s throat without a second thought.
And even in the face of all her failures as a parent, as a guardian, Zelda still hadn’t been able to say no. She’d let Sabrina go off with that damnable Wardwell woman to try and fix it—even when Zelda knew there was no fixing anything.
Her voice cracked when she started to talk again, “but she looked so much like Edward. Remember?” Hilda smiled tremulously at her in return, still clutching her hands tightly. And the sympathy in her sister’s expression had fresh sobs escaping her throat. “I couldn’t say no. I could never say no to Sabrina.” Just like she’d never been able to say no to the brother the girl so resembled.
Hilda looked at her a little incredulously then and spoke for the first time since sitting. “Zelda… you always say no to Sabrina.” A small chuckle escaped Hilda and she squeezed Zelda’s hands. “She just doesn’t listen to you.”
A shuddering exhale went through Zelda’s body and she sniffled. If only Hilda knew all the lines she’d drawn and then crossed over the years. Her sister wouldn’t be so confident in that statement.
“Come on, now.” Hilda slipped an arm around her carefully, trying to pull her into a hug.
Zelda resisted a moment, she should yank away, stand and wipe her eyes, say something blithe or cruel to brush the whole situation away. She should do anything but continue to let her sister see the cracks that suddenly felt like they’d split wide open into canyons.
But Hilda knew her well and tugged her gently again and Zelda’s resolve crumbled. So, she allowed Hilda to pull her closer and to gently kiss the side of her head before she rested it on Hilda’s shoulder. It was then she broke down completely and wept, sobbing like she hadn’t since Edward died. It seemed there was something to the saying about bottling up ones’ emotions.
While she cried, Hilda rocked with her, arms tight around her and soothing sounds coming from her mouth that were only occasionally broken by hiccups which told Zelda her sister was crying as well.
It took some time before she was able to calm down, to collect herself. When she did, she disengaged from Hilda, pulling away from the comfort her sister was providing—ashamed of her weakness and loss of composure.
Hilda twisted her hands in her lap, “Zelda,” she began carefully, “how long have you been doing this?”
“Doing what?” Zelda countered, proud of how flippant she managed to sound in the moment. She’d been so weak, to the point of not only allowing Hilda to catch her in the act but also then accepting comfort. It wasn’t acceptable, she had to be strong again—though her hand still itched for the whip; 36 lashes weren’t nearly enough to compensate for Sabrina’s crime…. Her crime.
Unfortunately, Hilda wasn’t deterred. “Zee, there are, there are lots of marks on your back that are not from tonight.” She whispered the observation, clearly horrified and concerned.
Averting her eyes, Zelda shifted away from her sister. So, even more of her shame and weakness would be delved into tonight it seemed. It was one thing when Faustus found out, but now Hilda? Somehow her sister knowing was far worse….
“It’s not important.” She replied primly, “what is important is finding Sabrina and making sure she’s okay.”
Hilda sighed quietly, “my familiars are on it. Sabrina’s left the Kinkle house and is on her way home. Her trip did not end well.”
“I know how her trip to limbo went.” Zelda snapped, desperately needing to reestablish the roles they normally held.
If anything, her rudeness had Hilda softening further. “Zelda, please,” she implored, “talk to me. How long have you—”
Wiping her cheeks, Zelda sat taller. “Years.” She answered brusquely, standing to pull her dress back on; wincing minutely at the movement of and pressure on her irritated skin.
Hilda hiccupped, “years?! Zelda, why?” She reached out to touch her arm, but Zelda stepped away.
“It’s not important.”
Her sister stood now too, a fire in her eyes that she rarely let others see. “Yes. It. Is. You’re hurting yourself! Zelda—”
Exhaling slowly, Zelda tried once more to pass of the situation as nothing. “Hilda, please. We have much more important matters to tend to.”
“No.” Hilda crossed her arms, though the defiant stance was slightly undermined by the few tears still trekking down her cheeks. “You don’t get to talk yourself out of this one. Why?” She demanded.
Zelda ran her tongue over her teeth, trying to come up with some explanation that would satisfy her sister. None came to mind… which was exactly why she’d never wanted Hilda to find out. Well, perhaps part of the truth wouldn’t hurt. “It was punishment for my failures.” She explained monotonously.
Blinking, Hilda stared at her, trying to comprehend her words. “Zee, what failures are you talking about?! What could possible warrant—”
“My failures as an aunt, a witch, as head of the Spellman house… as a sister.” She added on the end in a whisper before resuming her normal tone. “Flogging is meant to strengthen you. So, whenever I was weak and failed, I would—” her voice cracked, unable to maintain the unaffected façade, and she didn’t finish her sentence.
Instead, she slipped her jacket back on over her dress, grimacing slightly, and did up the buttons—effectively hiding any evidence of her actions. Before Hilda could reply, Zelda’s head snapped up and she looked at the door. Sabrina was back, her niece passing through the wards—it would only take five minutes for her to reach the house. Hurriedly, Zelda straightened her hair, wiped away any residual makeup from her cheeks and waved a hand to rid her face of any sign of tears. “Sabrina’s back,” she informed Hilda, “she’ll need comforting.” She murmured, quickly making her escape from the room, ignoring how Hilda called after her, offering to heal her.
Hilda sighed and sank back onto the bed, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes until she saw bursts of color. How could Zelda have been doing this for years and she had been none the wiser? Raising her eyes, Hilda stared at where her sister had disappeared, still seeing the scars etched into Zelda’s skin even with the dress in place.
How many times had she seen Zelda wince from leaning back against something, from reaching for a higher shelf? How often had she seen the signs and thought them merely the effects of aging and stress? How much sooner could she have helped her sister?
Chin trembling, Hilda pushed off the bed and snatched up the flog from the corner of the room where she’d flung it. Well, there was nothing she could do to change the past, but there was plenty she could do to help her sister and prevent this from happening again.
Moving to the trunk at the end of her bed, Hilda whispered a spell and opened the enchanted compartment only she had access to and dropped the flog inside before re-sealing it. That would have to be enough for now, first they had to tend to Sabrina and then maybe Hilda could tend to her sister. Steeling herself, Hilda cast a glamor spell of her own to hide the tears and made for the kitchen to start some tea.
Zelda paced the porch, waiting anxiously for Sabrina to come into view, she knew what happened, what had to have happened to restore the balance. She just wasn’t sure how it had been accomplished and badly wished that her girl hadn’t had to be the one to put the older Kinkle boy down for good.
When Sabrina came staggering out of the darkness, tears clogged Zelda’s throat once more, but she managed to swallow them down for the sake of her niece who’d reached the bottom of the steps.
“It’s over, Aunt Zelda.” Sabrina informed her in a wavering voice, “Tommy’s gone… and Harvey and I…” The rest of the sentence was lost in sobs and Sabrina all but collapsed onto one of the lower steps.
She was down the stairs so fast that Zelda almost caught Sabrina as she landed on the step. Zelda instantly pulled Sabrina into a tight embrace, holding her girl and running a soothing hand along her back. Sabrina clutched at her, one arm banding around her back, the other gripping her arm—tears wetting the front of her jacket.
Tears of her own escaped down her cheeks as Zelda rocked back and forth gently, murmuring calming sentiments. She pressed a kiss to the crown of Sabrina’s head before resting her cheek against the back of Sabrina’s head.
Her girl had finally learned everything had a price, and it was the most painful of lessons—Zelda knew from experience. So, Zelda stayed outside holding Sabrina for 30 minutes, cradling and soothing her girl until she was calm enough to move inside.
“Come now, sweetheart,” Zelda prompted, lifting her niece and guiding her up the stairs and into the house, still tucked into Zelda’s embrace. She caught Hilda’s eye in the kitchen and her sister held up a kettle of tea. Zelda nodded gratefully and led Sabrina up to her room, the girl’s arms still wrapped tightly around her aunt’s waist.
When they reached the door, Zelda carefully disengaged, framing Sabrina’s face and kissing her forehead. “Change, I will be back in a moment with some tea.” Sabrina nodded sadly and went into her room, Zelda hovered for a moment before returning to the kitchen. “What have you got?” She asked Hilda, spinning her rings anxiously.
“Calming tea with a drop of foxglove to help her sleep.” Hilda answered, handing over the kettle and a cup.
Sighing in appreciation, Zelda took the items, “clever. Thank you.” She turned to leave when Hilda’s hand landed on her arm.
“Zelds, about—”
“Not now.” She interrupted curtly, making her way back to Sabrina a little faster; refusing to have the conversation she knew Hilda wanted. Once back upstairs, Zelda found Sabrina curled up under her covers, her fist curled around a necklace.
Setting down the tea, Zelda poured a cup for Sabrina and coaxed her to sit up. “Here, sweetheart,” she passed the cup to Sabrina before sitting on the edge of the bed. Sabrina downed the tea in two gulps, likely scalding her mouth and throat, but she handed the cup back and burrowed under the blanket without a word. Frowning slightly, Zelda set the cup aside and smoothed Sabrina’s hair back. “That should soothe some of the pain,” she promised, catching a tear with the pad of her thumb.
“I want to hurt right now. I deserve it.” Sabrina whispered wretchedly, curling further into herself.
Zelda suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at the teenage dramatics and kept her silence. She knew how it felt to feel deserving of pain, of punishment for failing someone she loved. Though she’d never allow Sabrina to take the recourse she had.
“Auntie Zee?” Sabrina’s voice recaptured her attention and Zelda hummed in acknowledgement. “Will you stay with me?” She asked in a small voice, turning to look at Zelda with tear filled eyes.
Nodding, Zelda smiled tenderly at her niece. “Of course, darling.” She stood, toed off her shoes and rounded the bed to climb onto the other side. Propping herself against the headboard, Zelda winced when her back pressed against the unforgiving metal bars—thank Satan, Sabrina didn’t notice.
Her girl merely rolled over and snuggled into Zelda’s side immediately. The action left Zelda stunned for a moment, she quickly regained herself and wrapped her arms around Sabrina once more…. Sabrina hadn’t done something like this since she was five years-old—before Zelda had to start telling her no. Cuddling into her side, Sabrina rested her head over Zelda’s heart and slipped an arm around her waist, hugging her aunt close.
“Rest, sweet girl, we’ll deal with everything else in the morning.” Zelda kissed Sabrina’s head once more and Sabrina sighed and settled more heavily against her, tears trekking down her cheeks and soaking in the comfort Zelda was providing.
Soon, Sabrina fell asleep, Hilda’s foxglove whisking their niece into a dreamless sleep. Zelda stayed there all night, sleeping fitfully in her semi-upright position and trying not to wake Sabrina when her night terrors disturbed her.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Zelda woke the next morning, horribly stiff and unable to process where she was for a moment. It was only when Sabrina mumbled and curled further into her side that the events from the night before came flooding back.
Exhaling slowly, Zelda carefully extracted herself from Sabrina’s hold and went to the bathroom to freshen up; knowing she likely looked a mess. When she came back into the room, Sabrina was awake, though still buried under the covers and now cuddling her stuffed rabbit.
“Morning darling,” Zelda murmured, climbing back onto the bed and cautiously leaning against the headboard so as to not alert Sabrina to her discomfort and pain. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” She brushed her niece’s hair back from her face.
Sabrina shrugged a little and scooted closer to Zelda.
Pressing her lips together, Zelda adjusted the blanket on Sabrina’s shoulders. “How about,” she tipped Sabrina’s chin up to look at her gently, “we go downstairs and have some breakfast and tea? And then we can stay in our pajamas and work on the new jigsaw puzzle your Auntie Hilda and I got. Hmm?” Normally, Zelda’s Sundays were packed with work for the mortuary, trying to play catch up or coordinating funerals. But a lazy day seemed like the best kind of medicine for them all.
A tear rolled down Sabrina’s cheek. “I don’t want to get out of bed right now, Aunt Zee.” She whispered, clutching her rabbit closer to her.
Zelda looked at her and considered making her get out of bed anyway. Perhaps one morning in bed wouldn’t hurt, though. “I’ll bring you up some tea and toast.” She pressed a kiss to Sabrina’s forehead before standing and leaving the room.
Thankfully, Hilda wasn’t in the kitchen. Zelda could see her out the window working in the garden—the work had always been soothing for her sister and Hell knew they needed whatever soothing activities they could get at the moment.
Quickly, Zelda prepared tea and toast and retreated back upstairs to Sabrina’s room. This time, when she reentered, Sabrina was at least sitting up, Salem purring in her lap.
“Auntie… I have something I need to tell you.” Sabrina bit her lip and lifted her gaze from her familiar to Zelda’s face.
The words automatically caused Zelda’s heart to pound; what else could have possibly happened that Sabrina would be anxious to tell her? Humming in response and feigning a calm she did not feel, Zelda set the tray down in front of her niece and settled on the edge of the bed.
Sabrina fidgeted for a moment and then blurted it out. “I told Harvey I’m a witch.” When Zelda just blinked, trying to process the information, Sabrina hurried to continue. “I had to explain. I couldn’t just tell him Tommy had to die again—even if Harvey knew something was wrong with his brother, he never would have let anything happen to him. I needed to make him understand how dangerous it was for Tommy to live… and to do that I had to tell him the truth, about how I brought him back, how it failed, how, how it was all my fault.” Sabrina’s voice cracked and fresh tears leaked down her cheeks.
Sighing, Zelda pulled Sabrina into a hug and her girl broke down into sobs, her body shuddering within Zelda’s embrace. “Oh darling,” she rocked Sabrina back and forth, careful not to disturb the tray of food on the bed. After a few minutes, Zelda pulled back and wiped Sabrina’s tears. “You know I have to go speak with him, right?”
It was the only recourse. Zelda had to ensure this boy, this boy who came from a family of witch hunters, didn’t decide to take up his family’s old mantle and take revenge on witching kind for stealing his brother from him… twice.
Nodding shakily, Sabrina sniffed and took a sip of tea. “I understand…” She whispered, tracing the lip of the teacup to avoid eye contact. “Please don’t erase his memory, Auntie Zelda.” Sabrina pled, raising her eyes once more. “He doesn’t want magic used on or around him.”
The sentiment wasn’t unexpected, given everything that happened to the Kinkle family because of magic. But the feeling might change once Zelda told the mortal boy her offer. “I will give Harvey the option,” Zelda told her niece truthfully. “If he wishes to forget the exact scenario which lead to his brother’s two deaths, including that he was technically the cause of the second…” She lifted a brow at Sabrina. “Should he accept, I’ll adjust his memories so they are untainted by the knowledge that everything was caused by witches. Instead, he would believe it was a mining accident, that Tommy miraculously survived but the trauma was too much, and his brother took his own life.”
“Will you let him remember what I told him? About being a witch?” Her niece picked at the comforter, still not meeting Zelda’s eyes.
And as much as Zelda wanted to wipe the boy’s memories completely, to remove any possibility of him exposing witching kind, she knew she couldn’t do that to Sabrina. “I will leave that to Harvey.” She answered simply, knowing it wasn’t quite the response Sabrina wanted, but it was what she needed to hear.
Swallowing, Sabrina sniffed but nodded. “It should be his choice. You’re right.” She conceded, a tear falling off her cheek and landing in her lap.
“I have to go and handle this and a few other things,” Zelda informed her, pushing off the bed once more. “Aunt Hilda is out in the garden, but I know she’d be happy to have you join her. Or you two could get started on the puzzle and I can help when I get back.”
Sabrina took another sip of tea and nibbled at her toast; at least she was eating. “Okay, maybe I’ll go down in a little while.” She mumbled, though from the way she scooted a little further under the blankets Zelda assumed her girl would be in bed still by the time she got back.
But that was something she could deal with when she returned; first, she needed to go and talk with Harvey Kinkle. Dropping a kiss on the top of Sabrina’s head, Zelda went and changed into clean clothes, fixed her hair and makeup before heading back to the kitchen.
As she was taking a casserole Hilda made the other day out of the fridge, her sister walked inside pulling off her gardening gloves.
“Zelds?” Hilda gave her a questioning look, eyes flicking to the casserole in her hands. “What? Where are you going with that?” She asked, seeing Zelda with her coat.
Slinging her purse over her shoulder, Zelda made for the door. “To the Kinkle’s. I need to speak with Harvey about what happened. And this,” she held up the food, “is an excuse.”
A frown tugged at Hilda’s features. “Don’t you think that boy has enough—”
“Sabrina told him we’re witches.” Zelda cut off her sister’s slight remonstration and leveled her with a look, her hand on the front door.
Hilda blinked, taken aback and she gaped for a moment. “She, she what?”
Feeling mildly bad about dropping that particular bomb on her sister, Zelda nodded curtly. “Yes. So, as you can see, I need to go over and talk with him about it. And I need you,” she continued when Hilda looked as though she were going to offer to come along. “To stay here with Sabrina. She’s upstairs in her room still, I brought her some tea and toast. But she shouldn’t stay in bed all day. I suggested working in the garden with you or starting that puzzle we got, but if you have any better ideas please just get her out of her own head.”
Sighing, Hilda nodded, twisting her fingers. “Alright, but when you get back, we are going to talk about what you’ve—”
But Zelda disappeared before Hilda could finish the sentence, when she reappeared at the edge of the Kinkle property, Zelda smoothed back her hair and made for the house. Of course, her sister couldn’t just let the incident go, of course she had to insist on talking about it.
Well, it was comforting, in a sense, that despite everything going on with Sabrina her sister could still spare some thoughts for her. At the same time, though, Zelda wanted to do anything but talk to Hilda about her…. coping method.
These were thoughts for another time though, shaking herself to clear her head, Zelda reached up and knocked on the Kinkle door.
If Harvey was surprised to see her, he didn’t show it; though when his father caught sight of her his eyes widened almost comically and he hurriedly disappeared up the stairs.
“May I come in?” Zelda asked, lifting the casserole slightly as though it were a peace offering and not a thin excuse for being there.
Shrugging, Harvey stepped aside and let Zelda in. He then took the food and made for the kitchen without a word, Zelda trailed after him and took a seat at the table while he stowed the food in the fridge.
When Harvey settled at the table across from her, she jumped right in; they both knew why she was there. “I know you have many things to worry about, but I need to speak with you about something Sabrina told you.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” he muttered tiredly, resting his head in his hands where they were propped on the table.
Zelda softened; he lost his brother two times over, at least she only lost Edward once. “I appreciate that. If you did, it would put countless lives in danger—witch and mortal alike.” It was a lot to place on the shoulders of teenage mortal, but then again, Sabrina had been the one to put it there first; Zelda was just making sure the boy could handle the weight.
Harvey brought his gaze back to hers, “I understand, Ms. Spellman. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”
Nodding, Zelda resisted the sudden urge to reach across the table and squeeze the boy’s hand—neither one of them would be comfortable with that. Instead, she made another gesture in attempt to soothe the pain. “If you would like, I could… adjust your memories of last night.” The words sent a spike of terror through Harvey, Zelda could tell by the way he sat up abruptly and pressed against the back of his chair, eyes wide with alarm. Quickly, Zelda continued to try and lessen his concern. “I wouldn’t take away anything you didn’t approve of. What I mean is, I can make it as though Tommy really did kill himself over the trauma in the mines. You wouldn’t have to remember you did it. If you choose, you’d still remember the secret Sabrina deemed you worthy of hearing,” Zelda sniffed in disapproval but continued. “But you wouldn’t have to live with the rest. It would be as if the mining accident and everything that followed was natural.” And not stinking with magic and witch interference, she added in her head, cursing teenage witches while she was at it.
Slowly, the tension drained from Harvey and he slumped in his chair, though he was still watching her warily. “You can really do that?”
Zelda arched a brow, “yes. You’d still have to be the one to find Tommy, in these new memories.” She grimaced a little, but shrugged, “though it seems that would fit the lie you told your father and everyone else.”
Leaning back in his seat, she could tell Harvey was seriously considering the offer. But eventually, he shook his head. “The last time magic got involved in my life it led to all of this. I don’t think I want any more.”
Inclining her head in acceptance, Zelda stood. “I understand, thank you for listening to me. I am very, truly sorry for your loss.” She gave him a thin smile and made for the door.
“Ms. Spellman?” He called after her, and she turned partially to face him. “Thank you, for, for your help with my dad.” Harvey looked away, cheeks blazing at the acknowledgement of what his father almost did at the funeral. Something must have flashed across her face at the statement, because Harvey added on quickly. “He hasn’t tried to do anything like that since. I think you scared him too much.”
And from the way he worded it, Zelda knew that while the boy’s father might not be physically threatening anymore, he was likely verbally abusive in some capacity. Memories floated to the forefront of her mind, but Zelda quashed them once more and turned to face Harvey completely. “I can do more to ensure he doesn’t—”
Harvey shook his head vigorously, “I meant what I said about magic, but thank you.”
Giving him a small smile, Zelda nodded. “Of course, it was the least I could do.”
She left the Kinkle house, a sour pit in her stomach. Zelda could call the mortal police, report she saw Mr. Kinkle take a swing at his son. But she knew Harvey wouldn’t appreciate or want that. He already lost his mother, now his brother… and no matter how vile, his father was his father. What would happen to him if his father was arrested? Maybe he’d get placed locally in a foster home, but most likely he’d be moved to Riverdale; far from everything he knew. At least she had her older brothers left to look out for her. And there was always the possibility the police would merely let Mr. Kinkle off with a warning, no charges pressed because there was no physical evidence… that wouldn’t end well for Harvey either.
No, reporting this wouldn’t make life any better for Harvey, but perhaps Zelda could do a few discreet things to discourage Mr. Kinkle from certain destructive behaviors.
Sighing, Zelda found an appropriately discreet spot and teleported home. She just wanted a nice cup of calming tea, all her interactions with Harvey, Sabrina’s recent lesson… it was drudging up old memories she buried long ago of her own price. And until recently, she’d been successful at forgetting.
Now though, Zelda shook herself, now wasn’t the time to dwell on old lessons and prices paid. Now she just needed to recuperate from these last few weeks. When Hilda intercepted her on her way to the kitchen, though, Zelda knew the day would be anything but the relaxing and recovering one she desperately needed.
“Zelda,” Hilda gripped her arm as if afraid she’d teleport away again; a valid concern. “We need to talk about—”
Glancing over Hilda’s shoulder, Zelda interrupted her sister loudly. “Sabrina! Darling, so good to see you out of bed. Is there anything you need?”
Their niece had just morosely trudged into the kitchen, tugging at the sleeves of her pajama top to avoid eye contact. “Just getting some tea,” she mumbled, eyes red rimmed and nose slightly pink.
They both nodded at Sabrina and stepped aside to let her get what she needed. Hilda also released Zelda’s arm, wanting to act as though everything were normal between the two of them.
This gave Zelda an idea. And for the rest of the day she managed to avoid her sister and the talk she knew Hilda wanted to have by keeping either Sabrina or Ambrose in close proximity—knowing her sister wouldn’t bring up the topic with them around.
The one time Hilda did manage to corner her without either of the kids around, Zelda escaped the house via teleportation; making quick excuses of classes to prepare for and midwife appointments.
Only, when Zelda arrived at the Academy, she realized she had nothing to prepare for. As the new choir director, she was still gauging the abilities of her students and therefore didn’t need lesson plans yet; besides, Constance had lessons for the rest of term already outlined, Zelda could easily use those.
So, instead of wandering aimlessly around the grounds or hiding in her office, Zelda found her way to the Infernal Infirmary. She wanted to check in on Agatha, now that the Kinkle boy was dead the witch should be much improved.
When she walked into the infirmary, Agatha was rightfully surprised to see her, and a little wary. But as they talked, discussing Agatha’s classes, her interests, her thoughts on what she might do once out of the Academy—the girl relaxed and seemed truly grateful for Zelda’s visit. She only left when the other weird sisters arrived, each of them nodding at her politely.
“Professor Spellman!” Prudence called after her, catching her in the hallway. “I wanted to apologize for going after the Kinkle boy.” She averted her eyes and despite her words being an apology, her tone was still slightly haughty.
Raising a brow, Zelda examined the girl. “I was under the impression your sisters were the ones to go after the boy in the mines. Without your input, which is how Agatha was the one chosen for the pit.”
Prudence blinked, “well, yes. My sisters attacked the mortals first, but I meant when my father sent Dorcas and I to handle the resurrected boy afterwards. I, I thought Sabrina would have told you about our presence.” She remarked uncertainly.
A tight smile stretched Zelda’s lips, and she crossed her arms. “Tell me everything,” she instructed.
After Prudence filled her in, Zelda went straight to Blackwood manor to confront Faustus…. And if it was also an excuse to avoid her sister, well, that was just a bonus. Besides, she said she had a midwifery appointment, it wouldn’t hurt to check in on Constance and prove to her sister she could be truthful about some things.
When Constance opened the door, Zelda smiled as naturally as possible. “Lady Blackwood, I thought I would pop by to see how you and the babes were doing. Given our last—”
Though she arched a mistrusting brow, Constance nodded and waved her in, clearly not wanting to relive their last encounter, which was at the Feast of Feasts. “Thank you for your diligence, Sister Zelda. I am happy the strife between our families has not kept you from your duties as a midwife.” It was clear Constance sensed her other purpose for being there, but given the lack of evidence to the contrary, Constance had nothing to base her suspicions on.
“Of course, Lady Blackwood. And given how close you are to your due date I didn’t want to make you travel unnecessarily.” The niceties exchanged, they entered the house further and Constance led her to one of the spare bedrooms on the ground floor. They passed Faustus in his office on the way there, and the current situation notwithstanding, his expression when he saw Zelda glide by behind his wife was comical.
But Constance called back to him, without looking, that Zelda was just checking on the babes and he need not bother himself.
The checkup went smoothly, and the babes thriving, which was a relief—given the stress the hysteria put on Constance’s body. But it appeared staying home calmed the worst, if not all, of Constance’s hysteria. There were fewer triggers for her anxiety when at home and not having daily contact with the weird sisters likely did wonders as well.
So, despite their general dislike for one another, the appointment went well, and they acted civilly. It seemed Constance had come to terms with the fact that Zelda was her best chance for seeing her babies into this realm. And while Zelda would have liked to curse the woman for putting her family in danger at the Feast, she knew delivering Faustus’ children was the only thing keeping her in his good graces given Sabrina’s recent illegal activities.
As they wrapped up, Zelda turned to Constance. “Twins often come early and given your past pregnancies the labor will likely not be an easy one. Please follow this diet, get plenty of sleep and reduce any amount of stress possible so the babes can remain in the womb for as long as possible.” She handed over a slip of suggested foods.
Constance took the paper and scoffed, “reduce stress? I’ll see what I can do, but it seems every other day something new pops up.”
A knowing smile tugged at Zelda’s lips, “I know the feeling.” She commiserated, packing up the rest of her equipment and picking up her bag. “I suggest lots of calming teas and tinctures, there are even charms you can carry around in your pockets to help. I can ask Hilda to make some for you, if you would like.”
“That would be appreciated.” Constance acquiesced, adjusting her dress slightly. “I trust you can see yourself out. I tire quite easily these days and find myself needing to rest.”
Nodding, Zelda left the room and shut the door quietly behind her. She barely got five feet down the hall when Faustus’ hand shot out of his office and pulled her inside. “We need to talk.” He explained, releasing her arm but closing the door and as it shut Zelda felt a silencing spell fall into place.
Quirking a brow, Zelda crossed her arms, “I suppose we do.” She remarked, curious as to whether he would admit to trying to go behind her back with the Kinkle boy.
“I know balance has been restored, the mortal boy dead. But this resurrection is above and beyond anything Sabrina has done in the past.” He paced the room slightly, picking up his cane and tapping it on the floor anxiously as he did. “Which is astounding considering she performed an exorcism on a mortal not long ago. It’s dangerous. Not only for her but for others, you saw what happened to Agatha.” Faustus stopped and turned to look at her directly and Zelda could see a little pleading in his eyes, begging her to agree with him that Sabrina was out of control.
And though she agreed, knew her niece had to be reined in, Zelda couldn’t give in quite so easily. “Is that why you sent Prudence and Dorcas after the Kinkle boy even though I said I would handle the situation?”
Faustus had the grace to grimace, but it was almost immediately undermined by how he shrugged. “I had to make sure, there was no room for mistakes.”
She hummed and leaned against his desk. “’Mistakes’ wasn’t the word they used. Recalcitrant, I think it was.” Zelda cocked her head at him expectantly.
Exhaling slowly, Faustus pinched the bridge of his nose. “They told you.”
Scoffing, Zelda lit a cigarette. “Of course,” she took a long draw and held the smoke a moment before releasing it. “I’d like to say it’s because they’re quite taken with me… I did help save Prudence from the Feast, after all. But I seriously doubt it was for such selfless reasons. Surely, Prudence thought to gain something from it, though what I’m not sure. Regardless—”
“Zels, the girls caused the original death of the boy and played a significant role in the resurrection. I was merely ensuring they learned everything has a price. Something they clearly hadn’t learned from meddling in mortal affairs and their participation in an illegal ritual. Sending them after the boy to clealn up the mess they helped make was their price.” Faustus clarified, running a hand through his hair in exasperation.
Taking another long draw of nicotine to steady herself, Zelda glared at the warlock in front of her. “And why was it more appropriate for you to teach that to your students than it was for me to teach it to Sabrina?” She demanded archly, tapping some ash into his half full glass on the desk; still irritated he hadn’t trusted her to get the job done.
“It’s not. But every second that husk of a mortal drew breath was a second that threatened to expose witching kind and diminished Agatha’s life further. You must admit, your niece is a slow and reluctant learner when it comes to certain lessons—I assumed this would be one of them and I couldn’t risk Agatha’s death or the reanimated boy revealing us.”
Grinding her teeth, Zelda shook her head, hating that Faustus’ argument was valid. “You still should have trusted me. Trusted that I knew what I was doing and how I was allowing Sabrina to learn her lesson.”
Faustus sighed and came to stand in front of her, leaning his cane against the desk next to her. “I trust you, Zels. It’s the mortals I don’t trust.”
A huff escaped her, though the words warmed her, his actions still angered her. Sidestepping him, Zelda dropped her cigarette into his glass and made for the door. He caught her arm and pulled her into him, capturing her lips in a brief but surprising kiss. She thought recent events would’ve put an end to their dalliance.
He pulled back too soon for her taste, but his hands came up and framed her face. “I trust you.” Faustus repeated firmly, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “But given recent events, a plan B was necessary.”
Some of the anger drained out of her, the tension leaving her shoulders and she pressed her cheek into the palm of one of his hands. “You still could have warned me,” she noted in a slightly clipped tone. “I was watching Sabrina, making sure she went through with it. I’d have stepped in if necessary.”
A small smile curled Faustus’ lips, “I know. But if you had then none of them would have learned a lesson.” He murmured, stepping a little closer to reduce the space between them.
“Ever the teacher,” she quipped, somewhat annoyed she wasn’t angry with him anymore but at the same time relieved. Relieved he hadn’t mistrusted her, but simply had an additional plan in place should things go awry—and knowing her niece they very well could have. She leaned in for another kiss and then froze. “Recalcitrant?”
Faustus grinned, “you were the one to say you were running a house for wayward witches, I merely repeated the sentiment.” His hand slid into her hair as he spoke.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I can call my family wayward, or any other such synonyms. Others cannot.” Zelda lifted a brow at him, and Faustus chuckled.
“Understood.” He closed the rest of the distance between them and kissed her again. It was slow, sweet and promised nothing more than soft caresses. It had her melting against him.
But after several long minutes, Zelda broke away. “I should go, I want to be home for dinner. Sabrina still needs…” She trailed off, she wasn’t sure what Sabrina needed, but she wanted to be there to provide it.
Smiling softly at her, Faustus tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Of course,” he kissed her sweetly again. “I will see you tomorrow at the Academy.”
As always, his tenderness overwhelmed her and left her confused but happy. So, she just nodded, stole one last kiss and then teleported home. Zelda stood outside for a moment, trying to recall if they were so soft with one another in the past, not just when Sabrina was little, but back during their Academy days. She could think of a few rare instances, but for the most part they’d been all snark, backhanded compliments and passionate sex that left their clothes in shreds—not that she minded that at all (still didn’t) …. But it was nice to see their relationship, or whatever this was, matured along with them.
Touching her lips as if to catch the last feel of his mouth on hers, Zelda made her way inside just in time for dinner.
They remained at the table far longer than usual after they finished eating, talking about any and everything to try and distract Sabrina. Though each of them knew she brought this on herself, by refusing to listen to sense and more experienced witches, it was never easy to let a loved one be in pain.
Eventually, Sabrina stood and gave them each a small smile. “Thank you,” she murmured, moving around the table to hug each of them. “But I think I’m going to bed now.” Sabrina moved toward the door and then stopped, hand on the door frame. “Auntie Zee,” she whispered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Could you, would you please—”
Zelda stood immediately and came to stand next to her girl. “Of course,” she placed a gentle hand on Sabrina’s back and the two of them went upstairs.
They each readied for bed and then Zelda went into Sabrina’s room and found her niece already on the bed. Sliding onto the comforter next to her, Sabrina immediately curled into her side to be cuddled. Zelda wondered, for just a moment as she wrapped her girl in her arms, how long it would be appropriate to indulge this behavior.
But this wasn’t just a broken heart, the loss of a first love… this was about death and prices and learning even magic had its limits that could not, must not be crossed or tested. So, she would cuddle and distract and help her girl in any way… because it was what she needed when she paid her price. But no one had provided it and Zelda would be damned if Sabrina felt the same as she had in the aftermath of her lesson.
As they laid there, Zelda started to tell stories of when she and her siblings were young. Laughing quietly as she recalled situations she hadn’t thought of in years; such as how Edward managed to turn his skin blue when he was seven and playing with their mother’s potion ingredients when they’d explicitly been told not to touch them.
Sabrina smiled and even laughed for the first time since Zelda confronted her in the foyer. And Zelda felt triumphant for a moment, for having been able to distract her niece well enough to laugh. The moment didn’t last long, Sabrina seemed to catch herself and her face fell once more as if she remembered she wasn’t supposed to be happy.
Shifting slightly, Sabrina lifted her face to her, “Auntie Zee?” Humming in acknowledgement, Zelda rolled her shoulders to try and relieve some of the pressure on her back. “What was the lesson you learned?”
Zelda stiffened at the question, knowing exactly what Sabrina was referring to. And, well, could she blame her niece? She was the one to crack open that particular door when she stated she learned everything had a price personally. Before she could stop it, the memory surged to the surface and refused to be suppressed.
Her father had never been a particularly patient or gentle man; a gruffness seeped into almost every one of his actions. This, coupled with his expectations of near perfection for all his children, meant the Spellman house wasn’t always the most fun to grow up in—though her mother did what she could to soften the sharpest of her father’s verbal remonstrations.
As Zelda’s Dark Baptism approached, her father became more and more irate with her—for things she did do, for things she didn’t. Everything was a potential disgrace to the Church, to the family, and would not be tolerated.
When she finally signed the book, power surged through Zelda in the most magnificent way, and she thought perhaps with this new power she could make her father proud; her mother certainly was. Oh, how wrong she’d been.
If anything, her coming of age increased her father’s disappointment and impatience. Zelda would never forget the first time it happened. She came home from the Academy for the weekend, eager to share with Hilda and her mother about her new interest in midwifery when her father intercepted her at the front door and drug her into the office.
“What is this?” He demanded, thrusting a piece of paper under her nose.
Startled, Zelda read the note, it was from one of her professors, stating that while a bright student, Zelda had trouble paying attention in class.
A smirk formed on her lips, a mistake she would later label as the tipping point. “Father, this is from my Latin professor, I read ahead during class because I already know the basics. I don’t need—”
Her sentence was aborted by a slap across the cheek. The blow stunned her and sent her stumbling back both from the force and surprise. Zelda’s hand came up automatically to her cheek, eyes wide in the face of her father’s fury.
“I didn’t raise an insubordinate little bitch with a superiority complex,” he snarled, snatching the paper back and flinging it to the ground. “Neither of your brothers ever had a note sent home about them. And you get one during your first term at the Academy?! Disgraceful.” He gripped her upper arms hard enough to bruise and shook until her teeth rattled. “Do you know how this reflects on me as High Priest? The only reason this wasn’t submitted to your official file is because I am the High Priest and the professor was doing me a favor.” He released her with a slight shove that had her tripping into the bookshelf lining the wall. “You are old enough by now to know better, Satan, I thought this nonsense would stop after your Dark Baptism.”
Zelda hadn’t known better then, though she really should have. All she knew was the fury erupting inside her, fury at being under-stimulated in her Latin class, fury at how this led to the note, but especially at her father and his reaction and treatment. “It’s not my fault your professor can’t teach to students of varying abilities. I am beyond the entry level class. If you just placed me in the higher level as I asked, this wouldn’t—”
She didn’t get a chance to finish, suddenly her throat was tightening, and the rest of her body bound tightly with the spell her father cast. Strangled gasps worked their way out her mouth and only after several long minutes did her father release her. Zelda collapsed to the ground, chest heaving and limbs weak from the restricted oxygen.
Her father crouched next to her. “Never question me, or another professor, again. We are your betters, and you are just a child, and a female one at that. If you continue to cause problems, I will come up with new ways to punish you, understood?” He gripped her chin roughly and forced her to look up at him.
When she nodded, he released her, with a ‘remember your place’ comment and a vague threat about what would happen if she told her mother or sister before he left the room. Trembling with so many emotions Zelda couldn’t name them, she picked herself up off the floor, glamoured away the red handprint on her cheek and made for her room.
The pattern continued for weeks; the gruff but distant man she called her father turned on her every chance he got. It was as if she passed some unspoken minimum age for this kind of punishment and now that she had her father dealt it out freely.
Zelda learned to keep her mouth shut. Did her best to please her father, her siblings had no trouble doing it… then again, why would they? Edward was the golden child; the first-born male prodigy who was pursuing High Priestdom and could do no wrong—even when his views differed from tradition. Thomas rarely angered their father either, despite the trouble he was often in. As the second son, the spare to Edward’s heir, Thomas received the same guidance and leniency as their eldest brother. And Hilda, well, Hilda was so much like their mother; sweet, shy, a people-pleaser that never angered anyone… except Zelda. No, her siblings, as far as she knew, did not incur the wrath in their father she did; so, she dared not go to them for help out of shame and embarrassment. Instead, she took her punishments in silence.
Until a particularly brutal punishment, after which Zelda found herself lying awake that night praying. Praying to Satan, praying to Lilith, to Beelzebub and Mephistopheles and any other form of higher power she could think of to help her make her father stop, to intervene. She hadn’t survived her harrowing only to experience near constant torment at home as well. So, she prayed, not that she ever expected anything to come from it.
Two days later, however, when her father conjured up yet another reason to punish her, something happened. The spell rebounded on him. It’d been another binding spell; the same one he used on her the very first time. Only there was no way to stop it, the spell kept going, crushing his throat until he collapsed onto the floor, the spittle on his lips and glaze in his eyes the only external evidence something happened—the spell hadn’t left any marks, just as he designed.
Stunned, Zelda wasn’t sure how long she stood there before she realized her prayers had been answered, just not in the way she anticipated. She screamed then, knowing it was expected of her to react this way, and part of her was genuine in her response—she never wanted her father dead, not exactly. Her family came rushing in.
The healers called it an aneurysm, nothing else could account for the sudden death of their 'beloved' High Priest; Zelda knew the truth. It wasn’t until her mother started to wither away that she realized there was a price to her prayer being answered. Almost a year later, her mother died; a broken heart, the healers claimed, not unheard of among widowed witches; especially ones who were with their partner for centuries.
Once again, though, Zelda knew better. This was her price; her mother. She heedlessly threw prayers into Hell and the abyss for assistance and whatever answered demanded blood as payment. Zelda no longer questioned her feelings concerning her father’s death, she regretted nothing; the man was cruel and unfit to lead and in hindsight his extreme and old-fashioned stances for the Church were what likely drove Edward in the opposite direction. No, she didn’t regret her father’s death, but she deeply regretted causing her mother’s.
Deeply regretted not considering the price she’d pay, the price her whole family would pay, in return for her freedom from her father. The lesson became part of her night terrors, rotating with the events of the Feast of Feasts, her harrowing and so much more.
Sabrina nudged her then, shocking her out of the past and back into the present. “Auntie?” She asked, face now filled with concern and Zelda wondered how long she’d been trapped in her memories.
Shaking herself, Zelda cleared her throat. “That’s a tale for another night, darling. It’s time to sleep, you’ve got school tomorrow.”
And the mention of school distracted Sabrina just as Zelda hoped it would. Because there was no way in Heaven, she was telling Sabrina about that dark part of her past, how she escaped it… and what it cost. Zelda knew she was being selfish, she didn’t want Sabrina to think less of her; for not being able save herself, for relying on some unknown power which cost her siblings both their parents.
Sighing heavily, Zelda sang an old lullaby to Sabrina to distract her further. Her niece’s voice mingling with her own for a while before it dropped off as Sabrina fell asleep. Zelda wished her troubled mind could be so easily soothed; knowing her dreams would be filled with her parents, Zelda fell into a fitful sleep.
She woke before Sabrina the next morning and edged off the bed carefully before setting an alarm spell to wake Sabrina in time to get ready for school. Zelda made her way to her own bathroom to get ready for the day—going through her daily routine with her paper and cup of tea.
Only, when she got downstairs, Sabrina still hadn’t joined them. In her distraction, Zelda let the spoon slip off her saucer and onto the floor. “Blast it,” she muttered, going to set her things down and get a new one.
“Someone’s having a baby.” Hilda announced absently, glancing over her shoulder.
Panic spiked through Zelda at the words, she and Faustus were careful every time they got together, that and the monthly potion Zelda took should prevent such a thing as a pregnancy. But her sister sometimes had an eerie way of predicting such things, which was why Zelda’s response came out a little shriller than she intended. “What?!” She cleared her throat, “what is Satan’s name are you talking about, Hilda?”
Hilda looked at her more fully, eyebrows raised curiously at her reaction. “You know the saying, ‘if a spoon falls, a baby calls.’” At Zelda’s continued look of concern, Hilda added on a quiet, “probably Lady Blackwood’s.” Though it sounded a bit more like a question than a statement.
“Kindly spare me your old wives’ tales, sister.” Zelda remarked, opening the drawer in front of her for another spoon. Yes, please spare her, because they made her think and wish for things that could never be.
Frowning, Zelda then returned to the topic that caused her to drop her spoon in the first place. “Where’s Sabrina? Ambrose?”
“In her room, I believe.” He responded with a slight shrug.
That wouldn’t do. Sabrina couldn’t hide away forever, and though Zelda knew her girl was still hurting, she couldn’t allow Sabrina to miss school and the Academy because of it. “Still?”
Ambrose turned the page of his book, “yeah, but considering what she’s been through—”
The comment miffed her, as if Zelda hadn’t been there every step, as if she hadn’t been the one to pick up the pieces. But broken pieces didn’t justify missing school or allowing gossip to start. They couldn’t allow the coven to wonder where Sabrina was, they’d start to ask questions and sooner or later it would come out that she resurrected a mortal boy at the expense of a witch. No, they couldn’t allow that.
So, when Hilda announced she’d whipped up some of her ‘broken-heart’ balm, well it was a rather perfect solution. She snatched the balm from Hilda and made for the stairs. While she coddled Sabrina the past day and a half, there was no time for that now and Zelda knew Hilda wouldn’t be stern enough to get their niece out of bed.
Striding into Sabrina’s room, Zelda threw open the curtains. “You can’t stay in bed the rest of your life. You have school.” She stated logically, moving around the room and picking through clothes.
“What if I see him? Or he sees me?” Sabrina murmured in a small voice, “it’ll be too much.”
Though Zelda wanted to chastise her niece that there were certainly any number of things that would qualify as ‘too much’ and seeing an ex wasn’t one of them, she merely handed Sabrina the balm. “Your Aunt Hilda’s made you a balm. To numb your heart. Rub it in your chest three times daily… or as needed.” She added, though Hilda would likely disapprove.
“I don’t want to stop feeling. I want to stop hurting.” Zelda smiled softly at her and went back to going through Sabrina’s clothes to find an outfit for the day, holding back the comment that sometimes those things were one in the same. “No, that’s wrong. I want Harvey to stop hurting.” Sabrina added, rolling the balm container between her hands.
Inclining her head at the sentiment, Zelda remarked how there was no solution for that, or they’d be rich. Her attempt and lightheartedness though, made no difference.
Sabrina continued to sit on the bed. A quiet, tear-filled, “what am I going to do, Aunt Zee?” Her niece’s only response.
She stopped shifting through the clothes and faced Sabrina fully. “Today, you’ll go to school, and you’ll talk to your friends, and you’ll sit in class and answer questions.” Zelda came and sat on the bed next to Sabrina, taking her hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “And then you’ll go to the Academy. Then you’ll come home… and we’ll eat supper together. And then you’ll go to bed. And your Aunt Hilda or I will sit by your side until you fall asleep. And then tomorrow, you’ll do the same and it will hurt a tiny bit less. And the next day it will hurt even less.” Or so Zelda hoped, she wasn’t quite sure how else to help her girl.
When Sabrina asked how she could ever face Harvey again, Zelda faltered; uncertain. “I’m not sure,” she murmured, cupping her niece’s cheek. “I’ve never been where you are.” Zelda didn’t feel qualified to give her niece advice on love; on how to overcome pain, yes, she had experience there. But love? Patting Sabrina’s cheek, Zelda put down the clothes she selected and made for the door. But her response felt inadequate, so she stopped and turned. “Perhaps you just do, Sabrina. As bravely, and as humbly as you can.”
Nodding encouragingly, Zelda left and made for the Academy, making sure to skirt by Hilda on her way out the door. They’d yet to have a conversation about what Hilda witnessed the other night, and while Zelda couldn’t avoid her sister forever, she could at least avoid her for today. Eventually, Sabrina would no longer need or want one of her aunties to see her off to sleep and Zelda would be forced to share a bedroom with her sister once more; making it near impossible to dance around the subject any longer. Perhaps she could perform a little memory spell on Hilda, make her forget what she saw.
Zelda teleported to the Academy and mulled the idea over as she prepped for her first class.
Hilda heard the front door close and when she hurried into the foyer, she was just in time to see Zelda wink out of sight. Grumbling to herself and thinking of how she could trap Zelda and force her into a conversation, Hilda made her way upstairs to check on Sabrina.
Though the girl preferred Zelda’s company over the weekend, reverting back to when she was young and clung to Zelda relentlessly—which Hilda certainly didn’t begrudge her sister, knowing Zelda had been starved of Sabrina’s affection for years—she still wanted to ensure Sabrina was okay.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Zelda to get Sabrina up and ready for school, in actuality she probably accomplished it faster than Hilda would have, it was just, she wasn’t sure how gentle Zelda might be. While her sister contained great potential for tenderness, Zelda often didn’t express it. Which was how Hilda found herself knocking on Sabrina’s door.
When Sabrina answered the door, however, her niece was fully dressed, her backpack slung over her shoulder and no hint of tears. “Morning, Auntie.” She murmured, her usual fire still dampened.
Smiling sympathetically, Hilda led Sabrina back into her room and sat on the bed next to her. “Are you alright, love? Aunt Zelda told you how to use the balm?”
“Yes, she was, she was very helpful. I do have a question, though.” Sabrina shifted to look at Hilda. “Aunt Zee said she’s never been in my place before. How can that be? Hasn’t she ever lost a love?”
And the question was so innocent and sweet Hilda’s heart ached. “It’s not really my place to say, lamb. If Zelda didn’t tell you herself…”
Sabrina adjusted her position on the bed, one leg was tucked underneath her so she could face Hilda fully. “Please, Auntie Hilda, I need to know other people have felt this way.”
A small scoff escaped Hilda. “Of course they have, Sabrina, that doesn’t mean you need to know your Aunt Zelda’s story.”
“Why would she lie to me?! She promised no more lies.” Sabrina countered, and from the way her eyes welled up a little Hilda could tell the balm hadn’t fully taken effect yet.
Placing a soothing hand on Sabrina’s knee, Hilda shook her head gently. “I don’t think it was a lie, per se, more like she was protecting herself from painful memories. And besides,” Hilda gently chucked Sabrina under the chin to ensure eye contact, “that promise was about your parents, not Aunt Zelda’s relationships.”
“So, she has lost a love.” Sabrina noted, latching onto the fact that Hilda hadn’t denied Zelda’s past.
Hilda glanced behind her, ensuring Ambrose wasn’t in sight. Zelda likely hadn’t shared with Sabrina because she didn’t want to appear vulnerable—something Hilda was realizing meant more to her sister than she could ever have imagined; she could still see the scars crisscrossing Zelda’s skin every time she looked at her sister’s back. Sighing, Hilda turned back to Sabrina, figuring a little more insight to her older aunt couldn’t hurt. In fact, it might help Sabrina understand Zelda better and prevent future hurtful outbursts like the other night.
“When we were in the Academy, and even for decades after, your Aunt Zelda entertained quite a few suitors, guys and gals alike sought her attention. She was quite popular, and Zelda has always been a powerful witch—which draws admirers as well.” Hilda fiddled with her necklace, wondering how much to reveal and then powered on. “Your father kept a number of these suitors away, mostly because he was overprotective—our parents died when we were young, you see, and Edward perhaps took the role of protector a little too seriously. In any case, Zelda wasn’t aware of what he was doing, had she been she’d likely have gone out of her way to be with those specific individuals.” Pausing, Hilda looked out the window.
Sabrina nudged her gently, “okay, so my dad kept people away, but obviously not everyone.” She lifted a brow, hopeful Hilda would continue.
Twisting her fingers and reminding herself she was doing this so Sabrina would understand Zelda better, Hilda continued. “Your aunt smiled and laughed a lot when she was younger, and no one was better at making her do those things than your father and after he died, she, her light dimmed, darling. But Faustus Blackwood somehow made it shine again, brighter than I imagined possible.”
Taken aback, Sabrina made a face. “Father Blackwood?” She all but sneered.
Hilda leveled a look at her niece and Sabrina ducked her head sheepishly. “He, like your Aunt Zelda, has been through quite a bit and is not as carefree as he once was. One could say they are both strict and frustrated with you because of your misadventures. Exorcism and necromancy are no laughing matters.” Hilda finished admonishing Sabrina softly. “I think Zelda and Blackwood have a better understanding of prices and consequences than most, and because of this, they do their best to prevent the occasions that lead to prices needing to be paid. They also understand one another better than most, and I think this draws them together continuously, no matter how they fight it.” She added under her breath. Exhaling, Hilda went on. “And while I didn’t always approve of him, warned him myself what would happen if he hurt Zelda… I could tell he made her happy. So, I let them be, maybe even encouraged your aunt to spend more time with him, to explore or at least acknowledge her feelings. I did this even after… because I could tell he still made her happy…”
Brow furrowed, Sabrina interrupted her. “Auntie, you’re not talking in full sentences, after what?”
“I’m getting ahead of myself.” Hilda murmured, shaking her head. “Zelda spent quite a bit of time with Blackwood. I’m almost certain she loved him; even if she refused to admit it to herself. And I know he loved her, he asked me if he could court her formally. I was shocked, of course.” Hilda chuckled, remembering her reaction to his question. “But I was the only family Zelda had left, aside from Ambrose and little you, so it followed tradition.” A frown pulled her lips down as she remembered how distraught Zelda was the day she reappeared in the kitchen so long ago. “I don’t know what happened. Why your Aunt Zelda ended things. But she came home one night, when you were five, very upset. She denied anything was wrong, of course, denied she and Blackwood were ever in a relationship, denied her feelings. But I could tell it all broke Zelda’s heart.”
Shifting on the bed so her position mirrored Sabrina’s, Hilda took her niece’s hand and squeezed. “Your Aunt Zelda holds herself to near impossible standards. And I think she thought if she pursued something for herself that she’d somehow be letting us down. Regardless of her reasoning, Faustus got engaged to Constance soon after and the suitors returned in force—as if they could smell Zelda was single again. She entertained a few, but ultimately, she spurned them all, claiming they were just trying to fill the power vacuum Edward left behind—I just think her heart wasn’t in it. In any case, Zelda determined her duty was to this family, raising you, and running our businesses—which didn’t leave much time for love. So, your Aunt Zelda has lost love, but I believe she was telling you the truth when she said she’s never been where you are. Zelda left her love, for reasons she’s never shared with me or anyone. Though I think she convinced herself Blackwood’s quick engagement evidenced that she did the right thing. Evidenced he never cared for her, let alone loved her. So, in Zelda’s mind, she was being truthful, Sabrina. She doesn’t see your situation as the same, she never thought her love was reciprocated.”
Chin trembling slightly, Sabrina shook her head. “That’s, that’s awful. Why would she think he didn’t love her? From what you said, it was obvious—”
“Oh, lamb,” Hilda tucked Sabrina’s hair behind her ear. “Zelda, Zelda may put up this front of all confidence and steel, and while this is mostly true, I think she built it to hide. I think, and don’t you ever repeat this because she’ll kill me,” Hilda pointed a stern finger at Sabrina and her niece nodded earnestly. “I think your auntie is, is rather vulnerable and insecure under all that emotional armor. She loves very hard, don’t you doubt that for a second, but she, I think she has trouble showing it, especially after losing so many of the people she's loved. And, and she has even more trouble accepting love in return.” Hilda paused and let Sabrina absorb this, because this was the main message she wanted the girl to take away. “So, Zelda snarks, acts like nothing hurts her, holds it all in until—” Trailing off, images of Zelda whipping herself flashed through Hilda’s mind.
Sabrina shook her head, “so, so she has, has trouble believing people love her?” She whispered, and it was likely only the effects of the balm that kept those tears from spilling over her niece’s eyelids. “And I shouted at her that she wasn’t my mother. That’s, that’s why you yelled at me. Because you knew how much I hurt her.” Sabrina added, horrified.
Biting her lip, Hilda barely suppressed saying she’d greatly underestimated how much Zelda had been hurting, for how long, and the lengths her sister would go to hide it. Instead, she cleared her throat and focused on Sabrina. “Yes, you did say that. And it did hurt your Aunt Zelda, rather deeply.” Her niece should have been old enough to deduce that she hurt Zelda on her own, but given the emotional pain Sabrina experienced herself immediately after, Hilda supposed she could forgive the oversight. “You, you weren’t wrong. Neither of us are your biological mother, but we both love—”
But Sabrina talked over her, “and you guys gave up so much, lost so much because of me!”
Stunned, Hilda shook her head vigorously and clasped Sabrina’s hands. “Hey now! No. We never felt we lost anything because of you. Neither I or your Aunt Zelda ever regretted our choices; taking you in, putting you and this family first.” Hilda was willfully ignoring Zelda’s confession the other night—she knew it came from a place of doubt and insecurity, not regret. “Zelda loves you, sweet, she just has a harder time showing it every now and then.”
Shooting up from the bed, Sabrina exclaimed, “I have to find her and apologize!”
Hilda smiled. “I agree. But she’s already left for work, and you need to leave for school this instant if you don’t want to be late.” She replied, already ushering her niece toward the stairs.
Furrowing her brow, Sabrina nodded. “Alright. I’ll come up with a way to tell her.” Sabrina stopped abruptly at the front door, spun and hugged Hilda hard. “Thank you, auntie, for everything.” She murmured, tightening her arms just a bit. “I’m sorry for what I’ve put you through recently. I love you.”
With that, Sabrina was off out the door and hopping onto her bike and peddling hard down the drive. Dabbing at her tears, Hilda headed for the mortuary office to get some paperwork done before she headed to the bookstore.
Maybe, maybe this could be a turning point for their family. Maybe it could change their dynamic. Hilda wasn’t sure how they fell into the pattern of Zelda being the disciplinarian of the two of them, it happened so long ago Hilda couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment they took on their roles. But she knew it created a divide between Sabrina and Zelda, where before they were inseparable, suddenly there seemed to be this canyon Zelda couldn’t cross no matter how she tried.
Maybe with this new knowledge, Sabrina would be the one to close the divide where before she’d been the one knocking down every bridge Zelda tried to build.
The day passed quite normally, though Zelda heard several of the students whispering about the resurrection. Of course, nothing ever remained a secret within this blasted coven… at least when there were other witches involved; though they’d somehow kept the exorcism quiet, and Zelda planned to keep it that way. At least most of the students sounded impressed rather than scandalized by Sabrina’s actions. Glad the day was done; Zelda was locking up her office to leave when an ominous chill spiked up her spine.
She carefully turned and found each of the students looking around, confused and shaking their heads before going back to their business. But Zelda couldn’t brush off the sensation so easily, especially not one strong enough to impact all the witches in her immediate vicinity.
Hurrying to Faustus’ office, Zelda didn’t bother to knock. “Faustus, did you feel—” She started to ask, only to realize the room was empty. Knowing he never left this early unless he was preparing for Black Mass, Zelda teleported to the Church.
What she found was chaos. Faustus was frantically beating out flames that had somehow erupted on the pulpit, the spells he was shouting having no effect on the fire. Zelda rushed forward and assisted him, together they managed to put the flames out; turning to him, Zelda brushed her hair back.
“What in Satan’s name was that?!” She demanded a little breathlessly, glancing at the remains at what must have been an Unholy Bible.
Shaking his head, Faustus clutched her hand tightly. “An omen.” He muttered, fear sparking in his eyes even if the rest of him remained outwardly calm. “And a dangerous one. We must convene the coven.” He released her hand and turned to the witching board sitting on the table against the back wall and began to mutter a spell and tracing patterns on the surface. A signal to all witches in the area to come to the Church at once.
“I’m bringing Hilda.” Zelda told him when he finished. When Faustus looked ready to argue, Zelda set her jaw and stared him down. “I know you felt it too, that chill up your spine. I did, so did every student at the Academy as far as I could tell, though they didn’t have enough sense to realize what it might mean. I will not leave my sister out on her own while the rest of the coven convenes. You know I will tell her everything anyway, why waste my time retelling the information when my abilities can be put to better use elsewhere?”
Distractedly, Faustus nodded his acceptance. “Fine, she can come…” He brought his attention back to her completely. “Whatever this is, Zels, it’s powerful. I’ve never felt anything like it and the Dark Lord is silent. We are alone in facing whatever this threat is.”
Though she long ago abandoned any faith in the Dark Lord, to hear that he’d forsaken their entire coven in their time of need sent fear coursing through her. “I have to find my family…” She murmured, stepping back, shaking slightly.
Before she could leave, Faustus caught her and tugged her into an embrace, clutching her to him tightly with one hand buried in her hair. “Be safe and be back here in 30 minutes.” He ordered, pulling back and rested his forehead against hers. “We don’t know what is out there or when it’s coming.”
Nodding the best she could with her forehead pressed to his, Zelda stole a quick kiss. “You be safe too. Whatever this is, it has the power to reach within our unholy places and set things on fire. I’d prefer you not be a charred corpse when I return.”
A morbid chuckle escaped Faustus and he kissed her in return, his lingering longer. “Go. Be quick, be safe.” He beseeched again before releasing her and turning to reinforce the spells surrounding the church as she teleported away.
Praise Satan, Sabrina and Hilda were already home when Zelda got there. Prowling around the room and checking around corners, Zelda turned to them. “Where’s Ambrose?” Sabrina merely shook her head, confused, but there was a fear in Hilda’s eyes that told Zelda she understood the seriousness of what was happening; that she felt the chill too.
“I don’t know,” Hilda informed her. “I’ve tried summoning him home, but it didn’t work.”
Pacing the room, Zelda agitatedly lit a cigarette and took a few puffs. “Alright, alright…” She stopped and faced the others. “You two go to the church, wait for me there. I will see if I can find Ambrose and be along shortly.”
Hilda shook her head, “Zelds, I’m not allowed—”
Waving her hand dismissively, Zelda resumed her pacing and took several deep drags of nicotine before stubbing the cigarette out. “I’ve already cleared it with Faustus. Take Sabrina to the Church now. Something is coming and I don’t want any of us exposed when it does.”
Nodding, Hilda cast a spell to keep the food she’d been preparing fresh, wiped her hands and then took Sabrina’s arm to guide her up from the table and out the door. “Come love, no time to waste.”
But Sabrina pulled back and turned to Zelda. “Wait, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Glancing over her shoulder as she pulled candles out of various cabinets and drawers in the kitchen, Zelda gave a tiny shake of her head. “Not now, sweetheart. I need to find Ambrose and you two need to be safely at the church. Go.”
When Sabrina still resisted Hilda’s tug on her arm, with a pleading, “please Auntie, it’s important.” Zelda turned around completely; arms full of candles.
“I’m sure it is, but Sabrina it has to wait. Go. Now.” She dropped a kiss onto the top of her niece’s head as she walked into the parlor to set up her ring for astral projecting. “Hilda.” She instructed, knowing her sister would understand from that one word that she needed to take Sabrina immediately.
And without turning around she sensed her sister take Sabrina’s arm once more and teleport away. Two out of three wasn’t bad, but she preferred to know the whereabouts of her entire family when a threat came.
Sighing, Zelda quickly set up her circle and laid in the middle to project. Though once in the astral plane, she couldn’t find Ambrose. He wasn’t at the Academy where he’d been spending so much of his time. He wasn’t at Dr. Cee’s where Luke liked to get coffee, he wasn’t at Luke’s apartment either—she even checked the Church in case Luke intercepted the signal Faustus sent out and dragged Ambrose there with him. Nothing. Even when she focused on him all she got was a gray mist.
Zelda broke the spell and stood anxiously, spinning her rings and trying to think of where Ambrose might be. And though Hilda already tried, Zelda attempted to summon Ambrose home. She focused on her nephew, visualized him appearing in front of her and muttered the words. But she found her spell blocked. Blocked by something more powerful than she imagined. Blocked by a magical signature which matched the one that sent the chill up her spine not even an hour before.
True panic was starting to settle in now, because whatever was out there…. It was likely it had Ambrose in some capacity. Why else wouldn’t she be able to find him on the astral plane? Why else wouldn’t she or Hilda be able to summon him home?
Waving a hand, the candles on the ground snuffed out. She couldn’t figure this out herself, Zelda needed to bring it before the coven and get their help. She teleported to the Church, landing about 15 feet away, and good thing. Witches were crashing into one another in their haste to answer the signal Faustus sent out, completely forgetting the teleportation protocol to prevent such collisions.
That didn’t matter now, Zelda hurried inside, pushing past the others and searching the crowd fruitlessly for Ambrose, just in case he somehow appeared there since she last checked; he hadn’t. Heart clenching, Zelda found the rest of her family and sat on the other side of Sabrina, automatically wrapping an arm around her girl.
Leaning around Sabrina, Zelda whispered to Hilda what she discovered. Her sister paled, but before she had a chance to respond, Faustus called the meeting to order.
“Brothers and Sisters, tonight I witnessed an omen. As so many of you did. A horrifying sign that could only portend one thing.” He went on to proclaim that Satan was aware of their actions, their weaknesses, their flaunting of the law and intended to punish them for it. Zelda couldn’t help but feel responsible for the doom descending upon the coven. It had been her family’s doing these past weeks that likely brought this down on them all.
Before she could go further down that particular hole, though, the doors of the Church were thrown open with a bang; causing the entire coven to jump and Zelda knew she wasn’t alone in barely restraining the spell on her lips.
It was Ambrose.
Zelda exhaled quietly in relief; he was safe. Her nephews next words, though, meant her relief was short lived.
“Father Blackwood!” He exclaimed breathlessly, striding in with Luke hot on his heels. “It is not the Dark Lord’s wrath that has come for us, it is… the Greendale Thirteen.”
Luke nodded fiercely in agreement. “We stumbled upon them in the woods. They were performing some kind of ritual,” he panted, “a summoning spell.”
Eyes wide and clearly shaken, Ambrose spoke again, “they bore into our minds. Bewitched us.” He glanced at Luke, “we’re only alive because they wanted us to deliver a message.”
Zelda forced herself to remain seated when all she wanted to do was hug her nephew. Ambrose, Ambrose almost died tonight? Her vision blurred along the edges and magic sparked along her fingers in anger. Whatever it was, whatever threatened her nephew, it would pay.
Murmurs broke out among the coven, many shifting nervously. Faustus, somehow, remained at least externally calm. “What message? Spit it out.”
However, as Ambrose told them what happened, he spoke of a Crimson Avenger and how this Avenger would ride within a few hours time. Zelda blinked, these words must surely be from the Thirteen themselves, the ones they placed in her boy’s mind when they burrowed in; Ambrose would never have used such obtuse language in a situation like this.
Inpatient, Zelda couldn’t keep quiet. “Who rides, Ambrose? What are you talking about?” She demanded, the arm she wrapped around Sabrina tightening.
Holding aloft a small wooden horse with a rider, Ambrose shakily informed them it was the Red Angel of Death. “The Thirteen will knock down all the doors in town for him, and in his wake, the firstborns of Greendale, both mortal and witch alike, will perish!”
Panic swept through the room, and Zelda found her heart suddenly lodged in her throat as she scooted unconsciously closer to Sabrina—though her eyes remained locked on Ambrose where he stood in the middle of the aisle.
Her two firstborns. Her kids were on the chopping block. Zelda barely heard what Faustus said next, the pounding of her heart in her ears too loud. Like Heaven she’d allow some angel of death touch Ambrose or Sabrina… over her dead body.
Faustus went on to explain he would protect the coven, they’d hide within the Academy behind the already existing spells, that, in addition to their combined magic, would hold the Thirteen at bay. It was a good plan, since it was not the Dark Lord himself coming for them, they could, in theory, protect themselves and survive the night with relative ease.
But Zelda already knew she wouldn’t be in the Academy with the others. Where she failed to predict Sabrina’s actions when it came to the resurrection, she could clearly see what her niece would do in this instance. Sabrina would risk the Thirteen and the Red Angel in an attempt to save her mortal friends.
Her suspicions were confirmed when Sabrina stood up, not even a moment later, and asked what would happen to the people of Greendale, the mortal firstborns. Faustus twisted his lips and dismissed them, understandably, he had the entire coven to protect, and mortals had never done them any favors. He couldn’t waste resources that should be spent protecting his own people on the protection of mortals.
Which meant, Zelda sighed and pulled Sabrina back down into the pew next to her, that the Spellman family wouldn’t only be protecting a few mortal friends tonight… but the entire town of Greendale. Well, it threw a slight wrench into her plans, but Zelda was sure she could come up with something that would appease her niece and and keep them all safe.
When they returned home, still having a few hours until the Thirteen and Red Angel descended upon them, they all settled into the kitchen without a word. Well, except for Sabrina, who was asking why the Thirteen would even be angry at witches.
Already on her second cigarette since they left the church, Zelda peered out the window as if expecting one of the ancient and betrayed witches to be roaming the yard. “It’s a bloody mess, what happened to the Greendale Thirteen. The most ignoble chapter of the Church of Night’s history.”
As she, Hilda and Ambrose took turns filling in a piece of witching history for Sabrina, Zelda’s heart felt heavy. It’d been a dark time for the coven; sacrificing a few to save the many. Or so their ancestors justified. The thought of the coven left the witches to be tortured and killed sickened Zelda every time it crossed her mind—though she wouldn’t even be born for close to two centuries after the women met their fates. The abandonment of the Thirteen was horrendous and their demise only strengthened the enforcement of the law separating witching and mortal kind.
And yet, despite this bloody history with the mortals, here Zelda was plotting to protect the ancestors of the very mortals who condemned the Thirteen in the first place.
When Sabrina started to climb onto her soapbox, proclaiming how she wouldn’t let anything happen to her friends and Zelda shouldn’t try to stop her, Zelda cut her off—too tired for another one of her niece’s self-righteous rants when Zelda was already on her side and ahead of her.
“On the contrary, I think we should all stay and protect the town.” She announced, turning away from the window to finally face her family. And their disbelieving reactions to her declaration stung a bit, but Zelda powered on through her explanation. “The Greendale Thirteen were sacrificed so the pack might survive. But we need not make the same mistake again. We are Spellmans. That means we stand tall, with dignity, and we do what is right.”
The plan proceeded easily enough from there, though if Zelda was slightly concerned by how excited Ambrose was to create a tornado, she let it pass. The spell was simple and soon the sirens for the town were blaring.
No, this wasn’t this part of the plan that worried her. What worried her was holding off the Red Angel. But, as Ambrose prepared for the tornado, Zelda prepared a way to hold the mortal school against the assault. The spell she tweaked and enhanced was by no means perfect, but with the four of them combined, it should work… should.
Faustus’ eyes swept over the crowd in the entrance of the Academy, his coven was milling around, chatting nervously. But Faustus was confident that with their combined magic and effort they could repel the Thirteen and the Red Angel with little issue.
Just then, Luke approached him, informing him everyone had checked in and was accounted for… save the Spellman family.
Fear and anger sang through him, and Faustus clenched the railing and struggled to keep a neutral expression; while his wife may know of his affections for a certain Spellman matriarch, there was no reason to reveal this to anyone else.
For the love of Lucifer, why couldn’t Zelda and her family listen for once?! Though he knew Zelda wasn’t a first born, she was still very much in danger. Faustus knew she would put herself between her niece and nephew and the threat hunting them; and that would only end in death.
This had to be Sabrina’s doing… Zelda would never endanger her family by keeping them exposed during such a threat unless she thought Sabrina would try something otherwise. Which was likely the case, the girl probably refused to retreat to the safety of the Academy as long as the mortals were at risk.
And given Sabrina’s recent dangerous actions, Zelda decided to beat the girl to the punch, telling her family they’d work as a unit to protect Greendale. It was smart, trying to get ahead of her niece, who surely would have plunged in headfirst without any sort of plan—endangering herself and others in the process.
So, though he was tempted to summon them to the Academy right then and there, Faustus restrained himself. Zelda was doing what she thought was best, he wouldn’t interfere like he had with the resurrected mortal boy; no matter how badly he wanted Zelda by his side, wanted her safe.
Relaxing his grip on the railing, Faustus sent Luke away to start the preparations and glanced at Constance—she was sweating profusely, and her skin taken on a greyish hue. She hadn’t left the house since shortly after the Feast of Feasts debacle, and the routine and closed environment did wonders for her hysteria. Now though, he could tell she was panicking, only every concern she had this time was valid—though it was likely amplified by the stress and pregnancy.
Quietly, Faustus suggested she go lay down in the infirmary. Hopefully once she was away from the crowd, in a more confined and controlled environment, she would relax. Constance nodded and wandered off down the hall and when he glanced at the clock, Faustus realized the time had almost come.
Sending up a desperate prayer to keep Zelda safe, Faustus went downstairs to join the rest of the coven.
Preparing the school on such short notice was no easy feat, but as the clocked ticked closer to midnight, Zelda felt at least ready for the assault. And, as she reassured her family several times already, it was highly unlikely more than five of the Thirteen would attack Baxter High.
If the Thirteen reacted as Zelda anticipated, a majority would go after the Academy, needing greater power to break through there than anywhere else. This would mean four or five witches would come after the mortal school, leaving one or two to roam the town freely looking for stragglers who failed to heed the warning.
Zelda prayed she was right, though Spellmans were strong, she wasn’t sure they would be able to hold back more than five witches and the Red Angel at the same time. It was too late to second guess now, taking a deep breath as the second hand ticked over the 12 on the clock, her family started to chant.
Almost immediately the doors began to rattle. Zelda tentatively reached out feelers to determine what they were up against… praise Satan, it was only four. Exhaling in relief, Zelda rejoined her voice with the others and gripped their hands tightly—they would survive this yet.
Faustus exited the incantation circle and moved around the coven as they continued to chant, looking for anyone who needed a rest; it wouldn’t do to have someone tired and making mistakes. He was doing his best to ignore the rattling of the door, knowing the six witches outside would like nothing more than for him and the coven to lose focus just enough for them to slip in.
Just then, an alarm spell went off in his head, the one he set to alert him to when Constance went into labor. Eyes going wide, Faustus hurried to the infirmary, praying to Satan it was a false labor. When he arrived though, Constance was writhing in pain, grunts of pain and aborted screams escaping her clenched teeth.
“Faustus,” she gasped, “something’s wrong.” Constance’s eyes were wild and filled with fear.
Placing a hand on her shoulder, he tried to reassure her. “Our babes will be fine. I will be back momentarily.” He nodded jerkily at her before rushing out of the room and into the hallway. Concentrating hard, Faustus pictured Zelda in front of him and muttered the spell hastily. While he reluctantly let her be before—knowing she was doing what she must for her family—he had no choice now, his children were at risk.
She appeared before him with a loud gasp.
Zelda swayed, disoriented; unplanned teleportation would do that to a witch. A pair of hands were immediately on her hips, gripping them hard to steady her.
Blinking, Zelda took in her surroundings, she was at the Academy? No, no, no, this was all wrong. It was only when the hands on her hips squeezed that Zelda focused on who they belonged to. “Faustus, you brought me here?” She asked breathlessly.
“Thank Satan you’re safe,” he murmured, one hand coming up to her cheek. “Yes, Zelda I—”
Barely listening to his reply, Zelda spoke over him. “I have to go back. My family needs me.” She pulled away from him, desperate. The family she convinced not to take the protection of the coven, the family now in imminent danger from the worst threat in Greendale in centuries. The family now a member short in maintaining a four-witch spell…. They were all in danger because of her.
Faustus grabbed her hands though, “your sworn duty is here, Zelda!” He shouted, recapturing her attention.
Shaking him off, Zelda backed away. “My duty is to my family.” She retorted and tried to teleport away only to receive a jolt. Confused, she paced the hallway, trying to find a sweet spot; teleportation could be like cell service sometimes, certain spots working better than others especially in high use magic areas like the Academy.
He tried to catch her arm, but Zelda shoved him away, she had to reach them. Ambrose was a first born, Sabrina was. And even if Hilda was the youngest Spellman sibling and in no danger from the Red Angel, if the Thirteen managed to break into the school her sister would be killed for protecting mortals.
Only, she couldn’t return. When Zelda reached for the magic necessary to leave, she was blocked and received another jolt of electricity.
Looking at her beseechingly, Faustus pressed his mouth into a thin line. “You cannot leave, Zelda. I’ve temporarily anchored you to the Academy.” When she rounded on him, the air crackling with unchecked power and anger, he was quick to add. “Lady Blackwood has gone into labor.” He grabbed her shoulders and spun her partially so she could see the woman through the window to the infirmary. “You cannot leave until you’ve helped her birth the babes. Please, Zelda.”
“What about my children?!” She demanded, voice hoarse with panic, as she faced him once more.
Faustus dipped his head. “I’m sorry, Zels, but yours have abilities, they have Hilda. I even believe Mary Wardwell is at the mortal school.” She scoffed at the mention of the woman, but he pushed on. “They have help. No one can help my children but you.”
“Damn you, Faustus.” Her voice trembled slightly with rage. He was right, she couldn’t leave, not while she was tethered to the Academy. Something she would have felt and realized immediately had she not been consumed by fear for her family.
Well, the sooner she delivered these babies the sooner she could return to her family. But, she vowed to herself, if anything, anything happened to her family while she was away—she’d make him pay for it dearly. High Priest or not and their history be damned.
Shedding her coat, Zelda pushed past him and into the infirmary. “I’ll need clean towels, fresh water and Prudence.” She ordered, tossing her coat aside and rolling up the sleeves of her dress.
Uncertainly trailing after her, Faustus blinked. “Prudence?” He repeated.
“Yes. I’ll need help,” she spat, and she didn’t trust anyone else in the coven. But the girl, the girl she just helped save from the Feast, the one who recently lost a little bit of her faith… well, she was someone Zelda could at least depend on, if not trust. “This is no place for a man. And that very much includes you.” Faustus looked at her for a moment, stunned, before whirling away and out the door to get what she needed.
She spun around and gave her full attention to Constance, already sensing something was wrong.
No, this wasn’t right. All the signs pointed at twin boys. But Constance had been carrying a boy and a girl— which wouldn’t have been a concern, except the girl came first into the world. Pacing, Zelda ran her hands through her hair while Prudence watched her in confusion.
They already lost Constance, there being far too much blood. Far too much, she knew that even before Prudence whispered it to her after the first babe was born. And even with her immense skills and experience, Zelda couldn't save the poor woman. If she had time to prepare, if she had her kit, her potions and charms, had the twins come on time, if she’d been able to deliver the babes during any other time than when the Red Angel was breathing down their necks, then maybe she might have been able to save Constance…. Maybe.
But it didn’t do to dwell on what couldn’t be changed. Zelda needed to decide what to do about the babes.
Crossing her arms, Prudence leaned against the desk against the far wall. “Why not just tell him the boy was born first?” She asked when Zelda held her back from going to fetch her father.
“Because there are potions and spells that reveal which child was born first in instances like this and Faustus will do both in front of the coven to prove to them his son came first and is the rightful heir. And what do you think would happen to us if it was revealed in front of the coven that we lied to him?” Zelda arched a brow at Prudence, who inclined her head in acknowledgement. “No, something else must be done.”
The girl pushed off the desk to come to hover over the crib containing the babes. “What do we do then? How do we protect her?” She asked, and relief flooded through Zelda that she didn’t have to explain why they needed to protect the babe; Prudence already well aware of how the coven could treat unwanted little girls.
A slightly rueful small smile formed on Zelda’s lips. “Do you know knock-out spells?”
Taken aback, Prudence blinked. “What?”
Huffing, Zelda faced the teen full on. “Do you know how to knock someone out with a spell? Quickly, with no time lapse.”
“Of course.” Prudence replied, tone slightly scornful at the suggestion she might not know the spell.
With a curt nod and a final look at the babies, Zelda stepped into the middle of the room, ready to intercept Faustus. “Good, go. Fetch your father, I have a potential solution. But if he rejects it, I’ll need you to knock him out and I’ll adjust his memory. Understood?”
Prudence took a moment then nodded, “yes.” And then she was gone, out the door to collect Faustus.
Moments later, Faustus came barreling into the room, face pale and eyes wide. He barely spared a glance at his wife’s corpse in the bed and made straight for the crib. “The children?!” He asked, striding over.
“Are healthy and alive.” Zelda informed him, slipping in front of him to slow him down. “Though, there was a complication.” She added, stepping aside now and allowing Faustus to approach the crib.
There was a loaded pause before Faustus spoke. “A girl? But the signs…” he trailed off, turning partially to Zelda in confusion.
Shrugging slightly, Zelda held up her hands. “I was just as surprised as you,” she murmured.
He nodded and shifted to face his children once more, a hand reaching out for the boy to grasp while the other hovered uncertainly over the girl. “I assume she was born first and that is the complication.” Faustus noted, lowering his hand all the way to it rested gently on the girl’s stomach.
“Yes.” She saw no reason to lie to him, not yet.
Sighing, Faustus glanced at her. “What do I do?”
Though she knew it wasn’t a viable option, Zelda couldn’t help herself. “Claim the girl as your heir and first born.” She offered boldly, though she felt a twinge of guilt when Prudence flinched at the declaration.
Faustus hesitated and looked back to the babes. “Zelda, I—”
Anger rumbled through her, “it truly means that much to you. Having a male heir?”
His head snapped up to look at her, startled. “It’s, it’s what I’ve been told my entire life, Zels. And then when I became High Priest… it’s all but written in our Unholy Bible that I pass along my work to a son. The Dark Lord, he, he…. But now I—” Faustus faltered, his eyes drawn back to the babies, lingering on his daughter. “I don’t know how to proceed.” He admitted quietly, “the coven will want me to prove which child was born first, and you know better than I those spells and potions cannot be faked.”
Zelda exhaled in relief, glad she didn’t have to go with plan B and even feeling a little guilty for thinking she might need it. Clearing her throat, she came to stand next to him at the crib. “Tell the coven your late wife only gave birth to one child. Your son. That, while rare, he consumed his twin in the womb. The strong being fortified by the weak, as our Dark Lord prefers.”
Shaking his head, Faustus looked at her. “And what would happen…”
“I’ll take her. Raise her.”
Faustus’ eyes filled with emotion and he placed a hand on her forearm, thumb stroking along her skin. “Zelda, though I’ve often wished…” He stopped himself and gave her a small, wistful smile. “I couldn’t ask.”
She swallowed at the aborted sentence and chose to ignore it; Prudence was still in the room after all. “You’re not asking, I’m offering. Should you keep her, your position as High Priest would be weakened. The coven questioning why you kept a girl as your first born.” It was a cruel observation, but a true one.
Rage flashed across Faustus’ face and his hand left her arm to trace his daughter’s cheek. “I don’t care what the coven—”
“You should.” Zelda cut in. “Your daughter would be in constant danger from those who wished your son to be the only heir. I know what it’s like to raise a child the coven does not approve of. How the threats hovered over her. How they came for her.” Zelda looked at him imploringly, “do you want that kind of life for your daughter?”
Stubborn as ever, Faustus did not relent. “I’d protect her. Sabrina never knew of the danger; she grew up feeling safe. Why should my daughter be any different? I’d provide the same safety.” He growled, eyes sparking.
Touching his arm in return, Zelda nodded. “I know,” she acknowledged softly. “And how long do you think the coven will follow you after you do? Do you not recall how half the coven reacted when I protected Sabrina from those women?”
“I remember half were in awe of you.” Faustus countered, purposely ignoring how the other half shunned her; even acted hostile to an extent—though the example Zelda set kept them from acting on anything.
Spinning her rings anxiously, Zelda rested her hip against the crib and faced him. “Faustus, it’s not just the coven. It’s the Dark Lor—”
“I know.” Faustus interrupted, though his tone was less defensive. “The Dark Lord demands a first-born male heir and I haven’t produced one. He will punish me for it if he somehow found out.”
Zelda’s eyes widened at his phrasing, if the Dark Lord found out? Did that mean…
Heaving a sigh, Faustus scooped up the little girl and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “She couldn’t ask for a better mother.” He breathed, carefully handing the babe over.
Tears pricked her eyes as she took the child, it was the highest praise she could ever have imagined; Zelda did her best to hide her reaction by busying herself with the babe in her arms. When she brought her eyes back to his, though, Faustus was still looking at her tenderly.
Framing her face, Faustus leaned in and kissed her cheek before resting his forehead against hers. “Thank you,” he murmured, then he suddenly stepped back, waved a hand and Zelda found herself at home.
As she reappeared, Zelda heard the chiming of the clock indicating that it was 1 AM, witching hour was over. It struck her then, what she’d been doing before being swept into an emergency delivery. The births and subsequent scheming distracting her from the fact that she essentially abandoned her family in their time of need.
Hurriedly, Zelda went upstairs, conjured Sabrina’s old crib, settled the child inside it and then set Hilda’s familiars on guard. She then laid down to astral project to find the rest of her family. They had to be safe; they had to be.
She located Sabrina first, honing in by imagining her niece. But Sabrina was nowhere near the school, she was coming out of the woods and, and her hair was another color? Zelda was stunned but her girl seemed unscathed so Zelda would question it later.
Next, she found Ambrose. Only he wasn’t at the mortal school either, but at the Academy with Luke. The other boy must have summoned Ambrose there like Zelda had been. Well, at least he was safe.
But then she panicked, realizing Hilda had been left alone to uphold a four-witch spell against the Thirteen and Red Angel on her own. Zelda knew her sister was strong—all Spellmans were—but Hilda’s strength wasn’t in spell casting. It was in potions, brews, tinctures and charms. It was in that encyclopedia in her head of how to counter curses and hexes with natural remedies.
Zelda quickly found her sister, she was safe. Though Hilda was a paler than usual, a little shaky and clearly exhausted, she was safe. She held off a group of ancient witches and the Red Angel on her own and Zelda felt a swell of pride. She stopped herself from going up and congratulating her sister right then, the odd mortal from the bookstore was walking with her. It could wait, exhaling once more in relief, Zelda returned to her body, her heart lighter than it had been in a while.
Her family was safe.
Her family which now extended to another child. Standing, Zelda picked up the girl just as she started to whimper in hunger and headed down to the kitchen to feed her. As she was walking through the foyer, a knock on the front door made her freeze. Cautiously, Zelda crept to the door and checked through the peephole. She opened it, “Prudence?”
“How is she?” The young witch attempted a bored tone, but her presence told a far different story.
Already heading to the kitchen once more, Zelda answered over her shoulder. “Hungry.” Thankfully, Hilda had all the ingredients for infant formula; it was something they prepped just in case Constance couldn't produce enough milk. She moved around the kitchen and prepared the bottle one-handed, the infant cradled in her other arm… Zelda found herself reluctant to put the babe down.
Prudence perched herself on the kitchen table and watched as Zelda moved around the room. “What will you tell the coven?”
Only half paying attention, Zelda glanced over her shoulder at the young witch. “Hmm?”
“The coven,” Prudence repeated, lifting a brow. “You can’t just show up with a baby. Not at the same time as Father Blackwood, especially when he was supposed to have twins.” She added, inspecting her nails and trying far too hard to appear uninterested.
Zelda smirked; she knew Prudence was capable of a better mask. And it pleased her the girl was already so invested in her half-sister that she couldn’t manage a proper front. Examining the bottle and deeming it ready, Zelda began to feed the babe and turned to face Prudence. “What do you think I should tell them?” She asked, though she had a plan, Zelda never could pass up a teaching moment.
A surprised look flitted across Prudence’s face before she schooled it back into a bored expression. She clearly hadn’t expected for her thoughts on the matter to be considered. Despite this, Prudence wasted no time in making a suggestion. “She’s your nephew’s bastard. Would help explain the coloring should she take more after her mother.” Prudence leaned back and rested her hands on the table, letting her legs swing slightly. “And, well, the coven knows Ambrose and his wide variety of… tastes.” She smirked, “it wouldn’t be difficult to believe he knocked some witch up.”
“And why would this witch leave the babe with Ambrose?” Zelda asked, pulling the bottle away to check the formula level before feeding the babe once more.
Running her tongue over her teeth, Prudence thought a moment and then her eyes lit up. “She was ashamed. Hadn’t realized he was housebound and didn’t want to be kicked out of her own coven. So, she left the babe here and took off.”
Zelda arched a brow, somewhat impressed. The idea had merit, but there were still large holes in the tale that she knew some of the coven members would probe. “When was my housebound nephew supposed to have met this witch? Especially one from another coven.”
Prudence scowled but kept thinking. “A funeral.” She stated, looking rather smug. “The witch came to support a grieving friend, grew bored during the proceedings and caught Ambrose’s eye. And so it goes.” The girl was practically preening when she finished, plainly proud of herself.
“What would we tell Ambrose?” Zelda asked pointedly.
The smug look faltered, “what?”
Checking the bottle again, Zelda set it down, grabbed a dish towel and started to burp the baby. “Your plan hinges on Ambrose going along with it. On him stating he knocked a girl up and accepting the child as his. How do you suggest we get him on board?”
“Why do I have to figure that out? You took the baby, it’s your problem.” Prudence stood, evidently irritated Zelda kept finding problems with her idea.
Cocking her head in acknowledgment, Zelda gave Prudence a meaningful look. “Perhaps, but you were in the room as well, Prudence. The whole coven witnessed Faustus retrieving you to assist me. Whatever happens to me will happen to you too should this ever come out. While I am the one caring for her, you are just as culpable.”
Prudence’s features twisted with rage, “but we did it to protect her!”
“Indeed, and if anyone finds out what we did we can only hope to have such a quick end as they would have given the baby. Which is why our story must be perfect.” Zelda remarked, still patting the babe on the back.
Chewing on her lip, Prudence sat back down. “We could tell your nephew the truth. You’re his aunt, he’ll listen to you.”
The little one burped and then snuggled into Zelda’s chest, making Zelda smile warmly. “A valid idea, but… there are too many variables to try and control.”
Prudence eyed her dubiously for a moment before her expression softened as if she realized what Zelda didn’t want to say. That should Ambrose claim the girl, she couldn’t be the mother… it would be another child she raised but another that would never call her mother or see her as one. Praise Satan, Prudence felt no compulsion to voice her observation. Instead, she merely nodded, “what did you have in mind then?”
“A young witch from another coven was on the run, attempting to hide her pregnancy from an abusive partner. She was making her way here, having heard from someone that the Spellmans were once midwives.” Zelda began, swaying side to side to lull the babe to sleep. “But she gave birth before she could make it, there were complications, hemorrhaging. It was too late for her by the time she got here, but the witch begged me to hide her child from her partner. She had no other family and refused to name the coven she belonged to in fear the child would be returned to the father against her wishes. I agreed to keep the child and the mother passed on.”
It was a morbid tale, but one the coven would believe. Even if there were those who doubted, Zelda could drudge up a body from the cemetery—this was one of those rare instances Zelda was grateful she ran a mortuary. And she doubted anyone would question or challenge her adoption of the child.
Brows furrowing in thought, Prudence mulled the idea over, turning it over in her head looking for holes. After a minute or two, she nodded. “Seems sound. If you need assistance, I can help babysit.” She offered, once more trying hard to appear unattached to her sister, who’s situation mirrored her own to an extent.
Zelda hid a smile, “I would appreciate the help.” She admitted, peering down at the little bundle in her arms and recalling that it’d been over a decade since she cared for a baby. “How will we explain it though? Seems a bit convenient the two of us were in the delivery room when Faustus learned he only had one child instead of two, then I adopt one and you help care for her.”
“You’ll be teaching several language courses next term, yes?” Prudence asked, picking at imaginary lint on her skirt.
Impressed, Zelda raised a brow, “yes, though not even the other faculty know of that yet. How do you—”
Smirking, Prudence just shrugged. “I have my ways.” She replied cryptically. “Regardless, I will sign up for one I am already fluent in, though I will claim I need extra tutoring. This will give me an excuse to be here or in your office. And I wouldn’t have to worry about the coursework, as I’m familiar with the language and I assume you would be a… lenient grader.”
The solution was simple yet effective. “Very clever,” Zelda commended, smiling in approval and she didn’t miss how Prudence’s mouth twitched up as she tried to hide a smile of her own. “Now, you should be getting back to the Academy. They will be doing bed checks soon and it wouldn’t do for you to be missing on the night the Thirteen and the Red Angel roamed our little town.”
As Prudence stood to leave, she paused, her gaze lingering on Zelda and the baby.
“Yes, Prudence?”
Starting slightly, Prudence blinked back to attention. “Hmm?”
“You have something on your mind. Say it or leave, staring is rude.” Zelda remarked, not taking her eyes off the bundle in her arms.
When Prudence remained silent, Zelda lifted her eyes to look at the young witch and for a moment it seemed as though she’d leave without a word. Then, the ‘Weird Sister’ shield dropped entirely and suddenly a young girl was standing in front of her.
Swallowing, Prudence looked at something behind Zelda instead of making eye contact. “I was just thinking; I wish someone like you was around when I was born… to take me in.” Stunned, Zelda took a step toward Prudence. But before she could say anything, Prudence shook herself and the walls were back up as quickly as they’d fallen. “I will speak with Father Blackwood tomorrow about signing up for one of your language courses as well as ‘private tutoring’ sessions. I don’t see him having any objections.” And with a curt nod, Prudence teleported away.
With a sigh, Zelda made her way back upstairs to settle the babe in her new crib. It wasn’t much, but she made some progress with Prudence tonight. The young woman was clearly in need of, and wanted, a parental figure in her life. Faustus was something to Prudence, she stated herself that he treated her as a daughter… but it hadn’t been enough. Hopefully, with time and patience, she could help guide the girl—Zelda sensed that Prudence was quite a bit like her and would be easier to guide than her often wayward niece.
Carefully opening her bedroom door with a twitch of her fingers, Zelda entered the room humming a quiet lullaby even though the babe was already asleep. She’d barely settled the child in her crib when Hilda came bustling into the room, oddly cheerful considering their close call for the night.
Interrupting her sister’s babble, Zelda cleared her throat. “Hilda.”
“Yes?” She intoned, practically glowing much to Zelda’s confusion.
Well, there was no beating around the bush, taking a fortifying breath, Zelda stepped aside from where she’d been blocking the cradle from view. “I’ve done something rather impulsive.”
She nearly laughed at herself, impulsive was hardly the word for it. While Zelda knew she and Faustus made the right decision to hide the child, hiding her in the Spellman house under Zelda’s care was reckless to a degree. But Hilda was here now, Hilda would reassure her she did the right thing. Would reassure her that just because she failed in raising Sabrina did not mean she would fail again.
When her sister saw the child, though, her eyes went comically round. “You made a magic baby?”
“Of course not,” Zelda replied taken aback by the question, though from the high pitch of the question Zelda could tell her sister was simply wishing that were the case.
Shaking her head, Hilda backed away, clearly overwhelmed. “I’m moving out.”
Zelda blinked, the words a slap to the face. “What?” She whispered, hand coming to her stomach; was her sister abandoning her at last?
“Out of this room.” Hilda clarified, still backing away. “It’s time I had my own room.” She turned and walked out of the room, not even waiting for Zelda to explain.
Casting a quick protection and alarm spell on the babe so she’d be alerted if the girl woke, Zelda followed her sister. “She’s, she’s one of Faustus’ twins.”
Not bothering to spare Zelda a glance, Hilda entered Edward’s old room which they’d been using for storage. “I gathered that much,” she scoffed.
“I didn’t steal her!” Zelda exclaimed, needing to explain, needing Hilda to understand, to approve, to at least look at her.
All that greeted her was a snort as Hilda waved her hands and the room began to rearrange itself.
Desperate, Zelda took a few more steps into the room, ignoring the pain that shot through her as several of Edward’s old possessions floated past her. “She was born first, Hilda. You know how the coven is when it comes to female first-borns, especially when the father holds a position of power. You know how the Dark Lord can be. She would have been in danger. Faustus agreed, he—”
Finally pausing to look at her, Hilda lifted a skeptical brow. “Blackwood knows you have her?” She interrupted.
“Of course,” she retorted indignantly, pretending she hadn’t planned on snatching the girl if Faustus reacted poorly to the news. “We agreed the coven, and possibly the Dark Lord, would come after the girl—like they did for Sabrina. We agreed it would be safer if they didn’t know she existed and since the Dark Lord isn’t all-seeing, it—”
Hilda held up a hand to cut her off. “Wait, what do you mean, like they came for Sabrina? What are you talking about?”
Mouth opening and closing, Zelda’s mind blanked. In her desperation to make Hilda understand and support her, Zelda had given away a secret she kept for over a decade. To buy herself some time, Zelda just hummed.
Nose scrunching in anger, Hilda shook her head. “Don’t you do that. You meant what you said, now explain it to me.” She demanded, voice hard and unrelenting.
Sighing, but knowing it would only further justify her decision to take the babe in, Zelda explained. “Do, do you remember, when Sabrina was two, and we had those intruders?”
Her sister ran her hands through her hair and rubbed her temples, her tell for when she was stressed or overwhelmed. “Of course, they were thieves. What does that have to do with…” Hilda trailed off as she made the connection. “No,” she breathed, taking a step back, hands falling to her sides. “They came for Sabrina?”
Zelda nodded. “They saw her as a risk. Thought she’d expose us to the mortals and needed to be disposed of. Or at least that was the only reason they gave me… I know they came because of Sabrina’s duality as well; they viewed her as an abomination needing to be scourged from the realms. I… dissuaded them.”
“By, by taking off their fingers…” Hilda looked faint for a moment as the memory resurfaced. “Zelda, why didn’t you tell me?! Tell me about the dangers in our own coven, in our own home! I could have helped.” She declared angrily and started to pace before she froze, her face slackening as something else dawned on her. “Was, was this why you stayed in Sabrina’s nursery for months after the funeral?”
Shifting her weight to her other leg, Zelda nodded once more. “Yes, that and Sabrina’s name in the Book of the Beast. I wasn’t sure who’d come for her first, the coven or the Dark Lord’s cronies.” Clearing her throat, Zelda lifted a shoulder. “Took them longer than I thought, but it was the coven who came in the end.”
“Zelda!”
Heaving a sigh, Zelda threw up her hands in exasperation. “I was protecting you too. I didn’t want them to target you for any reason, didn’t want to risk you. So, I made sure that, when the time came, all their anger was directed at me. Not that they ever tried anything ever again, not after the lesson I taught those women.”
Trembling with anger, Hilda’s lips twisted as an angry flush crept up her neck. “No. More. Secrets!” She exclaimed, emphasizing each word with a hand gesture. “First the Dark Baptism when Sabrina was a babe and now this? You can’t keep hiding things from me when it comes to the safety of this family, Zelda.”
Arms crossing, Zelda ran her tongue over her teeth. “I was only trying—” Zelda started to explain when Hilda interrupted her again.
“I know what you were trying to do, Zelds. What I don’t know is why you felt compelled to do it all by yourself.” Her sister sighed, running a hand through her hair again and looking around the room as if to find an answer in one of the corners.
Zelda swallowed hard and conjured up a chair, taking a seat. “You should sit, sister.” She indicated to the old couch they pushed against the wall ages ago. “There is much I should have told you long ago.”
Stunned, Hilda slowly sat, clearly she hadn’t been expecting Zelda to share. And, to be fair, Zelda hadn’t anticipated on sharing this secret today either; or ever for that matter. But she couldn’t handle it on her own anymore. At some point in the past month or so, the burden she’d been carrying no longer was bearable, but crushing in its weight.
It wasn’t a matter of wanting to share, it was a matter of need.
Sighing, Zelda conjured a cigarette and lit it, Satan knew she’d need one to get through this conversation. She took a long draw of nicotine, held it, and then blew it out. “It started when Edward asked me to witness Sabrina’s first Dark Baptism.” Zelda murmured, taking another deep drag from her cigarette. “Our dear brother essentially blackmailed me into attending… after I magically accosted him.”
“Dear Satan,” Hilda murmured when Zelda finished nearly thirty minutes later, rather pale in the face. Then her words registered, and color flooded her sister’s cheeks. “No, no fuck Satan!” She shouted, eyes blazing and the lights flickering as she shoved off the couch and began to pace. Breathing heavily, Hilda paced for a minute before she turned her attention back to Zelda. “All these years? Why did you hold it all in? That is such a weight to carry, Zelds.”
A lump formed in Zelda’s throat, she expected more anger, yelling and magic crackling through the air because she lied and hidden so much. She hadn’t expected Hilda to look at her with eyes filled with concern, to use such a soft tone.
Shifting uncomfortably in her chair, Zelda licked her lips. “I wanted to spare you the knowledge, protect you from it. From the pain, the paranoia, the constant looking over your shoulder…. Both of us didn’t need that. I managed.” She attempted a smile and was certain she failed.
Hilda took a half step towards her, “but did you, Zelda?” She asked in a small voice, and from how she glanced at the bed and how her hand came up to unconsciously touch her back, Zelda knew she was referring to the night terrors and flogging.
A shaky huff escaped her before she collected herself. “Well, I never said the stress and duties didn’t get to be a little too much at times.” Zelda remarked stiffly, still immensely uncomfortable talking about how she dealt with everything for the past nine years or so.
Several tears streaked down Hilda’s cheek, though her sister didn’t seem aware of them. “Why didn’t you come to me? Before you, you started hurting yourself? I could’ve helped.” She added, tears coming faster now.
How had she let a conversation about the baby turn into this? How had her sister managed to direct their talk to the topic Zelda avoided for days? It was too late to avoid it now. If Zelda ever wanted to get back to the topic of the baby, she knew Hilda would insist on discussing the flogging.
Pressing her lips together, Zelda knocked the excess ash off her cigarette anxiously. “Because from decades of experience I knew you couldn’t keep a secret, and this was the most dangerous one of them all.”
Hilda frowned at her, “that’s not it,” she whispered, eyes pleading.
Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment as Zelda tried to force the words past her throat. Somehow, somehow this was more difficult to talk about than Edward’s murder and her break in faith. Eventually, she managed a small, “I couldn’t.”
“Why, though, Zelds.” Hilda implored, closing the distance between them a little more. Blinking rapidly to discourage the tears welling up from falling, Zelda turned her head and addressed her next words to the wall. “Because Edward never, he didn’t…” She stopped as tears constricted her throat and she took a shaky drag of her cigarette. “Edward didn’t need help. He was strong enough to run everything on his own. I needed to be too. I couldn’t let any of you down by not being able to fill his shoes.” Her voice cracked and she pinched the inside of her arm out of habit. A small sniffle sounded from in front of her, but Zelda continued to stare at the wall, knowing if she looked at her sister she would break. “Zelds,” Hilda murmured, grabbing her hand and squeezing hard. “You listen to me, and you listen good. Edward never did any of it alone. Never. As High Priest he had his acolytes, for the mortuary he had Ambrose, for Sabrina he had Diana and us. He was constantly asking for help.” These words made Zelda’s head snap forward to look at her sister. “What? No, he wasn’t—”Dabbing at her cheeks with the cuff of her sleeve, Hilda shook her head. “Zelds, I know you idolized him. Heaven knows why, he caused you enough grief; though you’ve seemed to have blocked out some of the worst. Regardless, Edward was far from perfect. Especially given everything you just told me.” She reached up and framed Zelda’s face, “you have to stop measuring yourself against him… because you’ve surpassed him in every way.”Chin trembling, Zelda shook her head as tears slipped down her face—just as she predicted, looking at her sister was her downfall. “I don’t deserve your kindness,” she replied thickly, casting her eyes downwards and snipping her fingers so her cigarette disappeared. “After everything I’ve done, how horribly I’ve—”A firm, but gentle, hand gripped Zelda’s chin and forced it up so she had to make eye contact with Hilda. “Now, now, enough of that, Zelds.” Hilda breathed, releasing her chin and brushing away Zelda’s tears. “You’ve been under immense pressure. If not from yourself, then our parents, Edward, the coven, Heaven, even the Dark Lord. More pressure then I could ever imagine.”Shaking her head, Zelda stood and moved away from her sister’s comforting touch; knowing she was undeserving of it. “That’s no excuse. I harrowed—”“So I wouldn’t go through something worse.” Hilda cut in, straightening up but letting Zelda keep the distance she put between them. “What?” She all but blubbered, turning to face her sister again. Zelda knew that was one secret she never told anyone and never planned on telling anyone either. Carefully, Hilda took her hand and guided her to sit on the couch with her. “After what happened with Sabrina, I started to think on it harder and I figured something out. I remembered you were already having night terrors when I came… from your own harrowing?” Zelda nodded jerkily and pressed her fingers into the corners of her eyes in a poor attempt at stemming the tears. Hilda gave her a small smile and kept talking. “When I was harrowed, I didn’t have terrors, not like you. It gave me a bit of perverse pleasure to think I was stronger than you, at least in that.” Hilda held up her hand to keep Zelda from interrupting. “That was, until I was asked to join in harrowing a new student. I joined,” she grimaced in regret at the admission. “I joined so I wasn’t picked on for not participating at least once—and I told myself it would only be the once. What I witnessed… it was a much more brutal harrowing than the one I endured. I didn’t think much of it then, too angry with you to connect the dots.” Sniffing, it was Zelda’s turn to grip her sister’s hand. “You should have been angry, had every right.” “Too angry to realize what you protected me from.” Hilda finished, talking as though Zelda hadn’t spoken. “Too angry to see how for the rest of our time at the Academy you protected me from bullying, from so much. I didn’t realize all this until recently, though why you never told me, explained…” She trailed off and caught Zelda’s eye.Spinning her rings nervously, Zelda dropped her gaze to her lap. “I was ashamed of what I’d done. No other witch ever harrowed their sibling. And I—," She ran her tongue over her teeth, “I didn’t think I could handle it if you rejected my apology, rejected me.” Zelda confessed in a whisper. “So, I denied you the apology and explanation you deserved because I was selfish. Instead, I did what I could to ensure no one ever hurt you in that way again.” Brushing back her hair, Zelda shifted uncomfortable on the couch. “I couldn’t take what I did back, but I could do that much. But that doesn’t excuse the rest—”Hilda placed her hand over Zelda’s where it had started to tap restlessly against her thigh. “No, it doesn’t. Not all of it.” Her sister agreed and Zelda was glad she wasn’t fully forgiven—she didn’t even deserve the forgiveness she already received. Hilda’s voice recaptured her attention. “But I understand you so much better now, Zee. I just wish you let me understand sooner.” A shuddering exhale worked its way through her body, and Zelda turned to look at her sister directly. “I’m sorry, Hildie. I am truly, deeply, sorry.” She struggled to get the rest past her tears, “I’ll be better.” A promise she should have made long ago. “You have been,” Hilda reassured her, once more inadvertently demonstrating she was a much better person than Zelda. Before Hilda could expand on that or Zelda could argue, a small trill echoed through the room. Zelda stood quickly and checked the vanity mirror, the baby appearing in the mirror. But she’d only been snuffling a little before falling back into sleep. Sighing, Zelda waved a hand and cleared the image from the mirror. Standing to approach her sister, Hilda came up behind Zelda. “What happened with Blackwood, all those years ago? Why did you push him away? Did you find out he had something to do with Edward?” Spinning to face her sister, Zelda shook her head adamantly. “No. Edward made his bed; the Dark Lord just ensured the pilot and council investigators made him lie in it. Faustus, he just benefited from Edward’s death, became High Priest because of it. I never would have gotten involved if he had any hand in the matter.” Zelda stated firmly. “Then why?”Zelda laughed in disbelief. “I just told you I’ve been faking my faith for over a decade, that isn’t explanation enough?” She raised a brow, but Hilda just pursed her mouth to indicate she wasn’t going to accept that as an answer. “Because I knew if it was ever discovered that I no longer believed… the Dark Lord… I lost Edward, I wasn’t going to risk any of you. And Faustus, when it was only sex it was safe; it was okay. But he asked for more and how could I keep up the façade I’d cultivated with a High Priest as a husband?”
Furrowing her brow, Hilda crossed her arms. “It probably would’ve strengthened it.” She noted, “no one would have suspected the wife of a High Priest of being disloyal to the Church.” Pausing, Hilda examined Zelda. “But you thought of that, I’m sure. No, you were scared of what would happen if Blackwood found out. What he might have to do…” She wiped her cheeks. “I couldn’t put any of you at risk.” Zelda repeated, but at Hilda’s skeptical look, she knew her sister sensed there was more than just the safety of their family. “And, and I didn’t think I could handle… that kind of loss, betrayal. I couldn’t put myself, or Faustus, in such a position.” Hilda nodded, “and now?” Her eyes flicked to the mirror where the image of the babe was moments ago. A shaky laugh escaped her. “Now? I, I don’t know. I still, I lov—, I don’t know.” Zelda confessed, unsure of where she and Faustus stood. “But we are in a place where he trusts me to care for, raise, and protect his daughter. So, that’s something.” Her voice adopted a clipped tone once more as she made to leave; not wanting to delve deeper into her feelings than she already had tonight. Besides, she came in here to convince Hilda there was nothing unscrupulous about her sudden adoption of a child and Zelda felt she accomplished that. “We have to tell Sabrina.” Hilda remarked, much to Zelda’s confusion.Pivoting slowly, Zelda faced her sister once more. “Well, it wasn’t as if I were going to hide the babe, Hilda. I have a backstory lined up and it would be helpful it you, Ambrose and Sabrina supported it.” She stated, unsure why Hilda thought she would, or could, hide the child from the rest of the family. “No,” Hilda waved a hand, “I mean, of course we’ll say what’s necessary to protect the baby and keep her here. What I meant was, we need to tell Sabrina the truth about Edward and Diana.” The words made Zelda go cold and her vision swam, the edges going fuzzy and black. “Absolutely not.” She breathed in horror. Hilda looked at her aghast, “she deserves to know. We promised no more lies about her family.” She added pointedly, crossing her arms.“We are barely keeping her alive as is!” Zelda hissed, clutching the back of the chair she conjured, knuckles going white. “Can you imagine what Sabrina would try if she knew the truth?”Opening and closing her mouth a few times, Hilda shrugged a little helplessly. “That’s a valid point.” She muttered after a moment, though her lips twisted in disapproval. Then her eyes lit up. “I won’t tell Sabrina under one condition.” The relief Zelda felt from finally telling someone about the burden she’d been carrying vanished. She looked at her sister in pained astonishment, “this, this isn’t some bargaining chip, Hilda. This is a matter of life or death for our entire family. I—”“You never hurt yourself again.” Hilda cut in, jaw set and tone unrelenting. Spine stiffening, Zelda sniffed. “Hilda,” she hedged. Shaking her head, Hilda straightened up as well. “No, Zelda. It’s not up for debate. Either you agree to continue to protect this entire family from this horrible and dangerous secret and protect yourself. Or I tell.” A ghost of a snarl tugged at Zelda’s mouth as her fists clenched. “That’s preposterous. You’re blackmailing me even though my coping method has nothing to do with keeping Sabrina and Ambrose safe.” “Oh, it has nothing to do with them? Then we can just tell them what you’ve been doing. Can show them your back while we’re at it, if it’s no big deal.” Hilda countered harshly, jaw set. Eyes flashing, Zelda took a step towards her sister. “Under no circumstance—”Hilda mirrored her actions and took a step forward as well, so they were toe to toe. “Then make the deal.” All the anger drained out of Zelda suddenly, another tear streaked down her cheek. “Why? Why are you doing this?”Losing her defensive stance, Hilda’s faced crumpled. “Because you need protecting and love too.” She whispered vehemently, gripping Zelda’s arm. Taking a shuddering breath, Zelda spun her rings a little before grinding out a “fine.”“Fine what?” Hilda prompted, “say it properly so it’s a real deal.” Biting the inside of her cheek, Zelda exhaled forcefully through her nose. “Fine. I will stop, stop hurting myself as long as you do not tell Sabrina the truth about her parents.” She spat, disgusted with herself for backing herself into this corner. Hilda gave her a tremulous smile and pulled Zelda into a tight hug. “I know this, this has been a difficult night for you, sister. But I am proud of you.” Baffled, Zelda pulled back from the hug. “For what? Submitting to blackmail?” She scoffed and smoothed her hair back and wiped her cheeks. Sighing, Hilda shook her head at how quickly Zelda was rebuilding her walls. “For allowing yourself to lean on others, for accepting help, for putting an end to a harmful practice, for admitting fault and apologizing.” She rolled her shoulders uncomfortably in response. “I kind of hate you,” Zelda muttered, irked Hilda had outmaneuvered her. A low chuckled emanated from her sister. “Well, the feeling is mutual.” Hilda replied wryly.Zelda glanced at her sister and smiled tenderly, “I love you, Hildie.” She murmured briskly and quietly, hurrying from the room before Hilda could reply. She quickly ensconced herself in her room before Hilda could pry anything else out of her. Though she’d been willing, and needed, to talk about what happened to Edward, everything concerning Faustus and her flagellation hadn’t been part of the plan. All Zelda could do now was praise Satan she hadn’t mentioned Mary Wardwell and whatever scheming she was doing. She needed to figure the witch out and how to handle her before bringing Hilda in on that particular secret. Rubbing the back of her neck, Zelda changed into her nightgown, robe and put a wrap in her hair to better keep it off her face. She should go to bed; it’d already been a long night and the babe would be up soon for another feeding and changing. Zelda paused then, she could hardly keep thinking of the child as ‘the babe’, the girl deserved a name. Quietly, Zelda hovered over the cradle to peer at her. Tracing the girl’s cheek, Zelda wracked her mind for names, discarding most the moment she thought of them.Countless parents struggled with this process, Zelda witnessed it time and again during her time as a midwife. Had Faustus selected any female names she might have gone with that, but seeing as how everyone expected twin boys, no female names were considered. Inclining her head, Zelda continued to watch the babe as her eyelids fluttered in sleep. The sight sent warmth and joy through Zelda’s heart, and the rush of emotion had her blinking. Joy… that was what this child made her feel, even after such a short period of time, and it was such an odd sentiment to feel after the past few months of strife. While she could hardly name a Child of Night ‘Joy’, Zelda could name her something that meant joy in Latin. Smiling tenderly at the girl, Zelda pressed a light kiss to her forehead. “Welcome home, Leticia.” She breathed, happiness flooding through her when Leticia’s mouth opened in a small yawn. Just then, the perimeter spell alerted Zelda to the appearance of a certain warlock on the property. Recasting her protection and alarm spells on Leticia, Zelda hastened down the hallway and stairs, wanting to beat the guest to the front door before he could knock. Swinging the door open, Zelda caught Faustus with his hand poised in the air, clearly taken aback by her sudden appearance. “What is Satan’s name are you doing here, Faustus?” She demanded in a harsh whisper, peering over her shoulder even though Hilda was the only one home right now and she already knew everything. When he didn’t answer, she whipped back around, “Faustus!” Blinking, he shook his head and brought his eyes back to hers; he’d been staring at her chest, her nightgown much more revealing than her normal dresses. “I, what?” He asked distractedly.“What are you doing here?” She stressed, checking behind him now to see if anyone or thing had followed. Faustus held up his arms slightly, presenting the sleeping bundle that was his son. “Judas wanted to see his sister and Night Mother.” He murmured, looking at her hopefully.
Her eyes rolling, Zelda stepped aside and allowed him in. “Upstairs, quietly!” She instructed, checking outside once more before shutting the door firmly. Nodding, Faustus walked up the stairs with exaggerated care. As he made his way up, Zelda went to the kitchen to make some tea. It was only when she picked up the kettle and some cups that she was suddenly grateful Hilda decided she needed to move into her own room tonight. Though it would be an adjustment, they’d shared a room since they were children, it was a good step for the both of them. Shaking her head, Zelda made her way upstairs as well, carefully locking the bedroom door behind her after she entered. She froze when she saw Faustus had transformed the single cradle into a large crib so the twins could lay next to each other. He was leaning over the expanded crib, speaking quietly to the babes, his voice only a murmur. The scene had Zelda softening, could she really blame him for wanting to see his daughter? For wanting his children to be together? His voice interrupted her thoughts. “Did you decide on a story?” “Hmm?” She set down the cups and kettle on her vanity. “To tell the coven.” Faustus elaborated, gesturing to Leticia. Zelda joined him next to crib and smiled as the twins cuddled against one another. As they watched the babes, she told Faustus her plan. When she finished, he nodded. “Clever, no loose ends.” Arching a brow in acknowledgement, “my thoughts exactly,” Zelda murmured. They stood in silence for a moment, when Faustus broke it. “Have you selected a name?”“If you have one, Faustus…” She trailed off, though she loathed to change Leticia’s name, she was still his child. Shaking his head, Faustus conjured a mobile with little stuffed spiders, bats and moons to hang above the crib. “No, I’m sure whatever you have picked is perfect, Zels. I just want to introduce Judas to his sister properly.” He smirked at her a little before turning his attention back to the babes. “Leticia,” she supplied, “after—”“Letitia di Albioni.” Faustus finished with her, and she shivered at how well he knew her. “A powerful enough witch even the mortals have legends about her.” Zelda snorted lightly. “Their legends are highly misconstrued. They—” She fell quiet when Faustus started to chuckle, letting her know he was already aware of how false the legends were. His hand coming to cover hers where it rested on the crib, Faustus pressed a little closer into her side. “It is a beautiful name. Leticia,” he murmured, as if testing it out, a smile spreading across his face as he did. “You know, in Latin, Leticia means happiness or joy.” Restraining a huff, Zelda nodded and just barely kept herself from stating she knew exactly what Leticia’s name meant in Latin—it being the primary reason she chose it. The fact it also happened to be after a powerful witch in history was just a wonderful coincidence. Before she could think of a response that wouldn’t reveal how soft she’d become, Faustus took his hand off hers, slipped his arms around her waist entirely and stood partially behind her so he could rest his chin on her shoulder as he watched his children. She started slightly at the affectionate gesture and closed her eyes to try and control her breathing and slow her pounding heart. “What are you doing?” Zelda asked, her voice almost a whisper. Faustus’ breath in her ear made her shiver. “Holding the incredible witch who saved my children.” He murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to her neck. Wetting her lips, Zelda tried to focus. “Constance…” she breathed, though why she was bringing the woman up she had no clue. Zelda never thought of her before when they were fooling around, why did it suddenly matter now that Constance was gone?Seemingly having the same thoughts, Faustus pressed another kiss to her neck, this one decidedly less chaste. “Is dead. And meant as little to me alive as she does now. It was an arranged marriage, Zelda.” She blinked, how had she never known their marriage was arranged? Zelda attempted to turn in his arms, but he held her tight. “Why?” She inquired, “you could’ve had any witch or warlock you wanted. Why settle for an arranged marriage?”At her question, Faustus released her and took a step back. When she turned, his brows were furrowed, and eyes fill with confusion. “It wasn’t my intention to have an arranged marriage. However, if you recall, the witch I wanted and asked rejected me.” He looked at her pointedly, the confused expression still creasing his face. “And after the rejection…” Faustus paused, and seemingly changed his mind as to what he’d been about to say. “I asked my mother to find a match for me. She found Constance. It was a farce of a marriage, we performed certain duties, knowing children were expected of us. But it went no further; neither of us faithful to the other. Constance wasn’t wrong in calling me a ‘voracious slut’ though it was quite hypocrital.”Swallowing, Zelda tried to process what he was saying. Tried to reconcile his words with what she convinced herself was the truth; that his moving on so quickly evidenced he’d have grown bored with her, that he’d been so unaffected by her refusal he moved on to the next witch with ease. But, he, he wanted her. Had all but just admitted that her decision impacted him so much he simply threw himself into an arranged marriage. He wanted her.“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked, a little hoarsely. Faustus huffed, “that it was an arranged marriage?” A frown tugged his features, “well, you quite literally ran away and avoided me after my proposal. Besides, at that point it seemed no concern of yours, you didn’t want me so…” He lifted a shoulder in nonchalance, but his eyes were dark with something Zelda might name as old pain. Shaking her head a little in disbelief, Zelda went to spin her rings only to remember she took them off for bed; forcing her to fist the material of her robe instead. “You wanted, you wanted me.”Rolling his eyes, Faustus stepped closer to her. “Isn’t that what I just said.” He quipped, reaching out and gripping her hips, thumbs stroking along the silk of her nightgown. At her continued disbelief, Faustus tugged her closer and rested his forehead against hers. “I’ve wanted you all this time, Zelda Spellman. Since the day we met at the Academy. You walking out on me didn’t change that.”“But I thought it was because Constance was denying you. The only reason you came back—”He pulled away at that, “you thought I was only seeking you out for sex? After everything we’d been through and with our past, you thought I was using you for sex?” A hurt expression flickered across his face and was gone before Zelda could be sure she truly saw it. “Well, yes.” She retorted, though she wasn’t quite as confident in her reply because of how he responded. “When we first started this, the way you brought it up… Constance denying you, you wishing she were more liberated, polyamory…” Zelda shrugged, unsure how else she could have interpreted those statements. She knew, though, that she was picking and choosing from their recent interactions for moments that supported her theory; unwilling to acknowledge there’d been many moments which suggested there was more between them. Faustus scowled at himself and slid a hand from her waist up into her hair. “I was trying to tell you that Constance and I hadn’t, not for weeks. Because you were back in my life. I was trying to say I hadn’t been with any other witch—”Mouth going dry, Zelda shook her head. “That’s not what you said.” She interrupted, mind whirling at his implication that he’d been celibate since they reentered one another’s lives more fully, that he’d been monogamous with her once they restarted whatever was between them. That despite his mentions of polyamory he hadn’t been serious. Dropping his head back, Faustus brought his eyes back to her a little helplessly. “I didn’t think I needed to verbalize my intent so blatantly. My actions were obvious enough.” He countered, pressing his body against hers in demonstration. “Besides, the last time I was so forward with you, you left.” And it all came flooding back, why she left in the first place. None of those reasons had changed or gone away—they were still very real and present. But she’d denied herself for so long, and she didn’t want to, not anymore. Besides, they both just defied the Dark Lord by hiding Leticia from him and the coven, claiming Judas the sole Blackwood heir. And Faustus admitted to wanting her all along…. Didn’t those things mean something? They had to mean something, and so when Faustus leaned in to kiss her, Zelda didn’t resist, instead she was the one to close the remaining distance between their lips. The kiss was long, passionate and had emotions welling up inside Zelda she normally buried. But it’d been a night for raw emotions and the revelation of secrets, so perhaps that was why, when they broke apart, Zelda uttered those three damned words. “I love you.” Her eyes snapped open wide at the declaration, and she pulled and turned away, horrified. Stunned, Faustus blinked. “Zelda, I—”Before he could finish his sentence, Zelda performed a silent memory adjustment spell to make him forget the conversation. She couldn’t handle a rejection, the age-old excuse that witches only lusted, never loved. And that was what he admitted to, lust—though a stronger form of it than usual, that was still all he felt. How could she have been so stupid? So vulnerable as to allow herself to express something she’d repressed for over a decade? When she slowly turned back to face him, Faustus’ eyes were out of focus and his expression blank. Then he shook himself and looked at her, confused. “What?” Inhaling shakily, Zelda smiled at him. “I was telling you I chose Leticia to be her name.” Faustus smiled and approached the crib again, cooing over the babes, making sure not to wake them. “Leticia is a wonderful name,” he murmured. “You know in Latin, it means joy.” And though her heart ached by how well the spell worked, how easy it was to distract him, it was for the best. She couldn’t allow him to know her true feelings, couldn’t expose herself like that. Faustus was still leaning over the crib, “Judas and Leticia,” he tested out the names, smiling. “They’re perfect. I only wish…” And he trailed off, looking at her with an emotion in his eyes, one that told her he wished she’d born him these children. Despite how this sent thrills through her and had Zelda wanting to proclaim her love once more, she couldn’t give him the chance to go down the same conversation path. The déjà vu would tip him off to the fact that she played with his memory. So, instead, she placed a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. He broke the kiss momentarily, eyes blazing with lust and something she couldn’t identify as they swept over her before he crashed their lips together again, hungry for more. Zelda eagerly pressed herself against him, just because she was going to deny the depth of this relationship didn’t mean she had to deny herself the physical aspect. They only paused long enough to consider the babes, casting a quick silencing spell so they could hear if the babes cried but no one else could hear them. After that it was rushed, hot, and delicious. Afterwards, they laid contentedly in one another’s arms, her head on his chest and one of Faustus’ hands tangled in her hair as the other drew lazy patterns on the arm she’d thrown around his waist. He turned to her then, a soft look on his face, “Zels, I—” when a door slammed down below, and Zelda could feel the rush of new magic pulsing in the air even floors above. Sitting in up surprise, Faustus turned to her. “She, she signed?” He asked incredulously.Zelda only shook her head, just as confused, but the signs were unmistakable. She quickly climbed out of bed, dressed, and waved a hand to hide any evidence of their recent activities. “Stay here.” She instructed, bending over her trunk and snagging a small box out and stashing in her robe pocket. Lifting a brow at the command, Faustus smirked and murmured, “as you wish.” She rolled her eyes, checked herself one last time in the mirror, before heading to Sabrina’s room. When Hilda didn’t emerge from her room as well, Zelda assumed her sister was already asleep—good, Hilda needed to recover from holding off the Thirteen and Red Angel; she expended enormous amounts of energy. There was no need to wake her sister, she’d find out in the morning. Besides, Zelda wanted to have this moment alone with her niece. Knocking tentatively, Zelda waited. Though she knew Sabrina was in her room, the magic palpable enough it would’ve given away the girl’s location anywhere in the house, she didn’t want to force anything. After a moment, a quiet, “come in,” filtered through the door. Pushing it open slowly, Zelda took in Sabrina’s new appearance more fully than she’d been able to during her astral projection. Her niece was sitting cross-legged on the bed, already in her pajamas and cuddling her stuffed rabbit. “Want to talk about it?” Zelda questioned softly, coming to sit next to Sabrina.Sniffing, Sabrina’s chin trembled. “I signed the Book of the Beast.” She informed her unnecessarily, leaning into Zelda’s side. “Ms. Wardwell said it was the only way to stop the Thirteen and the Red Angel. I burned them with Hellfire, like in my vision from the Malum Malus. But I wasn’t strong enough, so I signed. I, I didn’t see any other way to save everyone.” Zelda froze midway between wrapping her arm around Sabrina comfortingly. Badly wanting to leave right then and strangle Wardwell for coaxing Sabrina out of the safety of Hilda’s protection and into the woods. The only thing keeping her there was the fact that Wardwell would be gone from their lives now. She’d accomplished her mission, Sabrina signed. There was no other reason for the bitch to interfere or put her girl in harm’s way ever again. Praise Satan she hadn’t told Hilda about the woman, it would have unnecessarily complicated things—even if it all was resolved now. Exhaling slowly to rid herself of the red flooding her vision at the mention of Wardwell, Zelda hugged Sabrina against her. “Oh darling, we were already doing everything possible to protect the town. The coven was safe at the Academy and the mortals at Baxter High. We only had to last an hour. It worked.” A few tears slipped down Sabrina’s face. “Not everyone was at the school, Auntie Zee. Roz, Susie… Harvey. They were all outside and in danger.” It was a monumental feat, controlling herself. First Wardwell, and now the Kinkle boy? Zelda squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips together to not curse anything. Why, why was it that whenever something happened Harvey was somehow the inspiration or motivator?Zelda knew, on some level, it wasn’t his fault her niece was so heedless in her pursuit of her wants, of what she deemed was right. But things certainly would have been much easier this past month and a half if Harvey Kinkle had never been part of Sabrina’s life. “It’s not your job to protect everyone, sweetheart. That is a much too heavy burden to carry, let alone for a teenager. No matter your abilities.” She reached up and tucked some of Sabrina’s hair back. “I am sorry you felt you had to give up so much.” Sabrina just curled further into Zelda’s side. “What were you thinking? Leaving the protection of the school? Of your Aunt Hilda?” She admonished, though they all made it out in one piece, it very well could have ended differently. Pulling back, Sabrina wiped some of her tears away. “I was thinking of what you would have done in my shoes.” She stared at her niece, dumbfounded. “What?”“I was just doing what I’ve seen you do all my life. Protect people. It’s not always crazy like summoning Hellfire,” Sabrina smiled sheepishly, “but it’s always been there. I understand now, what you’ve been doing. Why we need to keep up appearances with the Church. I felt the Dark Lord’s presence. His true presence, not just a possession. It was chilling, terrifying. He’s really dangerous, Auntie.” Sabrina informed her, pale faced. Though panic shot through her at the idea of the Dark Lord hovering over Sabrina as she signed, Zelda also felt relief that Sabrina understood where she was coming from. “I know He’s dangerous, Sabrina. Which is why your constant rebellion against Him has given me ulcers.” She half-teased, cupping Sabrina’s cheek for a moment. “I’m glad you finally understand. Though there is something I understand now as well. I was,” she took a deep breath. “I was letting my past experiences cloud how I raised you. “I was stifling you, trying to force you down a certain path in order to keep you safe. My fears come from a genuine place, as you’ve realized. But my fears stem from more than just knowing the Dark Lord is dangerous, darling. He took something irreplaceable from me and in the process forced me to do something I was strongly against. A part of me broke, Sabrina.” She whispered, explicitly confessing for the first time how damaged she’d been after Edward’s murder; how she never really recovered from it fully. And she hated it, hated how the word ‘broke’ stuck in her throat, hated the implications of it, hated that she wasn’t strong enough to glue herself back together sufficiently enough that she was now confessing to not only Faustus and her sister, but also her niece. But it needed to be done, she couldn’t continue on as she had, holding it in until she purged it with whipping. It wasn’t an option anymore; which meant this… talking. Sabrina dropped her rabbit and lurched forward, wrapping her arms around Zelda fully—though this time it was as though Sabrina was holding her and not the other way around. The gesture stunned Zelda, and after a moment she brought up a hand to stroke Sabrina’s hair; grateful her girl was staying quiet, as if she sensed that if she spoke Zelda would stop. Taking a shaky breath, Zelda continued. “I am relieved you now understand where I’ve been coming from… but you were right to work to change certain things as well. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” With a vigorous shake of her head, Sabrina pulled back from their embrace but gripped Zelda’s forearm tightly. “No, Auntie Zelda, I’m sorry. A lot of pain could have been avoided if I just signed on my birthday.” She dropped her eyes, “you were right, everything has a price.” Sniffing, she lifted her gaze and there was a bit of that old spark in it again. “I’m not sorry for most of it, stopping the harrowing, the Feast of Feasts, helping Susie’s uncle….” Zelda restrained herself from pointing out that while her girl had the best of intentions, none of what she’d done had any lasting effect. Yes, the harrowing would stop for a little bit, Prudence and her sisters scared off. But that happened every now and then (so she learned when she thought Sabrina would be safe because it was done away with), but it would pick up again when a new group of witches wanted to hurt others the way they’d been hurt. And Sabrina had saved Prudence from a gruesome fate, certainly, but the Feast wasn’t ended by any means and would continue again the next year. As for Jesse Putnam… well, he was dead now even with their intervention. But Sabrina’s heart was in the right place, she did those things to try and protect people, so Zelda wouldn’t admonish her beyond what she’d already done in the past. She just pressed her lips together and covered Sabrina’s hands with one of hers, squeezing slightly. “I see now, why you were so against defying the Dark Lord.” Sabrina added in a small voice, chewing her lip. “Why you work so hard to appear like you’re devout.” The words threw Zelda and she involuntarily pulled away from her niece. How? How could she say such things? The only person she ever told about her break was Hilda and that’d been only an hour ago. There was no possibility Hilda told Sabrina, it would void their deal…. How?Furrowing her brow, Zelda did her best to collect herself. “Whatever do you mean, Sabrina? That is utter nonsense, I—”“Auntie, I realized I’ve pushed you beyond the extreme recently. But you chose me over the Church every single time. No matter what.” Sabrina was kneeling on her bed now, talking earnestly. “Looking back, I felt your magical signature weaken the vines as I ran from my Dark Baptism—when it would have been easier to let them drag me back and force me to sign. You came immediately when I asked for help with the harrowing, even though it’s a tradition. You performed an exorcism though it goes against Church and coven laws, you helped me stop the Feast even though it’s a sacred holiday,” Sabrina was talking faster now, as though she were afraid she wouldn’t be able to get this all out otherwise. “You let me try and fix the necromancy.” She added quietly, dropping her eyes in shame. Granted, Sabrina had named a number of examples where Zelda chosenher family over the Dark Lord and the Church of Night, but Zelda couldn’t let her girl believe she’d lost her faith. It was too dangerous. “Of course, I helped you darling, but that doesn’t mean I’m pretending—"Cutting her off, Sabrina brought her eyes back up. “I should have connected the dots sooner; after the Feast. When I asked you what you would have done if I’d been selected as Queen and you said it wouldn’t have mattered. Even if it were the Dark Lord’s will, that you would never let them hurt me.” “Not letting you be eaten is not the same—” Zelda tried to object, though her arguments sounded feeble even in her own ears. When had she become so easy to read? So weak that everyone could see through her? A small smile tugged the corner of Sabrina’s mouth. “By itself, no. But combined with everything else I just listed, I realized you’d do anything to keep face with the coven… like let me draw a paper at the Feast lottery. But if it came down to it, you’d have done anything to protect me, protect our family.” And Zelda could feel tears welling up in her eyes. Because while the last thing she wanted was to give Sabrina another reason to rebel, it was an immense relief that her girl was finally figuring out what truly motivated Zelda all these years. Encouraged by Zelda’s lack of protest, Sabrina continued. “And if you were really as devout as you say, it wouldn’t have mattered. You’d have been proud if I was selected for Queen of the Feast; it’d have been an honor. And if you were as devout as you pretend, you would’ve gone and taken care of Tommy yourself, you wouldn’t have given me the chance; just a lecture after.” Sabrina shuffled a little closer to her, “I understand, Auntie Zee. And I am so, so sorry for everything I’ve done to put us in danger…. But Tommy, he’s, he’s gone now and I signed. Are, are we still in a grave?” She asked in quiet voice, looking at Zelda anxiously. Sighing, Zelda couldn’t refute the conclusions Sabrina had drawn, but she didn’t have to confirm them either. So, instead of addressing her lack of faith in the Dark Lord, Zelda just wrapped an arm back around her niece and tugged her into her side. “I’m not sure if we’re out of the grave yet, sweetheart. But I don’t think we are in as much danger as we were.” Sabrina curled into her side once more, a silence settling between them as they processed the conversation. Carefully, Zelda pulled the necklace out of her robe pocket with the hand not holding Sabrina against her. She was about to hand it over when her niece broke the silence. “Are we going to talk about where you went? Why you disappeared?” And though there was no accusation in her tone, Zelda couldn’t help but feel they were both thinking if she’d been present tonight Sabrina might not have needed to sign—at the very least she'd never have allowed Sabrina to go off with Wardwell. Not that it mattered now, they couldn’t change the past. Sliding the necklace back into her pocket, Zelda nodded slowly. Before she could explain, however, a thin wailing cry echoed down the hall, though it soon died down; Faustus likely having taken care of whichever babe needed it. Confused, Sabrina stiffened against her. “Was that a baby?!”“Yes, I—”“Why didn’t you say you had a baby here?” Sabrina demanded incredulously, pulling away from Zelda to stare at her. A smile touched Zelda’s lips and she cupped Sabrina’s cheek for a moment. “I wanted to check on you first.” Her niece softened at that and then remembered herself. “Well, now I want to talk about the baby.” She gestured toward the door, eyebrows raised expectantly as she adjusted her position, facing Zelda completely and tucking one leg underneath her.Shaking her head affectionately, Zelda shifted on the bed to mirror Sabrina. “Her name is Leticia. She is the first born of Father Blackwood’s twins. That’s what I was going to tell you, why I disappeared earlier.” She clasped her hands in her lap to hide how she was twisting her fingers; anxiety was rolling through her, though why she was so nervous to tell Sabrina about Leticia she wasn’t sure. “I was summoned to the Academy; Lady Blackwood went into premature labor and I was needed for the delivery. I tried to come back, Sabrina. I did, but—”Sabrina waved a dismissive hand, “I know, auntie, I know you wouldn’t have abandoned us. What about the baby?”Huffing in amusement, Zelda went on to explain. “Lady Blackwood died. Her body under too much stress from her overuse of magic, from her pregnancy induced hysteria, the whole Thirteen and Red Angel situation… it was hardly an ideal time to give birth. She bled too much; I didn’t have my tools… I couldn’t help her. But both babes lived.”Sagging in relief that the children were alright, Sabrina looked at her sharply then. “But why?” She gestured down to the door again. “Leticia was born first, a surprise when all signs pointed to twin boys. Faustus and I decided it was too dangerous for him to claim her as his first born and there was no way to trick the coven into thinking her brother was born first. You see, there are spells and—” Zelda went to explain but Sabrina headed her off. “Spells and potions, yeah. I read about them for one of my history classes.” Sabrina interrupted her impatiently, “why is Leticia here?” Picking at the palm of her hand, Zelda swallowed. “I, I volunteered to take Leticia; raise her. I will tell the coven a single mother from another church died after giving birth, but refused to give details about her home because she didn’t want the babe returned to her abusive partner.” Sabrina licked her lips, “so, Leticia, she’ll, she’ll be your daughter?” She asked, voice a little high pitched. She blinked, “well, I, yes. I suppose she will be. In every sense of the word at least.” And Zelda tried to mask how thrilled she was by the notion; especially when she saw how her niece’s face fell a bit. “Oh, okay…” Sabrina murmured, nodding jerkily and clearing her throat.Frowning in confusion, Zelda peered at her niece. Unsure why Sabrina seemed more upset by this than having to sign the Book. But it wasn’t as if she could give Leticia to someone else, not that she could bear to part with the little girl in any case, so Sabrina would need to come to terms with another child being in the house. Perhaps, perhaps she thought she was being replaced? Another adopted girl of a High Priest? Zelda had to admit, the parallels were somewhat disconcerting. But Leticia could never replace her girl. Slowly, Zelda took the necklace back out of her pocket. “I have something for you.” She murmured, gripping the box tightly in her hands where they’d come to rest in her lap once more. “I, I intended to give it to you on your original Dark Baptism, but with everything…” Zelda raised a brow and chuckled slightly, and Sabrina gave her a wry smile in return, though there was still something akin to doubt in her eyes. “Well, anyway,” she handed the box over and waited for Sabrina to open it. “It belonged to my mother.” Zelda explained, as Sabrina admired the necklace, “and her mother before her and so on. It’s been passed down through Spellman women on their Dark Baptism for centuries. And I, I want you to have it.” Sabrina carefully took the necklace from the box, tears in her eyes. “Your mom gave it to you?” She repeated tremulously. Humming in the affirmative, Zelda placed a hand on Sabrina’s knee. “Yes, I wore it every day for a very long time. It means quite a lot to me, and I hope you come to value it as well.” “Are you, are you sure you don’t want to save it for Leticia?” Sabrina whispered, running the chain through her hands and not meeting Zelda’s eye. Taken aback, Zelda looked at Sabrina baffled. “Why would I save it for Leticia?” She inquired, the thought that Sabrina was trying to graciously reject her gift forcing itself into the forefront of her mind; her heart dropped at the idea. Sniffing, Sabrina rolled her shoulders, eyes still downcast. “Because she’s your daughter.” Came a thick reply, “she’ll get to call you mom.” Several tears dripped off Sabrina’s nose. “And this is an heirloom that gets passed down from mother to daughter.” The dark, sinking feeling that was threatening to pull Zelda under dissipated at Sabrina’s words. She wasn’t rejecting the gift, wasn’t rejecting Zelda. She truly thought she was being replaced and didn’t believe the necklace should go to her. “Oh, my girl.” Zelda murmured, pulling Sabrina back into a tight embrace, her niece’s head tucked under her chin as Sabrina’s arms wound around her and fisted the material of her robe. “I never wanted to, to tell you this before.” She swallowed hard but forced herself to continue. “Because I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable or feel pressured or think I was trying to replace Diana. But I love you as a daughter. Always. You have always been, and always will be, my daughter.” She was crying now too, tears rolling down her cheeks. Sabrina buried her face against Zelda’s shoulder. “No matter how many babies you take?” She asked tremulously, the question slightly muffled.Zelda couldn’t help but laugh a little and hugged Sabrina tighter. “No matter how many babies I adopt.” She clarified, rocking the two of them on the bed gently. “Though I don’t plan on taking in anymore.” Zelda pulled back and framed her niece’s face, wiping the tears away with her thumbs. A wide smile broke out on Sabrina’s face and she lurched forward and wrapped her arms around Zelda’s neck. “I never thought you were trying to replace Diana. I’m sorry for what I said the other night. You’re my mom in every way that counts…. I love you.” Sabrina murmured, sniffing once more.Heart soaring at the words, Zelda clung to her girl tightly, and it took a moment for her to respond past the lump of emotions stuck in her throat. “I love you too, sweetheart.”When Sabrina pulled back a minute later, she was chewing on her lip, suddenly shy. “Will, will you help me put it on?” She asked, already turning around and taking off the necklace Harvey gave her. Beaming, Zelda nodded and took the necklace and looped it around her girl’s neck before fastening it. When she turned back around and let her hand drop from the pendant, Sabrina looked at Zelda. “How does it look?”“Lovely,” Zelda whispered, fussing with the chain, smoothing out a twist and gently touching a lock of Sabrina’s new platinum hair. Not missing her aunt’s action, Sabrina’s hand came up to touch her hair as well. “Auntie Zee, does everyone’s hair change when they sign?” She asked, lightly tugging on the strand.Reaching up and tucking a few stray locks behind Sabrina’s ear, Zelda shook her head. “No. It only happens in rare cases, when someone signs under extreme duress—which might be what happened to you tonight. Or when the witch or warlock signing is especially powerful. My hair did the same.” She reassured, smiling at the memory. “Really?” Sabrina straightened and looked at her excitedly, “what did your hair look like before?” Her brow furrowed, as though she were trying to imagine her aunt with anything other than her fierce red locks. Shifting on the bed to get more comfortable, Zelda huffed a little in amusement. “It was dark brown, like your father’s. We were so close in age and looked so alike people mistook us for twins at times. Thomas, Ambrose’s father, he was blond, like Hilda. Well, clearly Ambrose took after his mother, lucky for him; Thomas wasn’t much of a looker.”“Auntie!” Sabrina playfully scolded, but she was smiling again. “But you had brown hair?” She asked, touching Zelda’s hair briefly before letting her hand fall. Zelda nodded, “yes, and when I signed, it lightened and took on a reddish color. I was delighted, naturally, not only because of what the color change indicated about my powers, but also because I felt red hair fit my personality so much better.” She winked and Sabrina shook her head in amusement. Sobering for a moment, Sabrina tugged at the ends of her own her. “So, it lasts forever then? The color change.” Pressing her lips together, Zelda sighed. “Mine did, though I am not sure about others in general. It is not a common phenomenon and little research has been done on the topic. If you dislike this color, there are potions and spells we can use.” She offered, seeing Sabrina was self-conscious about the new look. “But that is something we can explore later. We should both be in bed.” Zelda arched a brow and stood. “Night darling, damned dreams.” She kissed the top of Sabrina’s head and made for the door. “Night, Auntie Zee, thank you for everything. Love you.” Sabrina smiled at her and crawled under the covers. Trying to contain herself, Zelda smiled back. “Love you too,” she breathed, switching off the light and closing the door behind her. Once out in the hall, Zelda had to lean against the wall, attempting to stem the fresh flow of tears making their way down her cheeks; though these were from joy. Sabrina loved her. Her reaction to the statement was over the top, on some level she knew this. Of course, Sabrina loved her, they were family. But to hear her girl say it, after so many years of conflict, after the gap between seemed to have been stretching endlessly for so long… it was something else. And then, then Sabrina said Zelda was like a mother to her in every way that mattered. Emotions clogged Zelda’s throat at the recent memory, and she covered her mouth to hide the wide, teary smile on her face. Her girl, her girl…. Sniffing, Zelda collected herself and made for her bedroom. So much had happened tonight it was almost impossible to believe. But as she entered her bedroom and found Faustus fast asleep in her bed, Zelda found that despite all the danger and craziness tonight brought, she’d found a sense of peace.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Zelda woke hours later to the twins fussing and Faustus curled around her. When she moved to attend to the babes, Faustus grumbled and the arm he wrapped around her waist tightened and held her closer to his chest. Suppressing a smile, Zelda trailed her fingers along his arm and murmured his name; when he didn’t budge, she pinched him lightly.
He shot up, clearly disoriented and hair a mess. “Whassisit?” Faustus slurred, blinking and looking around the room, his hand now resting on her hip.
Chuckling, Zelda leveraged herself out of the bed and made for the crib. “Your children.” She intoned teasingly, scooping up Leticia and flicking a wrist to conjure a changing table in the corner of the room. Setting the girl down on the table, Zelda made to change her diaper when Faustus scrambled out of bed.
“Wait!” He picked up Judas and came to stand behind her, bouncing slightly to soothe his son. “I need to see what you do,” Faustus informed her when she raised a brow at him.
Unable to hide her smile this time, Zelda turned back to Leticia and started to walk Faustus through the process of changing a diaper; though she might have been a little distracted by the fact that Faustus was standing in her bedroom in his boxers, bare-chested, hair in its natural unruly curls he hated and cradling a babe trying to learn about diapers.
When she finished, Zelda picked up Leticia and stepped back to let Faustus try. He was awkward and unsure, and to compound his anxiety Judas started to pee the moment the diaper was off; sending an arc of urine into the air and causing Faustus to yelp.
“What in Satan’s name!” He hurriedly pressed the new diaper in his hand against the babe to prevent further spraying. A chortle escaped Zelda at his expense as she waved her hand to clean up the mess. Faustus whipped his head around and glared at her. “You could have warned me,” he groused, shifting back to Judas to clean the boy up and put on a new diaper.
Biting her lip, Zelda stifled another laugh. “I didn’t think of it, when girls do that it doesn’t go flying.” She informed him dryly, though to be honest she’d been a bit distracted by Faustus when she was supposed to be giving him a lesson.
Faustus muttered something under his breath and finished putting the diaper on Judas. He stepped aside then and glanced at Zelda for approval.
Another snort of amusement left her. “Valiant effort,” she commended, “but it’s on backwards.” Zelda noted when Faustus’ face scrunched in confusion at her reaction.
Sighing, he turned back to the table and changed Judas once more; wary this time of potential spraying. “If I can’t even change his diaper what use am I?” Faustus mumbled so softly Zelda almost didn’t catch it.
Brow furrowing, Zelda touched his shoulder as he finished, cradling Leticia in one arm. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Faustus. You’re new at this, you think any first-time parent knows what they’re doing?” She smiled reassuringly as he turned into her touch, Judas in his arms, diaper properly in place. “And, you’re going to hire a nanny or wet-nurse, are you not? For when you’re at work? She will handle most of this.” Zelda tried to soothe, her hand sliding up and down his arm.
But Faustus shook his head, “I want to do as much as I can in caring for Judas.” He held the boy gingerly and moved to sit on the edge of her bed. Zelda joined him, her leg brushing against his as she sat. “My father,” Faustus rolled his neck and then returned his gaze to Judas, avoiding her eyes. “My father was a hard man, a distant one. Prone to harsh punishments, both verbal and physical… as you know.” He added quietly, and Zelda pressed against his side to comfort, knowing all too well how Faustus’ father had been; hers not too different. Faustus’ voice recaptured her attention before the memory could drag her under again as it had the other day. “My father claimed he needed to be that way, needed to do those things in order to best serve the Church. So, when the time came I might best serve the Church.” Exhaling slowly, Faustus raised his eyes to meet hers, “I don’t want Judas despising me as I did my father.” Heart melting and knowing the pressures of a cruel father, Zelda cupped Faustus’ cheek and brushed her thumb along his skin. “You are not your father. Look at yourself right now. Would your father have ever changed a diaper? Ever soothed the crying of his infant son?”Huffing, Faustus turned his face into her hand and kissed her palm. “Thank you, Zels.” He murmured, kissing her palm again, “for everything.” And as much as Zelda wanted this moment to last forever, as much as she wanted to ask him to stay for breakfast, to stay and let the babes be together… she knew Faustus had to leave. Withdrawing her hand, Zelda stood and gently tugged him up, so Faustus was standing as well. “You’re kicking me out?” He teased, brow arching, though his eyes reflected something a little sadder. Smiling softly, Zelda lifted onto her toes and kissed him chastely, mindful of the babes still in their arms. “Your presence here is suspicious. Besides, you’ll have well-wishers descending upon your house shortly. It would be telling if you weren’t there to receive them and introduce Judas.” A frown tugged on Faustus’ mouth, but he waved a hand and suddenly he was dressed, his unruly hair tamed. “I’ll be off then. Will we see you soon?” He asked, stepping closer and peering at Leticia for a long moment before bringing his eyes up to hers. “Faustus,” she breathed in warning. “We have to be discreet. If—”He closed the remaining distance between them the best he could with the babes and kissed her. “Haven’t we always been discreet?” Faustus lifted a brow and kissed her again, nipping at her lower lip as he pulled away. “But we can discuss how this will work later.” He bent and kissed Leticia’s forehead and with that he disappeared. Shaking her head, Zelda cast a quick spell to dress for the day and fix her hair as well. It was a late start for her, though she suspected it would be one for most of Greendale given how late they all stayed up because of the impending crises of the fake storm, the Thirteen, and the Red Angel. Just as she was about to go downstairs, there was a knock on her door. Surprised anyone else was up, Zelda opened the door and found her nephew standing there, looking a little anxious. “I meant to come find you last night, after witching hour. But I was tethered to the Academy, I—” Ambrose fell silent, having noticed the small bundle in her arms. “That’s a baby.” He remarked, eyes darting back and forth between her face and Leticia in confusion. A grin curling her lips, Zelda guided Ambrose down the hall. “Come,” she instructed gently, leading the way past the closed doors of Sabrina and Hilda’s rooms—they were still asleep; understandably, given the magic they used the night before. Once in the kitchen, Zelda prepped a bottle for Leticia and explained to Ambrose what happened after she’d been summoned away from Baxter High the night before. When the bottle was ready, Ambrose stood and took it from her and then he took Leticia as well, carefully balancing the babe as he started to feed her. “Eat, auntie,” he instructed when she blinked at him. “I already had breakfast.” He grinned and turned his attention back to Leticia; cooing at her and saying ridiculous things as he sat down in his usual spot. Zelda did her best to hold back her tears at the interaction and busied herself with making tea and toast to hide her sudden surge of emotions. Once her food was ready, Zelda settled across the table from Ambrose, sipping on tea and munching on slightly burnt toast while chatting amicably. When both she and Leticia finished eating, Ambrose burped the babe, stood, rounded the table and handed Leticia back. He smiled tenderly at them as Zelda adjusted her arms to better accommodate Leticia who was snuggling into her chest.
Touching her arm, Ambrose waited until Zelda lifted her eyes to him to speak. “If you need anything, let me know.” He insisted, eyes imploring her to not take this on alone.
She nodded. “Of course, darling,” Zelda murmured, reaching up and cupping his cheek briefly before patting it; emotions welling up again. Hell, one would think she was the who gave birth with how hormonal she was acting…. Though it was nice to have so many positive emotions swirling through her for once. “You deserve this,” Ambrose stated quietly, catching her hand as she pulled away and squeezing it. “To have a child of your own,” he elaborated at her confused expression. “And she deserves a mom like you.” With that, Ambrose kissed the top of Zelda’s head and retreated from the room before she could react other than more tears brimming in her eyes. Perhaps, she thought as she blinked back the tears, perhaps her feeling that things were looking up for the Spellman family wasn’t wrong, just mistimed. A little early. Because surely her heart couldn’t get any fuller. And for once life didn’t turn around and kick her in the teeth for her optimism. The next few days passed in relative peace; the most exciting thing happening was each of them adapting to having a baby in the house. Faustus checked in via mirror or witching board almost every night; often long after the babes and everyone else had gone to bed. He wanted to make in-person visits at least twice a week, but Zelda persuaded him it would look suspicious to the coven, even if she was the midwife and Night Mother to Judas. Though discouraged, Faustus never failed to ask her about Leticia. If she was eating enough, how she was sleeping and other questions that made Zelda suspect he was reading an infant book. But they didn’t only discuss the babes, they talked for hours about the Academy, classes, students, acquaintances, side projects they were working on and recently, their pasts. She looked forward to their nightly chats, with such a major part of their past relationship being driven by the physical and little else, it was nice to reconnect on this level with Faustus as well. They often stayed up until midnight when the twins would wake up for another feeding. It was only when the cries of one of the babes drew one of them away that they ended their conversations for the night. And so, her lucky streak continued. Until a week after the arrival and subsequent demise of the Thirteen; when Hilda finally confided in her why she was still floating on air. They were in the parlor, Hilda on the couch knitting a hat for Leticia while Zelda sat on the floor playing with the girl. “I, I have something to tell you.” Hilda broke the comfortable silence, though her knitting needles kept clicking in her hands.Raising a brow, Zelda did her best to hide how much those words affected her and her blood pressure. Unable to find her voice, Zelda hummed in response; hardly an enthusiastic reply, but apparently Hilda needed little prompting for she dove into a story about what happened the night the Thirteen and the Red Angel walked through Greendale.
The tale ended with her kissing a mortal. The man she worked with, Cerberus. This detail had Zelda’s head snapping up and toward her sister. And even though panic flooded through her at the possibility of another Edward and Diana tragic ending, Zelda literally bit her tongue to prevent a number of admonishments and concerns from flying from her lips. She promised to be better. But just because she controlled her tongue didn’t mean Zelda had controlled her face. Hilda sighed, not missing Zelda’s expression and turned back to her knitting. “Just say it,” she muttered, purposely avoiding Zelda’s gaze. Schooling her expression, a little too late, Zelda kept playing with Leticia in an attempt to appear unconcerned. “He’s a mortal, sister.” She started tentatively, glancing at Hilda.
“I’m well aware,” Hilda huffed, her needles flashing a little faster. Pressing her lips together, Zelda shifted so she could face Hilda properly. “Then…” she sighed. “Hildie, then you know it really can’t go anywhere.” She remarked softly, touching her sister’s knee. Knowing that while witches often had flings with mortals, Hilda’s situation was not that…. Her sister had never been one for flings. Finally lowering the half-finished hat, Hilda brought her eyes up to meet Zelda’s. “It could,” she countered, eyes shining. Zelda chewed the inside of her cheek and then picked up Leticia, put her in her bassinet and joined Hilda on the couch. “Sister, you’re excommunicated, yes. But that doesn’t mean you’re above our laws. You can date him, there’s nothing expressly against that. You cannot marry him though, should it get that far. There is no long-term scenario where this works out.” Zelda placed a hand on Hilda’s forearm and squeezed. “We don’t age as they do,” she reminded her gently. “And while you are not vain like most witches, Cerberus will age. Will you still want him when he’s old?” When Hilda remained stubbornly silent, Zelda continued. “And we cannot remain in Greendale much longer. We’ve been here for almost two decades without an added wrinkle or grey hair between us. The mortals will start questioning why we don’t age. Cerberus likely won’t want to uproot his life only to have you leave him in years to come.” Tears welled in Hilda’s eyes and she averted her gaze once more, focusing on the fire in the fireplace instead of Zelda. “I don’t say this to be cruel, Hildie.” Zelda murmured earnestly; heart heavy. “I am glad this man makes you happy. Just don’t invest too much of yourself in him. I don’t want you getting hurt when it must end.” Hilda took her hand and gripped it tightly, a lone tear streaking down her cheek. “I know, Zelds. Thank you for looking out for me.” She smiled a little sadly at her. “But for now, I just want to enjoy it.” Nodding, Zelda gripped Hilda’s hand back. “As you should,” she insisted, carefully wiping her sister’s tear away before pulling back completely and moving back toward Leticia. “It has been ages since you’ve shown interest in anyone.” Her tone was lighter, trying to relieve the weight she unwilling placed on her sister’s budding romance. Blushing at the observation, Hilda didn’t respond and went back to her knitting. “Of course, the first man to catch your eye has to be a knockoff vampire who peddles trash.” Zelda sighed dramatically, tickling Leticia under her chin. Her sister swatted at her leg good-naturedly but kept her silence, though a smile tugged at her lips. But Zelda couldn’t let the opportunity to tease Hilda about this pass; Hell knew when the chance would come up again; especially when her sister had such high standards. So, she waited a few minutes, letting Hilda believe she’d let the matter drop and then turned back to her sister. “Does he always wear the cape? And what kind of name is Cerberus?” She asked, a wicked smile curling her lips. Only a huff escaped Hilda as she pointedly ignored Zelda’s playful comments. Over the next hour, however, Zelda managed to wheedle more information out of her sister about this mortal man who accomplished the monumental feat of capturing Hilda’s attention. As they sat there and chatted, Zelda gleaning more information about Cerberus, the pain and panic in her chest eased until it disappeared completely. Their luck hadn’t run out, not yet. This was a minor speed bump, if that. Things were still looking up for the Spellman family.“The Spellmans did what?!” Abigail screeched, shoving out of her chair and startling her wife. Rebecca had come home from an inter-coven meeting and was sharing what Shirley Jackson told them about the events in Greendale just a week or so prior. Infuriated, Abigail immediately teleported to the Spellman house despite her wife’s protests that they might be having dinner. Arriving on the doorstep to the mortuary, Abigail swept into the house without so much as a knock and found the entire family in the kitchen; having just finished eating. “The Greendale Thirteen were walking around and summoned the Red Angel of Death and we had to hear about it from fucking Shirley Jackson!?” Abigail exclaimed, standing in the entry into the kitchen, hands on her hips. Everyone just gaped at her; though Zelda did smile a little sheepishly after she recovered from the shock of Abigail’s presence. Sighing loudly, Abigail strode further into the room. “I know your life wasn’t in danger from the Angel himself; you’re not a first-born. But honestly, Zee, you could have been killed putting yourself between the Thirteen and the Red Angel to protect the town.” She started to pace the small area between the counter and the doorway. “To make matters worse, you didn’t even tell me!” Abigail threw her hands into the air, and before Zelda could respond, she rounded on the younger Spellman sister. “And Hilda!” Her tone had the witch taking an involuntary step back from where she stood by the sink, a towel clutched in her hands. “How could you let her do it? She’d have listened to you if you said it was dangerous! It—”A young woman with platinum hair interrupted her tirade. “It was because of me.” She stood up from the table slowly, eyeing Abigail curiously. “I refused to let my friends and the rest of Greendale get slaughtered because of witch interference.” Ambrose coughed. “Actually, it was Auntie Zee’s idea. But Sabrina was likely the inspiration, weren’t you coz?” He raised a brow and smirked. “We all knew she’d try and do something stupid otherwise. It was easier to join ahead of time and make it safer than to let Sabrina run amok and try and clean up after her.” Blushing furiously, Sabrina swatted at him. “That’s not—”Abigail took a step closer to the teen. “You’re Sabrina. Satan you grew up,” she breathed, then shook her head. “And finally signed the ook from the looks of it.” Abigail remarked with a bit of an edge to her voice, eyes flicking to the girl's hair. “Do you know what you’ve been putting your aunts through?” She demanded, crossing her arms. “Abigail!” Zelda spoke for the first time, standing and coming around the table, her face like stone. “Don’t.” Arching a brow, Abigail scoffed. “She needs to hear it.” The unspoken ‘she needs to hear how much she’s hurting you’ hung in the air between them. Zelda placed a hand on her arm. “Abigail,” she repeated softly and shook her head. Lips twisting, Abigail threw the bewildered teen another glare, ready to give a lecture anyway when a baby cried. “Wha—, was that a baby?” She asked, stunned, eyes landing on a bassinet tucked into the corner of the kitchen. Biting her lip guiltily, Zelda moved around the table and picked up the babe. “This is Leticia. My adopted daught—”“Your what?!” Abigail ran a hand through her hair in exasperation. “Two weeks. I left you alone for two weeks and all of this? We’re talking. Now.” She grabbed Zelda’s shoulders, spun her and propelled her from the kitchen and into the parlor. They spent the next few hours talking. Zelda told her about the Thirteen, the Red Angel, how she came to adopt Leticia. It was only during the last part of the tale that Abigail sensed her friend was lying. Lifting a skeptical brow, Abigail peered at the little girl in her arms and then back at Zelda; letting her know she knew she was lying but had chosen not to press the issue. Whatever Leticia’s true origin was, Zelda clearly had a good reason for keeping it from her. And Abigail knew that when Zelda became protective of someone there was almost nothing that could persuade her to reveal information she didn’t want to. Sighing, Abigail let the matter drop. If Zelda wanted to confide in her about Leticia’s mysterious circumstances she would when she was ready and not a moment sooner. Tickling the little girl in her arms, Abigail changed the topic when Zelda appeared to have nothing more to share. “You know, Rebecca’s been trying to subtly give hints she wants another child.”A snort escaped Zelda and she shook her head. “Subtle? Neither of you do subtle. What kind of hints has she left?” Grinning at the truth in Zelda’s observation, Abigail inclined her head. “Baby magazines, pulling out photos of the boys when they were little, pointing out every pregnant woman on the street, asking if you’ve come out of retirement permanently or if it was a one off as a favor for the High Priest.” Zelda watched her best friend fawn over Leticia and couldn’t help but smile. “So, it’d be a magical babe then, not adoption? If Rebecca is asking about midwives.” Abigail shrugged, so Zelda touched her arm. “Do you want another child, Abs?” “I don’t know,” Abigail admitted with a sigh. “Part of me, a part that gets bigger everyday, says yes. That it’d be wonderful to have another child, maybe a little girl to add to our bunch…”When Abigail didn’t continue, Zelda nudged her. “But,” she probed, seeing Abigail’s brow furrow. “But, the boys are a handful enough. I can’t imagine how we’d cope if we were outnumbered—” Abigail interrupted herself then so she could give an exaggerated smile at Leticia who just yawned in her arms. “Is someone sleepy?” She asked, letting Leticia curl her fist around her finger and practically melting at the action. Smiling at the two of them, Zelda lifted a shoulder. “It wouldn’t be easy, having another child.” She agreed before adding, “the boys are starting Junior Academy in January, yes?” Abigail hummed in confirmation; her eyes still glued to Leticia. “Abs, is it a matter of you not wanting another child, which it valid and reason enough not to have another. Or is it that you’re nervous? In which case, there’s no need to be. You and Rebecca are marvelous parents.” Zelda reassured, watching her friend closely. Finally looking up from Leticia, Abigail met her eyes. “So are you.” She murmured, a soft smile on her face and Zelda’s lips curled up to match. “Though your middle child could use a stern talking to.” Abigail added, arching a slightly remonstrating brow.Rolling her eyes, Zelda settled back into the couch. “Sabrina and I actually had a very heart-felt and meaningful talk after the Thirteen and the Red Angel tried to kill us all. We, we cleared the air on a lot of things. I think we made some real progress.” She informed her friend, pressing her lips together at the memory of some of the feelings they shared that night; how Sabrina likened her to a mother. Abigail gave her an impressed look. “Good. Hopefully now your niece understands the gravity of what she does and how it impacts others; specifically, you and Hilda.” “Alright, alright, enough about my life. Tell me about yours.” Zelda shifted on the couch so one leg was tucked underneath her so she could face Abigail fully. Huffing, Abigail rocked Leticia, lulling the girl to sleep. “My life? It’s incredibly boring compared to yours.” She teased, shaking her head but diving into a story of how the boys had set fire to Rebecca’s greenhouse anyway. They chatted for another hour before Abigail had to go home. She kissed Leticia’s forehead, hugged Ambrose and Hilda, gave Sabrina an appraising look and then hugged Zelda hard, kissing her cheek before teleporting away wishing them a happy solstice and a long-burning Yule log. Zelda chuckled at her friend’s antics, happy she and Abigail were back in frequent contact; or semi-frequent, considering she forgot to inform Abigail about their most recent brush with death. Not that she could really be blamed, a lot happened that night. Smiling to herself, Zelda scooped up Leticia and carried her upstairs to properly put her to bed; Sabrina trailed after her.“So, Abigail is your friend from the Academy.” Sabrina clarified, “Aunt Hilda and Ambrose said you’ve known her for a long time… and she knew me, so it must be true. But why don’t I remember her?”Nodding, Zelda pushed into her bedroom and placed Leticia into her crib carefully. “Yes, Abigail is my oldest and dearest friend. And,” she gestured for Sabrina to follow her out of the room so they didn’t disturb Leticia. “You likely don’t remember her because we haven’t seen one another in a little over seven years. Even then I believe I went to her house, though we’ve chatted a little via witching board, she hasn’t been by the house in ages.” Sabrina stopped in the hallway after Zelda closed the bedroom door and crossed her arms self-consciously. “And you, you told her about me? Said I, I was putting you through a lot? I mean, I know I was, but—”Touching her niece’s arm, Zelda interrupted her gently. “I was asking advice on how to handle certain things and since Abigail has two unruly children of her own, I though she might have some ideas.” It was only a partial lie. She had asked Abigail for advice, it just mostly concerned Mary Wardwell. But since Sabrina had signed, there was no reason to reveal her distrust of the woman; she was gone from their lives now that her mission was accomplished. “I was just—”“Looking for support.” Sabrina finished for her. “It’s okay, Auntie Zee. I know what I’ve put you and Aunt Hilda through. I’m glad you have someone to talk to stuff about.” Furrowing her brow for a moment, Sabrina smiled, “she’s your Roz,” her niece concluded. Zelda smiled, “she is.” She kissed Sabrina’s forehead. “Thank you for understanding that I sometimes need to get perspective from someone outside of the family. Now,” she clapped her hands and made for the stairs. “If I’m right, there is a Christmas horror movie marathon on tonight. Want to watch?” It’d been ages since they watched a scary movie together and Sabrina nodded eagerly at the idea. “Yes! Just let me change into my pajamas and get the hot chocolate and we can start.” She grinned excitedly and dashed into her room. Heading downstairs, Zelda flicked a wrist to change into comfier clothes of her own and then went to the parlor to get the TV and blankets ready. As she was prepping the room, Ambrose came in and immediately decided to join them, claiming his spot on the couch and waiting.Hilda wandered in just as Sabrina did, carrying a tray of hot chocolate carefully. When they asked her to join, she promptly declined. Stating Christmas was a time for cheer, not horror. “I’ll be upstairs reading if you all need anything. And Zelds,” she paused in the doorway, hand resting on the frame. “I’ll keep an ear out for Leticia, you just enjoy the movies.” Nodding her appreciation, Zelda smiled at her sister before taking a seat on the couch between Sabrina and Ambrose and turned on the first movie. As the movies progressed, her niece and nephew pressed closer and closer to her until they were all crammed against one another, so if one of them jumped it turned into a chain reaction. Zelda sighed contentedly and settled further under the large blanket she’d thrown over the three of them. When the credits rolled for one movie and they waited for the next to start, Sabrina turned to her. “Do you think Leticia will like scary movies?” She asked, eyes lighting up at the possibility of passing along her passion for all things horror.Smiling, Zelda slipped an arm around Sabrina and then the other around Ambrose. “Well, I think the odds are in our favor, yes? Three of us against one Hilda.” Chuckling, the two agreed with her and snuggled closer as the next movie started.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The Solstice was upon them before any of them knew it, and nothing significant had rocked the Spellman house in the weeks since Sabrina signed the Book and their heart-to-heart conversation. These calm weeks acted as the evidence Zelda desperately needed to finally start accepting that things were calming down; as much as they ever would. Her blood pressure hadn’t been this low in years.
She just returned from the kitchen with a whiskey when she heard Sabrina commending Hilda and Ambrose on the ‘Christmas’ tree. Zelda shuddered at the term and was quick to correct her niece. “It’s a Yule tree.”
Though they'd put up a Yule tree every year for over a decade now, Zelda still couldn’t bring herself to label it for what it truly was or decorate it. The concept was no less mortal now than when they first started. Making the rest of the house festive, that was one thing, she could handle that, but the tree? The tree was such a prominent symbol of the mortal and False God’s holiday that Zelda refused to touch it.
Sabrina merely rolled her eyes and bent over to dig through a box for more pictures while Hilda chuckled at her. “Christmas isn’t that bad, Zelds. Plus, for someone who doesn’t believe in it, you have got yourself quite a few presents.” Her sister gestured to the gifts under the tree and poorly suppressed a smile.
Shaking her head, Zelda made her way further into the room. “Those are not for me, Hilda,” she informed her, “those are for baby Leticia.” Zelda came to a stop next to Letty’s bassinet and cooed at her. “Imagine, a baby in the house just in time for the winter holidays. It couldn’t be more perfect.”
And it truly felt that way, as though it were perfect. It’d been ages since Zelda felt something even remotely close to this, this calm and happiness. There’d been snatches of it, certainly, but such a prolonged period of calm and happiness? She could honestly say it’d likely been since Sabrina pulled away from her all those years ago since something like this happened. And now… now, she had her family, Letty, and she and Sabrina had never been closer.
So, though she normally wasn’t one for the holiday spirit, this year Zelda felt there was more to celebrate. Hilda beamed at her from beside the tree while Ambrose lifted a teasing brow at her.
“Pity the child in question was abducted.” He stated, cocking his head at her.
Zelda frowned, though she knew her nephew was joking, the fact that he’d taken a liking to calling Leticia abducted rankled her. She hadn’t kidnapped the girl, she took her in, saved her; Ambrose’s wording made it sound as though she did something wrong. And she hadn’t.
Nostrils flaring a bit, Zelda turned away from Leticia to address Ambrose more directly. “Need I remind you of the High Priest’s position when it comes to having a girl as his legitimate first born?” She arched a brow at Ambrose as she took a seat.
Mirroring her, Ambrose sat in the chair across from her. And because he didn’t need the reminder as to why she took the babe in, he ignored her response. “What I can’t fathom is how you expect to keep the babe’s true origins a secret.” While Ambrose was sincerely happy for her, he couldn’t seem to let this particular matter go.
As the weeks passed, despite his initial approval, Ambrose developed some concerns about the situation. The chief one among them Leticia’s heritage. He approached Zelda several times after learning Leticia was permanently joining their family. Thinking the coven would be suspicious of the timing of the babe’s adoption; claiming they’d only grow more dubious as Leticia aged and looked more and more like her brother and father. He didn’t want Zelda endangering herself over this secret.
The concerns were sweet, but Zelda felt they were unfounded. And it was odd to be the one brushing away worries for once instead of harboring them herself. To emphasize how unconcerned she was about the matter, Zelda looked at Ambrose. “Secret? What secret? Leticia is a Spellman now. Her mother tragically lost to the perils of childbirth. We will raise her as we did Sabrina.”
A soft, skeptical scoff escaped Ambrose, but he didn’t push the issue further; knowing he wouldn’t get through to her. Not on this. She was adamant to keep Leticia, despite any potential dangers; she loved the girl so much already after only a few weeks. Zelda couldn’t imagine parting with her.
It was only when they finished their bickering that she overheard the end of Hilda and Sabrina’s conversation.
“I wish I could have had one Solstice with them, Auntie.” Sabrina murmured, gently running her fingers along the edges of the small frame holding a picture of Edward and Diana.
Zelda sighed quietly, wishing the same. She and Hilda had done their best to instill some memories of Edward and Diana in Sabrina; telling her stories and letting her know whenever one of her quirks matched one of her parents.
But memories, secondhand ones at that, weren’t the same.
Praise Satan for Hilda. Her sister knew exactly how to handle the conversation and soon had Sabrina smiling once more.
Noticing the change in Sabrina as well, Ambrose piped up. “And I’ll read A Christmas Carol. Even Auntie Zee can appreciate that story.” He winked at her as he made the jibe, his way of apologizing for butting heads with her about Leticia.
Huffing in amusement, Zelda stood and switched off one of the lamps. “I like the ghosts in it,” she informed them primly. Just because she couldn’t stand almost anything Christmas related didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate a good ghost tale when she heard one. “Speaking of ghosts,” Zelda strode back around the couch and turned off the other lamp. “It’s time to light the Yule log.” As they drug the grate away from the fireplace, Zelda told them the same thing she did every year. “Remember, the Yule log is not a decoration. It is a protection.” She lit the paper underneath the log and waved the match out. “It must burn continuously from now through the shortest day, through the longest night, until dawn. Otherwise, Satan knows what malevolent forces might come down our chimney.”
The reminder was hardly needed; her family knew the dangers of the Solstice and the potentially deadly creatures and spirits that lurked when it came each year. Nonetheless, it never hurt to reiterate some things… especially given recent rebellions.
When they finished the blessing, the kids dispersed. Hilda made to as well, likely intending to make good on the roasted chestnuts and hot cider she promised their niece.
Scooping up Leticia, Zelda followed her sister into the kitchen. “Is Sabrina alright?” She asked having only heard part of the conversation earlier, bouncing lightly as she did and keeping a hand ready to catch Letty’s pacifier in case it fell from her mouth—as it often did.
Hilda glanced at her and gave her a small smile. “It’s Edward and Diana, she misses them.” She murmured, pulling out the chestnuts and setting them on the counter. “The holidays make it harder, when everyone is talking about being with family and a significant part of hers is missing. But the best we can do is help her know them by telling her stories.” Hilda nodded a little too enthusiastically and her eyes glazed over. Recognizing the signs, Zelda reached across the counter to squeeze Hilda’s hand.
“Agreed. And I miss them too,” she offered, and when Hilda gave a watery chuckle, Zelda added. “Mostly Edward, as you know, but I do miss Diana for Sabrina’s sake if nothing else.” She squeezed Hilda’s hand once more and pulled back. “How about I start the cider while you get the chestnuts ready?”
Nodding appreciatively, Hilda discreetly dabbed at the corner of her eyes with her sweater before picking up her knife and marking the chestnuts with X’s.
Gently setting Letty in the bassinet once more, having conjured it, Zelda moved to the cabinet to pull out the ingredients for cider. “And what is Cerberus doing for the holidays?” She probed, wanting to cheer Hilda up and not think of family long dead—no good came from thoughts lingering on spirits, especially on the Solstice.
A slight flush crept up Hilda’s neck as she dropped her eyes. “Visiting family. He has two younger brothers—"
“Ah, yes, his brothers Orthrus and Chimera?” Zelda cut in, unable to help herself and barely holding back a laugh.
At this Hilda brought up her eyes and gave Zelda an unimpressed look, though her lips twitched in amusement. “Just because Cerberus is named after a creature from Greek mythology doesn’t mean his brothers are too.” She scolded, greasing a pan and placing the prepared chestnuts on it.
Humming and lifting her eyebrows to convey her disbelief, Zelda started to mix the cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves. “If you insist,” she intoned, smirking. “So, he’s with family? Is this family local?”
They continued to chat as they prepared the snacks and soon the smells drew Sabrina and Ambrose back downstairs.
The next day passed quickly, Zelda’s students having little interest in choir, their minds already on the holiday break. In a rare case of generosity, Zelda only made them run through one song before allowing them to spend the rest of the lesson talking.
She wanted to pull Prudence aside after class, invite her over to the house to spend some of the Solstice with her sister. But there was no discreet way to accomplish this, their cover for Prudence spending more time with and at the Spellmans hadn’t been put in place yet—classes for next semester not having started yet. That and they decided to wait until after the New Year to reveal Leticia; hoping the timing would throw some of the cleverer coven members off their scent. Which meant, Prudence couldn’t get away from her sisters so easily.
So, instead, she wished the girl a bright Solstice and gave her an extra small smile as she left the room. Prudence seemed to understand and inclined her chin minutely in response. It wasn’t enough, but it was something.
Later that night, after dinner and putting Letty to bed, Zelda settled in the office to read her paper and figure out excuses to have Prudence over at the house more. It would be good for both Prudence and Leticia to be close to one another, and, honestly, Sabrina needed more witch friends. That, that and Zelda wanted to be there for the girl… she couldn’t quite pinpoint why, the reasons floating just out of reach. Before she could grasp them, a loud crash sounded from the parlor.
Rushing in, Zelda found Hilda already in the room, upset over the fallen tree. It was only when Zelda raised her eyes to find the cause of the damage that she gasped. “Hilda, the Yule log.” She murmured, horrified. Touching Hilda’s shoulder, Zelda was already turning to head up the stairs. “Relight the blessed thing. I’ll warn Sabrina and Ambrose.”
Zelda ran upstairs, heart pounding. There were tales about what happened to witches when the Yule log went out; creatures pouring through the portal and wrecking mayhem, possessing bodies and killing. How their log went from burning brightly not even 15 minutes ago when Zelda checked on it to completely out… it didn’t matter now; they were at risk.
She came up to Sabrina’s room first, not bothering to knock. “Sabrina, the Yule log’s gone out!” She announced, throwing the door open and expecting to find Sabrina either asleep or reading in bed. What she found instead was painful. “Diana,” she breathed, stopping short as the specter pivoted to face her.
Sharp pains shot through Zelda’s heart as she made eye contact with Diana, pains that did not dissipate once the woman disappeared; the connection holding her to this plane gone. It wasn’t fair, or right, to be jealous of Diana. To feel physical pain because Sabrina summoned her mother after so recently proclaiming Zelda was like one to her.
If anything, Zelda should understand. Should understand the bone deep desire to have one’s mother back, in any capacity, for any amount of time. How often had she contemplated holding a séance? Or considered summoning her mother using spells of questionable origin?
But instead of soothing, this knowledge twisted the knife deeper, nicking all her weak spots. Because it meant, despite Sabrina’s admission of Zelda being like a mother, that Zelda would never be enough for Sabrina. Never be what her girl needed. Always leaving a hole, one so big Sabrina felt the need to put the Yule log out and endanger them all in a desperate attempt to speak with Diana.
The thought spurred another, that this was Zelda’s doing. Her words to Sabrina, telling her she was like a daughter to her, had motivated this. That her niece felt obligated to return the sentiment and been wracked with guilt so intense since she was compelled to summon Diana and apologize for the betrayal.
Was this why Sabrina seemed to miss her parents more this holiday than any before? How could Zelda have missed the signs? Been so foolish as to believe Sabrina felt the same and not see the guilt her girl had over the statement. Such guilt that she risked evil coming through the portal with Diana.
As these thoughts swirled tumultuously through Zelda, Sabrina simply stood and stared at the now crumpled dress, her back to Zelda. When she slowly turned, there were tears on her cheeks.
And though she wanted to comfort her niece, Zelda held back for a multitude of reasons. Primary being that Sabrina wouldn’t want it; she went and held a séance to speak to her dead mother over coming to Zelda or Hilda, after all. Why would she settle for Zelda’s comfort when she hadn’t even settled for her for a conversation?
“Sabrina…” She managed, proud of how steady her voice was, not a hint of her inner turmoil making itself known.
Twisting her hands, Sabrina looked at her guiltily, though her eyes were still bright with tears. “Aunt Zelda, I can explain everything.” She whispered.
Lips pressed together, Zelda clenched her fists so her nails bit into her palms, needing some clarity and she knew the pain—however minor—would provide it. All her feelings aside at what occurred, Sabrina had still endangered them all and needed to have a damn good reason for it. “I think you’d better.” Inhaling slowly to keep her voice even, Zelda turned to Weird Sisters. “And as for you three, haven’t you got to get back to the Academy for some sort of bed check?” Her tone had more of an edge than she planned, but it got the trio up and moving quickly and without a word. Prudence hesitated, just for a second, and caught Zelda’s eye. But her expression must have discouraged whatever Prudence thought to say in explanation and the girl hastily followed her sisters out.
Once they left, Zelda shook her head slightly, spun around and marched from the room, not waiting for Sabrina to explain; Ambrose still needed to be warned.
Ambrose was stunned when she informed him. “She what?! I explicitly told her not—”
The words had Zelda freezing in the doorway, having already started to make her way back down the stairs. “You knew?” She ground out, the lights flickering a bit before she reined herself back in. She knew she was more upset and hurt by Diana’s appearance than mad at Ambrose, but this couldn’t keep happening. “You cannot keep hiding these things from Hilda and I. When Sabrina comes to you with some dangerously asinine plan like performing a resurrection or hosting a séance on Solstice, you have to come to us.” And though her sentence started out as a growl, it ended in as a plea.
Hanging his head, Ambrose nodded. “I understand, Auntie. I thought I’d gotten through to her this time; didn’t think she’d convince others to join her. Besides, I like to think she listens to me every now and then. Even if she doesn’t, I try to keep her confidence where I can… who else would she turn to?”
And though Ambrose certainly didn’t mean to, the words compounded the pain sitting heavily in Zelda’s chest. Because they inferred Sabrina could not come to her.
Licking her lips, Zelda turned away once more. “Family meeting in the parlor. Check the house for malevolent beings before you join us.” She threw over her shoulder, stopping in her bedroom to check on Leticia and cast a few extra spells just in case, on her way downstairs.
She barely took a seat across from Sabrina, Hilda hovering anxiously behind her chair, when Sabrina started to defend herself.
“I swear, Aunt Zelda, I didn’t put out the Yule log.” Their niece stated, looking contrite yet somehow defiant at the same time.
The denial burned Zelda. She was already raw from Diana’s appearance and its implications; she didn’t need Sabrina lying to her on top of it. In any case, after everything Sabrina had done since her birthday and rejected Dark Baptism, putting out the Yule log would hardly seem like anything to her niece. “Oh, I see, so it is a mere coincidence that the Yule log, lit to keep away all unearthly things, including spirits, was unlit at the exact time you decided to convene with your mother’s ghost?” She didn’t let Sabrina get further than the acknowledgement that the situation looked exactly as it seemed. “And tell me, why tonight, of all nights, on the eve of the Solstice, did you suddenly feel the need to contact your mother?” She looked at Sabrina expectantly, why couldn’t this child think things through, for once?
Sabrina answered quickly. “It wasn’t sudden, Aunt Zelda. I saw my mom trapped in limbo and I wanted to release her.”
Blinking, Zelda glanced back at Hilda to gauge if her sister had known about Diana’s predicament. She seemed just as stunned as Zelda. Though, looking back, neither one of them talked to Sabrina about her time in mortal limbo. They knew, of course, what resulted from the trip, the death and pain; but they never asked what else she might have seen or experienced in the dreadful place.
Clearly, they should have.
“If that’s true, why in Satan’s name didn’t you tell us?” Zelda demanded, fatigue creeping into her tone. “We could have helped you and Diana.”
Brow furrowing, Sabrina looked between them. “You would have done that?”
The question hit Zelda dully, and she knew it wounded Hilda as well. How could Sabrina doubt them? Doubt they’d help? After everything they’d done in the past two months, after every time she came to them and they helped—perhaps reluctantly at times, but helped nonetheless—how could she doubt them?
It was only when Sabrina tried to do things on her own, flying in the face of advice from older, more experienced witches that things went awry; such as with the resurrection.
Did she truly not understand what family meant to them, what she and Hilda would and had done to protect their family? Zelda couldn’t help but voice this, at least in part. Before Sabrina could respond, Ambrose strode into the room, stating nothing malevolent had gotten in; either that or it left when the Yule log was relit.
He paused, teasingly, next to her and when the device slowed in its spinning he harrumphed in faux confusion. But Zelda was in no mood for his antics, still frustrated he’d known Sabrina wanted to contact Diana and said nothing. Shooting a glare his way, Zelda pushed out of her chair, instructed everyone to sleep with a lit warding candle and made for bed. She should have known better than to hope for a peaceful Solstice. Things had been going too well for her lately, it’d only been a matter of time until the other shoe dropped. Hopefully this was the extent of it.
Catching her arm, Hilda asked if she should stay in their old bedroom with her. Though immensely grateful, Zelda couldn’t help but think Hilda was only offering to ensure Zelda didn’t try to punish herself.
The thought had crossed her mind, that she deserved it; for not asking Sabrina more about limbo, for leaving the Yule log unattended, for thinking their family—as odd and sometimes broken it may be—was enough for their niece. She’d been lax in more ways than one and had she not promised to no longer practice such harmful habits, it was probable Zelda would have found herself with a whip in her hand.
Regardless of Hilda’s reasoning, it would be nice not to have to sit up alone all night, worrying over every creak and groan that sounded from this old house settling and wondering if it was more. So, Zelda coolly accepted the offer and marched upstairs, telling Hilda not to snore least she wake Leticia.
Unperturbed by Zelda’s prickly behavior, Hilda slipped her arm through Zelda’s as they made their way upstairs. “We’ll be fine,” she murmured as they entered the bedroom, waving her hand so a second bed appeared, and Zelda’s shrunk to accommodate it. “The log was only out for a moment; Ambrose checked the house…. We’ll be okay, Zelds.” Hilda repeated, pulling Zelda into a somewhat reluctant hug, rubbing a hand up and down Zelda’s back a little more firmly than strictly necessary. As if trying to convey she knew what Zelda’s thoughts had been and was now trying to tell her she did the right thing in not practicing flagellation.
Hiding her gratitude for Hilda’s presence, Zelda merely nodded, returned the hug briefly and pulled back to check on Letty once more. Together they placed several warding candles around the room, lit them and then climbed into bed; turning off their lamp.
After a moment, Hilda rolled to face her, features barely discernible in the dim light. “Zelds?”
“Yes, Hilda?”
“We’re still her mothers. Just because she wanted to speak with and help Diana doesn’t mean she thinks any less of us.” Hilda whispered, and Zelda hated that her sister could read her tormented thoughts so well.
Sighing, Zelda shifted to face Hilda. “We are, at least in our minds.” She smiled sadly and then turned over to not only hide the few tears that leaked down her cheeks from Hilda, but also so she could watch Leticia in her crib—the only child in the house that was truly hers, even if only in name.
The next morning, Zelda was determined not to show how much the events from the night before affected her. Which was how she found herself to be playing peek-a-boo with Letty in the kitchen while Hilda made breakfast. Well, that and she couldn’t resist the game when it made the girl smile and flail happily at her.
“Do you see that smile, sister?” Zelda asked, not taking her eyes off Leticia. “She will be the most advanced child of her age. Already smiling and she’s not even a month old yet.”
Chuckling, Hilda shook her head from where she stood by the stove. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Zelds, it's probably gas.” She teased, glancing over but smiling at them all the same. Arching a brow, Zelda turned back to her game with Leticia. Moments later Sabrina walked into the kitchen, chewing her lip slightly.
“Morning, aunties,” she greeted them.
Hilda beamed at Sabrina. “Oh, damned morning, darling.”
Certainly nowhere near in such a forgiving mood, Zelda stopped her game with Letty and straightened up. “It is a damned morning,” she repeated dryly, “considering none of us had our throats slit by malevolencies during the night.”
“Aunt Zelda, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my mom. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.” Sabrina looked at her and played with the necklace Zelda gave her. “In fact, it was the exact opposite.”
And though the words partially soothed some of the wounds Sabrina unknowingly inflicted the night before, her niece’s continued recklessness couldn’t be left unaddressed. And she told Sabrina as much.
Of course, though, Sabrina was indignant about the lecture. “So, you’re allowed to take in a fugitive baby and hide her from the coven and the Dark Lord, but I’m not allowed to want to contact my own mother? To want to help her?”
How was Sabrina missing the point? Zelda had addressed this last night, told Sabrina she and Hilda would have helped contact Diana and save her. That was family. The reason she was upset was the timing of it all. Barely restraining an eye roll, Zelda answered. “Of course you are, but not at the risk of everyone in this house.”
“I didn’t put out—” Sabrina began to object.
Zelda interrupted her, not wanting to hear another lie. “Oh, fine, Sabrina. I believe you.” It wasn’t true, and she knew Sabrina sensed that as well, her tone wasn't hard to miss. But it was easier to let the matter rest than to continually argue about it. Softening, Zelda tilted her head at Sabrina. “And I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted from Diana. Perhaps in the New Year, we can all try contacting her again.” Both Sabrina and Hilda looked at her with some surprise, and it stung a bit how her family was continually stunned when she made such suggestions—their reactions were similar when she said they’d protect the town from the Thirteen. Clearing her throat, Zelda excused herself, scooped up Leticia and went upstairs to give the babe a bath.
Watching her sister disappear upstairs, Hilda’s mouth tugged to the side. Zelda had every right to be upset with Sabrina’s actions, holding a séance on the Solstice was no small thing, Hilda was no less dismayed by their niece’s actions. But she also knew Zelda was trying to hide the hurt seeing Diana again caused. While she may be able to somewhat hide it from Sabrina, she couldn’t hide it from Hilda. Sabrina speaking caught her attention.
“What did I do wrong, Aunt Hilda?” She asked, looking at Hilda earnestly.
Lifting a brow, Hilda started chopping the food in front of her again. “Séance on the Solstice aside,” she remarked, giving Sabrina a knowing look to which the girl ducked her head, Hilda continued. “Aside from that,” she sighed and glanced towards the stairs where Zelda had disappeared. “It’s not you, my love, it’s Zelds. You may have noticed, but she’s a hard woman, your aunt. Slow to trust, to let people in.” Hilda smiled sadly, thinking how, even recently, she learned Zelda was still working to let her in. To let Hilda see all of her layers and depths, to trust. Shaking her head, Hilda came back to the conversation. “Zelda was, well, she was just very cold with your mum. She feared what would happen, your mum being a mortal and all. So, she never let Diana into her heart, never fully accepted her as family, you know? And then…”
“And then,” Sabrina repeated, eyes dropping to the table, “mom and dad died.”
Nodding solemnly, Hilda pressed her lips together. “Yeah. Zelda always regretted the bad blood between them. Her and both your parents. She fought with them, constantly. I mean… she never said it, the regret, but…” Trailing off, Hilda reached across the counter and squeezed Sabrina’s hand. “I think that’s part of why she’s so Heaven-bent on protecting you. You know, like she has something to prove.”
Hilda’s mind flashed back to her conversation with Zelda where she told secrets she’d been carrying for years. How her sister claimed she had to shoulder the burden alone because Edward begged her after Sabrina’s first Dark Baptism, because she felt she had to prove she was strong enough to be the new head of the Spellman house once Edward was murdered.
Yes, Zelda certainly felt she had quite a lot to prove. On top of protecting the family against very real threats Hilda had been unaware of until recently, Zelda also felt the need to prove herself to their dead sister-in-law. No wonder Zelda was such a ‘hard woman’, what else could she be given the circumstances?
Eyes glazing over with tears, Sabrina sighed. “I keep making messes, don’t I?”
An understatement to say the least, but Hilda just widened her eyes and hummed in agreement. “Though you do your fair share of cleaning them up.” She added, as Sabrina moved to the fridge and pulled out a bottle. “What’s that?”
It was eggnog for Mr. Kinkle, to stop him from drinking. And though Hilda knew she should scold Sabrina for meddling in mortal affairs, Zelda certainly would’ve, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It was safe enough, and besides both Sabrina and Harvey needed a win and this would certainly provide it.
So, she let Sabrina go off to the Kinkle house, and she continued to prepare the Solstice meal in the kitchen. All the while thinking of how she would need to find better hiding places for her secret recipes.
After bathing Leticia, Zelda stayed upstairs in her room. It wasn’t that she was avoiding her family, of course not, it was just that it would be time for Letty’s nap soon enough and there was no reason to haul the girl downstairs and then right back up again.
The sound of glass smashing drew Zelda out of her thoughts. Brow furrowing, Zelda glanced toward the door. “Sabrina, is that you?” She called out, thinking her niece might have followed her up the stairs to make amends.
Leticia wailing recaptured Zelda’s attention and she turned to try and soothe the girl, unsure what caused the sudden change in mood. Rocking the bassinet, Zelda attempted another game of peek-a-boo which seemed to work.
Suddenly, the sewing machine started, dragging the half-finished embroidery underneath the needle as it worked. Zelda stood warily and approached the machine in a few quick steps, wanting to see what trick this was or if Leticia’s powers were manifesting themselves this early.
WE HAVE YOUR BABY
It read in red thread. Panic she’d only known once before seized Zelda. It was like the time Sabrina wandered away from her and Hilda at the witching market when she was six. The terror that something or someone dark had snatched her girl consuming her.
Only this time, this time there was no room for hope it was indeed just a mistake of the child wandering off, something bright catching her eye. No, this time a message had been left, and a clear one at that. They had her baby.
“Leticia,” she breathed, whipping back around to the bassinet Letty occupied just seconds before only to find it empty; just as the spirits promised. Zelda knew, she knew something else got in last night. But without any signs of malevolence there’d been nothing more to do then light warding candles. She should have insisted they keep the candles lit, should have checked the house herself after Ambrose… just to be sure. But now wasn’t the time for regrets and self-remonstrations, she had to find Letty. “Leticia!” She shouted, looking around the room to no avail. Breath coming in quick, insufficient bursts, Zelda careened out the door when she heard children’s laughter and running footsteps, Hilda’s name already on her lips. “Hilda!”
Her sister rounded the corner, flushed and glancing around, evidencing she already encountered the spirits as well. “What?! What’s happened?”
“It’s the baby—”
Uncomprehending, Hilda shook her head. “What?”
“Leticia’s missing. They have her.” She informed Hilda shakily, eyes wild and body tense. Just then they heard Letty cry and they both darted into Sabrina’s room, trying to chase the spirits’ cruel laughter and find her child.
But the damned things were toying with them, Leticia’s cries and their laughter echoing around the house, doors slamming at random to draw them to various rooms. Zelda could hardly breathe, what if they kept her? What if they hurt her? What if, what if, what if?
Dark, horrifying thoughts bounced around her head as she and Hilda split up to search the first floor, hurtling from one room to the next, trying to pinpoint Leticia’s wails of distress. But she couldn’t find her. She wasn’t in the front hall, not in the parlor and she heard nothing from her sister.
“Hilda?!” She called out, barging into the kitchen to tell her sister she was going to the basement only to see Leticia in her arms.
“Oh, Zelda,” Hilda murmured, taking a few steps towards her to hand over the babe.
Rushing over, Zelda quickly took Leticia from Hilda’s arms, tears welling in her eyes as she cradled her sweet girl close and placed soft kisses on her head. “It’s okay,” she whispered, “mommy’s here.”
Distressed, Hilda brought her hands to her temple. “She was in the oven. I was preheating it!” Her voice went up several octaves, guilt written across her face.
Though horrified, Zelda pulled Hilda into a one-armed hug, Leticia still clutched to her chest. “You could never have known. What matters is you found her.” She managed thickly, pulling back and bouncing slightly to calm Letty down.
Nodding, Hilda kept a hand on Zelda’s arm. “She’s fine. She’s fine. But, Zelds, look.” She turned partially and pointed to where several footprints appeared in a spilled flour.
It was then she noticed the knives embedded in the kitchen floor, forming a neat circle. Zelda turned to Hilda and squeezed her hand. “Are you alright?” She nodded toward the utensils, only imagining how her sister had been tormented with them before the near fatal attack.
Before Hilda could answer, Ambrose came barging into the kitchen, breathless.
“And where have you been?” Zelda asked, giving him a quick once over to ensure he was alright. There was no way he hadn’t heard them dashing around and shouting for Leticia and one another.
Visibly shaken, Ambrose shook his head. “Tying down all the corpses in the embalming room, bolting all the hatches shut.” Both she and Hilda moved toward him, knowing exactly what must have happened. But before they could express any concern, Ambrose continued. “We have an infestation. We have poltergeists, Aunties.”
A shuddering exhale escaped Zelda, poltergeists didn’t go so far as to steal infants and hide them in ovens that were on, didn’t try to kill; play tricks, yes, but not kill. “Not quite.” She contradicted him, though she wasn’t able to explain further, the front door slammed, interrupting her and causing them all to jump.
“Wha—, what now?” Hilda demanded, as they all froze for a moment, waiting for any additional noises.
Ambrose grimly snatched one of the knives not currently buried in the floor and led the way into the foyer, Zelda and Hilda quickly following.
It was Sabrina. The smile slipped from her face when she saw them. “What’s going on?”
The tension drained out of them at the realization the spirits weren’t playing any more tricks; for now. Biting her tongue to hold back that ‘what was going on’ was exactly what could have been avoided had Sabrina not doused the fire last night, Zelda made for the parlor; the others filtering in behind her.
Once they were all settled in with drinks, Hilda voiced what Zelda had been thinking before Sabrina came home. “So, it’s not poltergeists, it’s the Yule Lads.”
Bringing her eyes up from Leticia, though she made sure to keep a hand on the girl’s leg just in case, Zelda elaborated. “Impish spirits of children that come down from the mountains every midwinter to cause mischief in the unguarded homes of witches.” She took a sip of her whiskey. “They must have gotten in when the Yule fire went out.” Though she looked meaningfully at Sabrina when she said the last part, Zelda didn’t repeat her belief that her niece put it out herself so she could accomplish what she wanted.
“Right, so we banish the buggers.” Ambrose stated, clapping his hands together and looking between them as if to ask why they were waiting.
Hilda sighed tiredly. “Well, that’s not so easy, love.” She remarked, slumping a little further in her chair. “The Yule Lads are like bedbugs. Once they get in your house, they’re difficult to get rid of.”
Sensing her sister’s fatigue, Zelda explained further. “Indeed, they won’t leave until their mother tells them to.”
A soft snort escaped Hilda at the mention of the witch. “Their ‘mother’ being Gryla.”
Zelda went on to explain who Gryla was, her horrendous act of eating her child, the betrayal she felt when the other witch broke the pact. And how for the past thousand years, Gryla attempted to replace her lost child by taking others; specifically, orphans or those who weren’t with their biological parents.
Because of this, this entitlement Gryla felt when it came to any child not with blood relatives, countless witching families guarded their homes vigilantly during the Solstice. Abigail and Rebecca—and many couples like them—took potions so both were awake the entire Solstice to ensure the Yule log never went out; least their adopted children be taken.
Despite their legal guardianship of their boys in the eyes of the coven and law, Gryla would take them regardless; believing she was taking them into the family they truly belonged to. And now, now the Yule Lads were in their home… where they were housing a child away from her biological family. Regardless of Faustus’ awareness of the situation, of his consent, Gryla would still try and take Leticia. Zelda should have stayed with the Yule log all night as well, she should have…
“What do we do?” Sabrina questioned, interrupting Zelda’s thoughts, and Ambrose leaned forward to hear the plan as well.
Resisting the urge to light a cigarette, Zelda sighed. “We summon Gryla, then make her an offering in exchange for gathering up her Yule Lads. But first, Ambrose,” she turned to look at her nephew, “you’re going to have to get out of the house.”
Frowning, Ambrose looked at them all dubiously. “Why is that?” He asked slowly.
Zelda shared a quick look with Hilda and then blurted it out. “Gryla was abandoned by her husband and she doesn’t like men.” Though if her spouse ate their only children Zelda knew for a fact she’d have abandoned them as well—if not killed them. Of course, Gryla didn’t see it that way.
Poorly suppressing a smile, Hilda added on. “She does like eating them.”
Appalled, Ambrose announced he had a party to go to, Luke invited him. With a curt nod, Ambrose quickened from the room.
“We’ll also have to hide Leticia while Gryla’s here or she’ll try and take her and add Letty to her retinue.” Zelda murmured, and her first instinct was to contact Faustus and give Leticia to him for the night. But as High Priest he had to oversee various Solstice rites at the Church, which meant he was surrounded by acolytes and Judas at home with a nanny—and seeing as how no one else in the coven could know of Leticia yet, neither of those were options.
Sabrina spoke up then. “I can take her, Auntie. She’s family now, and you’ve protected me all these years. It’s the least I can do.”
The words melted Zelda’s heart, and she smiled softly and nodded. With that they started their preparations; setting out offerings and ridding the first floor of any sign of Leticia. While the Yule Lads knew of Leticia, they wouldn’t know of her nonblood-related status and therefore wouldn’t share with Gryla about the girl’s presence.
Once she and Hilda ensured Ambrose was indeed gone and everything else was in place, Zelda carried Leticia down to the basement with Sabrina and Salem in tow. When Sabrina took a seat on the stool, Zelda carefully handed Letty over, making sure her pacifier was in place.
“If you need anything—” She began, fussing with Leticia’s blanket.
Sabrina lifted a brow and smiled wryly. “We won’t. It’s not like I can waltz upstairs while Gryla is here to ask for help anyway. I’ve got this, Auntie Zee, don’t worry.”
Smiling, Zelda bent and kissed Leticia’s head and dropped one on top of Sabrina’s as well before heading back up the stairs, pausing just a moment to look at her girls together before making her way up and closing the door firmly behind her.
When she made it back to the kitchen, she spun her rings nervously and turned to Hilda, “ready?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to contact Blackwood first?” Hilda asked, hunching her shoulders a bit.
Zelda shook her head. “You know we can’t. Gryla eats men, she’s a thousand years old and far more powerful than Faustus and us because of it. Besides, he’s in the middle of Solstice rites, I could hardly interrupt without looking suspicious and drawing attention from the entire coven and therefore putting Letty at risk anyway. No,” Zelda repeated, almost to herself, “we cannot call him. We can handle Gryla on our own.”
And so, they summoned the witch.
Gryla drank the last of the gin and ate three mince pies before Zelda couldn’t handle the witch’s presence any longer.
“Is that sufficient?” And though it was a question, Zelda was already standing from the table, her tone indicating their offering had, indeed, been just that.
The witch smiled and stood, declaring it enough and summoned the Yule Lads with a swift shake of the bells she wore on her hip. The spirits giggled and made their way out the side door, knocking over as many things on their way as they could.
Neither Zelda or Hilda said a word though, they were almost rid of her and the impish spirits, a few messes was nothing to complain about. It was then a thin, wailing cry echoed up from the basement and Gryla froze.
“A baby?” She turned slowly, “you have a baby here?”
Swallowing hard, Zelda pressed her lips together. “Damn it,” she whispered, her entire body tightening in anticipation. She glanced at Hilda who was twisting her hands, but remained silent, unsure how to deny what Gryla so obviously heard. “Just the TV,” Zelda attempted to lie, stubbing her cigarette out with more force than necessary. “Our niece, Sabrina, we’re constantly telling her to turn the blasted thing down. But she’s in this phase where she doesn’t listen to a thing we—”
The rest of her sentence was cut off; Gryla sweeping her hand through the air in mimic of a backhand slap—the force of which Zelda felt and it sent her stumbling back, clutching her cheek.
“Don’t lie to me, sister.” Gryla growled. “I am far more powerful than you and know that it was a real babe who cried, I can sense her. Your spells hid her well, just not well enough.” She sneered at them and then lifted Zelda by the throat with another whispered spell. When Hilda cried out in alarm, Gryla turned to her. “Go, get the babe and bring her to me in your sitting room and I might just be merciful with your sister.”
Squeaking, Hilda hurried off despite Zelda’s strangled protest. Once her sister was out of sight, Gryla lowered Zelda to the floor, dealt her another magical backhand and then strode into the parlor. Reeling from the various assaults, Zelda followed, casting a quick glamor spell to hide the evidence of the violence from Sabrina who would no doubt come up the stairs as well.
She came to a stop in front of the fireplace, and soon Hilda and Sabrina joined—standing on either side of her, Leticia still in her niece’s arms.
“That babe isn’t yours, Zelda Spellman. I can smell it. I have a greater right to it than you do.” Gryla tilted her head and assessed her. “I’ve been a mother, you haven’t.”
Sabrina shifted next to her, but the girl said nothing, merely held onto Leticia and glared at Gryla. And while Zelda wanted to exclaim that while she wasn’t technically a mother, at least she hadn’t eaten any of the children in her charge. But she knew bringing up Gryla’s firstborn would be a death wish, tipping up her chin defiantly, Zelda argued. “I delivered the child. That’s my claim.”
It wasn’t the claim she’d have liked to make, but Zelda couldn’t very well tell Gryla that Leticia wasn’t an orphan. Though the woman could tell she wasn’t blood-related to Leticia, Gryla’s abilities didn’t extend so far as to tell her if the child had living parents. SHe also couldn't claim to be Leticia's Night Mother, because that would lead to questions about the girl's parents as well. And as much as a threat as Gryla was, the Dark Lord would be far greater if it was revealed she and Faustus hid a child from him. So, Zelda staked what claim she could and stood firm, eyes blazing.
The witch scoffed at her. “A midwife is not a mother.” And before Zelda could react, Gryla called over her shoulder. “Lads, bring the babe to me.”
Zelda glanced around as the Yule Lads’ laughter bounced through the room. She couldn’t fight spirits. Hell, she couldn’t even fight the witch in front of her… well, she could, but she wouldn’t win. No matter how powerful she was, Gryla was a thousand years old and that afforded her an immense amount of power Zelda couldn’t hope to overcome.
But Zelda refused to let this woman who ate her own child take hers. Widening her stance and flexing her hands, a spell started to brew in her fingertips when a disembodied voice spoke.
“Leave the baby alone.” And suddenly, Diana reappeared, in an unfamiliar white dress and a gold crown upon her head. The entire room was stunned. “I will decide who deserves the babe.”
Recovering first, Gryla lifted a brow minutely. “You?” She repeated, unimpressed. “By what right?”
Equally as calm, Diana looked Gryla in the eye. “A mother’s right.” She glanced at Sabrina and then back to Gryla. “I too, lost my child. It was she who invoked my spirit.” Diana continued to explain how she came to be there, why she had the authority she did. And when she asked if they agreed, Zelda felt there was no other option but to say yes.
While she had no clue as to what was happening, it was reasonable to believe Diana was on their side. Despite their troubled past, certainly Diana wouldn’t allow this witch to steal Leticia. When Gryla begrudgingly accepted Diana’s authority as well, the knot that formed in Zelda’s chest the moment Leticia cried out eased, just a bit.
But the test Diana announced was barbaric. They were to play tug-of-war with Leticia to determine who should love and care for her? And while Zelda openly expressed her horror, a small smirk touched on Gryla’s lips.
“Accepted.”
Seeing no other choice, Zelda set her shoulders and swallowed her fear. “Accepted.” She managed, trying to think of potential spells she could cast to tip the scales in her favor. No one said she couldn’t blast Gryla backwards and safely pull Leticia out of the circle before the woman recovered.
A circle of black salt appeared in the middle of the floor and Diana instructed Sabrina to place Letty in the middle of it. Sabrina hesitated, and glanced at Zelda who wanted nothing more than to grab her family and teleport away—but it was too late, Gryla and her Yule Lads were in their home and would likely stay until custody was determined.
As Sabrina moved forward and set her babe on the ground, Zelda couldn’t help but think she should have sent Sabrina and Leticia away before they even summoned Gryla. Should have sent them anywhere but let them stay here. The past couldn’t be changed, though, her only way forward was this sick game.
Kneeling on the floor, she and Gryla each took one of Leticia’s arms. Before they began Diana spoke up once more. “No magic may be used in this contest; it must be a battle of will alone.”
Zelda squeezed her eyes shut at the stipulation, but it was probably for the best. Gryla likely considered cheating as well, and she’d have cheated better. Inhaling deeply, Zelda opened her eyes and Diana instructed them to begin.
All she could do at first was hold onto Leticia, unable to drag the girl across the floor to her side. But as she felt Gryla pulling, Zelda realized she’d have to do more. Forcing her tears back, Zelda began to pull as well.
Leticia screamed, fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she began to twist this way and that. The sound tore Zelda’s heart to shreds but still she held on; Gryla appeared unaffected. By as the screams grew, Zelda couldn’t. She couldn’t hurt Letty. And she knew, deep down, that Gryla would never let go, she’d prefer to rip the babe apart than to let Zelda keep her.
With immense effort, Zelda jerked her hand way. “Stop!” She shouted, standing swiftly and going to Hilda’s side. “I won’t do it. I won’t tear her to pieces.” She informed them shakily, Hilda’s arm slipping around her waist as the other gripped her forearm—grounding her.
“Then the baby is Gryla’s.” Diana stated, face blank.
Stunned, Zelda’s knees weakened and Hilda’s hold on her tightened. “No!” She did the right thing, she protected Letty, refused to hurt her… how could Diana give Leticia to the monster who consumed her own child?
Sabrina turned to her then. “Sorry, Aunt Zelda, but fair is fair.”
Horrified, Zelda looked at Sabrina, unable to process what she just said. ‘Fair is fair?’ What in Hell did that even mean? What—
But Gryla picking up Leticia and telling her Yule Lads to come to mother recaptured Zelda’s attention and she took an involuntary step toward them; only Hilda’s arm around her kept her in place. And with a triumphant and cruel smile, Gryla wished them a bright Solstice and strode out of the house.
Zelda stood there, shocked, tears streaming down her face. She couldn’t move. Leticia was gone.
She should have fought, regardless of the danger to her own life. She should have screamed and scratched and thrown curses and hexes until Gryla crushed the breath from her lungs for good. She should have died before letting Gryla take Leticia. That’s what a real mother would have done.
But then again, as Gryla so concisely pointed out, she wasn’t a real mother.
Despite that, she trusted Diana. Trusted the apparition had what was best for them in mind. She never should have believed the being was on their side. Who could even say the apparition was actually Diana? It just appeared, using her form… anything could have appeared and taken it on to trick them. Or maybe it truly was Diana, and she was getting back at Zelda for her coldness when the woman was alive. Her mind continued to pinball through possibilities and should-haves, each one darker than the last.
Hilda spoke then, addressing Sabrina, but it was as if Zelda were underwater; all sounds were muffled. It was only when Sabrina reached over and touched her arm, stating they’d never have given Leticia up to Gryla that the world snapped back into place.
“What?” Zelda whispered tremulously, not trusting herself to have heard the words properly.
Smiling at her, Sabrina stepped closer. “Leticia is fine and here with us, where she belongs.”
Her knees gave out completely then, relief flooding through her as Hilda helped her to one of the chairs where Zelda collapsed. Burying her head in her hands, Zelda tried to contain her tears, Hilda’s hand running soothingly up and down her back.
When she finally regained herself, Zelda lifted her gaze and Sabrina held out a hand for her to take and led Zelda down to the morgue. Leticia was there, laying in her basket; Salem keeping guard from his position curled up by the babe’s head, purring quietly.
A shuddering breath escaped Zelda as she hurried over. Salem carefully unwound himself and leapt from the basket, butting his head against Zelda’s side when she came to a stop next to the table and reached out a hand to touch Letty, reassuring herself the babe was safe.
Clearing her throat, Zelda shook her head. “What did you give Gryla, then?”
Sabrina went on to explain the changeling trick she pulled, enchanting a toy to look like Leticia, how Diana was the one to make it all possible.
Guilt swept through Zelda for her earlier thoughts, for believing Diana would seek revenge on her by stealing her child from her. Well, she could at least do something to partially mend the bridge between herself and her sister-in-law.
“Diana, thank you.” She murmured, turning to look at the woman, but Diana was gone. Before they could deduce what happened, someone banged on the front door.
Warily, they trooped upstairs, Leticia held securely in Zelda’s arms. If it truly was Gryla, if she already caught onto Sabrina’s trick and was back to claim Leticia, well, at least they had a few things on their side this time.
The first being that the Yule Lads were no longer in the house, and they couldn’t enter again with the log lit, meaning they couldn’t steal Letty like before. This also meant they had no reason to invite Gryla inside. Yes, she could force her way in eventually, but certain customs, especially those surrounding Solstice and witches such as Gryla, held power and were difficult to break—which was why she had to offer an invitation to Gryla when they summoned her earlier.
Also, Zelda also had more protective spells on the house than most covens had on their churches—this would buy them some time. What they would do in the long run, though, was something Zelda had yet to figure out. And when they reached the front door, she realized it wasn’t something she needed to concern herself with just yet; because it wasn’t Gryla at the door. It was Sabrina’s friend, Roz, going on about one of their other friends going missing and visions.
As the others talked, Zelda suppressed a sigh. Of course, of course it was one disaster after the next; well, really it was one disaster on top of another, they still hadn’t fully dealt with the first one yet. But a Yule demon stealing children wasn’t something they could ignore. Neither was the fact that apparently Roz knew they were witches as well, but that was something to consider later; along with the fact that the girl had visions.
“No need to be so baroque.” She muttered when Sabrina asked if they needed complicated spells to find the demon. Zelda deposited Letty into Hilda’s arms and marched over to the side table pressed against the wall. “The Greendale white pages.” Zelda announced to the group as she flipped through the pages until she found the right Bartel and read the address out loud.
Eager to save her friend, Sabrina nodded. “Great, let’s go.”
Holding up a finger, Zelda stalled her ever reckless niece. “Not so fast, Sabrina. Solstice is their time. Demons are very powerful tonight. We’re going to need a little help…” She groaned inwardly when she realized what she’d have to do. “Gryla can’t have gotten far, we’ll summon her back.”
“Gryla? Why would we do that?” Sabrina looked at her as though she were crazy.
And oh, didn’t she know it. It was insane to summon Gryla back, the witch would be far from pleased with them. But it was the only recourse if they were to save Susie and prevent any other children from being taken. “If we could handle a high demon like Bartel on our own, I wouldn’t suggest it. But given the time of year… I won’t risk it. Besides, Bartel hurts children and there’s nothing Gryla detests more."
Still unsure, Sabrina furrowed her brow. “But we tricked her. Won’t she be mad at us?”
Hilda interjected then. “Oh, no, not if we lead her to the lair of a demon who preys on little ones.”
It wasn’t a guarantee of anything, but it was near enough. Gryla had a reputation after all and perhaps in her triumph over a child-preying demon the witch would forget about Leticia and her desire to steal the child away.
They didn’t have much time left, if they were to do this they’d have to hurry. “Rosalind, can you stay and mind Leticia?” Though she loathed the idea of leaving Letty in any capacity right now, when she was still so at risk, Zelda knew it was necessary.
“Uh… sure?” The girl replied, taking Leticia into her arms and automatically bouncing a little.
“Thank you,” Zelda replied before Roz fully accepted. “If things go sideways at Bartel’s I don’t want to put any more mortals at risk.” She explained when Sabrina looked at her in confusion. “Come,” Zelda was already moving to put her coat on, Hilda and Sabrina following suit.
Zelda only summoned Gryla once they were at Bartel’s house, unwilling to bring the witch closer to their home than necessary.
She arrived in a maelstrom of wind and snow, forcing them to cover their faces. “You must have a death wish, Zelda Spellman.” Gryla hissed, striding forward and gripping Zelda by the throat once more. “Why else would you summon me? Unless you change your mind about the child?”
Gritting her teeth, Zelda shook her head. “Never. She’s my daughter, she’ll never be yours.” She spat, and then she signaled Hilda and Sabrina to blast Gryla back at the same time as her. Gasping, Zelda rubbed her neck, but she didn’t give her voice a chance to recover; that would mean giving Gryla an opportunity to strike back and they couldn’t have that. “I brought you here to deal with a demon.”
Slowly picking herself back up, Gryla cocked her head at them, power radiating off her in her anger. “You summoned me to do your dirty work? After that trick you pulled?” She advanced on them in long measured steps, but Zelda held firm, even if she pushed Sabrina and Hilda behind her.
“A demon who preys on children. By the name Bartel.” Zelda informed Gryla, and the witch’s reaction was instantaneous.
Rearing back, Gryla snarled. “That beast?! Here?” She demanded, closing the distance between them once more but, this time, with the intent to learn more rather than do harm. “Are you certain?”
Zelda nodded. “Absolutely. He resides here and apparently takes children yearly and encases them in wax. A mortal child is trapped in there now and in need of rescuing. We’d do it ourselves, but…”
Pacing restlessly, Gryla shook her head. “No. No, you were right to bring me here. I’ve been after this bastard for centuries. He will be handled, and the mortal child saved, you have my word.”
“We shall wait here should you need us. Though I expect we can just wait for the mortal child’s exit so we might take her home and you will be fine.” Zelda lifted a brow in question.
A dismissive wave was all they got, Gryla already shaking her bells to summon her Yule Lads. “Do as you wish in terms of waiting; I do not want interference.” Without another word, she disappeared into the building and moments later Susie burst out.
“Sabrina!” The girl exclaimed, rushing over.
They quickly established that they wouldn’t tell Mr. Putnam the truth but instead dose him with some of Hilda’s short-term memory shortbread cookies to make him forget the whole ordeal. With a final glance toward the building, Zelda and Hilda ushered the children back to the car.
It seemed like ages before they returned home; Mr. Putnam not quite as willing to sit and eat cookies as they hoped when reunited with his child and no answers were being given. Eventually though, they handled everything and made it back.
Ambrose was in the kitchen feeding Leticia when they all tiredly trudged into the room. “Where have you lot been?” He quirked a brow at them, and Sabrina quickly explained the events following Roz’s appearance at their front door.
“How’s Leticia faring?” Zelda asked, hurrying forward after divesting her coat in the foyer.
Smiling, Ambrose set the bottle aside. “Not a cry since her bottle.”
Chin wobbling, Zelda clutched her hands together in a poor attempt to stem the tears threatening to fall. “She’s a strong, brave girl.” She murmured tremulously, not quite managing to keep the emotion out of her voice.
The others noticed, and Sabrina frowned. “Aunt… Zelda? What is it?”
With some effort, Zelda swallowed and a small gasp escaped her before she could speak. “I’ve made a decision…. About Leticia. I’m taking her to Abigail’s after the midwinter holiday. Ambrose was right. We can’t keep her a secret from the coven and Dark Lord forever. Not if she lives here. And what if, Satan forbid, Gryla were to come back next Solstice, or next week, for that matter?” Inhaling shakily Zelda nodded, trying to convince herself as much as her family. “The truth is, she’s not safe here.”
Hilda peered at her, picking her hands. “She’s safer here than with her father.”
Oh, Zelda knew that. Knew Leticia was safer here than revealed as Faustus’ firstborn. The coven would have a field day should they ever find out about the girl; and the prices Faustus and her whole family would pay for hiding Letty…. She shuddered to think. But she hadn’t come to this decision lightly. Far from it, she warred with herself the entire time they waited for Susie, while Sabrina, Hilda and Susie prodded Mr. Putnam to eat the cookies, the entire way home.
This decision felt as though she were excising a piece of her heart. But it was necessary. Gryla was a real threat, and one that wasn’t likely to go away simply because she’d been distracted by a demon. The witch truly could come back at any time to exact her revenge for their trickery and Zelda refused to let that bitch near Leticia again.
So, no. Regardless of how she felt about the whole thing, and while Letty was safer with them than with Faustus… it wasn’t the safest she could be. And Zelda would be blessed if she endangered her baby simply because keeping Leticia close was what she wanted.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Zelda spun her rings roughly. “Abigail and Rebecca can raise her with their boys. They want another child, specifically a girl. No one will question if a new baby appears in their home, no one will question Leticia’s origins. And they’ll teach her the old ways, as is her birthright. They’ll,” sniffling, Zelda took a small step closer to Leticia. “They’ll love her as their own.” Dabbing at her eyes, Zelda forced herself to continue—if she told her family the whole plan then there was no way for her to change her mind, no way for her to back out. “Of course, I’ll visit her and provide for her, that’s only right. I’m…” And the words stuck in her throat, because it was accepting something she hadn’t wanted to since this whole evening began. “I’m her Night Mother, after all.”
Sabrina inched toward her. “Aunt Zee…” she murmured in a soft voice, eyes brimming with tears of her own.
She couldn’t afford her family the opportunity to talk her out of this though. It would be so easy to let them, so easy to let them tell her all the reasons she should keep Leticia. But not one of those reasons could possibly outweigh Letty’s safety.
Shaking her head, Zelda turned to her niece. “No, Sabrina, I’ve quite made up my mind.” She collected herself and forced the tears back and the emotions out of her voice. “Besides, I’ve got more than my hands full with you lot and Leticia couldn’t ask for better, better parents than Abigail and Rebecca.”
Each member of her family looked ready to argue, so Zelda did the only thing she could, the only thing she wanted, pick up Letty.
The mask she plastered on moments ago dropped away as she tearfully reached for her babe. “Let me take her, Ambrose.”
Thankfully, Ambrose did as she asked and handed Leticia over to her. Carefully cradling the girl to her chest, Zelda made her way upstairs to put Letty to bed, and if her lips trembled and those tears finally fell on her way up, well, no one could see them at least.
And though she told everyone she was going upstairs to put Leticia to bed, Zelda found that once she reached their room, she couldn’t bear to put the girl down. Not now that she knew she had such a limited amount of time left. Instead, Zelda sat on the edge of her bed and cuddled Letty closer, sniffling as she did.
She wasn’t sure how long she was sitting there, but at some point Zelda realized she wasn’t alone anymore. Exhaling slowly, Zelda turned to tell her sister, who somehow managed to sneak into the room without her knowledge, to leave.
Only it wasn’t Hilda.
Diana stood before her. Or what was left of her, Diana’s corporeal form was a wisp of what it was earlier; her body now transparent where before it’d been solid. Blinking, Zelda stood quickly and wiped her eyes. “Diana?” Shaking her head, Zelda made for the door. “I’ll go get Sabrina for you. You’ll want to speak to her—”
“It’s you I want to speak with, Zelda.” Diana’s rasping voice caught her halfway across the room and Zelda spun slowly, confused. “I’ve already said my goodbye to Sabrina. It wasn’t nearly all I wanted to say, or what she wanted to hear, but I have little time left in this realm and there were others I had to talk to.”
Unsure, Zelda nodded and straightened her shoulders, waiting for Diana to continue; knowing the woman wouldn’t be stretching herself this thin to listen to Zelda talk.
A sad smile appeared on Diana’s face. “Thank you,” she murmured, taking a step closer so she wouldn’t have to speak as loudly. At Zelda’s perplexed expression, she elaborated. “Thank you for being a mother to Sabrina. She’s grown to be an amazing young woman, and I know that is largely due to you. I’m sorry I couldn’t repay the favor by doing more for Leticia.” Diana gestured to Letty who was snuggled into Zelda’s chest and more tears slid down Zelda’s cheeks at the reminder of her decision. Noticing, Diana reached out as if to touch her and then let her hand fall, knowing physical contact was impossible. “You’re a wonderful mother, Zelda, and Sabrina knows this. If I couldn’t be the one to raise my daughter… well, I am happy you were.”
Choking back sobs, Zelda shook her head. “Diana, I am so sorry—”
Diana held up a hand. “Don’t be. I’ve learned many things in the afterlife and an understanding of your reluctance to let me into the family was one of them. Now, I have very little time left, I can feel the spirit realm calling me. There is something I must warn yo—”
Before she could finish, though, Diana vanished. Her form turning to mist and dissipating.
Taken aback, Zelda moved closer and tested the air with a spell. But it only confirmed what she was already sure of, Diana was gone. Not even a trace of her spirit left. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Zelda set Letty into her crib and before she could decide what to do about Diana’s visit, a soft knock sounded on the door.
Knowing it was Hilda, Zelda sighed and waved a hand to admit her sister into the room.
“I take it you had a visitor as well?” Zelda asked, shifting so her hip rested on the crib and she was partially facing Hilda. A small squeak and her sister’s teary eyes were all the confirmation Zelda needed. She only hoped Diana thanked Hilda for her part in raising Sabrina as well. But whatever personal matters Diana discussed with Hilda were not her concern. “Did she try and warn you?”
Eyes widening, Hilda gave her a baffled look. “Warn me? About what?”
Shrugging, Zelda rubbed the back of her neck. “Diana didn’t have the chance to say… could we bring her back? Ask again?” She lifted her gaze to meet Hilda’s.
Hilda’s brow furrowed as she thought it through, lips twisting in displeasure when she came to the same conclusion Zelda had—she hoped Hilda could come up with something though. “She’s not in limbo anymore, Zelds.” Hilda said, sitting on the bed and tucking a leg underneath her. “Diana’s resolved what held her here, the thought that Sabrina wouldn’t be loved and protected as Diana would have loved and protected her. And with that resolved…” She threw her hands up in defeat. “It’s likely Diana moved on to whatever afterlife exists for mortals, she wouldn’t have gone over to the witching one.”
Scowling, Zelda spun her rings. “I thought as much. Likely the only reason she was able to break through the barrier in the first place was because of the Solstice.”
Nodding solemnly, Hilda hummed in agreement. “You truly have no idea what she meant to warn you about?”
A huff of amusement escaped her. “Not the faintest. Diana and I were hardly close, why she thought to warn me?” Zelda lifted a shoulder and sat on the bed next to Hilda. “And if it were truly so dire, wouldn’t she have led with that? Not gone on about other things?”
Hilda patted her leg. “Well, no use in worrying over it. If it was about things to come, well, we’ll find out soon enough I suppose.”
Snorting, Zelda conjured a cigarette, lit it and took a long drag; she certainly needed the calming effects of nicotine after everything that passed in the last few hours.
Her sister eyed the cigarette with dislike but said nothing, knowing Zelda charmed the things long ago so the smoke wouldn’t affect others. Instead, she turned to the topic Zelda wanted to avoid more than anything, Leticia.
“Are you really going to give her up?” The question came as a whisper, as if it weren’t spoken loudly then the idea could be taken back. Zelda nodded stiffly and leveraged herself off the bed and over to the crib to watch Letty sleep, her back to her sister. Undeterred, Hilda pushed on. “Have you even contacted Abigail about this?” She demanded, addressing Zelda’s back.
Hunching her shoulders, Zelda bit out her response. “Not yet. It’s only been an hour since I made the decision and quite a lot has happened. Besides, it’s late and can wait until morning.”
Exhaling forcefully through her nose, Hilda stood as well; or so the slight creak of the bed springs told Zelda, she still had her back to her sister. “And how do you know Abigail and Rebecca will even take Leticia in? They want another child, yes, but they may want one of their own.”
Zelda refused to believe her dearest friend would turn Leticia away and told Hilda as much. “Abigail was absolutely smitten with Letty. As you said, she and Rebecca are looking to add a child to their family; specifically, a little girl. So, it’s perfect, works out for everyone.”
“But does it work for you, Zelds?” Hilda asked quietly, coming to stand next to Zelda at the crib.
Running her tongue over her teeth, Zelda kept her eyes stubbornly locked on Letty. “What does or doesn’t work for me is meaningless.”
Undaunted still, Hilda took it even further. “And Faustus?”
She flinched, but it wasn’t as though she’d forgotten about Faustus when she’d come to this conclusion. “He will understand,” Zelda remarked, voice taut. “He’s already done what was best for Leticia before, he will do it again now.”
“Giving Leticia to you, someone he, he…” Hilda struggled to find a word to describe what she and Faustus were to one another, and if that didn’t define her relationship with the warlock, well, Zelda didn’t know what did. Eventually, though, Hilda came up with something. “He has a history with you, Zelds. A tricky one, but a deep one. Letting you take Letty is vastly different from letting Abigail take her.”
Gripping the edge of the crib tightly, Zelda swallowed hard. “My decision is final, Hilda.” She ground out, knuckles going white and her cigarette crumbling. “Nothing you say will convince me Leticia should stay here. Not when she may be in danger. She is going. Letty is going somewhere safe, and I will hear no more on the matter.” Zelda angrily waved a hand and what remained of her cigarette disappeared.
With that, Hilda was spun and magically ushered out of the room, the door snapping shut behind her. Hilda rapped on the door once more, but Zelda merely cast a silencing spell and went to bed.
Chest heaving with emotion, Zelda cried herself to sleep.
She woke the next morning to Ambrose gently shaking her shoulder. “Morning, Auntie Zee.” He greeted softly, setting a cup of black coffee on her nightstand. “It’s getting close to 8:00am I wanted to come check on you.”
Slowly, Zelda propped herself up against the headboard and she took a sip of coffee. “Thank you,” she murmured, eyes automatically drifting to check on Leticia, tears coming to them unbidden at the reminder that she soon would be parted from the girl.
Ambrose tentatively took her free hand. “When, when I was telling you my concerns before… I never meant—”
A small, tremulous smile tugged on Zelda’s lips. “I know, darling.” She interrupted, putting her coffee down and touching his cheek. “But you were right.”
“I didn’t want to be.” Ambrose told her vehemently, sliding onto the bed next to her and pressing his shoulder against hers.
Leaning into the contact, Zelda nodded. “Nor did I want you to be. And I was so obstinate about it, so arrogant to think I had it all figured out, I ignored the risks. Put Leticia in danger.”
He rested his head on her shoulder and retook Zelda’s hand, squeezing it hard. “No, you didn’t. You had it all planned, perfectly, I might add. There was just a wrench thrown into it we couldn’t have ever anticipated.” Glancing up at her, Ambrose squeezed her hand again. “I’m so, so very sorry, auntie.”
“Thank you, dear.” Zelda whispered, turning her head to kiss the top of Ambrose’s before resting her cheek there. And for the longest time, her sweet nephew sat with her like that and watched as Leticia amused herself by reaching for the mobile Faustus conjured for her.
They made it through the next several days without mishap, praise Satan, Zelda didn’t think she could handle another one. She was barely holding it together as is, and her family constantly blindsiding her to try and convince her to keep Leticia made it no easier.
Only Sabrina left Zelda alone in terms of her decision. That was, until it was two nights away from when Zelda was supposed to take Letty over to Abigail’s.
She’d been sitting in the parlor, playing with Leticia on the floor—selfishly keeping the babe up past her bedtime so she could spend more time with her—when Sabrina joined her; sitting on the floor and curling into Zelda’s side. Without thinking, Zelda slipped an arm around Sabrina’s shoulders and pulled the girl closer into her side; needing her girls close to her.
“Auntie….”
Sighing, Zelda withdrew her arm, recognizing the tone her niece was using. “Sabrina, don’t.” And she knew she sounded weary, she certainly felt it. It’d been heart wrenching enough to come to this decision, to actually contact Abigail and ask her to take Letty in, to arrange all the details for the day she’d give her baby girl away.
It’d been heart wrenching, utterly devastating, and Zelda didn’t need every single person questioning her, making it even more unbearable than it already was. Clearly sensing there was nothing she could say to change the situation, Sabrina nodded, slipped her arm through Zelda’s and together they played with Letty until it was time for the babe to go to bed.
Faustus… Faustus wasn’t so easily bullied into leaving her alone about the matter though. Not that she tried to bully him, but he was reluctant, to say the least, about the arrangements she made.
She couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t been there, hadn’t seen Gryla’s sheer determination, the woman’s almost complete lack of expression, her only goal to take Letty simply to take her not because she loved or truly wanted her. Zelda knew the witch would come back; whether it was a day, a month or a full year… Gryla would come back for Leticia if only to hurt Zelda and to exact revenge for being tricked.
In the end, she had to show Faustus her memories of the night to get him to understand why she was so scared, why she felt this was the only recourse.
Even then, Faustus fought against it. Suggested he talk to Gryla personally, explain how he was the father and gave Leticia to Zelda for fostering. Perhaps if Gryla understood the situation, knew Letty wasn’t orphaned at all, she wouldn’t try and steal the child again.
Though it was a lovely idea…. Ultimately, it was wishful thinking to assume Gryla would care about the circumstances that led to Leticia being in Zelda’s charge. There was the risk too that Gryla would expose them for hiding Leticia. Any number of other High Priests or coven members would pay a hefty price for dirt on Faustus, on Zelda herself, they couldn’t risk Gryla selling them out to the highest bidder.
And, well, there was always the chance Gryla might simply eat Faustus and steal Leticia anyway. What did she care about the parentage of one babe? Besides, if she killed and ate Faustus then Leticia would be an orphan in truth and Gryla would have a greater claim over her; in the woman’s mind, at least.
No, they couldn’t risk Faustus approaching Gryla in the hopes they could reason with her. It was best to hide Letty away; no matter how much pain it inflicted on those giving her up.
When he finally agreed to allowing Abigail and her family take Leticia in, Faustus insisted on meeting them (or in Abigail’s case, meet her again). And though Zelda hated to take it from him, she had to deny Faustus the chance to meet the people who would raise his daughter. Zelda understood why he wanted to, Hell, she’d want to meet anyone who took Letty in as well and the babe wasn’t even truly her child. But the fewer people who knew of Leticia’s true heritage the better and Faustus going to Abigail’s would blow the whole thing.
So, they compromised. Faustus would bring Judas over the night before Zelda was due to take Leticia away. The two would stay the night, bid their goodbyes the next morning and then wait for Zelda to return. Faustus was far from pleased about it, but then again, there was no way to truly be happy about how things played out.
The doorbell sounding made Zelda cringe. Because it meant it was almost time. Almost time to say goodbye to her baby girl; and she wasn’t ready. Faustus came and found her where she was hiding in her room, laying on her side on the bed, Leticia next to her gurgling happily.
“Zels,” he murmured, a hand brushing along her shoulder as he rounded the bed, laying Judas next to his sister before climbing on as well, mirroring her position so they bookended the babes.
She couldn’t meet his eyes at first, guilt wracking her body. All of this, all of it was her fault. And though she knew an apology was far from enough, was so woefully insufficient it was almost laughable to make one… Zelda swallowed hard and forced herself to look up at the warlock laying on the bed across from her. “Faustus,” she breathed, tears already springing to her eyes where they so often did these days. “I’m so very, deeply, sorry. I—”
Not taking his eyes off the babes, Faustus reached over them and took the hand Zelda had resting on her hip and squeezed. “I know.” He whispered, not giving her the absolution everyone else had, knowing she wouldn’t believe it. “But,” he licked his lips and brought his eyes to hers, “Leticia will be well cared for, happy, loved in her new home… yes?” And the desperate plea in his expression for his words to be true shattered one of the larger fragments of Zelda’s already broken heart even further.
Gripping his hand back fiercely, Zelda nodded. “Leticia will be their daughter.” She reassured him, though her voice cracked a little at the declaration. “She will want for nothing; she will be loved and happy and carefree and she will be safe.”
A jerky nod and glazed eyes were all she got in response, but Faustus continued to hold her hand as they lay next to the babes, their arms hovering slightly over the children. The children grew restless after a while and so they picked them up and moved to the floor to play. And if Faustus dominated Leticia’s time… well, Zelda couldn’t, wouldn’t, begrudge him that. She had a full week to say goodbye, after all.
Too soon it was time for bed, and Faustus gingerly laid Leticia down, caressing her cheek as he did. A small sniffle sounded from him, but Zelda wisely ignored it and simply put Judas down next to his sister, a smile coming to her lips when the babes automatically curled into one another.
Clearing her throat, Zelda turned to Faustus, suddenly unsure. “If, if you wish I can conjure another bed. I would understand if recent events have, have put you off our—”
But he didn’t let her finish, Faustus cut off her sentence with a crushing hug. Holding her against him so tightly it was slightly difficult to breathe; and she returned the hug in force. Both needing, desperately, to cling to something and as they couldn’t hold on to Leticia—in any interpretation of the word—they’d hold on to one another.
A sigh of relief left her; he wasn’t going to cast her aside for this. Wasn’t going to end whatever was between them, wasn’t going to blame her—though he should. She wouldn’t blame him for any kind of cruel or aloof treatment she received; it was nothing less than she deserved. Zelda had promised to look after his daughter, to raise her, love her, protect her. And barely a month after all these promises were made Zelda broke every single one.
Well, except for one. She would always love Letty.
Regardless, Faustus had every right to spurn her. But he was better than that, better than cruel and aloof treatment; at least with her. She knew that, and it was only her own demons saying otherwise, saying she deserved punishment. It was harder to silence them these days… when she couldn’t turn to flagellation. But Faustus’ acceptance, his presence…. Well, it made the demons a little quieter tonight.
So, with little else to do, they readied for bed and laid down with Zelda closest to the crib and Faustus curled around her, his head propped up on an extra pillow so he could watch the babes as well.
“Did Prudence come and say her goodbyes?” The question broke the silence they’d been laying in for several minutes.
Nodding, Zelda boldly intertwined her fingers with the hand Faustus draped around her waist. “Yes, she came by yesterday. She was rather stoic, when I told her what was happening and why. Though she did spend an hour or so in the office with Leticia on her own; I heard her talking to Letty a few times, nothing more than murmurs but it was sweet nonetheless.” Zelda licked her lips and then continued. “Prudence did ask, before she left, that I refer her to Abigail as a babysitter.”
Faustus shifted behind her and tightened his fingers around hers. “Is that not dangerous?”
And Zelda could tell from his tone Faustus thought it unfair that Prudence would get to see her sister, get to meet the family who would raise her, while he was being purposely kept in the dark.
She leaned more heavily against him, trying to provide comfort. “Prudence’s movements are hardly monitored,” Zelda reminded him gently. “She can come and go from the Academy as she pleases, and no one questions it. They would question it if it were you. It’s not fair, but it’s true.” She murmured, though it wasn’t as if Faustus really needed the reminder that he was a prominent figure in the community. “And though it might be a slight inconvenience for Abigail to have a new sitter, it would be a means of keeping an eye on Leticia. I couldn’t help but agree to the request; Prudence clearly wants to remain in her sister’s life in some capacity, how could I refuse?”
Sighing heavily, Faustus pressed against her harder, as if trying to meld their bodies together. “You were right to agree, I just…” He trailed off and Zelda could tell he was looking at Leticia. Wishing he could be in his daughter’s life in some capacity as well, even if just as the High Priest and headmaster as he’d been for Prudence.
“I know,” Zelda breathed, her heart twisting wretchedly at the circumstances. “I am so sorry, Faustus.” She managed thickly, tears coming easily and clogging her throat. She felt him kiss the back of her head and then settle down completely on the bed behind her, head no longer propped up to see the twins.
“As am I.” Came a quiet reply, and Faustus clutched her tighter still before burying his face in her hair. Some time later, he drifted off.
Sleep didn’t take Zelda so easily; or so peacefully. Every time she closed her eyes, she imagined the Yule Lads were back and had stolen Leticia or she pictured Gryla tearing her babe in two rather than let Zelda win the test Diana set them.
Each nightmare jerked her awake, heart pounding and looking frantically over to the crib to reassure herself Letty was safe. The third time she jolted awake, she woke Faustus as well.
He got up without a word, rounded the bed and lay on Zelda’s other side so she could rest her head on his chest as he ran his hand up and down her back soothingly, all while still being able to see Leticia.
Zelda gave him a light squeeze with the arm she wrapped around his middle in thanks. Another soft kiss on the top of her head was the only acknowledgement she received in return; for which Zelda was immensely grateful. She was well aware neither of them would normally be so raw with one another. But, considering the circumstances, she’d take and give all she could. And if they never spoke of these moments stolen in the dark again, well, then Zelda would know they were back on familiar ground.
For now, though, they would lay together, in the predawn hours and mourn the loss of Leticia before she was even gone. They’d mourn the could-be’s, what should-have beens and all the other moments in between. They’d draw strength from each other’s solid, if silent, presence.
When they finally gave up the pretense of sleep, Faustus leveraged himself out of bed and delicately lifted Leticia into his arms, murmuring quietly to the girl when she whined slightly in hunger.
It was a slow goodbye. Taking over an hour and including a feeding and a changing; Faustus handling everything for Leticia as they cared for the twins. The clock chiming 9:00 told them it was time and Faustus whispered several protective spells over Letty before kissing her forehead and handing her over to Zelda.
“We’ll be here when you return.” He promised, a hand resting on her hip and the other on Leticia’s head.
Nodding, Zelda shakily took a step back and teleported away—her family having said their goodbyes last night before Faustus and Judas arrived.
And though he knew it was illogical, Faustus could have sworn the room was darker without his girls in it. He stood in the middle of Zelda’s bedroom for some time, unsure what to do and trying to ignore the ache developing in his chest. He didn’t have much time to process the loss, though. The pocket mirror he kept on him at all times started to ping and flash, an emergency at the Academy; one Shirley apparently couldn’t handle by herself.
Satan knew why he left her in charge. Snarling, Faustus waved a hand to get dressed, scooped up Judas and made his way downstairs. Thankfully he only encountered Hilda. Furious and practically spitting fire, Faustus explained what was happening and told the younger witch he’d return as soon as possible.
Smiling sadly at him, Hilda offered to watch Judas for the day—the slight shine in her eye telling him that she already felt the void of the little girl she thought was to be her niece. Unfortunately, he had to refuse, knowing it’d be suspicious if Judas wasn’t with either him or the nanny.
Giving Hilda a curt nod, Faustus messaged the nanny to meet him at the Academy so she could care for Judas and then teleported away.
Zelda hesitated on the porch. Unable to bring herself to knock. Surely, Abigail sensed her arrival, her wards alerting her to the visitors now dawdling on her front step. Her friend let her stand there, though. Graciously giving her the time she needed to muster the strength to knock on the door and fully initiate the final step in handing Leticia over.
She almost turned around. Almost went back home with Letty in her arms, dangers be blessed because Letty was her daughter. But Zelda couldn’t do that. Couldn’t be so selfish. So, instead, she raised a trembling hand and knocked—and if the sound was a sad, pathetic little thing that surely no one inside heard unless they were pressed against the door, well, it couldn’t be helped.
Abigail must have been doing just that, waiting against the door, because the thing swung open immediately. Saving Zelda the torture of having to knock again—Abigail knew her well.
“Zee,” she smiled sadly and ushered her inside. “And little Leticia, hello sweet thing.” Abigail cooed over Letty, lightly bopping the girl’s nose and making her smile.
As she followed Abigail to the sitting room, Zelda couldn’t help how the corner of her mouth tugged upwards at the chaos. She’d forgotten what a home with small children was like. The clothes and toys strewn around the place, the muddy shoe prints trekking across the floor and familiars chasing after them to ensure they didn’t get into anything too dangerous. It’d been something she was looking forward to, but it would be routine to Abigail and Rebecca.
“Sorry for the mess, I know it doesn’t look like it, but we cleaned the place up for you.” Abigail smiled at her wryly and hurriedly collected a few things off the couch so Zelda could sit.
Before Zelda could dismiss the concern, state she appreciated the mess, they so rarely got to live so freely—running a business out of the house made it so they were hyperaware of all personal belongings left on the first floor—Rebecca breezed into the room, carrying a tray of tea.
“Hello, hello,” she greeted cheerily, placing a quick kiss on Zelda’s cheek as she set the tray down, pushing aside an abandoned art project as she did. “Who do we have visiting?” Rebecca’s voice pitched up a little at the end as she glanced at Leticia and Abigail shot her wife a warning look that told Zelda her friend had tried to temper Rebecca’s excitement about adopting Letty by telling her it might not happen. That they might just be ‘visiting’.
The gesture hurt, not because it was insensitive, but because it was so obviously sensitive. Sensitive to Zelda’s feelings, to controlling their own so as not to pour salt into an already raw wound. Clearing her throat, Zelda tilted her arms so Rebecca could see Letty better. “This is Leticia,” she informed the woman, proud of how little her voice shook.
Rebecca, Satan damn her, made no move to take Leticia, didn’t ask to hold her as was customary when first meeting a new baby—adoption or no. And whether this was another instruction from Abigail or just Rebecca sensing Zelda couldn’t bear to part with the girl yet, she was grateful. She wasn’t sure they’d have been able to pry Letty from her arms if they asked to hold her.
They fell into small talk, catching up on years’ worth of news, carefully avoiding recent events in the Spellman house less they touch on painful topics. The boys barreled in at some point, breathless and excited, they kept a respectable distance from Leticia, though they jostled one another slightly to get a better look at her. Their new sister. No one said as much, Zelda could tell the boys were coached as well, but it filled the room, the huge, unspoken thing. That this baby girl, no longer hers, would be staying with them. Would become a part of their family, a daughter, a sister…
Suddenly Zelda was blinking back tears, the blasted things stinging her eyes once more. Licking her lips, Zelda asked the boys if they wanted to hold Leticia. They lit up at the suggestion, hurriedly taking places on the couch, pillows stuffed under an arm to help prop Letty up.
Carefully, Zelda laid Leticia in Ben’s arms, Finn crowding his older brother to peer at the babe, broad smiles on their faces.
She should have left then. Left and not looked back. But she lingered. Lingered far longer than necessary or normal. Zelda knew she should leave, let Abigail and her family get acquainted with the newest addition to their family. But every time she stood to go, Zelda found another excuse to sit back down and cradle Leticia close.
To their credit, neither Abigail nor Rebecca showed any sign of frustration at her continued presence. In fact, they offered her a reason to stay several times, easily sensing she wasn’t ready to part with Letty just yet.
It was only when Zelda had been there, quite literally, the entire day, when it was time for Leticia to go to bed, that Zelda forced herself to leave. Even as she made for the front door Zelda couldn’t help but talk over her shoulder, telling Abigail about Leticia’s favorite toy, how to best handle her when she was gassy, and that flipping her over and rubbing gentle circles on her back soothed Letty the fastest when she became truly worked up.
Tears welled up and Zelda’s throat constricted as she opened the front door, hovering there trying to determine if she’d forgotten anything. “She, she loves her pacifier,” she informed them, voice cracking. “But it falls out of, of her mouth, so you’ll always want to have a few spares in case you don’t notice right away.”
Abigail nodded and placed a hand on her arm. “Zelda, are you absolutely certain?”
Her tears spilled over then and Zelda nodded jerkily, unable to speak past the lump in her throat for a moment. “Yes. This is for the best. It’s to protect her, Leticia will be safe and happy and loved with you.” Sniffling, Zelda peered past Abigail to where Rebecca stood in the background, Leticia in her arms. “Greendale isn’t a place to raise a child. The Thirteen, the Red Angel of Death, Gryla and her Yule Lads… and that’s just in the last month. No, it’s best Leticia is here.”
Pulling her into an almost suffocating hug, Abigail whispered fervently in Zelda’s ear. “We’ll protect her. I swear to you on my life, on Rebecca’s and the boys. Leticia will be safe, happy and loved.”
Wiping her cheeks clumsily, Zelda held onto Abigail hard. “And I know you already have a sitter, but the girl I mentioned, Prudence, she’s very good with Letty. So, so maybe every now and then, let her take over the duties? Just something to consider…” Zelda added shakily.
With a final squeeze, Zelda broke the hug. And when Abigail offered to teleport her home, not trusting Zelda’s emotional state to get there herself, Zelda shook her head, stepped back and was gone. Unable to stand being there any longer when she knew it would only prolong the inevitable.
The wards went off, and Hilda’s head shot up from where she’d been chopping vegetables for a stew, Sabrina sitting at the counter, catching up on some work for the Academy. Zelda was back.
Seconds later, the front door opened and then slammed shut. They both rushed to the foyer, but before she or Sabrina could say a word, Zelda was halfway up the stairs; moving mechanically with a hand pressed to her stomach, face white.
Biting her lip, Hilda led Sabrina back to the kitchen, knowing Zelda wouldn’t want their niece to witness the emotional agony she was experiencing.
“Is, is she alright?” Sabrina asked in a near whisper, picking up her pen and playing with it uncertainly.
“No,” Hilda murmured, eyes on the ceiling as footsteps passed overhead.
Sabrina’s voice caught her attention. “Will she be?”
Hilda sighed, “in time. Until then, she can’t do anything drastic. I made sure to take her—” She caught herself, almost revealing how Zelda punished herself.
Brow furrowing, Sabrina stopped fiddling with her pen. “Took her what?”
Well, apparently, she hadn’t been quick enough in cutting herself off. Jaw clicking shut, Hilda shook her head. “Nothing.” She replied uneasily, going back to her chopping, her knife just a tad too aggressive.
“Aunt Hilda?”
She turned her back to Sabrina completely and began to fuss with the stove, eyes glancing up at the ceiling periodically at the sound of moving furniture. Too easily remembering the scene she walked in on just a few weeks ago.
How the act immediately followed Zelda’s fight with Sabrina, the one where their niece yelled Zelda wasn’t her mother. And now, here her sister was, letting go of a girl she considered a daughter so soon after Gryla cruelly proclaimed Zelda wasn’t a mother.
But it would be different this time. Hilda knew, she prepared; hidden away Zelda’s flogs and locked them in her trunk with an alarm spell.
Suddenly, the sound of moving furniture stopped and the alarm spell went off in Hilda’s head—warning her that Zelda had tried to force Hilda’s trunk open to get to the flog. And though Zelda hadn’t succeeded in opening the thing, the attempt sent a spike of terror through her.
“Satan, please no,” she gasped, dropping the stew spoon and taking off up the stairs, Sabrina close on her heels. “I made sure, I made sure… doesn’t matter, never should have left her alone.” Hilda muttered to herself as she barreled towards Zelda’s room.
Only, only the room was locked both magically and physically. Having none of that, Hilda blasted the damn thing open, nearly ripping it off its hinges. Sabrina leapt back in astonishment. “Aunt Hilda!”
Ignoring her niece, Hilda dashed forward and came upon another horrifying sight.
In the absence of a flog, and knowing Hilda was alerted to her attempted break in, Zelda had grabbed the closest thing she could in order to punish herself as much as possible before Hilda burst in. Her sister now had a belt in one hand and was beating her back mercilessly with the buckled end.
Breath leaving her in a whoosh, Hilda magically shoved Sabrina back further before she could see and slammed the door behind her; resealing it as she went. “Zelda! No!” Hilda darted forward and wrestled the belt from Zelda, flinging it across the room.
This time, though, Zelda was prepared and before it hit the floor, the belt was zooming back into Zelda’s hand, and she managed to get a few more brutal strikes in while Hilda recovered from her shock.
Furious and scared, Hilda zapped the thing from her sister’s hand, making sure it disappeared after it left Zelda’s possession.
Crumpling to the floor, loud sobs wracked Zelda’s body. “Gryla was right,” she croaked, arms wrapping around her middle, “I’m not a mother. I don’t know why I ever thought I could be. I failed, Hildie, I failed, I failed, I failed… and failure,” Zelda hiccupped, “failure deserves punishment.”
Fighting back tears, Hilda dropped to the floor as well and embraced Zelda, careful to avoid the new bruises and the blood trickling down from where the buckle broke skin. A quiet spell stitched the skin back together without a mark and erased the bruises, but the damage was done. Before Hilda could even begin to address what Zelda said, a knock sounded from the door.
“Aunties!?” Sabrina inquired through the wood, panicked. And Zelda flinched at their niece’s voice and curled further into herself, whimpering. “Aunties, please!” Sabrina called out again, voice pitched in concern.
Swallowing hard, Hilda turned her attention to the door. “Sabrina, you need to leave.” She instructed thickly, knowing the last thing Zelda wanted or needed was for Sabrina to see her like this.
The doorknob rattled a little, Sabrina trying to open it, but the spells held. “I want to help, please.”
Fresh sobs escaped Zelda and she pressed further into Hilda, as if trying to disappear. Unsure how to help her broken sister and deal with a well-meaning, but intrusive, niece, Hilda pressed her lips together. Then she heard murmurs on the other side of the door. Then another knock, this one gentler.
“Aunt Hilda?” Ambrose tapped on the door once more. “I’m sorry, I was finishing up with a body in the morgue when I heard the noise. What do you need?”
Gently laying Zelda completely on the ground, Hilda got up and cracked the door open, blocking the opening with her body. “Zelds just got back from Abigail’s, I need some calming tea, foxglove and the broken heart balm.” Ambrose nodded earnestly and was off, Sabrina trailing after him, looking a bit lost.
Sighing, Hilda closed the door once more and went to help get Zelda ready for bed.
Ambrose bounded down the stairs and started to pull things from the cupboard, his magic gathering what he needed from the greenhouse and floating it into the kitchen for him.
Sabrina followed him, anxiously picking at her cuticles. “What can I do?”
“Learn.”
Blinking, Sabrina gaped at him. “What?”
“Learn your actions have consequences!” He bellowed, slamming a cupboard shut. “That they do not occur in a bubble of their own and affect only you.” Ambrose set several ingredients on the counter with more force than necessary. “You think after the resurrection you’d realize, after Tommy and Harvey…. But no. You just had to hold a séance on Solstice, which made our home vulnerable to the Yule Lads, which brought Gryla. And that is why Aunt Zelda gave up Leticia and is heartbroken and devastated upstairs right now!” He volume increased as he continued, but Ambrose found he didn’t care. Nothing else had gotten through to his cousin, maybe this would. “Consequences, coz, consequences. Learn they exist and do well to think of possible ones in the future. Because somehow,” a dark chuckle escaped him, “somehow you’re never the one to pay the price.”
Taken aback by his outburst, Sabrina immediately became defensive. “I didn’t make Aunt Zelda give Leticia up. I tried to talk her out—” She broke off at his glare.
Scoffing, Ambrose looked around the room as if trying to find someone else responsible. “Oh, oh so you’re not the reason she was forced to give up Leticia?” His tone was mocking, but Ambrose was past caring if he was cruel. “You’re not the reason she’s crying instead of smiling, laughing and happier than I’ve seen her in almost a decade? Well, that’s good news, isn’t it? It’s someone else’s fault Leticia is gone.”
Nose wrinkling in anger, Sabrina crossed her arms. “You were the one saying we couldn’t keep Leticia a secret just the other day. Implying we needed to get rid—”
“Voicing doubts and concerns is not the same. Not the same as putting our whole family at risk for a conversation I told you to wait to have.” He emphasized the last few words with jabs of his finger against the countertop. “But you didn’t listen. Again.” Ambrose threw his hands up in defeat, then put the kettle on the stove to heat, giving it a boost with a silent spell. “Went against my advice. Me, who knows something about being a bit reckless and the cost. Me, who’s been around far longer than you and has a better understanding of magic and our realm. But no, Sabrina knows best.”
She pressed her lips into a thin line and tears were in her eyes when he finished. Guilt tried to sweep through him, but Ambrose pushed it away. Though perhaps said in an unnecessarily harsh manner, he meant every word and refused to take them back.
The tea kettle whistled and Ambrose picked up it and added to the tray that had been preparing itself. “That is what you can do coz, you can finally learn a lesson.” With that he picked up the tray and headed back upstairs, leaving Sabrina behind.
By the time Ambrose returned, Hilda had managed to get Zelda to change into pajamas and into bed. She climbed in as well, cradling Zelda, stroking her hair and humming an old lullaby their mother used to sing to them—knowing any words of comfort would fall short, wouldn’t break through, not yet.
Ambrose set the supplies down on the nightstand next to Hilda, leaned over to give them each a kiss on the cheek and left with a quiet request that they send for him if they needed anything.
Giving him a sad smile, Hilda nodded and resealed the room after his departure. Carefully extracting herself from her sister, Hilda leaned over to pick up the balm, passing it to Zelda. “You’re to use it properly this time,” she ordered, watching as Zelda unscrewed the top and took a generous dollop of the ointment and rubbed it on her chest. Hilda snatched the container back before Zelda could even think about getting more and put the lid back on, setting it aside and out of Zelda’s reach.
Only then did she pour the tea, adding a large dose of foxglove, before handing this over as well.
Zelda drank it quickly, too ready to lose herself in oblivion for Hilda’s taste, but she held her tongue. This was a deep, painful loss and it would take time for her sister to recover. And with Hilda now monitoring the unhealthy ways Zelda used to cope, it might take a little longer; Zelda needed to develop new, and better, coping methods after all. But Hilda knew she would be there every single step of the way, doing everything she could to ensure her sister’s safety and health.
Settling back onto the bed, Hilda pulled Zelda into her again, cuddling her big sister. And one thought kept bouncing around Hilda’s head, and she found she couldn’t wait until morning to address it.
“You promised,” she murmured, tears returning to her eyes. “Promised you wouldn’t do that anymore.” It’d been because of this promise, and the fact that she hid the flog, that Hilda thought it alright to give Zelda space, time to process what happened. But both of those safety nets failed.
Her eyes already drooping from the foxglove, Zelda tensed. “Hildie, please,” she begged. “It was the only thing that could drown out the other pain.” Her voice cracked with emotion despite the balm and Zelda’s body trembled in Hilda’s arms. “Please don’t tell Sabrina about her parents. I can’t. We’re finally in a good place. I can’t lose both my girls at once. I can’t handle her hating me again,” she whimpered, tears falling fast.
Struggling to keep her composure, Hilda shook her head vehemently. “That certainly isn’t how to deal with pain,” she remonstrated, clutching Zelda to her harder. Then the rest of the words registered. Blinking, Hilda pulled back slightly and forced Zelda to look at her. “Sabrina’s never hated you! You, you don’t truly believe that, do you?”
Zelda’s chin trembled and she didn’t respond beyond burying her face against Hilda’s collarbone and sobbing.
Heart breaking further, Hilda hugged her sister close and whispered as many comforting and kind things she could think of, unsure how Zelda got to a place where she thought so little of herself. Unsure how she ever let her sister think so little of herself, to think she was unloved even by her own family. Hilda knew Zelda found it difficult to trust, to let others in, but she never could have imagined it was this bad.
Making up her mind, Hilda tucked a now sleeping Zelda further under the covers and made her way downstairs and into the office to do some additional research on the computer.
Sometime later, light filtered into the room and Zelda groggily turned her head to find Sabrina slipping inside.
Quietly shutting the door behind her, Sabrina crept toward the bed. “Hi auntie,” she breathed, getting on the bed and wrapping an arm around Zelda’s waist and pressing her cheek to Zelda’s back.
She flinched at the touch, not from pain—Hilda had seen to her back, though Zelda would have welcomed the aching—but from the anticipation of it.
Misreading her reaction, Sabrina sniffed. “I’m sorry, Auntie Zee. So, so sorry. I never…. You always protected me. I should have done a better job at protecting Leticia. I’m sorry, I thought the silencing spells already in place would be enough.” She whispered thickly, and an aborted sob shook Zelda’s body causing Sabrina to press closer to her, so Zelda could feel her niece’s tears soaking through her nightgown.
With an effort, Zelda took one of Sabrina’s hands and kissed the back of it, pinning it to her chest afterwards. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart.” She managed, thinking of all the ways she could have prevented the events leading to Gryla’s visit. “Gryla, she, she has special abilities when it comes to seeking out children. You couldn’t have known the spells wouldn’t work… I should have.” Before Sabrina could argue, Zelda continued heavily, the foxglove threatening to pull her under before she finished. “In any case, this is for the best. I never should have tried to keep Letty; it was too big of a risk. This, this is the safest for everyone.”
And though she was doing her damnedest to keep the tears out of her voice, from the way Sabrina snuggled closer to her, Zelda knew she failed in that as well.
“I love you, Aunt Zelda. So much.” Sabrina declared, curling around Zelda completely.
Taking an uneven breath, Zelda kissed Sabrina’s hand once more. “I love you too, darling.” She replied before letting the foxglove drag her from consciousness.
Faustus used the last of his energy to teleport back to the Spellman’s, the emergency at the Academy turning into four and keeping him there well past midnight.
Knowing he looked haggard, Faustus trudged up the porch steps and let himself in with the special spell Zelda gave him so he could come and visit her and Leticia more discreetly. A light on in the kitchen drew him in like a moth, and Faustus half expected to find Zelda passed out at the table, a decanter of whiskey in front of her.
To his immense surprise though, it was Hilda who was at the table drinking. Furrowing his brow, Faustus looked around for Zelda and didn’t see her, the rest of the first floor dark. “Where is she?”
“Upstairs.”
Panic flashed through him, as did images of the various scars on Zelda’s back. “You left her alone?!” He speared a hand through his hair, already spinning to run up the stairs. “Satan, Hilda she might have—”
Tone defeated, Hilda cut him off. “She did.”
The words froze him at the bottom of the steps. “You know?”
Lifting a brow, Hilda conjured a second glass and nodded at the chair across from her as she poured another serving of whiskey. “So do you.” She retorted, tone clipped, and Faustus could see the exhaustion weighing on her.
Tilting his head in acknowledgement, Faustus joined the younger Spellman sister at the table and downed the entire glass. “What happened?”
Slowly, and with frequent refills, Hilda told him of how she found out, of what happened tonight. She finished by muttering into her drink, “my fault, really. Never should have left her alone.”
Faustus shook his head, “no. It’s my fault. I promised to be here; I should have been here. I—” And the words caught in his throat and tears threatened. But he choked them back, it was one thing to be like this with Zelda, quite another with Hilda, or anyone else for that matter. Clearing his throat, Faustus knocked back the rest of his most recent refill and stood. “I’m going to check on her.”
Nodding, Hilda patted his hand where it rested on the table. “We need to take care of her.”
“We will, I promise. And nothing will keep me from doing that.” Faustus vowed solemnly, turning and leaving the kitchen to find Zelda.
What he found instead, to his continued surprise, was another Spellman. Sabrina was laying on the bed with her aunt when Faustus opened the door. She blinked, disoriented and clearly waking from a partial slumber.
“Ms. Spellman,” he stated quietly, trying not to sound too shocked.
The girl regained herself quickly and narrowed her eyes at him, “Father Blackwood.” She replied in an equally soft voice, though her tone was edged as well. Evidently, current events hadn’t improved her perception of him.
At the mention of his name, though, Zelda stirred. “Faustus?” She mumbled sleepily, rolling slightly to see him. And he was only able to make out a sliver of her face in the dark, but even from that, Faustus could see how devastated she was, and it nearly killed him.
While he accepted the fact that he’d never raise his daughter or have her see him as a father when he surrendered Leticia to Zelda… Zelda was coming to terms with this set of facts now, and Faustus knew exactly how she felt. Zelda reached out a hand to him, and he hurriedly rounded the bed to take it and hold it to his lips.
Huffing, Sabrina threw him one final look and got off the bed, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.
A small whimper and a tug of his hand had Faustus rushing to toe off his shoes and throwing his tie on the ground before joining Zelda on the bed. She instantly curled into his side, pressing her face into his neck.
“I lost our girl, Faustus.” She slurred, still under the effects of the foxglove.
Faustus’ insides clenched at her words, the implication of them if only she’d been lucid enough to truly mean them. Their girl. Leticia had been their girl, in Zelda’s mind. Swallowing, Faustus rolled onto his side and gathered Zelda into his chest, her head fitting neatly under his chin as he held her close and stroked her hair and back. “It wasn’t your fault,” he murmured, knowing she wouldn’t believe it but needing to say it anyway. Where he held back earlier today because he knew Zelda didn’t want to hear it, he was saying it now because he knew Zelda needed to hear it. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t. I should have helped put more safety measures in place. I should have been here for the Solstice; Church traditions be damned.”
She gasped at his statement, it was dangerously close to heresy, but did nothing besides grasp his collar with one hand while the other slid around his waist to hold him closer. They laid there for some time, taking turns trembling with tears and clutching at one another as though the other was the only thing in the realms grounding them.
In time, the foxglove took Zelda under once more and Faustus followed her not long after, the emotional toll of letting Leticia go again and the emergencies from the day exhausting him.
To Zelda’s dismay, Faustus left early the next morning. He’d been away from Judas for far too long. And while his nanny never questioned the odd timings of his coming and goings, he was sure there was a limit to her discretion and did not wish to risk her gossiping with others about the High Priest’s erratic schedule.
He kissed her lightly, then once more a little longer, before embracing her hard, whispering encouragements and endearments into her hair. When he released her, the tender look on Faustus’ face was almost too much, but he teleported away moments later and Zelda contemplated crawling back into bed and sleeping the day away; her eyes drawn to the small container of the broken-heart balm Hilda left on the nightstand.
She was making her way over to it when her vanity mirror pinged, causing her to pause. Deciding to ignore the thing, not wanting to deal with whatever coven matter the call was surely about, Zelda reached for the balm.
The mirror pinged again, more insistently. Frowning, Zelda answered it, knowing she looked a fright and hoping the pallor of her skin would convince the caller she was sick and they’d leave her alone.
“Satan, Zelda, I’ve been trying to contact you, Hilda or Ambrose for ages!” Abigail exclaimed when her face appeared in the glass. “I wanted to make sure you got home safe last night. But no one answered any of my witching board messages, your telephone went straight to voicemail and the mirrors were blocked. I only didn’t teleport over there because Rebecca tethered me to the house; saying I would be intrusive.”
Lips trembling, Zelda slumped in front of the mirror. A bittersweet feeling sweeping through her at the appearance of her friend. “Abs,” she greeted, resting her head in her hands. “We turn the phone on to automatic at night for the mortuary, the mirrors are still on their nightly schedule when we, we had Leticia so the sounds wouldn’t disturb her, and the witching boards….” Zelda glanced around the room and didn’t see hers. “I honestly don’t think any of us were paying them any attention last night.”
Softening, Abigail scooted closer to her mirror. “Zee,” she murmured, biting her lip. “None of this has to be permanent. We—”
Zelda pushed out of her chair and stalked away from the mirror. “Don’t. Not you too. I can’t, I’m not strong enough, Abs. You know this is the best decision, whether I or anyone else likes it. It’s the best. Are you saying Rebecca and the boys aren’t ecstatic about Leticia’s presence? About her addition to your family?” Her friend opened her mouth, but Zelda didn’t let her answer. “No need to deny it, I saw their faces. And, and it’s good.” She nodded vigorously to herself. “Leticia is being warmly, enthusiastically, welcomed into your family, as she should and deserves. This is for the best.”
Glancing away to try and hide how she swiped a few tears off her cheek, Abigail turned back to her. “Zee, I am so sorry.”
“Don’t be. You, you should be excited. You have the little girl you wanted.”
Abigail touched the mirror, brow furrowing. “I didn’t want your little girl, Zelda.”
Rolling her shoulders, Zelda looked away. “She’s not mine. Not anymore.” She retorted brokenly, and before Abigail could say anything else, could ask if Zelda wanted to say hi to Leticia, Zelda said a brisk goodbye and waved her hand to end the call.
She paced the room a bit, mind racing and heart aching. After a moment, Zelda seized the balm and smeared it across her chest, sighing in guilty relief as the magical properties eased the pain. She shouldn’t be using it; it was an insult to Leticia. To not grieve the loss of her little girl.
But Zelda had never been good at dealing with pain, no matter how much she liked to tell herself otherwise. So, she added a little more balm to her chest and then got dressed and went downstairs. There were three funerals and a showing to plan and coordinate, after all.
When Zelda breezed into the kitchen, completely dressed and put together, Hilda about fell over. She expected her sister to remain in bed all day. She hadn’t expected Zelda to grab her normal black coffee and stride out of the room, saying over her shoulder that she’d be working in the office if anyone needed her.
Ambrose turned to gape at Hilda, just as stunned as she was. “What just happened?”
Shaking her head, Hilda put her breakfast dishes in the sink so they’d automatically start washing themselves. “She’s trying to ignore the pain and act as though it’s all normal.” Hilda frowned, peeking her head around the door and seeing the office door open and Zelda at the desk shuffling papers.
“How can I help?”
A smile tugged Hilda’s lips at the question. “I need to run some errands, will you, just, just keep an eye on her? Nothing too obvious, but…”
Standing, Ambrose nodded. “Of course. I’ve got a new book I want to read and the couch in the office is very comfortable.”
Exhaling shakily, Hilda tipped onto her toes to kiss Ambrose on the forehead, gathered her purse and was out the door. She took the car; not entirely confident she knew the area she was going well enough to teleport there.
Though Hilda researched anxiety and night terrors before, she’d researched it again last night. This time with Zelda’s loss in faith and self-harm in mind. She was certain her sister was suffering from post-traumatic stress from a number of things, stretching back years, perhaps even decades. The agitation, hypervigilance, self-destructive behavior, the anxiety and crushing sense of guilt, her night terrors… it’d been an upsetting list to check off.
And while Hilda knew she couldn’t get Zelda to see a professional about any of this, couldn’t do anything too obvious least Zelda reject it, Hilda thought she could get away with helping her sister’s anxiety and night terrors.
Which was how she found herself walking into a specialty store that sold weighted blankets*.
It wasn’t a guarantee, a form of mortal magic that would fix it all. But the internet provided some compelling evidence and Hilda thought it wouldn’t hurt to try. She didn’t plan on actually buying a blanket, she just wanted to test a few, write down some details so she could make one at home with some spells and charms woven into it.
The store was a bit overwhelming, the number of choices astonishing. But Hilda moved through them methodically and kept coming back to the same one. When she tried it for a third time, a saleswoman came over to help.
“Hello, I’m Beth. Do you need any help, ma’am?” She asked politely, clasping her hands behind her.
Starting a bit, Hilda shook her head. “What? Oh, no, I’m just shopping for, for my nephew.” Though she was two towns over, and no one could possibly recognize her, Hilda felt an odd compulsion to protect Zelda’s secret even from this stranger.
“Alright, you know you can bring him in here so he can try the blankets as well. We work very hard to provide a stress-free shopping environment.” Beth informed her.
Hilda nodded in acknowledgement. “That would be lovely, I just wanted to come ahead and narrow down the options, make the trip a bit easier.” She gave the excuse quickly, not telling this woman that there was no chance in Hell she’d ever get Zelda in here.
Spreading her hands, Beth nodded. “Of course. And if necessary, you can call ahead and book one of our rooms so your nephew can test the blankets in a more private setting.” She indicated to a line of doors along the back wall.
Floundering a bit, Hilda lifted her chin and hummed. “Well, he has had a bit of trouble getting out of the house in the past.” She had to smother a smile at the comment, knowing it would seem odd if she found it entertaining.
Beth smiled sympathetically, “agoraphobia isn’t an uncommon condition to have in tandem with more severe forms of anxiety.”
Slightly surprised by the woman’s knowledge, Hilda started to talk with her about some of the finer details of the blankets.
“Yes, some have likened the weight of the blankets to that of physical contact.” Beth confirmed when Hilda asked her yet another question.
Frowning, Hilda twisted her hands. “But what if Ze—, my nephew,” she hurriedly corrected, “doesn’t like much contact? I mean, he’ll instigate physical contact when someone else is distressed, but receiving it or even asking for it when needed…”
Unsurprised, Beth touched her arm gently. “That’s also not uncommon,” she reassured. “Many people with anxiety have trouble asking for help because they feel like they’ll be a burden on those they ask. Obviously, it’s not true. But that’s the condition. So, though they may need the comfort and contact, they can’t always ask for it. This blanket can help with that.”
“And night terrors? I read they could help, help with those?” Hilda asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
For the first time, Beth hesitated. “Possibly. Weighted blankets can work wonders for people with anxiety and PTSD, which is sounds like your nephew may be displaying some of the symptoms. But results vary person to person. It very may well ease your nephew’s night terrors, but I cannot guarantee that.”
Humming, Hilda fingered the edges of the blanket once more, committing the details to memory. The mortal version of a weighted blanket might not have any guarantees, but hers, with its spells and charms… just might. Turning back to Beth, Hilda smiled. “Thank you for your assistance, this should hopefully help.”
Beth inclined her head, “of course. When you come back with your nephew feel free to find me if you need anything.”
As soon as Beth walked away, Hilda hurried out of the store and to the car. The entire drive home she designed the blanket in her head, cataloguing everything she’d need to weave a night terror proof weighted blanket for her sister.
Though unsurprised she hadn’t been left alone all day, Zelda was mildly stunned Hilda wasn't the one babysitting her instead of her nephew. While Ambrose claimed he just wanted to read on the most comfortable couch in the house, Zelda knew he was keeping her company. Sabrina popped in for a few hours as well, sprawling on the floor to do her homework for the Academy, before leaving again. Zelda appreciated their presence more than she could say. If she had to lose one child, at least she still had her first two.
When Hilda did come home, she breezed past the office, calling over her shoulder they would have to fend for themselves for dinner and sequestered herself in her room.
Lifting a brow at Ambrose, her nephew just shrugged, looking equally perplexed at Hilda’s behavior. “Well, if we’re to ‘fend for ourselves’ how does pasta sound?” Zelda asked, pushing away from the desk and heading for the kitchen.
Together they prepared dinner, Sabrina and Hilda joining a few minutes before the food was ready. Conversation at dinner was strained; Zelda adamantly refusing to discuss Leticia or the day before and Hilda refusing to say where she’d been all afternoon.
It was only when Zelda went up to bed an hour later, more than ready for an early night and the dreamless sleep foxglove would provide, that she realized what her sister had been doing. Hilda’s bed had been moved back into their old shared room and a new quilt adorned Zelda’s bed.
Ignoring the fact that Hilda decided to share a bedroom with her again, likely thinking she needed to keep watch over her, Zelda eyed the blanket with confusion.
“What’s this?” She trailed her fingers along the thing, it was magnificently soft.
Trying, and failing, to sound nonchalant, Hilda glanced over from where she was changing into her pajamas. “Just something I’ve been working on. Meant to have it done for the holidays but didn’t quite manage. A little something to help with sleep.”
Rolling her eyes, Zelda moved to change as well. “I don’t—”
A huff escaped Hilda at the denial and Zelda turned to look at her, brow raised. “You can’t use foxglove forever, Zelds. And unless you want to talk about what’s still plaguing your sleep—”
“Thank you for the blanket,” she cut in, not wanting to reveal anything else to her sister than she already had. Smiling a little smugly, Hilda nodded at her and climbed into her bed to read.
Turning away once more, Zelda finished getting ready, drank her foxglove spiked tea and slipped under her new blanket. And Satan help her it was stifling, heavy and thick and overstimulating. Tossing and turning, Zelda almost threw it off, demanded to know what Hilda’s game was… but then, then she settled, and it felt, nice. Though unfamiliar, the weight was comforting.
It wasn’t much, but it was something. Zelda knew she only got through today because of the broken-heart balm, would only get through tonight because of the foxglove and Hilda’s miracle blanket. It wasn’t much, but Zelda would take whatever she could to help her get through these upcoming days. And while she may need help, at least she’d gotten through the first day.
Perhaps that was enough. To make it through one day at a time.
She’d done it when Edward died. The same approach would work again. It had to. With that as her final thought, prayer really, Zelda allowed herself to be dragged into a drugged sleep.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
They hovered; her family. For two entire weeks after Leticia. She understood Hilda’s presence, her sister not wanting to risk a repeat performance of her first night without Leticia—but Sabrina and Ambrose lingered much more than usual as well. Zelda couldn’t be sure if they were under Hilda’s strict instructions not to leave her be, or if they suspected what happened behind closed doors. In any case, they hardly gave Zelda a moment of peace. It infuriated her…. It touched her.
But mostly it overwhelmed her. Zelda was independent to a fault, had been most of her life. So, to have one family member or another constantly underfoot was starting to wear on her nerves. Though she appreciated their concern, Zelda wished they would stop.
Stop so she could bury herself in her usual routine, pretend her brief time as Leticia’s mother was a fever dream and move on. Convince herself her role had always been to foster Letty until they found her a permanent home… it was the only way she’d make it through.
Well, that and Faustus and little Judas; she’d taken to visiting them often. Far more than was necessary as a midwife and Night Mother, but Zelda was nothing if not discreet in most of her visits.
She enjoyed her time at the Blackwood mansion, not only because Judas was precious in his own right and quickly stole her heart, though his darling smile reminded her painfully of another child at times. No, Judas wasn’t the only reason Zelda found herself at the Blackwood house so frequently, if she were honest Faustus was a large reason as well.
He didn’t flit in and out of her peripheral vision at all hours. He knew space and time was what Zelda needed and he gave it to her. While he was often in the room when she came over, his presence never had the suffocating feel to it that her family’s sometimes did—as well meaning as they were.
No, Faustus’ presence was a much-needed balm. While Zelda believed her family was hovering because they felt obligated, she knew Faustus was there because he wanted to be.
Very much wanted to be… if the frequency with which they had sex was any indication. They’d always been insatiable, the two of them, especially when it came to one another; but this, this was something else. Their pairings were no longer frantic, but slow, as if they’d all the time in the world.
Zelda hadn’t been sure what to make of it at first, tried to provoke Faustus into their old habits on several occasions. When she failed, though, Zelda found she rather liked this new kind of slow intimacy. The time they took to revere one another’s body, to relearn everything that hadn’t been forgotten, just put aside for the sake of sanity—for surely if they hadn’t neither of them would have managed to stay away for so long.
Part of the change could be attributed to their loss; Zelda was sure. They were both still grieving Leticia and instead of acknowledging it, they lost themselves in what they knew best. Sex.
And this wasn’t to say the frantic sessions never happened, they surely did. When Faustus would purposely wind her up, or she him, and it would lead to an impassioned session against the closest surface. But even these changed to a degree; they took longer to fix their clothes after, to say goodbye—choosing to linger… even cuddle.
Their relationship had taken a turn. One toward what one might label as mature—in the emotional sense. And coming from a couple centuries old witch this might sound ridiculous; she and Faustus had what many mortals called a ‘mature’ relationship for decades. But all of this, it was all new… all this time they spent together not sleeping together. It was new and it built on what they started when she first took Leticia in and Zelda found she didn’t mind and neither, it appeared, did Faustus.
In fact, Faustus seemed to be finding more and more excuses for her to come over. Judas was cranky, he was colicky, he missed his Night Mother… the last one a sure-fire way to get Zelda to come over. The way he would say it, his voice pitching low, and Zelda’s gut told her Faustus was saying he missed her as well; wanted to be close to her.
Which was how she found herself called over to his house on multiple occasions only to find Judas perfectly content or even asleep in his crib. Leaving them to whatever activity Faustus had lined up. They help each other with side projects; with curriculums for the upcoming semester at the Academy; while he worked on sermons for Black Mass, Zelda would rest against his side and read, occasionally giving feedback when he asked how something sounded; and they recently started playing witch's chess again.
It was all rather domestic, and Zelda wasn’t sure how she was supposed to handle it. Not so soon after she confessed to Faustus that she loved him; granted she erased his memory of the incident, but she couldn’t help but feel Faustus still retained some inkling of the admission of some level and that was why he was acting this way.
The matter wasn’t cleared up by any means when, on Witch Epiphany, Faustus stuck close to her throughout the entire coven event. Unlike with the Solstice, where witching families often stayed at home to tend their Yule logs and only a few joined in on the rites performed at the Church of Night, the entire coven got together for this holiday.
While the mortals had their New Year’s celebrations, the witches had one of their own; hailing in the New Year with feasts, spells, traditions and lots of drinking. It was a joyous holiday, one Zelda normally looked forward to and helped coordinate—her heart hadn’t been in it this year though.
So, it surprised her when she found herself truly smiling and laughing at the event, the pain of losing Leticia momentarily forgotten. Especially when she caught sight of Shirley Jackson’s face as she and Faustus where dancing together for the third time that night.
She tipped her mouth closer to Faustus’ ear as they danced. “You should probably dance with a few other witches tonight,” she murmured, though her hand unconsciously crept up from his shoulder and possessively curled at the back of his neck at the thought.
Faustus hummed. “And why is that?” His hold on her tightened slightly at the question, as though he feared she’d break the dance right then and force another partner on him.
“I’m the only one you’ve danced with all night. You know how gossip travels within a coven.” She lifted a brow and looked at him, the corner of her mouth ticking up.
Bending over slightly, Faustus closed the distance between them a little further—their proximity no longer appropriate for a High Priest and mere parishioner… if it had been at all to begin with. “Let them talk. You’re lucky I don’t just teleport us out of here right now and ravish you… that dress is sinful, Zelda.” He purred in her ear, and she did her best to remain unaffected, at least externally, by his words.
Before she could reply, Shirley approached them, asking for the next dance—neither of them having noticed the previous song ending.
Zelda stepped back, though she felt Faustus’ arms resist the movement before releasing her. “Thank you for the dance, Father Blackwood. I should go check on my niece, ensure she isn’t getting into too much trouble with her newly freed cousin.” She departed, hiding a smirk at the look Faustus was giving her, his eyes wide and expression stony, begging her not to leave him with Shirley.
It didn’t take her long to find Sabrina and Ambrose, the two of them sequestered in the corner with most of the other coven youth. When she got closer, though, Zelda realized she should have checked in on her niece sooner; the girl was rather drunk.
Sighing, Zelda waded through the crowd and grasped Sabrina’s arm; so much for going home and having pleasantly buzzed sex with Faustus tonight. “We’re going home, come.” And it was a testament to how much her niece had to drink that she didn’t argue, just nodded, a slightly dopey grin on her face.
“Already?” Ambrose asked, looking perfectly comfortable half sprawled on top of Luke. “It’s her first Witch Epiphany as a full witch, auntie, can’t you let her stay a bit longer?”
She gave him a disapproving look. “If you wanted her to stay longer you shouldn’t have given her so much to drink. You know her experience with witching parties is limited.” The scold left her lips and Sabrina grimaced a little and tried to twist away from her unsuccessfully.
“Auntie Zee,” she whined, “don’t say that. You’ll make me seem uncool.”
A huff escaped her. “Oh, darling, if you think I make you look that way you should just wait another ten minutes and then we’ll see how you feel with vomit down your front.” And though Sabrina didn’t show much sign of getting sick, Zelda had enough experience to know it was coming soon and she’d rather be at home to deal with it than here.
With a final reproachful look at Ambrose who shrugged good-naturedly, Zelda pulled Sabrina after her towards a less crowded spot in the room. And though she looked for Faustus, wanting to tell him she had to leave, Zelda wasn’t able to find him through the mass of bodies swaying drunkenly around the room. Not wanting to drag her drunk niece through everyone and risk an embarrassing scene, Zelda teleported the two of them home, silently cursing Ambrose and his assumption that everyone had his high tolerance and experience with witching liquors.
“Hilda!” She called out when they arrived in the foyer, practically hauling Sabrina into the kitchen. “We need your hangover potion and any anti-nausea anything you might have ready.”
Her sister popped her head out of her greenhouse where she’d been working with plants that only bloomed nocturnally. “Already? Who was so far ahead of the game that they showed up hungover to Witch Epiphany?” She then caught sight of Sabrina and smothered a laugh. “Oh.”
Zelda lifted a brow. “Oh,” she repeated, directing Sabrina to a chair and the girl all but collapsed into the chair, immediately sliding halfway down and hanging half off the piece of furniture.
Holding a hand up, Sabrina cocked her head and furrowed her brow. “Why is everything spinning?” Her head lolled onto her shoulder so she could look at Zelda.
“Because you drank too much, Sabrina.” She informed her niece a little tersely, turning to see if Hilda had the potion ready. She wasn’t exactly in the mood to deal with a drunk Sabrina, especially when it meant her evening with Faustus was cut short.
Somehow, they managed to get Sabrina to drink the potion, change into her pajamas and get into bed without incident—though the girl was unnaturally profusive about how much she loved them. Rolling her eyes, Zelda closed the door behind them and exhaled deeply.
“Nightcap?” She asked Hilda, already heading back to the kitchen, her sister on her heels.
They settled in the parlor, shoes kicked off and feet propped up—Zelda’s ached a bit from the dancing, but she rather enjoyed the feeling, only too happy to recall what caused it. A comfortable quiet filled the room as they sat, taking occasional sips of their drinks. It was only when Zelda glanced at the grandfather clock against the wall and noted the day in the lunar cycle that something dawned on her.
“We’ll need to determine how we’re going to balance the mortuary.” She murmured, turning her head slightly to peer at Hilda.
Humming in confusion, Hilda took another drink. “What do you mean?”
She nodded at the clock, where the face indicated the phase of the moon. “It’s nearly the end of the lunar cycle, term at the Academy will start in a few days. Which means,” she exhaled and shifted to get more comfortable, “I’ll be teaching most days. That and Ambrose will be picking up more hours there as well, and with you at the bookstore...” Zelda trailed off, wondering why they still bothered with the mortuary when they’d all so clearly outgrown it. “We might need to advertise a change in hours.” She finally added, rubbing the back of her neck, “let the people of Greendale know we won’t be open with the same regularity.”
Dropping her eyes, Hilda mumbled into her glass.
In no mood for her sister’s diversionary tactics, Zelda faced her completely. “Speak clearly, Hilda, or don’t speak at all.”
Hilda made a bit of a face at her but spoke louder. “I can pick up more hours here. No problem.”
Perplexed, Zelda lifted a brow. “What about the bookstore? I was under the impression you rather enjoyed your time there. That and with your budding romance with the trash peddler, I thought—"
Cutting her off, Hilda looked staunchly ahead at the fire. “Cerberus hasn’t put me on the schedule in a week.” And though she stated it matter of factly, Zelda knew her sister too well not to hear the hint of hurt in her voice.
Blinking, Zelda scooted her chair closer to Hilda’s. “I thought the store was still closed for the holidays…”
Picking at a cuticle, Hilda shook her head, still avoiding her eyes. “No. I just told you that. I just haven’t gone in because he hasn’t scheduled me. I think I might have ruined it… by kissing him.”
Anger roared up inside Zelda before settling in her stomach to simmer dangerously. Despite her feelings, despite wanting to teleport to this man’s house and rip his spine from his body for hurting her baby sister, Zelda kept her voice calm. “Nonsense.” She waved away the idea with a hand, “he adores you and he kissed you back. Besides, it’s probably the after-holiday slumps. All the mortals are recovering like our dear niece and will soon be out in droves. Everyone is flush with cash at the end of the year from the holidays, looking to spend it on all kinds of things, including mediocre horror novels. You’ll be back over there soon enough and then you can continue courting your mortal.” She cocked her head, trying to ignore the gnawing pit in her stomach that something was off.
Her words had the desired effect, though, Hilda blushed and giggled. “I’m not courting him, Zelds.” She exclaimed, fighting a smile.
Huffing in amusement, Zelda arched a brow. “Oh, so you weren’t the one to kiss him?”
“Well I was, but…”
“No need to be ashamed, sister.” She grinned and winked. “Men like a confident woman, one who knows what she wants, especially if it’s him. But until then, I could use your help.” Zelda gestured around them to indicate the mortuary. “You know how mortals are this time of year, rashes of deaths due to drunk driving, alcohol poisoning, and loneliness. We’ll be busy and any extra work you can do here before going back to the bookstore is appreciated.”
Hilda cocked her head at her then and smiled, finger tracing the rim of her glass.
This drew a frown out of Zelda. “What?” She asked warily.
Shrugging, Hilda shook her head. “Nothing, you, you just seem a bit better, it all Zelds.”
She sniffed, finished her drink and stood, unsure of what she was allowed to feel anymore in regards to Leticia.
Was she allowed to grieve over her loss when Letty was perfectly safe, happy even, in her new home? Was she allowed to feel guilty whenever Leticia slipped from her mind for periods of time, like tonight, and she enjoyed herself? Was she allowed to feel a sorrow and emptiness so deep at times Zelda didn’t think she’d ever be able to claw herself out of it? Was she wrong to enjoy little Judas so much, to love him? Was she replacing Letty with her brother?
Swallowing, Zelda set down her half-finished glass and made for the door, wanting to be alone where no one would see her cry over the babe she’d never really been a mother to, not really.
Hilda’s hand on her forearm made her pause. “Zelds, that’s not what I meant.” She murmured, having easily read Zelda’s emotions as usual. “I didn’t mean you shouldn’t, that you’re somehow bad or failing because you had a nice night out. I—” Her sister sighed, eyes glazing over as she squeezed Zelda’s arm. “I’m just glad you had a good time, a nice night. You deserve those.”
Lips trembling a bit, Zelda nodded. “I know, Hildie, thank you. I do feel a bit better.”
It was true, to an extent. She was sleeping infinitely better, the blanket Hilda gifted her a hellsend. She hadn’t slept without it since receiving it… she felt foolish, childish, being so dependent on the thing. But she’d become quite attached to a good night’s sleep, one without the disruption of night terrors, so she pushed past the tendrils of shame that tried to convince her to stop using it out of pride; and her sleep was more restful than it’d been in years because of it.
And, now that Sabrina had signed the Book of the Beast, it would mean the Dark Lord had his price paid, he’d lose interest in her girl. Which also meant Wardwell, or whoever the heaven she really was, was gone from their lives. The woman would have no reason to linger, to interfere, to manipulate Sabrina into dangerous situations. It was a huge burden off Zelda’s shoulders; worrying about what that woman was doing. She was gone. She was gone and Hilda knew about Edward and her secret and she and Faustus were… well, she and Faustus.
Yes, she was a bit better. If only because the several of the sources for her chronic stress were gone. So, while this new year wasn’t starting off as she’d imagined even a few weeks ago, it was still starting off on a somewhat positive note—or as positive as it could be for her, given her history.
Dropping a kiss onto Hilda’s head, Zelda pulled away. “Night, sister. Don’t bother waiting up for Ambrose, I’m sure he’ll be at Luke’s tonight.”
Hilda wrinkled her nose but nodded. “I’m just going to finish this and maybe read a bit.”
Pressing her lips together, Zelda inclined her head. “I’m sorry you couldn’t attend the party tonight. I know how much you love Witch Epiphany.” She murmured, memories from decades of her and Hilda getting far too drunk and getting into trouble coming to mind.
A sad smile tugged the corner of Hilda’s lips. “Thanks, Zelds. Did it to myself, though, didn’t I? Excommunicated witches aren’t supposed to have lots of fun or everyone would do it.”
She brushed her hand over Hilda’s hair gently before heading up the stairs; each of them needing to wallow a bit on their own.
The rest of the week flew by, the mortuary slammed just as Zelda predicted. Before she knew it, it was the first day of Spring term at the Academy. Excited for a change of pace and another excuse to get out from her family’s less stifling but still slightly hovering presence, Zelda went down to the kitchen early to eat and read her paper in peace.
But, of course, one could never really have peace when living with a teenager. Sabrina was soon up and getting ready for school, her music blaring. Zelda shared a look with Hilda but neither of them said a thing, all things considered music was a small offense and it was nice to see, or rather hear, Sabrina in a good mood. When her niece skipped into the kitchen, greeting them cheerily, Zelda couldn’t help but eye her with suspicion. No teenager, witch or not, was this chipper about going back to school after the holidays.
“Deafening morning, you mean. Wasn’t that music rather loud.” She remarked pointedly, letting her paper droop a bit so she could see everyone.
Ambrose chortled, “loud enough to wake the dead.” When Zelda gave him an unimpressed look, he played with his food. “Too soon for resurrection jokes?”
Running her tongue over her teeth, Zelda turned back to Sabrina and commented on her clothes. Really, Satan help her, one child making inappropriate jokes (was there ever a right time for resurrection jokes when Sabrina’s ended so devastatingly?) and the other was wearing more black in the past few days than Zelda had seen her wear most her life…. Beelzebub, hopefully this wasn’t some new phase Sabrina was going through, Zelda needed a break.
Sabrina brushed it off, claiming it was a new year, that it was time to blow the cobwebs away. She then informed them, as Zelda rose from the table to get ready to leave for the Academy with Ambrose, that she wanted to focus more exclusively on her education at the Academy—her mortal studies not rigorous or rewarding enough in comparison.
Though Hilda tried to dig further into Sabrina’s decision, asking if their niece didn’t want to see her friends and then cutting herself off at the mention of the mortal ex-boyfriend, Zelda practically beamed at the news.
“I’ll call Baxter High and tell them you’ve contracted scarlet fever and not to expect you for the next two weeks.” She offered before Hilda could put her foot into her mouth any further… or perhaps say something that actually might make Sabrina change her mind.
It was wonderful, Sabrina’s decision. The fewer ties they had to mortals the better; Edward taught her that lesson. That and so many of Sabrina’s dangerous ‘misadventures’ had resulted because of her attachment to the mortal world; running from her Dark Baptism, her trial, the exorcism, the resurrection, facing down the Greendale Thirteen… Heaven, even everything with the Yule Lads happened because of Sabrina’s need to speak with her mortal mother.
So, yes, the more Sabrina was immersed in the witching realm the better. Perhaps then the only troubles would be the usual ones when dealing with teenage witches. Hexes and incorrectly interpreted spells and undoing love potions… she could hope.
Until then, she’d encourage Sabrina all she could to pursue her studies at the Academy; though, Sabrina acquiring her own indefinite leave of absence from her principal was impressive and a good sign. It also meant Zelda didn’t have to go in and meet the new one at the parent assembly coming up later that week. She’d hated the old one, Hawkins or something like it, and considered cursing him on more than one occasion for his rather inappropriate comments to her and some of the other mothers. But he appeared to no longer be a problem, and neither, it appeared, was mortal schooling in general.
Smiling, Zelda finished her tea and beckoned Ambrose and Sabrina to follow her to the car. She needed to get to the Academy early for a staff meeting; Faustus was formerly introducing her as a full-time faculty member to the others and she was bristling with excitement to get started.
They arrived at the Academy quickly and Zelda nodded goodbye to the kids and headed for Faustus’ office where everyone else would be gathering. He caught her outside and smiled warmly, though he kept his distance with so many students in the hall, Zelda didn’t miss his minute abortive movement of what might have been a hug.
“Ready?” He asked instead, lifting a brow and brushing a hand against hers as he turned to lead her into the office.
“As always,” she countered, gifting him a small wink, her arm pressing against his for a shadow of a second as he moved past her.
Faustus flashed her a quick grin over his shoulder and then the High Priest/headmaster mask dropped into place. “You’ll find the rest of the faculty esteemed experts in their fields,” he informed her, opening the door and proceeding her. “If I am the hand that molds our young pupils’ minds, these are my fingers.”
Quick introductions were made, though Zelda had known most of them from the coven for years, which she said as much in her formal greeting. Most of the staff smiled and nodded at her, still respecting her despite the recent fallings of the Spellman family, for which she was grateful.
“As Constance did before her death, Sister Zelda will be teaching ancient tongues and sacred scripture in addition to directing the unholy choir.”
Zelda made her quick thanks, stating she was honored to be teaching alongside them. “I never dreamed I’d once again be teaching at the Academy.” She’d taught once, over a century ago, classes ranging from demonology to midwifery, but when Edward had started courting mortals in an attempt to find a wife, Zelda had left Academia in protest, even left the country for a bit, and focused on her midwifery business. It felt wonderful to return.
The soft cries of Judas interrupted her; Faustus having tried to continue the routine he started over holiday break of bringing the boy to work with him. But there hadn’t been so much noise or magic in the air before, it was likely these that were upsetting him.
“Prudence, what is wrong with my son? Why is he crying?” He demanded, looking over to his daughter, irritation seeping into his tone.
The poor girl looked up at them, clearly at her wits end. “How am I to know?” She demanded looking at Faustus. “Though you treat me like a wet nurse, Father, I am not one.” She stated tersely, and Zelda closed her eyes, knowing Prudence’s tone would not go over well, it challenged Faustus in front of not only other grown witches, but witches who were his staff. His curt reply wasn’t a surprise.
Taking pity, Zelda strode over and placed a hand on Judas. “There, there, you cherubic little devil,” Zelda soothed, gently applying pressure to the bottom of Judas’ feet and his ears; calming the babe instantly.
Stunned, Prudence looked at her. “What did you do?”
Glancing at the girl and noting her interest, Zelda smiled. “Reflexology to calm him,” she explained, thinking Prudence might be interested in learning the techniques as well. Before she could ask Prudence if she’d ever considered midwifery, Faustus’ voice captured her attention.
“Sister Zelda, you are a hellsend.” He murmured, giving her a much softer look than he normally did in public.
Unable to hide her smile, Zelda just bowed her head in reply before turning back to Judas to ensure he was comfortable as Faustus continued the meeting.
While she listened, though, part of her mind lingered on Faustus’ reaction to Judas crying. He knew how to soothe the boy; she’d been teaching him reflexology and other tricks she’d picked up in her decades of experience. But it seemed he was trying to keep appearances in front of the coven, the strong, if a bit aloof, leader—this facet now extending to his son.
That, and Zelda had noticed Faustus had lost some of his confidence when it came to Judas after Leticia left. As though he doubted his ability as a father because he’d completely lost one of his children. Even with Prudence being a bastard he’d been able to keep her close and under his watchful eye, even if he couldn’t acknowledge the fact then. In the aftermath of losing Letty, he had tried to bring Prudence closer, letting her spend time with her brother, in the Blackwood mansion. But he could still be short with Prudence, and this helped no one.
Faustus ended the meeting then, a little early, wanting to give everyone time to catch up on a few things in their offices before first assembly. An actual nanny arrived then, claiming Judas and relieving Prudence who disappeared into the throngs of students moving towards the front hall. The nanny nodded at them and took Judas down the hall to a small classroom Faustus had converted into a nursery so Judas could remain close to him throughout the day.
As she was making her way out after the other teachers, Faustus called her back. Nodding at Sister Shirley, the last one out besides her, Zelda closed the door and moved back to the center of the room.
“Any last minute tips for a teacher who’s been out of the game for over a century?” She intoned, lifting a brow at him and wondering why he’d held her back.
Standing up, Faustus rounded his desk and wrapped one arm around her waist while the other brushed her hair aside so her could kiss her neck. “Where did you disappear to the other night?” He asked, breath ghosting along her skin.
Unconsciously leaning into his touch, Zelda rolled her eyes at the memory. “Sabrina had too much to drink, Ambrose a little too enthusiastic in introducing his cousin to witching liquors. I had to get her home before she embarrassed herself and me in front of the coven.”
His other hand stroked along her side as Faustus brought his face up to hers, capturing her lips briefly. “And the past few days?” He cocked his head, “I haven’t seen you…” He kissed her lightly again, making Zelda smile.
It wasn’t until then that she realized she hadn’t seen Faustus in days. It shouldn’t surprise her, the time apart, they’d gone months, years even without interacting with one another before. But now, now it felt odd. Odd not to have seen him, played chess or leaned against his side as he prepared his sermon; Faustus’ smooth voice and passion reminding Zelda of why she’d once been so devout.
And he’d noticed as well. Even commented on it.
“Did you miss me?” Zelda breathed, bringing a hand up to the back of his neck, careful not to muss his hair—they didn’t have much time before assembly. Faustus didn’t answer right away, the hand he’d been running along her side coming up and cupping her cheek. He moved in to kiss her again when there was a rap on the door.
Springing back, Zelda smoothed her hair and made for the door. As she opened it, she talked over her shoulder as though they’d been having a professional conversation the entire time. “Thank you for the advice, Father Blackwood, though after dealing with my niece I’m sure I can handle anything these students throw at me.” She turned and came face-to-face with Shirley. “Oh, Sister Jackson, excuse me.” She nodded once, thanked Faustus again and made for the main hall where first assembly would take place; forcing herself not to look back when the door snapped shut behind the woman.
She knew Faustus couldn’t stand Shirley, but the way the witch had interrupted their dance at Witch Epiphany and had likely been trying to listen through Faustus’ many wards to hear what they were saying… well, she’d just have to keep an eye on Shirley, that was all.
Everyone settled in for first assembly, Faustus greeting them and announcing it was time for a new Top Boy, a liaison between students and faculty. Nicholas Scratch was promptly nominated, the room chanting, cheering and clapping as he moved forward.
Zelda couldn’t help but smile, Faustus had told her about Nicholas. He was incredibly smart, powerful given how young he was, and entirely devoted to the Church, yet he didn’t follow blindly. It was clear Nicholas was one of Faustus’ favorite students, and Zelda knew how difficult it was for students to impress Faustus—most of them losing his respect through stupid stunts and catty fights. So, to see that the other students recognized Nicholas as well was heartening, the boy seemed to deserve the title, likely had worked towards it for years while waiting for a few of the older students to leave and he truly had a shot.
No one disputed the nomination… at first.
Of course, of course Sabrina had to speak up. She held her tongue, when Sabrina stated that Satan himself hadn’t hand-picked Nicholas for the position so why couldn’t others try? Zelda held back the comment that while the Dark Lord hadn’t selected Nicholas, his classmates had. His classmates selected the person they’d known for years, someone they believed would convey their wants and needs to the faculty, someone who fully understood witching culture—someone who wasn’t exactly her niece who often fought the Church and coven at every given chance and had initially been court ordered to attend the Academy.
So, though Zelda thought it low of her niece to take this away from Nicholas, to challenge the tradition simply to challenge it—she doubted Sabrina truly wanted to serve the Academy as she suggested—Zelda couldn’t help but think it was nice her niece was integrating herself into the Academy more fully. So, she held her tongue.
Thankfully Nicholas was a good sport about it, even nominated Sabrina himself. Zelda exhaled softly in relief; the boy could have easily marked Sabrina as a target. Prudence seconded the motion immediately, smirking from her spot in the balcony, and Zelda knew the young woman had done it to spite her father.
Holding up his hands, Faustus accepted Sabrina’s entry and announced the winner would be chosen following the three challenges of witchcraft and a vote. Dismissing the rest of the students, Faustus beckoned Nicholas and Sabrina forward, and Zelda stood to hover close by just in case.
“Now, since there are two of you and we are engaging in the three trials, there are rules you must abide by during the challenges. Dire consequences will be the result should these unholy rules be broken.” He informed them, looking at each of them carefully to ensure they were listening. Sure he had their attention, Faustus produced an ancient, almost crumbling piece of parchment; magic likely the only thing keeping it together. “The rules are few, simple and straightforward, and they are in place to protect you,” he continued, unrolling the parchment with care. “One, you cannot make any attempts to harm or kill your opponent.” Faustus paused a moment and eyed them but clearly didn’t see this one as much of a possibility given the students—in the past any and all kinds of attempts may have been made.
“Two, there is to be no cheating. This is an unholy tradition and the office of Top Boy a valued one within the Academy, the student holding the position will not besmirch it by coming upon it dishonestly.” This time Faustus gave the two a more appraising look, cheating, though against the rules, was still a common enough occurrence during the trials—the caveat was that it had to be proven that it happened; otherwise anyone could claim the other was cheating… and proving magical cheating could be difficult on the headmaster’s end. “Lastly, anyone who breaks these rules will suffer the consequences as fit the crime.” He repeated once more, nodding succinctly and offering the scroll to both of them for perusal. “Are you both in understanding of these rules, and of the possible punishments you may incur should you break them?” He held up a hand, before the two could speak. “And know that by verbally agreeing, you are entering a magical, binding contract saying you’ll follow these rules. You can exit the contest at any time, this contract does not hold you to completing the challenges, only to completing them with honor.” Faustus paused for effect, “do you understand?”
The two shrugged and nodded. “I agree.” They stated at the same time. Satisfied, Faustus waved them away, flicked his wrist to stow the parchment away and turned to pull Zelda aside into an empty classroom.
“One tradition,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just one tradition. Can she leave just one alone? That’s all I ask for.” He remarked tiredly, shutting the door behind them.
Zelda arched a brow. “You didn’t have to accept her bid,” she noted, holding up a hand when Faustus looked ready to interrupt. “I agree Sabrina’s decision to step forward was rash—she’s entirely unprepared for the three trials, even more so because she’s never attended the Academy full-time and hasn’t dedicated the same time to the unseen arts as I’d have liked.” Zelda spun her rings a little nervously at the thought of Sabrina entering the challenges unprepared, but it was her niece’s choice, let her reap the rewards… or the consequences, whatever they may be. Shaking herself, Zelda refocused on the warlock in front of her. “While I disagree with Sabrina’s actions, her message isn’t wrong.”
Brows flying up, Faustus spread his hands out, as if to give her the floor to explain.
Chuckling, Zelda crossed her arms. “Really, Faustus, that position should have been gender neutral long ago; centuries even.”
“Oh,” his lips quirked in a teasing smile, “so you could have held it?”
A burst of laughter escaped her. “Satan, no. I was hardly Top Person material. I caused,” she closed the distance between them, “far,” she pushed him against the wall, “too,” she placed a kiss on his neck, “much,” she moved her lips to his jaw and gave it a little nip, “trouble.” Zelda finished, capturing his lips and pressing against him.
Faustus’ hands locked onto her hips and drew her in even closer, tilting his head to deepen the kiss and slip his tongue into her mouth to tease hers. A small groan sounding in the back of her throat brought Zelda back to reality.
Reluctantly, she pulled away, waved a hand to fix her lipstick and made for the door even as Faustus tried to pull her back in. “First period is about to begin, Faustus. Can’t be late on my first day.” She reminded him, leaning in and stealing a final kiss before exiting the room and heading down the hall to her class.
As the day passed, Zelda settled into a role she long ago thought she’d abandoned. Teaching suited her, far better than she remembered; though perhaps it was different now without Edward breathing down her neck and trying to mess with her lesson plans. She’d been stuck in the death business for so long, with little in the way of challenges, Zelda had forgotten how academically inclined she used to be—how academia and the chance to learn something new thrilled her.
And now she had the chance to once again impart magical, and musical, knowledge upon the younger generation… and it was lovely and fulfilling, just like midwifery. Perhaps if things continued to go well, they could shut down the mortuary and each of them could pursue their passions instead of prepping dead bodies and dealing with weeping mortals.
Before she knew it, the first day was over, the final bell signaling students that it was either time to go home or go to dinner if they boarded at the Academy. Zelda was jotting down a few notes for what to work on during her planning period the next day when a student appeared in her office doorway.
“Professor Spellman?” She asked timidly, biting her lip. Glancing at the girl, Zelda hummed in acknowledgment. “Father Blackwood would like to see you in his office before you leave for the day.”
Nodding to let the student know she understood, Zelda waved the child away. She finished her note, collected her coat and walked to Faustus’ office, unsure what he wanted to talk about.
What she found when she opened the door was certainly not what she’d have guessed to be waiting for her. A fire was lit, wine and glasses adorned a table set for two in front of it along with a platter of fruit, cheese and crackers.
Mouth opening in pleasant disbelief, Zelda shut the door behind her. “Faustus?”
Standing up from behind his desk where he’d been finishing paperwork, Faustus smiled at her. “How was your first day?” He asked, sweeping around the desk and kissing her.
It was all she could do not to melt into the kiss, the gesture of a fire-side picnic warming her entire body. “Lovely,” she breathed, barely breaking their lips to answer. “I’d forgotten how much I enjoy teaching.”
“No trouble with any of the students, then?” Faustus probed, leading her over to the table.
Zelda smirked. “As if they’d dare,” she quipped, letting Faustus pull her chair out for her and scoot her back in as well; placing a brief kiss on her jaw as he moved away and took a seat across from her.
A low laugh rumbled through Faustus and he winked at her. “I should have known better than to ask. With any other new professor, perhaps, but not the formidable Zelda Spellman.” He poured some wine for them both before popping a grape into his mouth.
Regret rang through her then, and she took a slow sip of her drink. “I can’t stay long,” she informed him, a rueful smile on her lips. When Faustus looked confused, she reached across the table and touched his hand. “It was Sabrina’s first day too, I want to be home to hear about it.”
Though disappointed, Faustus nodded and flipped his hand to take hers and brought it to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. “Then let’s enjoy what time we do have… by not discussing work.”
Zelda smiled and toasted the idea.
Thirty minutes later, having exhausted the wine, food and any topic more interesting than the other’s mouth, they found themselves lazily kissing on the couch they’d drug over to the fire. Zelda was laying half on top of Faustus, one hand curled in the short hairs at the nape of his neck, the other cupping his jaw as their tongues danced slowly.
It was becoming easier and easier to lose herself in him; his touch, his lips, how his one hand was buried in her hair while the other stroked languidly along her back. So easy to lose herself in him that Zelda didn’t realize her alarm spell was ringing until it’d become obnoxiously loud. Groaning, she broke the kiss and pulled back to get off the couch.
Faustus caught her arm and tugged her back down onto him. “Do you have to leave?” He murmured, drawing her in for another kiss. Zelda was only too willing to comply, settling back on his chest and resuming their previous slow assault on one another’s mouths.
The alarm spell went off again, minutes later, more insistent this time. Zelda extracted herself successfully this time, laughing softly as Faustus tried to playfully hold her in place. “I’m already late for dinner,” she scolded him, swatting at his hands as she stood and fixed her hair and makeup.
Sighing, Faustus sat up as well. “I suppose I should get going as well, I have to prepare for the outing with the upper-class boys. It’s tradition for the headmaster to take the candidate or candidates for Top Boy out for a drink—congratulating them on their nomination and wishing them luck in the trials ahead.” He caught her hand before she stepped away from the couch completely, “will I see you tonight? After our other obligations?”
The corner of her lips tipping up into a hint of a smile, Zelda gave a minute shrug of her shoulder. “Possibly.” She teased, bending over to kiss him once more and then teleported home.
Instead of hearing about their niece’s first day, though, Sabrina greeted them, grabbed a plate of food and went to the parlor where she already had a pile of books stacked up around her in preparation for the first trial; leaving Zelda and Hilda by themselves at the table.
“Well,” Hilda huffed, pushing food around her plate, “you’d think she’d manage to go through one day without kicking some kind of hornets’ nest. But Top Boy, Zelds… I mean, that—”
Smiling sympathetically, Zelda reached over and squeezed Hilda’s hand. “I know, sister. But after Sabrina’s ‘impassioned’ speech, Nicholas nominated her himself, and Prudence seconded the motion. Faustus accepted it well enough, likely believing Sabrina’s chance in beating Nicholas in the trials or the vote quite slim.” She took a bite of food and shrugged. “I don’t particularly like the idea of her running for the spot. It’s supposed to be reserved for students who’ve worked their way up through the Academy, who’ve been nominated by their peers. Not someone who, until very recently, wanted very little to do with the Academy and bullied the system into accepting a bid.” She tapped her fork against her plate and glanced into the parlor, but Sabrina was absorbed in the textbooks laid out around her. “I don’t like it, but it has her delving into the witching realm for the first time, truly the first time, with enthusiasm. She’s putting down roots. It’s what we need.”
Hilda hummed and kept eating, not saying anymore on the matter, though Zelda was sure her sister would make her opinion known in some way later.
After dinner, they settled in the parlor with Sabrina. Feeling nostalgic, Zelda had fished out an old photo album, one from when they were children. The quality of the photos was subpar, but cameras hadn’t been around long. Still, it was fun to look back. “Remember, Hilda? When Edward was Top Boy at the Academy?”
She leaned over to show Hilda the picture she’d found of Edward accepting the position after he flew through the trials with dazzling colors. Hilda looked up from her knitting to peer at the photo and smiled.
“That appointment changed his life.” Zelda added pointedly, glancing over at Sabrina who was reading through a history book. “It’s a straight shot from Top Boy to High Priest.” She was trying to impress the gravity of the position onto her niece.
This wasn’t just some student government position at Baxter High, something that would look good on a resume or application; it was a stepping stone. One young Mr. Scratch had likely been prepping for for several years only to have Sabrina yank it out from under him for nothing more than sending a message. Yes, it was an important message, Zelda had told Faustus as much, the position really should have been gender neutral for some time. But as far as she knew, Sabrina had no interest in rising within Church politics… Zelda wasn’t sure the coven would even have her niece—not after all her condemnations and stunts.
Hilda piped up then, drawing Zelda out of her thoughts. “Top Boy, Sabrina?” She asked softly, looking up from her work. “I mean, that suggests a certain kind of permanence, doesn’t it?”
Ahh, there it was. Hilda was still trying to get Sabrina to hold onto her mortal connections. The fact that Sabrina was even petitioning for Top Boy meant she intended to continue as a full-time student at the Academy; Baxter High, and the mortals there, left behind. Zelda wanted to elbow her sister, for still pushing Sabrina into the mortal realm when she knew what had happened to Edward.
But she kept her silence, though Sabrina’s decision to ‘take up the gauntlet’, as Ambrose had just put it, was certainly not thought through, it meant Sabrina was finally, and firmly, on the Path of Night, and Zelda wasn’t going to make any kind of comment about it. Though she and Sabrina were much closer, in a much better place, Zelda didn’t want to risk a regression back to where they’d been in October when Sabrina fought her on everything.
When Luke mentioned the party at Dorian’s was for men only, Zelda could feel Sabrina bristle and knew her niece was already concocting some plan to crash the event.
“Pish-tush,” she cut in before Sabrina could think of going through with any of her ideas. “You couldn’t go even if you were invited, Sabrina. You’ve got far too much studying to do before the Inquisition.” Though she didn’t think Sabrina was running for the position for the right reasons, Zelda wouldn’t have her niece embarrassing her in front of everyone with her lack of preparation.
Ambrose and Luke left, denying their votes to Sabrina as they went out the door; well, Luke denied his vote, understandably, he’d known Nicholas for a long time, probably though his friend deserved the position much more than some witch who’d only recently decided she wanted to embrace her powers. Her nephew was a bit more diplomatic about it, but his cheeky tone had Zelda smirking into the book she’d just picked up.
Turning to look at them, Sabrina furrowed her brow. “Am I crazy… or was Ambrose just throwing shade at me?”
“Throwing what?” Hilda frowned, cocking her head.
Zelda hummed in affirmation. “Definitely throwing shade.” She murmured, flipping a page. While she couldn’t be so blatant in her disapproval, she could confirm that others, like Ambrose, did not like Sabrina’s approach to the whole affair. If she wanted the position to be gender neutral, she could have started from the ground up, gathered a group of like-minded witches, petitioned Nicholas as the new Top Boy—he seemed unopposed to the idea—and then gone from there; try for the spot in the next year or two when it opened up again. It would have been like that women’s group she started at Baxter High.
But, as usual, her niece didn’t think things through to that degree. All they could do now was make sure Sabrina made it through the trials without hurting herself or anyone else. Zelda flipped another page.
Faustus lifted his cup. “Hail Satan,” he toasted and the boys around him followed suit. “Before we get started tonight, boys, I need to make one thing very clear. As your High Priest and headmaster, I know nothing of the debauchery that goes on in a setting as ill-reputed as this club.” Faustus glanced over at Dorian whose eyebrows darted up before falling once more as he smirked at him. Turning back to the boys, Faustus continued. “Indeed, I am not even here.”
Yes, he wasn’t even there, and hopefully he ‘wouldn’t be there’ much longer; finding an opportunity to sneak out after the festivities started and seeking out a different sort of company. Until then though, he cleared his throat. “In my day, I was Top Boy at the Academy, and that appointment shaped me. Taught me values I still uphold today. But tonight, we’re just men.”
The entertainment started then, the infamous Salome agreeing to come and dance. The boys were entranced, grinning at one another and him. But Faustus’ mind kept drifting to another witch. His attention only returned to the scene in front of him when Salome brought out the tray and revealed the cake version of Sabrina Spellman’s decapitated head.
Nicholas shot out of his chair, alarmed. “What kind of sick joke is this?!” He demanded, eyes wide.
Frowning, Faustus gave the boy an assessing look. He didn’t understand why Nicholas was so shaken, this was also tradition. Had another boy been in the running, he’d have been invited and served up a platter with a replica of Nick’s head. The two would then each smash the cake head in front of them, literally destroying their competition. It was all a metaphor; the crushing of one’s opponent. Nicholas shouldn’t have been shocked; he’d seen the ritual the past two years himself…. Perhaps it was because he was sweet on Sabrina or because he’d lost the stomach for the competition; either way, his jumping out of the chair was extreme.
“That, Nicholas, is a reminder of this competition’s only acceptable outcome.” He murmured, not wanting to think of what Sabrina would try and force through should she somehow win the position. Then he caught sight of Ambrose, whose hand was over his mouth and eyes averted. Satan help him, he should have warned the boy, or better yet Luke should have warned him. Faustus had forgotten Ambrose attended the Academy overseas, in London. He wouldn’t be familiar with this custom, and to see his cousin’s head on a platter would certainly be disturbing. Well, someone would likely explain it to him later.
Passing a hand over his face, Faustus jerked his head and Salome took the platter away. Festivities picked up again quickly, the boys already buzzed enough they didn’t take the matter to heart.
Several minutes later, seeing an opportunity to slip out, Faustus stood, nodded at Dorian to keep somewhat of an eye on the group and then teleported home.
Zelda had just finished changing for bed, about to settle in for the night with a good book when a tingling sensation stole over her. Moments later she found herself stumbling slightly upon materializing in what appeared to be Faustus’ bedroom.
Her thoughts were confirmed in seconds, when a pair of hands gripped her hips from behind to steady her and a pair of lips latched onto her neck.
An appreciative growl met her ears. “You know how I love your nightgowns, Zels.” Faustus murmured, lips now trailing down her neck and to her shoulder.
“And you know I said I might see you tonight.” She remarked archly, “I don’t recall giving you permission to summon me.” Despite her words, Zelda’s head tilted to the side to give him better access as she leaned more heavily into his hold.
Humming, Faustus pulled her more fully against him, nails biting deliciously into her hips through her gown. “Perhaps I need punished,” he suggested, sinking his teeth lightly into the junction where her neck met her shoulder.
A gasp escaping her, Zelda spun around and pinned Faustus to the wall behind him. “Indeed you do, your excellency.” She purred, delighting in the way his eyes blackened at the use of his title before she began an assault of her own.
She gathered her things quietly, trying not to fumble too much in the dark and not wanting to risk a spell least Faustus sense her magic. It wasn’t necessary, sneaking out like this, Faustus had alluded to wanting her to stay the night.
But it wasn’t something she could risk.
Not when she was already having trouble controlling her emotions. Not when she could feel herself becoming a tiny bit dependent on him and his equally soothing and challenging presence. No, she couldn’t risk another admission of love.
So, while she dearly wanted to stay, to fall asleep and wake up in Faustus’ arms… it was something Zelda couldn’t allow herself to have.
Managing to find her last slipper, Zelda glanced at Faustus, who was now curled on his side where she’d just been laying, and snuck out of the bedroom before teleporting home. She appeared in the bathroom, just in case, and flattened her hair a bit in the mirror before going into the bedroom she shared with Hilda.
To her surprise, her sister was still awake.
If Hilda was curious as to where Zelda’d been for the past few hours, she kept it to herself. Instead, she sighed deeply. “Sabrina and Ambrose almost got into a magical fight.” She informed her, putting down her book and taking off her glasses.
Blinking in surprise, Zelda sat on the edge of her bed. “What?” She asked tiredly and a bit incredulously, removing her slippers.
“I know, they’ve always gotten along so well, even with the age difference, I was just as shocked. But I heard shouting, then a door slam, wind and furniture rattling. It sounded like Sabrina was looking to pick a fight and Ambrose didn’t understand why. I interrupted it before it started,” Hilda added when Zelda opened her mouth to ask what the damage had been. “They told me it was nothing. Sabrina,” she bit her lip, eyes glazing a bit. “Sabrina called me Hilda, Zelds. No aunt in front of it. Said ‘everything’s fine, Hilda, go to bed.’”
Zelda shot off the bed. “She what?” The demand come out rougher than she intended, but she recognized the hurt in Hilda’s voice at the removal of ‘aunt’ from her title. She’d felt a similar sting when Sabrina shouted at her after the resurrection.
Swallowing, Hilda shook her head, pressing her fingers into the corner of her eyes to stem the tears. “I wasn’t taking any of that, though. Sent her straight off to bed.” She nodded a bit jerkily, her eyes darting around the room to avoid Zelda’s.
Closing the small distance between their beds, Zelda ran a soothing hand up and down Hilda’s arm. “Do you know what the argument was about?”
“No, I was in the greenhouse, tending to my Queen-of-the-Nights for the start of it. I only heard a bit when I came into the kitchen to wash up before bed.” Her sister clasped her hand, “I’m worried though, Zelds. They’ve never fought like this, and from what I could gather, Sabrina was the instigator.”
Lips dipping in a frown, Zelda nodded. “It’s highly unusual for them to do more than bicker. I’ll get to the bottom of this.” She reassured Hilda with a squeeze to her arm and started to leave the room when a loud thump sounded from above them.
Though she’d been heading for Sabrina’s room, Zelda veered up the stairs to the attic to see Ambrose first. She found him seething, pacing around his room and restlessly picking up and putting down random items; a crystal ball rocking side to side on the floor likely what had made the noise.
Entering tentatively, Zelda shut the door behind her. “Ambrose? Want to tell me—”
“I support her in everything. Everything!” The words burst from him before Zelda could even finish her question. “When she needed help with her principal, who helped her? Me. When she ran from her Dark Baptism, who stood against the coven and kept them back? Me. When she needed help defeating Batibat, I distracted the demon. When she needed advice on resurrections and seances, not that she took it, but I was here. I gave it. Me.”
Ambrose’s chest was heaving a bit with emotion as he continued to stride from one end of the room to the other. “I’ve always backed her. And the first time I don’t outright say I’m on her side, for very legitimate reasons, she goes off.” He tossed a hand into the air. “Acting as though she knows what’s best for the coven when she’s only at the Academy because the court ordered her to go, when, when she spurns the coven at every turn, questions our every ritual, assails every tradition.” He pointed at the floor with each word for emphasis. “Don’t get me wrong, auntie,” he slowed and locked eyes with her for the first time since she’d entered the room. “I don’t like the feast any more than Sabrina does, than you or Aunt Hilda do. I don’t like risking any of you to death by cannibalism… but I love the coven. I love our traditions.” Ambrose turned and ran his hands over his head in frustration. “Sabrina just refuses to understand, to look beyond a few older, darker practices and see how wonderful the rest of it can be. She thinks she can do good things for the coven, but she doesn’t even understand it.” He shook his head, running his tongue over his teeth. “And she was going to attack me because of it.”
Gently taking his hand, Zelda guided Ambrose to one of the couches slotted into the alcove, sitting down next to him when he settled. “I know, darling. I—”
“She accused Luke or one of my ‘warlock chums’ or siccing a demon on her. Making it sound as though I were in on it or should have known about it. It seems as though she’s begrudging me my new friends, begrudging me for having allegiances outside of the family when for decades all I knew was the family!” Ambrose exclaimed, slumping back into the cushions. “I love our family very much, Auntie Zee, but it’s wonderful to be out and with other people….”
Heart tightening, Zelda placed a hand on his cheek, and he leaned into the touch. “I know, sweetheart. House arrest is not easy on any witch, but especially on one as free as you were.” She lightly stroked her thumb on his face in comfort and then froze. “A demon?”
After she gathered what information she could from Ambrose, Zelda bid him goodnight and made for Sabrina’s room. As she suspected, her niece was still awake and trying to study for the first trial.
Sabrina barely raised her head when Zelda came in. “Aunt Zelda, I don’t have time—”
“Oh, you’ll make time.” Zelda snapped, the book in Sabrina’s lap slamming shut.
Indignant, Sabrina glared at her. “What?”
Her niece’s tone only stoked her anger. “You don’t threaten family.” Zelda stated, voice hard.
Realization dawned on Sabrina. “Auntie, there was a demon—”
“And you truly believe Ambrose had anything to do with it?! Would allow anyone he knew to put you in danger that way?” She demanded, watching her niece intently.
Some of the fight left Sabrina; some, but not all. “Well, no, but—”
Still not letting her finish, Zelda slashed a hand through the air. “But nothing. Ambrose is your cousin, more like a brother, and he loves you very much. He has backed you countless times, even in things I wish he hadn’t, but he has always been on your side.”
“He’s not backing me for Top Boy!” Sabrina retorted, crossing her arms like a petulant child.
Arching a brow, Zelda’s jaw worked a little side to side as she tried to rein in her emotions. “And he told you why. Ambrose is by no means obligated to support you when you flaunt and challenge everything the coven and the Church stand for. And it hurts. Hurts to know you look down so much on things he, Hilda and I hold dear. I know your feelings about the Feast,” she added before Sabrina could interject. “And that is an exception. But you cannot deny that you have a low opinion of the coven and our ways. Which, considering how little you know, how little you’ve been involved, is incredibly small-minded of you, Sabrina.” Zelda ran a hand through her hair. “Maybe I should have brought you to more coven events when you were younger. If I had maybe you’d understand there is so much more to the coven then Church holidays. But we were trying to balance your duality, figured it wouldn’t hurt letting you go to mortal events instead, you’d have the rest of your life to be in the coven and only a few years in the mortal realm…”
Looking a little contrite, Sabrina chewed the inside of her cheek. “Auntie, I—"
“Have a great deal to learn if you wish to do anything as Top Boy.” Zelda knew she should let Sabrina speak, but also knew her niece needed to hear this, so she continued. “And you will not hold whatever happened, or whatever the outcome of this ordeal is, against Ambrose. You will not blame him for taking offense to your opinions when you take offense to so many of ours. And you will not begrudge him any friends or relations he has outside of this family; heaven knows he deserves to have them.”
Waiting a moment to ensure Zelda was finished, Sabrina nodded. “I was just upset. I had just been attacked.”
“So I heard.” And why was it that they couldn’t go for more than a month without this kind of drama? “But it wasn’t Ambrose who attacked you or summoned the demon who did. You had no right picking a fight with him, threatening him. Tomorrow morning you’ll apologize. Understood?” She lifted a brow at Sabrina expectantly.
For a moment, Zelda thought Sabrina might argue with her further, but then she agreed, if a bit sullenly.
Nodding curtly, Zelda drew the desk chair over and sat down. “Good. Now, tell me about this demon.”
Some time later, Zelda rubbed the back of her neck and stood from the chair, the story Sabrina told her was a bit disturbing but it was very likely another student, as Sabrina initially suspected, and now that they’d been thwarted they’d give up.
Still, additional precautions never hurt. Zelda conjured a witch whistle and some blinding powder and gave them to Sabrina before she left. “Just in case.” She murmured, not needing to explain how the items were used. “Now, go to bed and get some sleep. You won’t be able to recall anything tomorrow if you’re exhausted.”
Clearing her bed, Sabrina looked at her. “Isn’t a demon attack cause for a postponement?” She asked hopefully.
“Not at all,” Zelda said dryly, sliding the chair back under the desk. “If you’d been at the Academy for years as most candidates for Top Boy are before nomination you wouldn’t have to try and cram it all in one night.” She gave her niece a reproving look, hoping the girl read between the not so subtle lines and realize she should have thought this endeavor through before picking up the gauntlet. Before Sabrina could try and plead her case, Zelda went to the door. “One more thing.”
Sabrina’s mouth closed and she waited, head cocked in question.
“If you ever speak to your Aunt Hilda like you did tonight again, you will regret it. Do you hear me?” She leveled Sabrina with a look and her niece squirmed a little under her scrutiny. “Hilda has done nothing but love and support you your entire life; she does not deserve your insolence. You don’t speak to her like that, not ever again. Are we clear?” She enunciated the last three words slowly.
This time, Sabrina looked sincerely abashed. “Yes, Aunt Zelda.” She mumbled, cheeks going red with shame.
Inclining her head in acknowledgment, Zelda opened the door to leave. “Good. You’ll apologize to her in the morning as well.” With that Zelda stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her with a quiet click.
Head falling back to gently hit the door, Zelda sighed. While she’d encouraged Sabrina to get some sleep, it appeared she wouldn’t be doing the same. Not when she needed to research this demon that had attacked her girl.
Pinching her nose, Zelda conjured a cigarette, lit it, and made for the library.
Faustus strode into his office, grabbing various items for the Inquisition as he went and dodging Prudence where she stood cradling Judas; he couldn’t help but notice that she was getting rather good with him. Perhaps Judas could have an older sister in his life after all.
His thoughts were interrupted by Prudence’s voice. “Now that we’re beginning a new cycle, Father, would you do me the honor… of allowing me to take the Blackwood name?”
The question froze him; eerily resembling the thought he’d just had. And though Prudence had proven herself an intelligent, powerful and dependable young witch, Faustus couldn’t grant her what she desperately wanted.
While impressed with her bravery to even broach the topic, Faustus immediately shut the idea down. “No.”
Taken aback by the quick refusal, Prudence pushed the issue. “But you are my father, and I am a Blackwood.”
He couldn’t let her be a Blackwood though, not a real one. The more degrees of separation there were between him and his daughters, the better. Leticia was fully out of the Dark Lord’s reach, but Prudence couldn’t just be sent away—as if she’d let that happen anyway—so he needed to keep the pretense of Prudence being an orphan.
While she saw the surname Night as a betrayal and rejection, Faustus saw it as a protection. If she wasn’t directly connected to him by name, then the Dark Lord would have a more difficult time discovering that he could use the girl against him.
So, he denied the girl her wish. Cruelly telling her she’d be an embarrassment in the hopes that she’d never attempt to bring up the topic again. Before she could argue with him further, there was a knock on the door.
“Father Blackwood?” Sabrina Spellman’s voice sounded from behind him.
Faustus didn’t try and hide his irritation—as if he didn’t have enough going on without the girl who had to upend everything striding into his office. “Dear Lord in Hell. Does no one have respect for this office?” He asked, turning to find Sabrina and Zelda coming to a stop in front of him. “Shouldn’t you be in the Church preparing for your first challenge, Miss Spellman?”
“Yes, she should.” Zelda answered. She’d tried to convince Sabrina that her time would be better spent doing final preparations at the Church than to try and ask for a continuance; reiterating the fact that had she even been a full time student during Fall term she wouldn’t need this extra time. In all likelihood, Faustus would see her request as some kind of ploy at best and a weakness at worst.
Ignoring her, Sabrina tried any way. “About that. I was hoping for a postponement, sir.”
Turning her gaze to Faustus, Zelda raised her shoulders minutely and exhaled quietly. “I’m sorry, your excellency. I told her it would be—”
“Out of the question.” Faustus finished for her, looking at Sabrina in confusion. Undeterred, Sabrina carried on and described being attacked in the Academy library the night before. Without taking his eyes off Sabrina, Faustus addressed her. “Is this true, Zelda? And do you believe it was Nicholas? If so, he would be disqualified and punished for breaking the rules.”
Confirming the story, Zelda informed him they did not believe Mr. Scratch had a role and that she’d already taken additional safety measures. This seemed to be enough for Faustus and he announced the contest would continue as planned, though Sabrina was free to take a few extra moments to compose herself if needed.
His attention back on her, Faustus picked up his things. “Zelda, I want you in the front pew.” She fought a smile at the request and inclined her head as he instructed Prudence to stay behind and watch Judas. “Walk with me, Zelda.” He murmured, taking her elbow as he left, leaving the girls and Judas behind.
Once they were out of earshot, he turned to her. “Tell me more of this demon. I assume you did your research.”
“I couldn’t find much, even with a name and powers as distinctive as the ones Sabrina described.” Zelda informed him quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear. “It’s possible our personal library didn’t have the right books, though. What concerns me is the fact that it gave its name so freely. Demons hold onto their names tightly, the only reason it’d feel comfortable giving it, was if…” She trailed off, unable to finish the dark thought that had kept her up all night.
“If it expected Sabrina to be dead and unable to speak it.” Faustus completed it for her, frowning. “The thing must be powerful as well; we have numerous wards and spells in place to prevent students from summoning demons within the Academy. We’d be overrun with the beasts otherwise; students trying to get revenge or just test their prowess.”
Spinning her rings, Zelda walked a bit closer to Faustus, her hip brushing his in a search for physical comfort he couldn’t provide in public. “Then how did it get into the school and attack Sabrina?”
Faustus shrugged and gave her elbow, which he’d yet to release, a small squeeze. “I haven’t the faintest. But trust that I will get to the bottom of it. Demons simply cannot be allowed to be summoned and left to roam the Academy, who knows how many could be hurt… or killed.” She felt Faustus shudder at the thought.
Tipping her head a bit so she could peer at him from the corner of her eye, Zelda bit her lip. “So, you’re sure it wasn’t a student? One of the warlocks intent on keeping Top Boy, well, a boy?”
He glanced at her and smirked. “It sounds like you already have someone in mind, Zelda. Just tell me, no need to dance around the subject.”
Caught, Zelda dropped the pretense. “Sabrina believes it was Luke, who summoned the demon. And Ambrose informed me that he left for a little bit during the festivities last night. Any idea what that might be about?”
A chuckle escaped Faustus and he pulled Zelda up short so they could finish their conversation before they teleported to the Church. “Luke was out of the room on business for me.”
“Care to elaborate?” Zelda asked, taking a step back from him.
Checking to make sure they were alone; Faustus closed the distance between them once more and talked quietly. “It’s rather sensitive, so you mustn’t share with your niece how you know it wasn’t Luke.” When she nodded, he continued. “There have been whispers of hunters moving in our region.”
Zelda blanched at the thought, her mind going back to the Kemper boy who’d been stabbed to death right before Sabrina’s birthday. The one who hadn’t known he was a warlock, having been adopted by mortals as a babe. “How reliable are these whispers?” She inquired, keeping her voice low as well.
“Unfortunately, they’re quite reliable. It doesn’t appear to be a pack, from what we can determine. But Luke is doing some covert investigating on the issue for me. That is why he disappeared for a bit last night. Dorian is one of our middlemen, he signaled to Luke that a message had come in and Luke went to decipher it. It wasn’t good news; another reclusive witch was killed. She lived on the border of our territory and the territory of the Church of Shadows.”
Swallowing, Zelda exhaled shakily. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” She demanded, thinking of everything she needed to revamp around the house to fight off hunters.
Faustus placed a hand on her arm. “Because the more people who know about this, the more will panic. Besides, based on this and our other information, the hunters are moving west, away from Greendale. Luke is merely tracking them to be sure they don’t swing back around because they somehow get wind of our coven.”
Placing a hand on her forehead, hearing her heartbeat in her head a bit, Zelda took several calming breaths. The hunters were leaving. It wasn’t even confirmed that they were the ones who killed the Kemper boy, and he hadn’t known anything anyway and couldn’t have revealed the coven. As for the witch in the woods, well, as long as it wasn’t Dezmelda, their Greendale coven was safe—Zelda couldn’t think of any other woods’ witches with knowledge of their exact whereabouts.
A gentle, but grounding, hand on her hip brought Zelda back to the present. “You alright?” Faustus asked, eyes filled with concern.
“Yes,” Zelda brushed away his worry, and her own. “Let’s get to the Church, can’t be late.”
Nodding, Faustus offered her his arm, and once her hand was safely tucked in the crook of his elbow, he teleported them away.
The Church was packed. Most of the students and faculty attending as well as some curious coven members. Zelda took her spot in the front and waited as Faustus introduced the challenge and asked the first question.
“Nicholas, in sacred geometry, what configuration represents the perfection of our Lord Satan’s design for his people?”
It was a rather easy question, the boy answering ‘pentagram’ with no hesitation. But it was the first round, the questions would increase in difficulty as the competition continued.
When Faustus asked Sabrina what the five books of the Lesser Key of Solomon were, though, Zelda frowned. It appeared Faustus was going to stack the deck in Nicholas’ favor; though she shouldn’t have suspected any less, Zelda still felt indignant on Sabrina’s behalf. Just because she didn’t approve didn’t mean she wanted Sabrina to fail. “Not even I know that one,” she muttered, drawing a soft chuckle from Brother Lovecraft who was sitting beside her.
“It is rather obscure, isn’t it?” He murmured, flashing her a warm smile and Zelda couldn’t help but give him one in return; making note of a potential ally here at the Academy. It wouldn’t hurt to make friends with him, especially with Shirley giving her the stink eye from across the aisle.
When it became clear that Sabrina was going to answer all the questions right, regardless of their difficulty; Zelda and Lovecraft decided to compete against one another. Trying to answer the questions before Sabrina and Nicholas once Faustus resumed the normal proceedings of altering between candidates for each question; muttering under their breath and smirking each time one of them earned a point.
The competition finished with cheers and a round of applause for Sabrina, Zelda unable to hold back a “bravo,” as she clapped.
Brother Lovecraft turned to her as they all stood to leave. “I am very impressed with your niece, Sister Zelda, she is very cunning.” He lifted a brow to let her know he was aware there was no way Sabrina could have won this round honestly. But when he added, “I look forward to having her in some of my classes in the future,” Zelda could tell he was sincere. Nodding politely, Lovecraft turned and started to help organize the mass exodus out of the Church; corralling students who couldn’t yet teleport into groups so they could all be taken by faculty members.
She waited in the front of the Church while the others filed out, knowing the aftermath of the Inquisition wouldn’t be as easy as the event itself. Her niece had cheated, broken the unholy rules Faustus had laid out in front of the competing pair before the challenges started. It was time to see if a punishment would follow. Moments later, Faustus stated that she, Sabrina and Nicholas were all required to meet in his office.
Predictably, once they were all settled, Faustus began to rant. Claiming Sabrina had cheated—which it was clear she had, though Zelda knew there was no way to prove the fact definitively. Whatever spell Sabrina and Prudence—yes, she knew Prudence had to be in on it, the girl was acting a little too shifty where she sat across the room to be innocent in this—had used wasn’t subtle enough to avoid suspicion but was certainly subtle enough not to be traced.
“Your performance it suspect to say the least, and punishable by lashing if proven to be—"
Though she knew Faustus was just informing Sabrina of what the traditional punishment would be, should enough evidence be found, Zelda turned in her chair sharply at the mention of lashes and glared at Faustus, nostrils flaring in anger.
He had the grace to grimace at her in apology as Sabrina argued back, knowing her history with the act. Both of their attentions were brought back with an unpleasant snap when her niece proclaimed these traditions would change when she was High Priestess.
Stunned, everyone turned to stare at her. Faustus regained himself first, explaining carefully that while witches could rise far within the coven, there’d never been, or would be, a High Priestess. And though Zelda disliked the truth in the statement, she knew Faustus was right. The Dark Lord, for all his… ‘progressive’ stances in comparison to the false god, still held a preference for the beings most like him; warlocks. And to challenge that, the place of power he’d put warlocks in…. Well, Zelda didn’t want to know what the Dark Lord would do to prevent it.
“Not according to my Aunt Zelda.” Sabrina countered smugly.
Blinking, Zelda turned to her niece. “Sabrina?” She asked at the same time Faustus exclaimed ‘Sister Zelda.’
Before she could explain that she had no idea what the girl was referring to, Sabrina continued. “She may not want to admit it now, but Zelda raised me to believe I could be anything I wanted… including High Priestess.”
It wasn’t a full lie. Zelda had absolutely encouraged Sabrina to go after any witching career she might set her mind to, knowing her girl would achieve great things. But she’d certainly never told her niece a witch could be High Priestess—it’d have been near blasphemy, and given how hard she’d been trying to act as though her faith were intact, she’d not have dared utter the words even if they had crossed her mind. The hierarchies of Hell would never approve.
Licking her lips, Zelda cut in. “We’re talking about the office of Top Boy, not High Priest right now, Sabrina.” She chuckled a bit nervously, her niece shouldn’t be spouting off such ideas in front of so many people. Faustus, she trusted near completely, Prudence to a lesser degree, but she knew Nicholas not at all and couldn’t be sure the boy wouldn’t take what was said in this room and spread it. Wanting to redirect the conversation, Zelda returned to why they were initially there. “It appears as though cheating cannot be proven in this case. And surely the next competition will weed out any transgressors, real or assumed.”
Unconvinced, Faustus dismissed everyone but her. Zelda waited until the others filtered out and then stood and closed the door.
Pivoting slowly, Zelda looked at him. “If you ever mention whipping my girl again…” She ground out, the furniture in the room levitating an inch off the ground in her fury.
“I wasn’t threatening her, Zelda.” Faustus exclaimed, pacing as he speared a hand through the hair he’d been so carefully patting down moments ago. “I was trying to get her to see the gravity of the situation. Her actions very well could have obligated me to carry out the punishments outlined in the contract she agreed to. You were present when she agreed to the terms, for Satan’s sake.” Faustus picked up his cane and started tapping it on the floor in agitation as he walked. “A student hasn’t been corporally punished here since the early 1900s. I’d prefer it if your niece didn’t force me to break that streak.” He stopped then, rummaging through his desk and offered the scroll to Zelda.
Taking it gently, Zelda unfurled the parchment and read it; likely far more carefully than Sabrina had. And Faustus was right, the punishment for cheating was lashes—and he would be the one mandated to dole out the punishment as the headmaster if there were a breach in the contract.
Which, Sabrina clearly had, though Faustus didn’t seem keen on doing more to prove what happened and only wanted to prevent further interference from happening again. She handed him back the scroll, the furniture lowering to the ground as her emotions calmed as she realized, with enormous relief, that Sabrina was safe from punishment (even if she’d gotten herself into the situation in the first place).
“She did cheat, though.” Faustus leaned on the front of his desk, resting his cane by his side.
A smirk tugged Zelda’s lips. “You can’t prove anything.” She settled on the armrest of one of the chairs in front of him; feeling a bit proud of Sabrina and Prudence’s ingenuity and underhandedness.
Faustus frowned at her. “You know she did, Zelda. There’s no other way she could have answered all those questions.”
She shrugged noncommittally. “As if you weren’t cheating as well?” Zelda intoned, quirking a brow. “What is our sacred shape versus the five books of the Lesser Key of Solomon? Really?” She cocked her head at him. “Did you have to look up the answer to that so you were able to tell if she got it right or not?” He huffed in reluctant amusement, crossing his arms.
“I was trying to trip her up, I won’t lie and say I was being entirely fair. But I’m also not the one under the binds of a magical contract.”
Rolling her eyes, Zelda stood to leave. “It’s not as if Sabrina’s the first one to cheat during the Top Boy trials, I’m sure its been rampant in the competition for years.”
“Not so blatantly!” He countered, still riled up over how close he’d come to having to whip a student.
Zelda placed a hand on his arm, noting how tightly clenched his muscles were. “But you still can’t prove it,” she repeated, softly this time. “You don’t have to do anything because of it.” The reassurance didn’t have quite the effect she hoped for, but he relaxed minutely under her hand.
Lips twisting, Faustus gave her a jerky nod, not appeased but glad he hadn’t had to follow through with the contractual punishment.
“And look on the bright side,” she murmured, “at least this is all she’s doing. It could’ve been another exorcism, a resurrection or a séance. At least this is within the normal bounds of what teenage witches and warlocks get up to.” She added for perspective, thanking Satan, Lilith, Beelzebub and others for the fact that Sabrina had calmed down her antics…. Zelda wasn’t sure her blood pressure could’ve handled much more.
A scoff escaped Faustus and he pushed off the desk, though he remained close to her. “The fact that this is on the ‘lighter’ end of the rule or law breaking, the ‘lighter’ end of the flaunting of the Church should not be reassuring.”
She cocked her head in acknowledgement. “True. But let’s count our small unholy blessings where we can, yes?”
Faustus scoffed again but gave a small, smoother nod. She smiled at him in return, kissed him lightly and left—the free time following the challenge almost over and her ancient languages class was to start in a few minutes.
Several hours later, Prudence found her in her office during her planning period. “Professor Spellman?” The young woman asked, shutting the door softly behind her.
Looking up from her papers, Zelda indicated for her to sit down. “What can I help you with?”
Clearing her throat, Prudence fidgeted in her seat for a moment. “I,” she sighed and averted her eyes. “I wanted to come and apologize.” She managed primly.
Stunned, Zelda thought for a moment that Prudence was going to admit to her part in the Inquisition. What the girl said next surprised her even more.
“I’ve been thinking on this for a long time and I realized Agatha, Dorcas and I played a role in what happened,” she paused, “what happened with Leticia.” Prudence finished in a near whisper. “And I am so, so very sorry. The dangers may not have occurred to Sabrina, but they should have to me. I was arrogant, though, and with the Yule log lit… anyway, I just, I owed you an apology.” She pressed her lips together. “I am going to babysit for Abigail on Friday. Do you want me to bring anything back?”
My baby. The words almost left her lips, but Zelda managed to catch herself in time; she knew Prudence was talking about pictures.
To her shame, Zelda hadn’t visited as much as she’d planned. It was much more painful than she’d ever imagined; to see Letty, hold her, play with her, to have the babe smile at her… only to leave without her, to not see her again for a week or more at a time. Abigail sent her pictures, of course, but she never had the heart to look at the photos long and it wasn’t as though she could hang them in the house. So, she kept them in her bedside table drawer, hoarding them, passing them to Faustus when she could.
“Professor Spellman?” Prudence’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
Blinking, Zelda licked her lips. “Thank you, Prudence. That, that means a lot. It takes a big person to take responsibility and to apologize, and I appreciate it.”
The young witch waited a beat. “And for Friday?” She pressed tentatively, leaning forward.
She spun her rings where her hands were resting on the desk. “No, nothing.”
Nodding, Prudence stood, bid her a soft goodbye and left. Leaving Zelda to try and collect herself for the rest of her planning period.
Faustus summoned her to his house again, earlier this time, right after classes finished. And Zelda could tell from the way he pressed her against the wall in the front hall, how hard he kissed her and was now pounding into her that there was still some fury running through his veins at the whole ordeal, some dread inspired adrenaline lingering from the close call of lashing a student; her niece, no less. It wasn’t that she minded the roughness, it was exactly what she needed to forget Prudence coming to her office and bringing up Leticia without warning, besides, Zelda gave as good as she got during their multiple rounds.
No, it wasn’t how they had sex. It was why. To lose themselves, to forget. And it worried her, worried her as she slipped out of his house the moment he fell asleep, that they’re falling back into old habits. That all the progress they’d made in the past few months, with how open they’d been with one another in the wake of losing Leticia, was going to be lost.
Lost now that the bubble they’d sequestered themselves in during holiday break was gone and the Academy, the coven and the Church were all encroaching. Zelda didn’t want that. Didn’t think she could handle going back to a solely physical relationship. She needed to think about what she did want. But that would have to wait, because of course she ran into her sister in the kitchen immediately after teleporting home. She’d gone in there to scavenge for food, having missed dinner.
“Another demon attacked Sabrina.” Hilda informed her, taking a drink of whiskey from the glass in front of her.
Her bag slipped off her shoulder and to the ground. “What?! Is she alright? Is—”
Heaving a sigh, Hilda nodded. “The whistle you gave her worked perfectly. The damned thing couldn’t get near her, but its bats chased her through the woods.”
“Bats.” She repeated monotonously, slumping into a chair next to her sister.
Hilda hummed and filled up a spare glass for her and slid it across the table with a plate of leftovers. “Sabrina’s under the impression that Father Blackwood sent it. Because he thinks she cheated.”
Knocking back the alcohol and nodding at Hilda in thanks when she refilled the glass once more, Zelda pulled the food closer to her. “She did cheat.” Zelda informed Hilda bluntly, briefly describing the events of the first trial. “It’s undeniable, but also unprovable. And lucky for her Faustus has no interest in pursuing the matter. He also had nothing to do with the demons.” She added, taking a bit of food and almost groaning at the flavor and how it soothed her rumbling stomach.
Her sister propped her chin up in her hand. “How are you so sure?” Zelda just hummed in confusion and ate a few more bites. “How are you so sure he didn’t summon them?”
“Would it be enough to say I trust him?” She asked, raising a brow. Not giving Hilda a chance to respond, Zelda continued. “And the first attack happened before she cheated, so that motivation doesn't make sense for that one. As for the second, I assume Sabrina was attacked on her way home from the Academy if she was in the woods?”
Eyes narrowing, Hilda nodded. “Yes, roughly around four. She was most of the way home when it happened.”
Swallowing, Zelda lifted a hand. “That solves it then. It wasn’t Faustus. I was with him.” She finished with a mumble, quickly taking another bit of food.
Hilda’s eyebrows flew up and she took a drink. “Mmm, still dating the High Priest then, are we?”
“Still dating a trash-peddling vampire?” Zelda sniped back and then immediately regretted it, knowing Hilda was already unsure and self-conscious about where she stood with the mortal. “Hildie,” she set her fork down, “I didn’t mean—”
She shrugged. “Only fair, I suppose. I nose into your business; you nose into mine. It’s what sisters are for.”
Reaching over the table, Zelda took Hilda’s hand. “Nonetheless, it was uncalled for… I’m sorry.” She gave her sister a small smile. “Still nothing from him?”
Shaking her head, Hilda took another drink and changed the topic. “I’ve given Sabrina a few more protection charms to keep in her pockets, just in case.”
Not pressing her sister on the mortal, Zelda nodded. “Good thinking. Did Sabrina have any more information on this demon aside from bats?”
They spoke for another hour, Zelda finishing her dinner and the two of them finishing the decanter of whiskey. As they made their way upstairs, Zelda stopped by Sabrina’s door and peeked her head in as Hilda continued to their bedroom.
“Salem,” she breathed, waiting a moment until the black cat padded over and out into the hallway. “There is something evil coming after Sabrina. This is twice now a demon has come after her… I don’t trust this is the end of it either. Keep a close eye on her, will you?”
The cat meowed softly and rubbed himself around Zelda’s legs in reply before nudging Sabrina’s door back open and slipping inside.
Content with the response, Zelda made for bed herself.
She went to Faustus’ office first thing the next morning, before the Boil and Bubble was to start.
“Another demon attacked Sabrina yesterday.” She said without so much as a greeting.
Faustus turned sharply to look at her. “Again? I put up additional wards, very complex ones, just yesterday afternoon before the school day ended. How did—”
“It was on her way home from the Academy. Sabrina wasn’t in the building or even on Academy grounds, she was in the woods by the mortuary.” Zelda clarified, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag.
He relaxed a little. “Oh, at least it wasn’t inside the Academy. I don’t know what other defenses I could have put in place.” At her stony expression he realized what he’d said and laughed lightly. “Sorry, I know it’s upsetting, but Sabrina is fine, yes?”
Swatting at him with her free hand, Zelda huffed. “Yes. But this is the second night in a row, and it was a different demon. When this is all over, you’re going to help me summon the first one, we have his name, and I’m going to get answers.” She took another pointed drag of her cigarette, blowing a bit of smoke in his face.
A smile flitted across Faustus’ lips at her tenacity and he inclined his head. “When this is all over, we’ll do just that. Until then,” he gestured for her to lead the way out of his office. “We have another trial to attend.”
“Indeed,” Zelda murmured, leaving the room and she’d have run into Shirley had Faustus not grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “What,” she glanced at his hand and then Shirley. “Oh, apologies, Sister Jackson, I did not see you there. On your way to the Church?” She asked genially, shaking off Faustus’ hand and walking down the hallway, still smoking.
Shirley gave her a once over and harrumphed. “Yes, yes I am, Sister Zelda.” She replied snidely before stalking ahead and teleporting away.
Glancing at Faustus, Zelda’s mouth opened a bit, at a loss.
Faustus chuckled and took her hand. “Don’t ask me.” He muttered, teleporting them to the Church. When they entered, he went into the back to prepare while Zelda searched for a seat. Thankfully there was still a spot open in one of the front pews… unfortunately, it was beside Shirley. Suppressing an eye roll, Zelda walked over and sat down; they were mature adults, after all.
“Wanton hussy,” Shirley breathed, keeping her eyes forward.
Apparently, they weren’t mature adults. Zelda couldn’t help but be amused by this witch’s brazen attitude. “I beg your pardon.” She half laughed, looking at the woman.
Turning to face her, Shirley sneered. “Everyone knows about you and the High Priest, Zelda. It’s shameful, with poor Constance not even cold in her grave.” She paused a beat, then added. “Some are even saying you had a hand in her demise.”
Rumors of carnal relations Zelda could abide, those meant nothing to her. But accusations of murder, especially the murder of a woman in her charge as a midwife? That she would not tolerate. “Button your lip Shirley, or I’ll do it for you.” She snapped, as Faustus reentered the room. “Literally.” She added, relishing in how the smirk slid from Shirley’s face.
The trial began moments later, robbing Shirley the opportunity to try and say something witty back. But when Sabrina’s ingredient putrefied the potion, Shirley squirmed in her seat, clearly getting a perverse pleasure from watching her girl lose.
Ignoring the witch beside her, least she hex her, Zelda leaned forward a bit, grimacing as Sabrina took the chalice and drained the contents. The students in the back of the Church, though, loved the display and even cheered louder when Sabrina vomited it all back up.
And even though she likely felt as wretched as she looked, a ghost of a smile touched Sabrina’s lips as her classmates jumped to their feet and urged her on. Zelda beamed, proud of her niece’s dedication to the task and happiness flooded her at the sight of Sabrina grinning at her first true acceptance into the Academy. The other students were beginning to see her more as one of their own than as an outsider who’d always refused to even try and join them.
So, while Shirley smiled at her smugly as she left the Church, Zelda looked at her blithely back—while Sabrina had lost this challenge, she’d won something else.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, Sabrina given leave to go home and wait the aftereffects of the potion out, which meant Zelda found herself in Faustus’ office after school again instead of walking home with her niece.
It was a quiet, calm moment. The two of them in the middle of a game of witching chess, music playing softly in the background when the words all but fell out of her mouth.
“Faustus, I was called a wanton hussy today.” His brow furrowed, but Zelda kept talking, her eyes still mostly downcast and examining the board between them. “Apparently, there’s a faction in the coven that believes out relationship is inappropriate.” And oh, how her heart pounded by simply labeling whatever was between them as a ‘relationship’. Remaining outwardly calm, Zelda brought her gaze to meet Faustus’, who’s expression was remarkably neutral. “I don’t particularly care what a gaggle of withered hags thinks about me.” She reminded him, leaning back in her chair and turning one of the smooth, pebbled game pieces over in her hands. “What’s important is what I think.”
Faustus smiled at her then, only a partial one, as though he were fighting to hold a one full back. But it gave Zelda the courage to push on.
“And I must admit, I don’t quite understand who or what we are to each other.” There, she’d said it. Given the words that had bounced around in her head for over a century now a voice. They’d been many things to one another, the definition of what they were always morphing, changing, never settling. Well, she wanted something settled; something real.
Faustus hesitated, “I’m your High Priest. You’re one of my disciples. My son’s Night Mother…”
When he didn’t continue, Zelda forced a smile, still fiddling with the pebble in her hands. “And when the fancy strikes you, I’m also your… night maiden.” Her mind went back to the past several nights when he’d summoned her for sex. Faustus dropped his gaze, brows drawn together.
Not wanting to give him the wrong impression, Zelda continued. “I have no shame or regrets.” That much was true, she’d never been a creature of shame, not when it came to natural urges. “But, I must have clarity.” She placed her piece on the board and tapped it lightly. And, summoning courage she hadn’t thought she possessed when it came to this kind of scenario, Zelda looked at Faustus directly. “Do you intend to make this, us, official? It would certainly silence wagging tongues.” She added, acting as though her request were more for a matter of appearance than what she truly wished for; had wished for ever since she’d run and denied herself it all those years ago.
He reached across the board and covered her hand with his, it was only when his words registered that Zelda realized how much they contradicted his action. “Sister Zelda, there is a mourning period we must respect in the eyes of our coven…”
The words might as well have been a spell to shatter her patched together heart. With an amount of steadiness that shocked her, Zelda withdrew her hand. The way he grasped after it as she did, though, gave her pause. Then it dawned on Zelda that he was only worried about appearances. Faustus hadn’t denied there being something between them, hadn’t claimed the idea of them as preposterous. This, this wouldn’t break her, this she could handle. This she knew how to work, how to twist to her advantage.
“You’re right, Father Blackwood.” And she saw him start at the use of his title, at her formality; but he’d been the one to start, he wasn’t allowed to be surprised when she followed suit. “Wiser to respect decorum.”
How the words weren’t sticking in her throat, Zelda did not know. But she refused to fall back into the same patterns she and Faustus once frequented. And while she would like to think she truly was above the gossip of withered old hags as she’d told him, would like to believe Shirley’s words that morning in the Church hadn’t struck a sensitive chord; Zelda knew those would be lies.
Zelda was learning that part of no longer flagellating herself meant she was forced to face more of her emotions than she normally would have allowed. And Zelda knew if she didn’t ask for what she wanted, didn’t ask for commitment when she was falling even deeper into Faustus than she imagined possible… well, she’d be swallowed whole—and the thought of losing herself terrified her a bit.
So, she’d play their game a bit longer. She’d play and pull her hand away from his, even though her heart had swooped when he’d reached across the table to take it. She’d end the intimate aspect of their relationship, with just a few cool, clipped words. And though she flipped the timer and waited for Faustus to take his turn, the picture of calm and collected; inside she was debating with herself whether she truly knew what she was doing… or if she’d just ruined this—the one thing she had in her life that was just for her.
But, she scolded herself as they continued their game, tension thick in the air, if she was to continue this, she had to know he was at least partially invested. She didn’t expect him to be in it as deeply as she was, he couldn’t be, love wasn’t meant for witches… but she needed a sign that he was invested and a proclamation to the coven that she was more than a bedwarmer was all she asked.
The chess game concluded quickly, Zelda figuratively wiping the board with Faustus. Standing, she bid him goodnight, fighting the instinct to lean in and kiss him goodbye—what an awful, disgustingly domestic habit she’d formed… how she loved it; how it hurt to have to stop.
She kept strong, though, and teleported home with nothing more than a polite nod.
Faustus watched her leave, forcing himself to remain in his chair, not wanting to give anything away. Not wanting to give away how his heart had leapt at her surprising choice of conversation topic.
When she asked what she was to him, Faustus had to buy himself time; almost blurting out what she really meant to him. Instead, he forced himself to slowly respond with the obvious, bare fact; they were a High Priest and a disciple.
The comment had hurt flickering through Zelda’s eyes, Faustus barely catching the reaction before she was shuttered to him completely. But even a hint of pain had him rushing to add, ‘my son’s Night Mother’ to the list of what she was to him. And he hadn’t been able to stop how he grinned and shifted in his seat, thinking of how Zelda was more mother than Night Mother to Judas.
But Zelda’s words surprised him again. She didn’t truly see herself as his night maiden, did she? She was the one who always left; sneaking out while he was asleep and slinking back into her house before anyone knew she was gone. Faustus hadn’t been able to mull over that comment for long, because Zelda was then asking what his intentions towards her were.
She wasn’t suggesting marriage, he knew, merely requesting he acknowledge their relationship publicly. But it was the first time she’d expressed such a desire; for them to be exclusive. And he intended to try and make the most of it, Faustus refused to let Zelda Spellman be the witch that got away; not for a third time.
He also knew Zelda’s suggestion didn’t come from a place of love. Or maybe, maybe part of it did? Faustus couldn’t be sure… there was a whisper in the back of his mind, a whisper staunchly claiming she’d expressed such feelings before. No matter how he wracked his brain, though, how he searched his memories, Faustus couldn’t find the instance where she might have confessed something so important to him. But he wasn’t going to let the gut feeling that she’d said it go, not when there was a chance she might feel as he did—even if that chance had been created in some kind of dream.
So, while Faustus was almost positive Zelda was asking for an announcement because of power, convenience, and he was certain a small, petty part was also asking to infuriate Shirley Jackson; Faustus found that he didn’t care. He wanted more with her. Wanted to eat meals with her on a regular basis, wanted to fall asleep with her in his arms and have her actually be there still in the morning. Wanted to hold her hand, wrap his arm around her, call her his in public.
Faustus could hardly let her know all of that, though. So, he’d downplayed what she meant to him. Held back and gave weak excuses for not making their relationship public. And he held back and let her leave without anything more than a formal farewell even though he desperately wanted to catch her hand and pull her into him and confess everything.
But it wouldn’t do to appear overeager. He couldn’t give her that much power over him, she already had far too much. Besides, he’d been rebuked twice now; once by an overprotective, overzealous, idiotic older brother and then once more by the witch herself years later.
He couldn’t suddenly say yes simply because Zelda was ready.
No. Faustus would wait, bide his time and make it appear as though he’d reached his decision after a lengthy consideration. Though he’d miss her more than he would likely be able to bear, Faustus was determined to make Zelda Spellman wait on him for once—if for no other reason than to try and nudge the scales back in his favor.
Satan help them all, Zelda should have known better than to believe Sabrina would follow the remaining rules of the challenges. And to top it off she’d roped Nicholas into her stunt and managed to summon three high demons—the Plague Kings.
Though she wanted to jump between her girl and the beasts, Faustus was right to instruct everyone to remain in their seats. The energies in the room were volatile, any kind of disturbance could send the demons running free through the crowded Church to wreak havoc.
When Sabrina started accusing Faustus of summoning the demons, however, Zelda almost wasn’t able to keep her tongue. Her niece’s vendetta against Faustus was going to get someone hurt. While she was within her right to demand answers, to want them, Sabrina was once again going about it in the most reckless of manners. It appeared she’d learned nothing in her attempt to get answers from Diana at the cost of Leticia… what would the price of this inquiry be?
Though she’d wanted to question the demons herself, Zelda knew better than to summon three high demons at once. That was courting death. Zelda had planned on summoning just one of these beasts once the competition was over to get answers. She’d already sketched out her conjuring circle, making a few edits based on an old journal of Edward’s she’d found. It’d all been planned, safe, and would have been under control. And even when she had all of this in place, Sabrina still managed to circumvent her.
The demons answering Sabrina’s demands as to whether Faustus was the one to summon them brought Zelda back to the moment.
“We are not pawns of the filthy little covens of Satan, girl. Neither are we pawns of Satan. We are not commanded. We are Kings.” The beasts took turns speaking, the last one practically spitting out their title. “And we wish death upon the half-spawn witch and the chaos she engenders! She must be stopped.” They pointed crooked fingers at her girl, and Zelda’s vision started going red.
Not caring if she shouldn’t move, Zelda shifted in her seat, preparing to insert herself between Sabrina and the demons when the circles inevitably failed.
“The half-witch must not ascend!” The demons chorused, lurching forward to test the boundaries of the conjoined circle; the fires in the corners of the room flared at their attempt and there was a collective gasp from the audience.
Not taking any chances, Faustus banished the demons in quick succession. Chest heaving with anger, he ordered Sabrina and Nicholas to his office, dismissing most everyone else; Zelda, Prudence and Ambrose the only ones permitted to join them.
“You put all of your classmates and part of the coven at risk.” Faustus slammed his hand on his desk as he sat. “Do you realize how high the probability was of their escape? I expected more of you, Mr. Scratch,” he reprimanded, mouth pressed into a thin line. “You know better than to summon high demons, multiple ones at that, in a crowded space. And with such hastily connected circles and no additional defenses put into place no less!” He set his jaw as Nicholas ducked his head shamefully. “And for what? Did you find the answer you were looking for, Agatha Christie?” He turned his gaze solely onto Sabrina, anger still radiating from him.
Still a bit too pleased with herself considering the danger she’d just put everyone in, Sabrina straightened her shoulders. “You heard the demons yourself. No one conjured them.” And how her niece did not see the irony in how she so confidently stated this, as though she’d theorized this all along and had not just rashly blamed the man sitting in front of her, Zelda wasn’t sure. But the fact that the demons were not summoned answered one thing—how they were able to infiltrate the Academy. There’d been no summoning, so the wards on the school had nothing to block that first night.
Nicholas joined in then. “Demons acting of their own volition, they must be riled up about something.” And even though Zelda couldn’t see his face, she could hear the concern in Nicholas’ voice—it was a concern she shared.
And normally she would agree with Faustus when he claimed ascribing demons a purpose as folly, but this… three separate attacks, by the Plague Kings no less, who said themselves they were bound and commanded by no one…. Zelda liked it less and less, but she would investigate more later.
“There’s still a matter of Top Boy to attend to,” Faustus muttered, steepling his hands. “If tonight has proven anything it’s that neither of you are capable of holding that office. A leader among the students does not put their classmates in danger for their own, selfish benefit.” He enunciated the last three words, pinning Nicholas and Sabrina with each one. “So, I shall make the appointment myself. Though it may be an unconventional, controversial choice, I name Ambrose Spellman, as new Top Boy.”
The announcement stunned everyone in the room. And while Zelda was immensely proud and happy for Ambrose, a twinge of guilt went through her at Prudence’s crestfallen expression. The poor dear had honestly believed her father would name her to the office; she should have been, Zelda thought, corralling everyone out of the room so Faustus could speak to her nephew. Prudence was as strong a candidate as any, to be passed over for it was hurtful to say the least.
Unfortunately, Zelda didn’t have a chance to comfort her; Prudence taking off down the hall the moment they were out of the office. By the time she looked away from the young witch’s retreating back to find Sabrina, her niece was gone, as was Nicholas.
Though she could have summoned Sabrina back, grounded her for a decade like she deserved for yet another dangerous stunt that could have had consequences for people other than her, Zelda didn’t have the energy. And what she did have she needed to save for the trip she had planned for the astral plane once she got home. Nodding to herself, Zelda made for the store, she'd need extra candles for this trip.Ambrose had apparently beaten her home, he and Hilda celebrating in the parlor. Zelda glanced in and found them properly buzzed, dancing around the room, the couches pushed to the side to accommodate their exuberant moves. While she wanted to join them, Zelda quietly walked away, gathered the remaining items she needed and slipped into the basement unseen.
Setting up the ring of candles with exaggerated care, Zelda arranged herself in the middle and took a deep breath. Most witches didn’t dare project into the burning pit… but most witches didn’t have three demons threatening their nieces either.
And it wasn’t as though she could try and summon one of the demons Faustus had banished; the creatures were bound to the pit for the next 666 hours—one of the perks of knowing the demons name when sending them back to where they belonged. Zelda couldn’t wait that long to get answers, though. Sabrina had managed to get a few, before the conjuring started to go sideways; but there were still many unknowns, and Zelda was determined to get the information she needed.
Exhaling once more, Zelda laid back and muttered the spell. When she opened her eyes, Hell greeted her.
As Zelda moved through the red-orange cast fog, she instinctually shied away from the towering pillars of fire that burst from the ground at random intervals. It was only after Zelda spotted her first psychopomp that she realized she was wasting time dodging things that couldn’t hurt her.
Her search for one of the Plague Kings went much faster after that.
Soon though, far too soon for her taste, a cloud of psychopomps where fluttering around her. Not wanting to draw further attention to herself, especially in the pits of Hell, Zelda aborted her mission and returned to her realm.
She didn’t move at first, when she returned, opting to lay on the examination table, breath coming in ragged bursts and vision spotting. Whatever part of the pit Faustus had banished the demons to, it was deep and too far for Zelda to reach through astral projection.
Truthfully, she hadn’t really expected to be able to find the demons. Hell was vast, and the chances of her finding the exact demons she was looking for was slim to begin with. It been a risky trip, and if she were honest a stupid one. Not many could, or dared, to project into the pit—the magic necessary too immense and draining. But she’d had to try… for Sabrina.
Was this what Diana had wanted to warn her about? The coming of the Plague Kings? How could she have known, though? That demons were coming for Sabrina, there was no way to know the on-goings of demons in mortal limbo. If that were the case, though, why not warn them first and then express gratitude? The thoughts swirled around her head and the harder she tried to untangle the mess, the less sense it made to Zelda’s fatigue fogged brain.
Dragging herself off the table, Zelda practically crawled up the stairs, skirting the parlor where she could still hear Hilda and Ambrose celebrating, and by some unholy miracle made it to bed without passing out.
Zelda changed into a nightgown with tremendous effort, her limbs trembling, before collapsing on her mattress, the room spinning a bit. As she lay there blinking heavily, shivering from overexertion, Zelda realized she would have to deal with her somehow still wayward niece in the morning. Give… give her a, a lecture… on… the dang—, dangerous use of magic… to chase after... after demons. And with that as her last thought, Zelda succumbed to sleep.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Zelda woke the next morning groggy but forced herself out of bed all the same. Just because she overexerted herself last night astral projecting didn’t mean she could be late to work. Groaning a little, Zelda got ready and cast a light glamor spell to hide the somewhat lingering effects from her trip to the Burning Pits the night before.
Even with her slow start, she beat both Sabrina and Ambrose to the kitchen. Meaning she was able to eat in peace, drink a pep-up potion, and read most of her paper before they joined. When Sabrina did come down, though, her words sent spikes of fear through Zelda.
“The Dark Lord visited me last night.” They all turned towards Sabrina slowly, Zelda could feel her blood pressure rising. “Called on me to do His… bidding.”
No. No, no, no. That couldn’t be, she’d have felt the wards go off. She’d have felt a disturbance if such a powerful and dangerous being entered their home. Clenching her fists and crumpling her newspaper slightly, Zelda swallowed. “The Dark Lord was in our house? And I slept through His visit? What He must think of us.”
Out of everyone in the family she was supposed to be the devout one. The one who never wavered in faith, for her not to even wake during His visit—though she’d been exhausted—was a bad sign. The Dark Lord might doubt her devotion, doubt her loyalty because of her lack of response. She should have woken and gone to grovel at His hooves, prove she was still His creature…. But she slept through it and that surely wasn’t a good thing.
“I thought I could smell brimstone under the floorboards.” Ambrose murmured, connecting the dots now.
Satan, had she and Hilda been the only ones unaware? They had so many clashes with the C`hurch and coven recently that they couldn’t afford offending the Dark Lord in any way, and that especially included them sleeping through His visit to their home.
Zelda didn’t want to think of how much that counted against them in the long run. Hopefully no more than any of their other antics… at least Leticia was no longer in the house. She shuddered to think what might have happened had the Dark Lord discovered the babe.
Bringing herself back to the moment, Zelda focused on her niece. “What did He want?”
Brow furrowing, Sabrina shook her head. “It was strange, He asked me to—”
“No!” Zelda interrupted, catching herself before it was too late. “Never mind, whatever devotion He asked you to perform it is a sacred covenant between you and the Dark Lord. I shall not be the reason you break it.” How could she have been so reckless as to ask? She’d almost jeopardized Sabrina’s safety with just one question.
Sabrina frowned. “Did He come to you guys? After you signed the Book of the Beast? And ask you to… do things?”
And what a poor bunch of liars her family was, Hilda mumbling a ‘not really’ and Ambrose looking into his lap as he muttered a ‘still waiting’.
Zelda only hoped her deflection was more convincing, that her change in topic distracted from the fact that she didn’t answer Sabrina’s question. “These tasks that He asks some of His followers to perform from time to time, they are gestures that demonstrate, that prove one’s dedication to the Path of Night.”
Concern scrunched her niece’s face. “What if I don’t want to do what He’s asked of me?”
And if Zelda thought her blood pressure couldn’t get any higher that morning, she’d been wrong. She’d thought they’d reached an understanding after Sabrina signed, an understanding that the Dark Lord was dangerous and not to be trifled with. Eyes widening, she stared at Sabrina. “You’ll be shocked to hear it doesn’t work that way, Sabrina. You’ve been tasked. Nothing to do but perform the dark devotion. Preferably with a… smile.”
This wasn’t like her Dark Baptism, she couldn’t refuse the Dark Lord again, not now that she’d signed. The consequences were bigger, the punishments more… severe; Zelda’s eyes flickered over to where Vinegar Tom was nestled in his basket by the door—much more severe.
Hilda’s voice recaptured her attention. “Unless He’s charged you with committing a murder?”
She struggled to choke down what was likely a mix between a sob and a laugh that was trying to leave her throat. It wouldn’t be the first time the Dark Lord commanded such a thing. And as horrible as that possibility was, it didn’t matter. One could not refuse the Dark Lord when tasked with a dark devotion… Zelda knew, she’d tried, and it had ended painfully.
Blinking away the tears that had glazed her eyes when she’d told Sabrina to do what she was told ‘with a smile’. Zelda cut in. “Even then, you must do as He asks or suffer the consequences.”
But the warning was not enough, apparently, Sabrina needed details. “What consequences?"
Her niece was likely wondering what could be worse than having blood on her hands from a murder. Though it wasn’t as though her hands were clean, poor Agatha could attest to that, her time in the Cain Pit less than pleasant.
“Those who resist Him risk bad things happening to them… and those around them.” Zelda’s eyes drifted around the table and landed on Hilda before she looked down at her plate hurriedly, least she be found out.
No one appeared to notice.
Hilda fiddled with her silverware. “The evil has a way of spreading very quickly.”
“Deny the Dark Lord at your peril, Sabrina.” Zelda sighed, and then added because she knew her niece cared more for other’s wellbeing than her own. “And the peril of those around you.”
Chewing her lip, Sabrina nodded and poked at her food.
Zelda pressed her lips together and lifted the paper to hide behind it once more. Oh, how she wished she could do whatever the devotion was for Sabrina. Wished she could take this responsibility from her girl and shoulder it.
It was rare, to be tasked a dark devotion so young; Zelda never thought the Dark Lord would call on Sabrina so soon. She should have, should have expected it; Sabrina had put up such a fuss signing of course He would want to test her immediately. Want to ensure she’d signed because she was loyal and not out of desperation to stop the Thirteen.
Stupid, idiotic, useless witch! The chastisements raced around her mind as Zelda she got up from the table and left; hand itching for her flog. Her flog would chase away her failure, her inability to predict this. Her flog would banish the memories of her own dark devotion which were threatening to swallow her.
But she’d promised. Promised to do better, so, instead of heading to the morgue as she might once have done, Zelda teleported to the Academy; hoping the increased distance from her old flogging site would lessen the need.
She hid in her office; pacing the floor, her hands restlessly flexing and spinning her rings—not used to being empty after growing accustomed to having the flog in them in situations like this. And with little else to distract her, classes not starting for another 45 minutes, the memories she’d managed to suppress earlier came flooding back now.
She’d just turned 200; the celebration having lasted days, and Zelda couldn’t remember having been so happy. And when the Dark Lord appeared in her bedroom, she’d felt herself truly blessed.
Until He explained why He’d appeared before her. A dark devotion.
Under any other circumstance, Zelda would have been thrilled at the opportunity to prove her faith, her loyalty to Satan himself. Would have been tripping over herself to accomplish the task to demonstrate how willing she was, what a good, devoted soldier she could be. Her turn was long overdue; Hilda had been called upon ages ago.
Except, this devotion wasn’t like the others she’d heard of. Zelda could remember Hilda agonizing over a little box for days, had seen the Devil’s Claw marking her sweet sister’s skin which told her what the box was for. She’d scoffed at Hilda’s reluctance to perform whatever it was the Dark Lord asked of her… now, well, now Zelda understood her sister’s dilemma.
“You, you want me to what? My Lord,” she’d asked kneeling before Him, voice trembling.
Looming over her, the Dark Lord snorted. “Kill your sister.”
Heart seizing at the confirmation that what she’d heard was correct, Zelda clutched at the necklace her mother had given her for her Dark Baptism; hoping it would give her strength. She couldn’t be the cause of another family member’s death… she couldn’t, wouldn’t.
“My Lord,” Zelda bowed her head, exposing her neck to the beast. “I cannot, cannot lose another member of my family. I—”
The air around her crackled dangerously at the refusal, but the blow she was expecting didn’t fall. When she chanced raising her head, the Dark Lord was studying her, as though surprised by her resistance.
“You can throw her into that pit you have afterwards for all I care,” His voice grated, and it took an immense amount of willpower not to cover her ears. “But you will complete this devotion, Zelda Spellman, or face my wrath.”
With that, He disappeared.
A whimper escaped her, and Zelda curled into herself, shaking violently from the encounter. Vinegar Tom burst into the room then, a snarl on his lips. When he realized the threat was gone Tom pushed his snout under her chin and nuzzled against her; apologizing for not making it into the room sooner.
Scooping up her familiar, Zelda hushed his apologies and crawled underneath her covers, cuddling Tom close as she tried to go back to sleep. “I just won’t do it.” She muttered, face pressed into Tom’s fur. He whined at the quiet proclamation, but Zelda had made up her mind. “I won’t.” She repeated, adamant.
While she’d always threatened Hilda with the pit, bragged to others at the Academy that she’d used it on more than one occasion, she’d never actually gone through with it. Disliking the idea of killing her sister even if she could be brought back.
Zelda had experienced the pit on a few occasions and felt no need to inflict it on others.
Her first time in the pit… well, Edward had put her there. She’d been sixteen and just starting at the Academy, more than eager to prove herself, Zelda had joined a Latin translation competition filled mostly with older students—including her brother. When she’d won, Zelda had been ecstatic; she always had been the best at languages out of the Spellman siblings.
Though Edward had shown a good-natured face at school, laughing, an arm thrown over her shoulders proudly, that face changed once they home. He’d blindsided her, attacking Zelda before she realized what was happening and threw her in the pit. When she finally emerged, Edward apologized. Swearing he’d never do it again and it had only been because he’d been furious and ashamed his little sister outwitted him.
The second time, her father was the culprit. By the time it happened, he’d been ‘disciplining’ Zelda for almost a year. She’d landed in the pit because he’d gotten carried away with one of his punishments.
There’d been no apology from him; only a stern lecture to not tell anyone when she finally clawed herself out of the dirt. It’d been at this point that Zelda prayed for help and learned the dreaded lesson ‘everything had a price’.
So, no, she had no desire to put her sister in the pit. Not when she knew the terror of waking up under pounds of soil, nose clogged, eyes and lungs burning.
Unsure what else to do, she’d gone to Edward for help the next morning; rushing to her older brother for help about a dark devotion she could not complete. Surely as a High Priest in the making he would know what to do.
But Edward just scoffed, not even looking up from his book. “Stop being dramatic, Zelda. Just get it done.” He glanced up then and saw her conflicted expression. “And for Satan’s sake, do it with a smile.”
The words might as well have been a physical blow. Retreating, Zelda spun her rings, contemplating her options and deciding she would defy the Dark Lord after all. He would just task her with another devotion, would pick something else for her to do to prove her loyalty.
Nodding curtly to herself, Zelda went about her day as normal. Ignoring the three burning streaks forming the Devil’s Claw on her left shoulder.
Days passed and the mark grew; getting deeper, more inflamed as it stretched across her back. The irritation, the pain that flared when her shirt brushed the wounds would not change her mind, though. Zelda would not kill her baby sister.
Several more days went by, and another mark appeared, this time on her ribs as there wasn’t much room left on her back—given how large the first mark had grown. Zelda knew pain though, they were intimate friends, she wouldn’t let this, or the Dark Lord whispering in her ear, bully her into fulfilling the devotion.
That was, until she came home from delivering a baby one day and found Tom out on the front porch, whimpering. Horrified, Zelda picked him up and bolted to her room to heal him. Nothing worked though, Tom was dying in front of her.
Suddenly, the Dark Lord appeared in front of her.
“Please, please don’t hurt him.” She begged tears running down her face, not caring how she appeared. Vinegar Tom meant the world to her, she couldn’t lose him.
“I’m not the one hurting him, Zelda. You are. You and your resistance to the devotion I charged you with.
More tears spilled down her cheeks. “She’s my sister,” Zelda whispered.
The lights flickered, and the Dark Lord snarled at her. “And I am your Dark Lord. You will do this for me.”
“But I—” And before she could finish her argument, Tom went stiff in her arms. Startled, Zelda cried out, but it was as though Tom were stuffed.
A dark chuckle emanated from the beast in front of her. “If you want him back, you will do as I command.” And just as quickly as He appeared, the Dark Lord was gone.
Trembling, Zelda nodded, though the Dark Lord was no longer there to acknowledge her submission. Tenderly setting Tom in his bed, Zelda stood and went to find her sister.
It could have been cleaner, the murder. But her heart hadn’t been in it and Zelda didn’t put enough strength into the first blow, forcing her to take a second and a third until she was sure Hilda was dead.
Sobbing, Zelda drug her sister out into the garden, hiccupping as she dug Hilda’s grave, rolled her inside and filled the hole once more. The deed done; Zelda ran inside to fetch Tom.
The two of them sat next to the pit, anxiously waiting for Hilda to resurrect; Tom’s stiff little body cradled in her arms. She could feel the claw marks fading as they waited; burning and itching as they went, as if their torturously slow disappearance were another punishment in itself—a reminder to never let them form again.
It took hours. Hours of Zelda rocking slightly where she sat cross-legged in the dirt, waiting for Tom and her sister to come back to life. To come back to her.
Only, only Hilda was the only one to return.
Devastated, Zelda clutched Vinegar Tom to her chest and ran inside, not waiting for Hilda to fully emerge and demand answers.
And though she prayed to Satan, whispered her devotions to Him and His kin, declaring her loyalty, her faith, her life… just please, please bring her Tom back…. The only response she received was a ghost of a cruel laugh, caught in the wind that gone as soon as she heard it. But it was answer enough.
Vinegar Tom was lost to her.
Not dead. No, his goblin form would have burst out of his body if he were dead. Just lost, frozen, petrified.
Guilt ridden, Zelda fluffed Tom’s bed and lovingly placed him in it; taking to carrying him around the house and talking to him despite his inanimate state. Perhaps the Dark Lord might would restore him, after He’d reassured Himself of her devotion.
Oddly, and painfully, no one asked her what happened to Tom; each of them making their own assumptions as to what happened to the little goblin. She supposed Hilda suspected, though her sister was still feeling rather betrayed about her trip to the pit, so Hilda didn’t push the issue either.
After that, Zelda found it much easier to kill her sister over slights—it was her sister’s fault, after all, that Tom was frozen, taken from her. If she hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t refused the Dark Lord and just done what she’d been told Tom would still be here. It was her love for her sister that cost Zelda her truest companion. So, surely, Hilda should shoulder the price for the loss as well, and an occasional trip to the Cain Pit was the only way Zelda could make her pay.
Zelda’s flashback was interrupted by a piece of paper appearing in the air in front of her. A summons to Faustus’ office. Grateful for the distraction from painful memories, Zelda took a fortifying breath, cast a slight glamor spell, straightened her shoulders and left her office.
Just as she was about to enter Faustus’ office, the doors were thrown open and Shirley was standing there. “Shirley,” she greeted with a slightly sickly-sweet tone.
Face pinching in displeasure, the witch gave Zelda a once over. “And of course, it would be you.” She sneered, “his ice-cold pet.” She spat the last word and moved to walk past Zelda.
She caught the woman’s arm and drew her close, so her words fell directly in Shirley’s ear. “Hmm, if I am something as menial as a pet, what does that make you? Is there even anything low enough to fit the bill?” She lifted a brow and released the woman, who gaped at her, wonderfully dumbfounded and silent. Smirking, Zelda walked into Faustus’ office and closed the doors behind her with a victorious snap.
Turning her attention to Faustus, Zelda tilted her head. “What was that about?”
Faustus stood up as she walked in. “Well, as you know, Zelda, the Academy’s presenting a mortality play for the coven’s edification and diversion. As always, it’s the—”
“The Passion of Lucifer Morningstar.” Zelda finished for him, delighting at his energy—he always had loved theater. “Yes, I recall. I did play Eve, back in my day.”
Eyes lighting up a bit, Faustus’ lips tugged into a nostalgic smile. “Quite scandalously, if memory serves.” His eyes swept over her.
“Well, if the real Eve had had any sense, she’d have done what I did.” Zelda laughed, a few choice memories floating to the surface. And while these were much more pleasant memories to get swept away in compared to the ones plaguing her not even half an hour ago, it wouldn’t do to dwell on them. Even the few she remembered had her flushing and wanting to press Faustus up against the wall; and from his expression he was remembering the same things.
She was toeing the line... already. The one she’d drawn, the one that said they were to be professional with one another. But Zelda wanted to test Faustus, wanted to push his buttons and see just how far he was going to take this little charade of resistance to the idea of a formal and public relationship with her.
Unfortunately, Faustus didn’t take the bait; though his Adam’s apple bobbed just a bit before her continued. “This year, we’ll be doing a new adaptation.”
The comment threw Zelda more than any innuendo might have. “A new adaptation? I’ve always known you to be a staunch traditionalist, Faustus.”
Faustus went on to explain he’d come up with the changes himself and was quite proud of them. Though Shirley disagreed and made a point of telling him so, several times; which was why, he rounded his desk, he wanted her to take over as co-producer and elocution coach.
A smile crept onto Zelda’s face at the request. It would be nice, to be involved in theater again… it’d been decades since she’d been on a stage herself. And, it would be wonderful to spend more time with Ambrose and Sabrina doing something that wasn’t life threatening.
Besides, Faustus was practically giddy with excitement, and Zelda hadn’t seen him like this since… well, she wasn’t even sure. But it was refreshing, to see this side of him emerge again. And he wanted to share this with her, wanted her involved; which could only be a positive thing.
So, Zelda accepted. While she kept her exterior rather calm, inside she was glowing. This was just what she needed; another challenge. Another excuse to stay away from the mortuary, something to keep her busy and her mind off dark devotions and what Sabrina would likely suffer while she attempted to deny Satan.
When she took the script, Faustus grinned at her, placed a hand on her hip to draw her in and kissed her on the cheek in his excitement before Zelda realized what he was doing.
“Welcome aboard, Zelda.” He winked and moved back around his desk to finish other paperwork.
Resisting the urge to touch the spot where his lips had landed, Zelda nodded and left, unsure if Faustus was aware of what he’d done… or if he’d just somehow leapfrogged her in their game.
Zelda shook herself and headed for her first class. She had more pressing matters to deal with than whatever limbo her ‘relationship’ with Faustus was in.
Rehearsal was… painful.
The parts had been cast before she took over, though why Shirley chose Dorcas as the lead was beyond Zelda. The girl, though a lovely singer, was utterly useless at acting. And while Zelda had no qualms about stepping on Shirley’s toes, she didn’t want the students to think she was playing favorites by replacing Dorcas with Sabrina—who she was sure was only the understudy because she was Zelda’s niece.
As they continued to run lines, Zelda couldn’t help but think even Vinegar Tom would be a better choice than Dorcas to play this role.
It was almost an unholy blessing when Sabrina’s outburst interrupted the scene they were practicing; Zelda wasn’t sure how much more of Dorcas’ horrendous attempts she could take. But it also concerned her.
Not talking to anyone Beelzebub’s ass. Sabrina had the Dark Lord hovering over her, whispering in her ear and luring her to the deeper, darker parts of the Path of Night. Zelda could hardly contradict her niece in front of everyone, though, could hardly demand to know what Satan wanted from her girl.
No, she couldn’t. Instead Zelda told them to break for lunch, hoping the interlude would give Sabrina a reprieve from the Dark Lord in some way. When she went to approach Sabrina during the break though, the girl practically scuttled away from her and went into one of the pews. Clearly, she wanted to deal with this on her own for now, well, Zelda could let Sabrina try and process this and when her nice was ready, she’d be there to help.
Sighing, Zelda went to go find Faustus.
As much as she hated to admit, even to herself, Zelda agreed with Shirley that the adaptations were ostentatious. She’d read ahead while Dorcas butchered her lines and found the parts her predecessor most likely disliked and found her opinions were the same.
The warlock in question was in his office, taking his lunch as well. When she entered, he looked up and smiled. “How goes rehearsal?”
A grimace tugged her mouth. “Some of the actors are in need of… improvement.” She managed as diplomatically as possible. “But I am working to remedy the situation. What I came here for, though, were these adaptations of yours.” She held up the script.
Faustus lifted a brow and gestured for her to sit across from him. “What concerns you?”
“There are some departures from our sacred Satanic texts.” Zelda started, lighting a cigarette and taking a few draws. “Lilith… for instance. I don’t recall her wandering helplessly in the wilderness. She provided for herself, like a survivalist.”
Growing up, Zelda idolized the witch; looked to her for strength, inspiration. Whenever Zelda felt tired, weak, beaten, she’d remind herself that Lilith had survived the false god, Adam and her time in the barren stretch of wasteland she’d been banished to… and if she could do that, well, then, Zelda could survive as well.
Which was why it was irksome, to say the least, that this helpless maiden version of Lilith had somehow made it into the play for the whole coven to see.
He would hear none of it, though, even hinting that he’d remove her as he did Shirley. Frowning, Zelda took another drag of her cigarette. It wasn’t as though they’d always seen eye to eye, far from it, but there’d always been room for debate between them. For Faustus to be so adamant, to veer so drastically from his normal traditionalist beliefs, Zelda couldn’t help but think there was something else at play here.
Needing to think, Zelda excused herself from his office and wandered through the front hall, reading the script as she went and wondering if she could get away with changing some parts and blaming the differences on Dorcas’ inability to act.
A low rumbling broke her concentration.
Zelda turned, trying to find the source when suddenly there was a loud crack and one of the gargoyles from the balcony above came crashing down. Jumping back in surprise, Zelda couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her at the close call.
Laughter sounded from behind her at her reaction. Turning, Zelda found Shirley with a small group of professors behind her.
“There must have been a crack in the marble.” Shirley stated haughtily, amused smirks gracing the faces of her posse.
It was difficult, to restrain herself. It wasn’t the attempted murder that annoyed Zelda, it was the fact that even for a second she’d lost her composure (even the tiniest bit) and there’d been witnesses. Not many witnesses, though. Shirley only managed to rouse a handful of the Academy’s faculty; a far greater number were missing.
Taking note of who was there, Zelda inclined her head, took a drag of from the cigarette she’d managed to hold onto and headed back to rehearsal—she’d left the students alone long enough.
Only when she got there, it was chaos. Sabrina and Nicholas were missing, and the rest of her students were tittering about, pacing and looking around anxiously.
“What is going on? Where is everyone?” She demanded, sweeping her eyes over the room once more to ensure she hadn’t simply overlooked her niece.
Prudence stepped forward, a wary expression on her face. “Sabrina choked on her apple. It was odd, one moment she was talking to Nick and then, she wasn’t breathing, she fell to the ground. We didn’t know where you were, so Nick teleported her to your house.”
Shocked, Zelda gripped the back of one of the pews to steady herself. “Excuse me.” She hurried back into the corridor and found the closest mirror. Casting a quick spell, she could see inside the house. “Hilda!” She shouted, seeing her sister leaving the room. Thankfully she stopped and turned around, a cup of tea in her hand. “What happened? Is Sabrina—”
“She’s alright. Safe and sound upstairs. Got that nasty bit of apple out and I’ve got some tea to soothe her throat.” Hilda lifted the cup a bit.
Zelda sighed, slumping against the table underneath the mirror. “Sister, I don’t think this was an accident. What Prudence described was not a natural event.”
Pursing her lips, Hilda nodded in agreement. “I’ll get to the bottom of it. Mr. Scratch is on his way back to you.” She nodded once more and then walked away, disappearing into the house.
Rubbing her temples, Zelda took several deep breaths. If she was right, and this was the Dark Lord, He was playing dirtier than usual. There was little she and Hilda could do though, in terms of running interference. This was a game of wills, Sabrina would have to play it out… would have to lose, before this ended. Because Satan never lost.
Which meant, as much as she wanted to go home and check on Sabrina, Zelda needed to return to work. Little would be achieved by her running off, deserting her duties; especially when Hilda had everything well in hand.
Exhaling slowly for one final time, Zelda returned to her students and noted that Nicholas was indeed back. “Places, everyone.” She instructed, striding to the front and climbing onto the stage. As they all moved to take their spots, Zelda stopped Nicholas with a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, that was quick thinking.”
The young warlock bowed his head in acknowledgement and Zelda’s respect for the boy rose. Despite his role in summoning high demons during the Top Boy trials, he still had a good head about him and excellent judgement. Perhaps some of that would rub off on Sabrina and her girl would gain a bit more sense.
Turning back to the group, Zelda opened her version of the script. “Start from the top of page six.”
And oh, how she regretted selecting a scene with so much Latin. She hadn’t realized it was possible to be so bad at one language that it sounded like another. How Dorcas managed to cast any spells at all when she could hardly recite these lines… Zelda’s internal monologue was broken when Dorcas turned to her.
“Am I saying it right?”
Blinking, Zelda bit her tongue to hold back the more acidic response that nearly sprang from her lips. “Not remotely.” She deadpanned. Then she cocked her head slightly, “do you even know what it means?” She asked softly, perhaps Dorcas wasn’t delivering the lines correctly because she was misinterpreting the context. Perhaps she shouldn’t be so short with the girl.
But Dorcas stood and stuttered. And Zelda threw the script to the side, really the girl was nearly a quarter of a century she should know her Latin, and translated the lines, infusing them with the appropriate passion.
Nicholas was brilliant in his delivery, though she’d have emphasized a different word. Zelda was about to tell him as much when she literally croaked.
Her throat contracted painfully, trying, and failing, to accommodate the sudden intrusion. Eyes watering, Zelda managed to force the wriggling object up towards her mouth, and when a pair of legs emerged, her eyes went wide.
Quickly turning her back, Zelda forced the creature from her mouth with some difficulty, the frog was by no means small. Once the pest was in hand, Zelda pivoted back around, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. “Which one of you did this?” She demanded, voice a little hoarse.
There were a number of antics she was willing to put up with as a teacher; it was part of the job. If she came down too hard on troublemakers, then students would see it as a challenge as to who could get away with what. But this, this crossed the line.
“Not us.” Prudence supplied, lifting a brow. “That familiar belongs to a colleague of yours.”
Examining the little beast more closely, Zelda ran her tongue over her teeth. “Shirley.” She muttered, anger building inside her. “Class dismissed. Practice your lines and learn the translations.” Zelda gave Dorcas a pointed look and swept away, frog in hand.
The pot was close to boiling as Zelda dropped in a few more ingredients to add flavor. She’d never made frog legs before, but she was certainly willing to learn how to in order to get back at Shirley fucking Jackson.
Just then, Hilda walked in. “You cooking dinner?”
And though her sister sounded a bit too surprised for Zelda’s taste, really, she knew how to make a few things, Zelda refrained from any insults. “I am. How do you feel about frog legs?”
Taken aback, Hilda came to stand next to her. “Depends on the frog.”
Seeing no point in beating around the bush, Zelda replaced the lid on the pot. “Sister Jackson has decided to pick on me, Hilda. As if we were common schoolgirls.” She scoffed at the childishness of it all. “I turned the other cheek when she tried to kill me—"
Hilda started. “She tried to kill you?!”
She nodded, tapping her palm with the spoon. “With one of the gargoyles in the main hall, indelicately done, if I say so myself, but still something I could let pass. But then she teleported her familiar” she tapped the lid of the jar encasing the beast with the spoon for clarity, “down my throat to humiliate me in front of all my students, and that I cannot abide.” Anger still burned through her at the recent memory and she turned back to the pot to stir it again.
“Oh,” Hilda turned back to the frog. “But, but the poor little familiar’s innocent.” Hilda murmured, bending over to get a better look.
Vinegar Tom had been innocent as well, that hadn’t saved him. The thought blindsided her, pricking Zelda’s heart. It was only the mention of dark devotions that had him at the forefront of her mind, but the reason didn’t make it hurt any less. Pushing back the tears, Zelda sniffed. “Is anyone truly innocent?”
“Zelds—” Hilda chided lightly, gently tapping the glass jar.
Arching a brow, Zelda shrugged. “It’s not my fault she was so reckless with him. If Shirley cared, she wouldn’t have teleported the thing halfway down my throat and failed to summon him back.”
Before Hilda could reply, Sabrina walked in, calling for them. “Aunties? Is Ambrose home?”
“In his room.” Zelda answered turning to face her niece. “And we missed you at rehearsal this afternoon, Sabrina. I heard what happened, how are you feeling?”
Shrugging a little, Sabrina leaned against the counter. “Alright, better now after Aunt Hilda’s tea.”
Lips pulling up a bit at the corner, Zelda nodded. “I’m glad to hear it.” She paused, almost asking about what caused the incident, but held back. They all knew, whether they said it out loud didn’t matter or change anything. The Dark Lord had taken a special interest in her girl and there was nothing Zelda could do to interfere this time. So, instead she lifted a brow. “Just because you missed rehearsal doesn’t mean you get out of practicing your lines.”
“I already have all of Lilith’s lines memorized, Aunt Zee.” Sabrina informed her. “And frankly, hearing Dorcas say them makes my ears bleed.”
Though she shouldn’t talk poorly about another student to Sabrina, Zelda couldn’t help but laugh. “Can’t argue with that.” Then an idea struck. “What would you say to frog legs for dinner?” If Sabrina agreed, then Hilda would have a harder time arguing with her over it.
A grimace met her question. “Can’t we just get pizza?” Sabrina sighed, spinning and walking away, likely to find Ambrose.
Hilda jumped at the suggestion. “Yummy, a bit of pizza?” At Zelda’s unimpressed expression, Hilda dropped the pretense. “It’s better than frog legs.”
But that wasn’t the point, the actual meal. “I have to send Shirley message, Hilda, or else I’ll never find my footing at the Academy. I have to make a stand, or the other faculty will never respect me.”
Picking up the jar containing the familiar, Hilda raised her brows. “Punish the guilty, sister, not the innocent.”
As Hilda moved away, talking to the frog, an idea began to form. One much better than frog legs. But she’d need to do a little research first. Turning off the stove, Zelda made for the library.
Sabrina screaming the next morning had Zelda racing up the steps; she’d spent a good chunk of the night in the library figuring out the perfect retribution for Shirley.
Bursting into her niece’s room, spell in hand, Zelda scanned the area for a threat. “Sabrina?! What is it? Where is it?” But she found nothing in the room to warrant the blood curdling scream she’d just heard.
Sheepishly poking her head out of the bathroom, Sabrina bit her lip. “Sorry, Auntie Zee. There, there was a really big, uh, spider. Yeah, a big spider, it surprised me.”
Eyes narrowing, Zelda gave her niece a once over and noted how Sabrina was clutching her pajama top tightly to her. Realization dawned on her; Sabrina had the Devil’s Claw mark. It was likely getting bigger, which was what caused the scream… which also meant Sabrina had yet to fulfill her dark devotion.
Sighing quietly, Zelda let the spell in her hand dissipate and she leaned against the bed frame. “Sweetheart, is there anything else you want to talk about?”
Sabrina shook her head. “No, of course not, auntie.” She was already reaching for the bathroom door to close it. “Thank you for checking in on me, though.” With a final nod, Sabrina shut the door.
She stood there for several moments, debating whether she should to force the issue. Whether she should confide in Sabrina that she’d resisted her dark devotion as well, resisted until she developed a second devil’s claw, until she lost Vinegar Tom… but if Sabrina wanted to talk to her about it, she would—pressing the matter would only drive her girl away.
Perhaps she was worried Zelda wouldn’t approve of her refusal. Though Sabrina knew of her questionable loyalty to the Church of Night, Zelda made it clear Sabrina had to complete the devotion. The Dark Lord wouldn’t kill Sabrina, she wouldn’t be of use to Him dead, but He would threaten her wellbeing and the wellbeing of those around her until she submitted. Sabrina likely believed Zelda wouldn’t approve of endangering others in her quest to rebel against Satan.
Even after all the progress they’d made, there were still walls between them. Rubbing the back of her neck, Zelda went back downstairs, hoping Sabrina knew what she was doing and that she’d confided in Hilda about the claw.
When she reached the kitchen, Zelda pulled Hilda aside. “You spoke with Sabrina about her devotion, correct?”
Hilda nodded, “of course. After her ‘choking’ incident yesterday, we talked about it. I think I got through to her, to an extent.”
Some of the tension drained out of Zelda, glad that even if Sabrina hadn’t confided in her, at least she was talking to Hilda about the whole thing. And, a small voice in her head added, at least Wardwell was gone as well, otherwise who knew what the witch would be whispering into Sabrina’s ear.
“I think she’s still fighting it,” Zelda replied, spinning her rings anxiously.
Massaging her temples, Hilda sighed. “Are you surprised?”
A short bark of laughter left her. “No. I wish I could say I was.” Running a hand through her hair, Zelda shook her head. “Well, it’s Sabrina’s fight, hopefully she listens to you and fulfills the devotion soon. In the meantime, I need your help. Have you ever made a,” she checked her notes from the night before, “a poppet before?”
A rare, wicked grin spread on Hilda’s face. “Perhaps, who are we making one for?”
“Who do you think?” Zelda asked, quirking a brow.
Bouncing with excitement, Hilda tugged Zelda after her to the greenhouse. “First, we have to make a voodoo doll.”
Zelda held up the small stuffed toy she’d made the night before; she’d gotten that far on her own at least. “Done.”
“Wonderful, now, we open up the side of ‘Shirley’s’ head.” Hilda instructed her, peering over Zelda’s shoulder as she picked up a knife.
It was satisfying to rip the doll’s head open, Zelda imagining it was the real Shirley at her mercy. “The bitch’s head is unstitched. Now what?”
Wriggling her brows, Hilda held out a tin to her. “Now, you get one of these lovely little earworms and sew it right into Sister Jackson’s poppet head.” Selecting a particularly long earworm, Zelda stuffed the thing inside the poppet, making sure it was inserted as deeply as possible. Hilda watched carefully and once the worm was inside the doll she nodded. “Okay, now the song.”
Blinking, Zelda looked at Hilda. “What song?”
“The,” Hilda stopped and looked at her in astonishment, “the earworm song. You don’t remember it?”
“Clearly not or I wouldn’t be asking for your help.” Zelda muttered, threading a needle in preparation of stitching the doll back up.
Holding up her hands, Hilda sang the song for her. “Alright?” When Zelda nodded, she smiled. “Okay, your turn. Sing and stitch, Zelds, and Shirley is yours.”
As Zelda sang, she sewed the poppet back together, securing the earworm inside. When she finished, she smiled at Hilda conspiratorially. “I hope she provokes me today; I want to see how well it works.”
Hilda huffed in amusement and shook her head. “Well, considering she came after you twice yesterday, I think the chances are good.”
“Indeed, they are, I will be sure to tell you how it turns out when I come home tonight.” Zelda winked and gave Hilda’s shoulder a squeeze before leaving for work; the doll safely stored in the house.
She encountered Shirley earlier than expected. Zelda had been heading to Faustus’ office to discuss the set for the play—her student volunteers needed more supplies—when Shirley called out to her.
“Looking for the High Priest, Sister Zelda?” The small group of witches surrounding Shirley turned to see how Zelda would respond.
Trying not to appear too eager to engage, Zelda pivoted slowly and walked towards the group. “As it happens, I am, Sister Jackson. Have you seen him?” She came to a stop directly in front of Shirley, and she didn’t miss out the other witches backed away; suspicious of her calm, collected demeanor… especially after a double attack the day before.
Shirley was too cocky to notice. “Don’t you usually meet the High Priest in the confessional? On your knees?”
Unable to suppress her smile this time, Zelda leaned in, just a bit and mimicked Shirley’s sweeter tone. “Oh, Shirley, why don’t you make your way up to the balcony,” she dropped the voice, “and throw yourself off it.”
An uneasy chuckle escaped Shirley, as she glanced at their colleagues, looking for support. None came.
Zelda started to sing then, only loud enough for Shirley to hear. “The worm crawls in, the worm crawls out…” She reached up and tucked a stray hair behind Shirley’s ear, tugging the lobe slightly to emphasize the point she could tell Shirley had already gotten, based on how the smile slid from her face.
In a trance-like state, Shirley spun on her heel and made for the stairs.
Moving back to the others so she’d have a better view, Zelda smirked at them as she continued to hum, relishing in their astonishment. When Shirley lifted herself onto the railing, Zelda let her balance there for a moment. Several students gasped and Zelda could hear Shirley’s cronies murmuring to themselves, but not a single one moved to stop her, or Shirley.
Just as Shirley lifted a foot to step off the ledge, Zelda stopped her.
“That’s quite enough, Shirley. You can come down now.” And just as mechanically as she’d climbed up, Shirley lowered herself back to the floor. Pleased and her message sent, Zelda turned back to the cronies. “Next time she crosses me, I won’t stop her.” She strode across the main hall, making for her classroom; there wasn’t time left to talk to Faustus before classes began anymore. Though she needed to get to class, Zelda slowed her stride just enough to add. “And that goes for you also-rans, too.”
The two witches who’d been standing with Shirley when Zelda first walked up shot her scornful looks and hurried to check on Shirley who was practically hyperventilating against the railing. Rolling her eyes, Zelda picked up her pace once more—honestly, the woman shouldn’t dish out what she couldn’t take in return; Zelda hadn’t made nearly the spectacle when she almost died.
As she made her exit, Zelda noticed several other colleagues who’d stopped to watch eyeing her with respect; as if she’d passed some test. They nodded at her as she passed and bid her good luck with the play, promising their attendance.
Nodding her appreciation, Zelda continued down the hall, already thinking how excited Hilda would be to hear about how well the poppet worked. Practically glowing with her victory, Zelda collided with Faustus, having not paid close attention when she turned a corner.
Brow furrowed, Faustus steadied her with a hand on her hip. “What’s all the commotion?” He asked, peering down the hall behind her. “Students said something about a teacher almost throwing themselves off the balcony?”
Zelda smirked. “Oh, that was just me outsmarting Shirley. Doubt she’ll come after me again.” She couldn’t help but shimmy a little in self-satisfaction.
Faustus looked at her fully then. “What? Come after you...”
Sighing, Zelda patted his arm. “Do try to keep up with the ongoings of your school, headmaster.” She intoned, quirking a brow. “Shirley has some kind of petty vendetta against me. She tried to kill me yesterday morning and then teleported her familiar down my throat during rehearsal. She had it coming, Faustus.”
Eyes widening, he released her hip to grip her hand. “She tried to kill you?!”
Shrugging nonchalantly, Zelda confirmed his question with a hum. “May I go now? My class starts soon.”
“Zelda,” he squeezed her hand to get her to look at him fully. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was soft, but she could still detect what might have been a wounded tone in it.
Brow scrunching, Zelda shook her head. “Why would I? It’s been handled. Shirley would’ve had a field day if you’d tried to intervene. More evidence in her eyes of our ‘inappropriate’ relationship.” She scoffed at the judgement and continued. “Besides, I can handle myself, as you well know. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Extricating herself from him, Zelda walked down the hall with a little more sway in her hips than usual; basking in her triumph over Shirley and unable to help but think that Faustus was close to caving and would soon announce their relationship to the coven.
The rest of the day passed with no fanfare; Shirley and her friends too shaken to try and retaliate. More than a few of her students greeted Zelda with unusual enthusiasm, while others looked at her with awe.
Apparently, word had gotten around about her confrontation with Shirley and the students were on her side. It appeared Shirley had given the students little cause to like her, which worked well enough for Zelda. The more people in the Academy on her side the better.
Ending her last class early, Zelda teleported home so she could eat dinner with her family before the play.
She found Hilda in the kitchen. “Sister,” she beamed, setting her bag down and leaning on the counter. “You’ll never guess who I had an altercation with today.”
Giggling, Hilda looked up from where she was chopping vegetables. “An altercation? Oh dear,” she intoned, playing along with Zelda’s game.
“Yes, it was very nearly fatal. Poor Shirley never knew what hit her.” Unable to keep the formal façade, Zelda chortled. “You should have seen her face, Hildie…” she sighed contentedly, snagging a pepper slice from Hilda’s pile and popping it into her mouth. “It was priceless. You should have seen how her lackeys dithered and how the other faculty looked at me with respect.” She smiled widely at the recent memory. “I’ve not only established my footing at the Academy but also removed Shirley as a threat, all in one go. Your spell was brilliant, by the way, I cannot thank you enough.”
Despite how Hilda preened at the compliment, she smacked Zelda’s hand when she reached for another pepper. “That’s marvelous Zelds, I’m happy for you.”
Before they could chat more about it, the phone rang.
Pushing off the counter, Zelda picked up the receiver. “Spellman Sisters Mortuary, this is Zelda.”
“Dorcas has chickenpox; Sabrina will need to step in as Lilith for the play tonight.” Faustus informed her without preamble.
“Praise Satan,” she breathed, she’d been dreading the play with Dorcas as lead, it would have been an utter disaster.
There was a moment of silence on the other end before Faustus’ laugh filtered through the phone. “What?”
Huffing, Zelda propped the phone on her shoulder so she could light a cigarette. “Please, Faustus. You and I both know Dorcas never should have been given the role. If ever there were a sin our Dark Lord punished someone for it should be her acting. The play will be infinitely better without Dorcas.”
“I take it you’ll inform your niece then?” He asked, mirth still evident in his voice.
She hummed in the affirmative. “And I will see you in a bit to ensure everything is ready for opening night.” Bidding one another goodbye, Zelda turned to Hilda, beaming. “Sabrina is to take the lead in the play tonight, bringing Lilith to life as she should be.”
Hilda clapped her hands, “how lovely! It’ll be a family affair… well, almost.” Her smile slipped a bit, upon realizing she wouldn’t be allowed to attend because of her excommunication, and she moved back to prepping dinner.
Unsure how to comfort her sister, Zelda left the kitchen to fetch Ambrose for dinner. Thinking, as she made her way up the stairs, that it was odd Dorcas had fallen ill with chickenpox, of all things.
Though witches were immune to most mortal contagious diseases, it wasn’t completely unheard of for them to contract one after encountering a sick mortal. Zelda doubted Dorcas had been in contact with an ill mortal, but it wasn’t her job to investigate it—besides, this saved her from having to stomach an awful performance and Shirley’s smug face when the production flopped due to Dorcas’ lack of skill.
They ate quickly, Sabrina taking her time getting home, though from the smile on her face it was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Zelda eyed her, wondering if she’d finally completed her devotion.
She couldn’t dwell on the matter long though, Hilda and Ambrose spilling the good news as soon as they noticed Sabrina’s presence. Sabrina seemed less excited by the news than Zelda anticipated, but there was no time to determine what was bothering her niece now, they had a play to put on.
“Eat quickly and teleport to the Church with Ambrose for costume and wig checks. I’m going to change and then head over to make sure everything is ready.” She squeezed Sabrina’s shoulder as she passed her. When the girl didn’t wince or pull away, it confirmed Zelda’s suspicion, she’d fulfilled her task and gotten through relatively unscathed by the looks of it.
Relieved to have one less thing to worry about, Zelda hurried upstairs to change.
The stage was already abuzz with activity when Zelda arrived, Faustus having stayed after classes to get everything started.
Making a few adjustments to the set here and there, Zelda worked her ways towards Faustus. “May I speak with you for a moment?” She asked quietly, eyes still on the students as they worked.
Faustus’ brows went up, but he nodded and followed her to a small alcove off to the side.
“I, I have a favor to ask.” She murmured, not looking him in the eye, attention still on the stage. “Ambrose and Sabrina are both in the play tonight, I am co-producing it. It’s a family affair… almost.” She repeated Hilda’s words as she brought his gaze to his. “Would it be too much to ask that Hilda be allowed to attend tonight?”
Exhaling, Faustus’ hands came up and rested on her shoulders, playing with the ends of her hair. “It is an educational event…” He stated, mulling the idea over. “One that might help Hilda remember her past devotion. Perhaps we could count it as a step towards reintegrating your sister into the Church of Night.”
The words lightened Zelda’s heart. “That’s a yes? She can come?”
“One night can’t hurt. Yes, your sister can come. You’ll need to keep an eye on her though,” he warned, “save her a spot in the front next to you.”
And Zelda knew he’d just hidden another favor under a directive; allowing Hilda a spot in the front so she could see her niece and nephew on stage under the pretense of her needing to be babysat. Zelda lurched forward, her lips meeting his in a kiss, her gratitude and desire overriding her rule to stay professional.
Breaking the kiss just as Faustus was leaning in to deepen it, Zelda smiled. “Thank you, Faustus, so much.” She clasped his forearm tightly. “I need to go inform her right away if she’s to make it on time.” Excusing herself quickly before she gave in further in terms of their relationship, Zelda found a quiet corner and astral projected home.
“Hilda!” She called out, hurrying through the rooms and finding her sister in the parlor looking rather morose. “Get dressed you loiter-sack or you’re going to miss the play.”
Confused, Hilda stood up from her chair, setting her book aside. “What? Zelda, are you—”
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Zelda took several steps closer to her sister. “I got you permission to come to the play. You’re to sit in the front row with me, so I might deal with any misbehaviors immediately.” She intoned, grinning.
“I can really come. Father Blackwood said yes.” Hilda repeated, twisting her fingers.
Zelda wished she could tug her sister upstairs and throw a dress at her. “Yes. Now hurry up, change and get to the Church.”
The play went beautifully. The scene transitions seamless, not a single line forgotten or fumbled, and the costumes were dazzling. Zelda barely contained her grin throughout the entire thing; clutching hands with Hilda, proud of their kids, and stealing glances at Faustus to see his reaction. He was just as pleased.
When the final curtain opened and the cast and crew came out to take their bows, everyone leapt to their feet, clapping and cheering. Zelda turned once more towards Faustus and found him already smiling widely at her, his entire face lit up with joy.
It did things to her, seeing him like that. It made her want to see him smile like that every day, made her want to see him so carefree, so happy; and she wanted to be the one who made him all those things. Oh, their little waiting game needed to end soon, or she was going to be the one to cave first.
Faustus hadn’t been sure how the coven would receive the changes to the play. There certainly could have been pushback, the likes of which he’d received from Shirley and Zelda. But as he looked around the room, everyone was genuinely cheering and clapping for the performance.
Relief flooded through him.
Despite his anxiety over the reception of the play, it wasn’t as if he could have gone with the original play to ease his mind. Not when the Dark Lord Himself came to Faustus and demanded certain revisions be made.
Normally, Faustus would have balked at any kind of reinterpretation of their history—Zelda wasn’t wrong, he was a staunch traditionalist in many aspects.
There was no reason to incur the Dark Lord’s wrath, though, over something that essentially amounted to a high school play. All things considered, it was the easiest devotion the Dark Lord ever asked of him and Faustus hadn’t complained about it; least he be tasked with something far less pleasant.
He didn’t understand the purpose of the revisions; hadn’t even intended on poking around to find out, the crux of the matter unimportant to him. Then, then he’d stumbled over the explanation by mistake.
At the conclusion of the play, he’d turned to Zelda, wanting to bask in their success together, when he caught sight of Lilith out of the corner of his eye. The woman was brushing tears from her cheeks as she turned and fled from the Church.
Apparently, the witch wasn’t in such good graces with the Dark Lord that she was spared His manipulative games. Games which included being reminded of her origins, how far the Dark Lord had raised her up, and the fealty she owed Him.
Shrugging, and not caring an ounce for the woman who’d made his life infinitely more difficult the past several months, Faustus turned back to Zelda, the suggestion that they go to Dorian’s to celebrate already leaving his lips; Lilith forgotten.
This, Zelda sighed and took another drag of the hookah pipe, this is what life should be like. She looked around the bar and smiled, feeling the buzz of the extra tobacco in her system. Life should be easy and fun and filled with people laughing and celebrating.
It’d been scarily easy to forget that. To forget what life had been like in her later years at the Academy, in the decades she’d traveled the world, meeting new people and seeing exotic places. It was easy to forget happiness was within reach when her niece insisted on creating drama at every turn; drama that was somehow, almost always, deadly.
But perhaps this would help Sabrina see. Would open her niece’s eyes to the side of the witching realm that had been hidden to her because she’d been so lost in the darkest parts of it. Lost in the ritualized cannibalism, necromancy and dark devotions. But being a witch was made up of so much more than that.
Life as a witch could, should, be good and happy.
Turning back to Faustus, she handed him the pipe and took a drag of her cigarette—her nicotine chaser as it were. He scoffed good-naturedly at her and took a step closer, so his hip was pressed against her knee where she sat on the bar stool as he took another hit from the hookah.
They were in an afterglow, a happy place actors and producers lived in for a short time after a performance. The place where they broke down the play and discussed what other productions they might be able to put on at the Academy throughout the school year. It was marvelous, this place, especially being in it with Faustus.
Though these past few weeks had been trying, no less stressful than the Fall, Zelda found that there were more things to find happiness in as well. And she’d cling to those things like a lifeline.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
She and Hilda were relaxing in the parlor before bed, chatting about nothing of importance. They’d been doing this more and more; neither one of them where they really wanted to be—Hilda at the bookstore with the mortal she was sweet on and Zelda at Blackwood manor with Faustus and Judas.
But it was nice to spend more time with her sister, even if both their minds were wandering a bit while they talked. Zelda had just gotten up to refresh her glass of whiskey and Hilda’s sherry when Sabrina came home.
Zelda’s brow furrowed. “You’re home early, something happen at the party?” She gave Sabrina a quick assessing look as she handed Hilda her drink, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Mouth tugging to the side, Sabrina shook her head. “No, it was just weird, watching Ambrose make out with Prudence as her sisters felt him up. And with Luke gone, it didn’t seem right.”
“You didn’t have to watch, I’m sure.” Zelda remarked dryly, setting down the bottle of whiskey. “And you must remember, sweetheart, most witches don’t subscribe to monogamy. There are some who do,” her mind flitted to Faustus and the pipe dream that they’d be a monogamous couple one day, shaking her head, she refocused on Sabrina. “But many find their pleasure with who they want, when they want. Luke is gone on a mission for Faustus, I’m sure he’s found someone to warm his bed wherever he is as well.” It was possible, Luke was out tracking the hunters, the Church of Shadows’ representative having lost them in the woods. Though Faustus reassured Zelda there was nothing to fear, she’d added a few extra spells around the house to be safe.
Frowning, Hilda peered at Sabrina. “That’s not what’s really on your mind though, is it love?” She prompted, drawing Zelda’s attention back once more.
Sitting down and pulling off her shoes, Sabrina nodded. “Not the only thing.” She admitted, massaging one foot. “Prudence mentioned they were getting ready for Lupercalia… and she insinuated I knew nothing about it. Trying to embarrass me in front of Nick.”
Eyebrows going up, Zelda cocked her head. “Do you know anything about Lupercalia? Aside from how it coincides with the dreadful mortal Valentine’s Day?” She’d be surprised if Sabrina was familiar with the holiday; she and Hilda hadn’t exposed Sabrina to Lupercalia prior to this, seeing no need to ruffle Sabrina’s moral feathers and scare her away from signing the book. But now that Sabrina signed the Book, was of age, and attending the Academy, there was no need to ‘shelter’ her from the tradition any longer.
Looking up at the ceiling, Sabrina’s lips twisted. “Well, no,” she muttered petulantly, “but I wasn’t going to admit that to Prudence. Or in front of Nick,” she added with a mumble. Bringing her eyes back to them, Sabrina straightened up. “What exactly is Lupercalia, Aunties?”
A smile bloomed on Zelda’s face. This was one tradition even Sabrina would have a hard time looking down upon. “Oh, it’s a lusty, pastoral festival.” Zelda informed her. “Started by the Roman witches under the reign of Caligula.” She settled back into her chair, delicious memories of Lupercalias past washing over her. She went on to explain the origins of the holiday, how it’d been a means to increase health and fertility.
She loved the festival, had since she was a girl, but as a midwife she loved it all the more; even if the purpose had strayed from fertility and babes as Hilda chimed in. Well, failed to chime in, she got most of the way there and then floundered, apparently thinking Sabrina still some wide-eyed babe that had never heard of—
“Sex, Hilda.” A flush crept up her sister’s cheeks as she muttered under her breath. “S-E-X. Sex.” Honestly, Zelda couldn’t be sure if Hilda’s reluctance to speak plainly about the topic was because she’d yet to participate in the act or because she felt compelled to protect Sabrina’s innocence. Well, it was better Sabrina hear it from them then to go to the Academy and be teased mercilessly for her ignorance.
Turning back to Sabrina, Zelda took a sip of her drink. “There will be much fanfare about it at the Academy. Father Blackwood, of course, will be the Master of the Hunt.” And just imagining him back out in the woods during Lupercalia had tendrils of heat shooting through Zelda.
Confusion pinched Sabrina’s features. “So, it’s a hunt?”
And really, it was good Sabrina came to them with these questions, the ridicule she’d endure from her classmates would have been immense. Zelda went on to explain the three events of the festival, more sinful memories coming to mind as she described each one.
Playing with her fingers, Sabrina looked between them. “Is participating in Lupercalia voluntary or mandatory?”
“Voluntary.” Hilda was quick to supply,
Leaning forward, Zelda added. “But everyone does it.” Perhaps Sabrina was apprehensive about joining because she didn’t think many students participated. “Because, again, it’s about—”
Eyes squeezing shut for a moment, Sabrina interrupted her. “Yes, Aunt Zelda, but if I’m not yet actively having S-E-X…”
“What better time to start?” Zelda observed with a slight shrug. All the theatrics of the festival would remove the pressure that so often accompanied one’s first time. If nerves were what held Sabrina back this was the perfect solution. There would be so much going on, so much magic and lust in the air, it would be almost impossible to be nervous about the whole ordeal.
Hilda turned to her then, voice low and hard. “Zelda! How dare you pressure her like that!”
Taken aback, Zelda blinked. “I’m doing nothing of the kind, Hilda.” She retorted, pushing out of her chair to join Sabrina on the couch, ignoring Hilda’s disgruntled, disbelieving noise. “Sabrina, Lupercalia is a symphony of sensuality and pleasure.” Zelda continued, feeling as though she weren’t explaining it well enough. “There is no shame or regret as the False God and your Aunt Hilda would have you believe.”
If Zelda was to be accused of pressuring Sabrina into having sex, then Hilda could be accused of the opposite—shaming Sabrina into denying herself something she wanted out of fear of disapproval.
Lips pressed together in anger; Hilda cut in. “Yes, but if you are not ready yet, my love—"
Baffled by Hilda’s continued opposition, Zelda snapped at her. “She signed her name in the Book of the Beast, Hilda. She’s a young, powerful woman now.”
“Aunt Hilda’s right, Aunt Zee. I don’t know that I am ready.” She shrugged a little. “But I don’t know that I’m not ready either. I just always assumed my first time would be with Harvey… and I’ve come to terms with the fact that that’s not going to happen, which is okay. But if there were with someone I liked and trusted…” Sabrina blushed a little and smiled almost involuntarily.
Recognizing the signs, Zelda leaned in a bit. “You’ve been spending quite a lot of time with that handsome Nicholas Scratch.”
A soft scoff met Zelda’s comment and she turned to look at Hilda expectantly. “Nicholas Scratch, who I trust about as much as I trust a wolf.”
Lifting a brow, Zelda huffed. “Sabrina trusted him enough to go to him about summoning high demons during the Top Boy trials; a reckless endeavor not to be repeated, as we’ve discussed, but nonetheless. He also was the one to teleport her home when she was choking.”
When faced with a few examples, Hilda made a face but stayed silent.
Sabrina just bid them goodnight, claiming she needed to think.
Not wanting to fight with her sister, Zelda finished her drink, grabbed a few books from the library and followed Sabrina upstairs. Knocking gently on the door, Zelda peeked her head in. “Can I talk to you?”
Her niece sat up on her bed, crossed her legs underneath her and nodded.
Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Zelda clasped her hands on top of the books now resting in her lap. “I’m sorry if I was too forward, when we were downstairs, if you felt I was ‘pressuring’ you as your Aunt Hilda said. I…” She shook her head, “I just don’t understand, as Hilda does, waiting once you’ve signed. I was a very different kind of witch than Hilda was when we were at the Academy, my… appetite, I suppose you could say, was much larger and demanding.” Sabrina made a face, but Zelda continued. “I enjoyed Lupercalia each year I participated, thoroughly. And I, I just want you to enjoy our witching traditions as much as you’ve come to enjoy your mortal ones. But if you are not ready to join in Lupercalia, you certainly do not need to.” She reached over and tucked a bit of hair behind Sabrina’s ear. “I was merely trying to give you a good idea as to what Lupercalia is and its wonders, trying to ease your nerves or reservations if there were only a few minor things, possibly perceived shame, holding you back from what you wanted.”
Twisting the blanket in her hands, Sabrina flushed. “Well, I might be ready, like I said. But… I think I’m only ready in regard to a certain person and the idea of being paired with some random warlock…” Her nose scrunched at the idea.
Zelda covered Sabrina’s hand with her own. “If that is your only concern, I know ways to cheat the system.” She winked conspiratorially and her girl giggled. “In my day, I was never paired with someone I did not want to be partnered with. If you decide to participate, you can use,” she opened one of the books in her lap and flipped to the correct page, “this spell. Now, if your lucky warlock feels the same about you, he can say it as well and it will make the spell even stronger—the likelihood of your pairing essentially guaranteed.” She marked the page and shut the book before setting it aside. “Alright?”
A shy smile appeared on Sabrina’s face as she looked at the book, clearly contemplating using the spell. “Alright, Auntie Zee. Thank you.”
“Of course, sweetheart. And if you want to learn more about Lupercalia, are curious,” she intoned a little, making Sabrina smile. “This book,” she ran her hands over the red cover, “will tell you all you need to know about the rituals. The events don’t start for two more days, so there’s no need to rush any decisions. If you do have questions, concerns, please, come to either your Aunt Hilda or I, whichever of us makes you more comfortable.”
Sabrina took the book and nodded. “I will, Aunt Zelda, thank you for being so understanding.”
Standing, Zelda kissed her girl’s forehead. “Always, darling, damned dreams.”
“Damned dreams, Auntie.” Sabrina replied, already opening the Lupercalia book.
Suppressing a smile, Zelda left and shut the door quietly behind her.
Hilda was waiting for her in their room. She held up a hand before her sister could start. “I wasn’t trying to pressure her, Hilda.” Zelda murmured emphatically, still a bit hurt by her sister’s accusation. “I just, what if she is more like me in this than she is like you?” Running her hands through her hair, Zelda sat down at her vanity. “She needs all the facts, needs to know all her options. I was trying to give them to her.”
“Zelds—”
“I wasn’t forcing her to do anything!” She interrupted, voice cracking a bit, hating the idea that Hilda thought she would hurt Sabrina because of tradition. If nothing else, her sister should know by now that Zelda would do anything to protect Sabrina.
A soft hand landed on her shoulder. “I know.” Hilda breathed, sitting on Zelda’s bed so that when she turned on her stool, they were only a foot apart. “I didn’t, just based on her body language, it didn’t seem like she wanted to and the way you were talking….”
Sniffing, Zelda ran her tongue over her teeth and dropped her eyes to her lap for a moment and then brought them back up defiantly. “She shouldn’t feel ashamed of sex, Hilda. Wanting it, having it.”
The corner of Hilda’s mouth twitched up. “For not having it.” She added gently.
“That’s not what I, I certainly wasn’t inferring—" She stumbled over her words.
Thankfully, Hilda reached across the space between them and squeezed her hand. “I know.” She repeated. “I think we made a bit of a mess concerning the S-E-X talk, didn’t we?”
Chuckling, Zelda squeezed Hilda’s hand once and turned back to her vanity to get ready for bed. “I gave Sabrina the sex talk when she turned thirteen, the birds and the bees and what not. But this, yes, yes, we did. Though I think I salvaged it a bit when I gave her the Lupercalia books.”
Hilda stood and headed to her vanity to get ready for bed. “Well, all we can do is support her in whatever she chooses.”
She hummed in agreement, lotioning her hands. “And what do you choose, sister?”
Glancing over her shoulder, Hilda furrowed her brow as she removed her earrings. “What?”
“You cannot carry on this way with the vampire trash-peddler.” She stood and started to take the decorative pillows off her bed. “Either you go and make a stand, demand more shifts if that’s what you want and claim what is yours. Or,” she lifted a brow, pulling back her blankets, “you forget him and find something more worthy of your talents and interests.”
A harrumph left Hilda as she climbed into bed as well. “And have you made a choice when it comes to Faustus?” She demanded, clearly trying to change the subject, though Zelda didn’t miss how she blushed.
Settling comfortably into her bed, Zelda arched a brow. “I have, actually.” She replied smugly. “I’ve laid out Faustus’ options and am waiting to his decision.”
Her sister made a face. “That’s not you making a choice, that’s forcing Faustus to do it for you.”
Zelda chuckled and reached over to turn off her lamp. “It’s a choice when I knew what his decision would be before I even offered it to him.” A small noise emanated from the back of Hilda’s throat at her reply. “You can do the same. Make an advance on this mortal, he did not turn you away before. Make it seem like you’re giving him a choice when, really, you’re just laying the groundwork for the future.”
A distracted hum was all Zelda received in return and she could tell Hilda was already coming up with a plan. Smiling to herself, Zelda rolled over and went to bed.
The next morning at the Academy, Zelda admired the decorations that had gone up around the school in preparation of Lupercalia. When she asked her students what they thought of the evolution of the festival, all she received were blank stares.
Stunned, Zelda made a beeline for Faustus’ office once the class was over and her free period began. Striding into his office, she threw up her hands. “I just mentioned the origins of Lupercalia to my class and they looked at me as if I’d grown another head. How is it they do not know the purpose of the holiday?” She demanded, not even greeting Faustus. He opened his mouth in confusion, but Zelda plowed ahead. “Fertility, health and family. That’s what Lupercalia was about. There are covens in Europe that still honor some of the traditions. Oh, how I was swamped as a midwife this time of year with potions, spells and charms to add on top of the magic already in the air. It’s shameful, frankly, that the younger generations only equate the holiday with sex.” She was pacing his office now, hardly looking at Faustus where he was still sitting behind his desk. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind the evolution, but they should still know their history, the past of the tradi—" She stopped her rant when she caught sight the small smile on his face. “What? What is so amusing?”
Pressing his lips together, Faustus ducked his head to try and hide how his smile widened. “Would you like to hold a special seminar about Lupercalia? To make up for this woeful oversight in our students’ education.”
Zelda narrowed her eyes at him, but he wasn’t teasing her. Clearing her throat, Zelda straightened her shoulders. “Actually, I would. I would like that very much.” She stated with as much dignity as she could muster—as though she hadn’t just burst in here raving about the loss of their history.
With a slight incline of his head, Faustus wrote a few quick notes and held out the paper to her. “You’ll have to come up with something quickly, the ceremony starts in tomorrow. Gather what materials you need, tell me how much time you would like for this seminar and I’ll make an announcement tomorrow morning. How’s that?”
Very pleased, Zelda smiled. “Perfect. Thank you, Faustus.” She nodded at him and then left, hurrying back to her office, certain she could come up with something during her planning period.
To Zelda’s surprise, a majority of the students attended her seminar the next morning. They were captivated, looking at the pictures she passed around, asking questions and laughing whenever she made a joke. It was invigorating, Satan, Zelda had forgotten how much she loved teaching.
When she finished, having run a bit over due to the number of questions, Zelda was confused to see Prudence still hovering in the room. “Shouldn’t you be getting to the main hall? The Matching will be starting in about ten minutes, unless you no longer intend to participate?”
Coming forward, Prudence leaned a hip against Zelda’s desk. “I do. I just,” she paused a moment and then launched into a number of in-depth questions, concerning not only Lupercalia but also midwifery.
Lips curling into a smile, Zelda looked at the young witch before her closely. “Prudence, are, are you interested in becoming a midwife?”
Prudence paled a bit. “No. Of course not, such a soft topic...” She scoffed and looked around to see if anyone overheard Zelda’s question.
She arched a brow. “A soft topic, is it? Is it such a soft field that only one in three apprentices become a fully-fledged midwife? Is it so soft when there is a curse upon a family so every child is a stillborn, and you have to break it before the child is due? Is it so soft when the mother defies your orders and travels to see her sister anyway and you are forced to deliver a child of night in Salem, Massachusetts during the witch trials?” Prudence’s eyes go round, giving the girl a pointed look, Zelda tapped the desk with a finger. “It may not be demonology or necromancy, but midwifery is no easy magic, no back up plan should others fall through.”
“Did those things really happen?” Prudence breathed, clearly eager to hear more.
Smirking, Zelda waved a hand and all the photos passed around during class flew to the front and landed on her desk in a neat pile. “Those are some of my tamer stories. But it only worked out because I was prepared and knew my higher, more difficult magic, in addition to midwifery that those women and their babes survived. In all my decades as a midwife, I never lost a child.”Prudence looked at her in poorly veiled awe.
Packing up her materials, Zelda moved to leave the room. “When you decide to start pursuing what you want instead of what you think you should, let me know. I’ve considered reopening my practice and having an apprentice would be immensely helpful.” “An, an apprenticeship?” Prudence murmured, smiling a bit. Zelda nodded. “Yes, you proved yourself quite competent with the late Lady Blackwood; and that was without any sort of warning or training. I’m intrigued about what you could accomplish with some mentoring.” A rare, wide smile spread across Prudence’s cheeks, one she quickly tried to hide by ducking her head. “I will think about your offer, Professor Spellman.” She replied diplomatically.
“Do. I don’t make it lightly. Now,” she directed Prudence to the door, “we must be on our way or you’ll miss the Matching.”
They walked down the hall together, Zelda depositing her things in her office on the way, only splitting when they reached the main hall. She was delighted, and more than a bit surprised to see Sabrina milling about with the other students. When they made eye contact, Zelda lifted a questioning brow. Sabrina’s eyes flickered to where Nicholas was standing and then back to Zelda, she bit her lip to contain a smile and shrugged a little. Huffing in amusement, Zelda winked at Sabrina and then made her way up the stairs to watch from above, lighting a cigarette as she went; Faustus was already there. “Oh, Lupercalia.” She murmured, joining him the railing. “It gets the blood pumping in ways our other, more staid traditions simply do not.”Shifting his weight, Faustus turned to look at her. “Indeed, it does. Why, you yourself look a good 70 years younger, Zelda.” His eyes swept over her hungrily. “Glowing. Radiant…. Fecund.” And oh, how his voice did things to her. Zelda wished she could blame the Lupercalian air, the magic already seeping into it now that the holiday had officially arrived; but she would be lying to herself—his voice always affected her this way.
Doing her best not to let an innuendo slip from her lips, Zelda took a drag of nicotine to steady herself. “We should get down to business, don’t you think, your excellency?” She emphasized his title, not so subtly reminding him of their standoff.
He looked at her for another moment, his hand twitching on the railing as though he wished to touch her, before he turned to face the crowd gathered below them. “Welcome, one and all, to Lupercalia, the Festival of the Wolves.” And so, the ceremony began. As the girls spun around the pole, the ribbons twining gracefully with them as the music played, Faustus turned to her once more. And though Zelda kept her gaze resolutely on the dance below, on Sabrina, she could feel Faustus’ eyes caressing her, Satan, it was tormenting in the most hellishly delicious way. When Sabrina bested Dorcas, ending up in Nicholas’ lap, Zelda smirked proudly and Faustus chuckled. “Like niece, like aunt.” He purred in her ear, his hand brushing against her hip so lightly Zelda wasn’t sure if she imagined it or not. “I recall similar trickery during your time at the Academy.”
Turning her head just enough to peek at him from the corner of her eye, Zelda took another draw from her cigarette. “Hmm, I have similar memories, though what I don’t recall is the warlock whose lap I ended up in complaining.” She pivoted, a tiny bit more, and gave Faustus a once over. Grinning wickedly, Faustus moved past her to the stairs; stopping when he reached the first one. “Sister Zelda, I could use assistance at the Courting tonight. We have an unusually large number of students participating this year, another chaperone would be ideal.” Zelda suppressed a smile. “Be the Madam to your Master of Hunt?” She inhaled deeply and licked her lips, relishing in the way Faustus’ eyes zeroed in on the action. “I suppose I should be there… for Sabrina’s sake.” She added, breezing past him and not looking back.“Aunt Zelda,” Sabrina peeked her head into Zelda’s bedroom where she was touching up her lipstick before heading to the Courting. Lifting her eyes so she could meet her niece’s in the mirror, Zelda lifted a brow. “Yes, sweetheart?” When Sabrina entered the room and shut the door behind her, Zelda turned to face her. “Is something wrong? Have you changed your mind? Because that it perfectly accept—”Sabrina waved her hands. “No, Auntie, it’s not that. I,” she blushed and sat on the edge of Zelda’s bed. “I read the Lupercalia book, and I know what will happen tonight. How we’re supposed to… disrobe,” the red in her cheeks deepened, “and anoint one another.” She nodded encouragingly when Sabrina glanced up at her. Heaving a deep sigh, Sabrina looked up at the ceiling, not saying anything for so long Zelda wondered once more if she’d changed her mind about the whole thing. “What, what do I wear?” She blurted out suddenly, the blush now extending from her cheeks and down her neck. Zelda held back her laugh at her niece’s apparent anguish; she’d been much the same her first Lupercalia. Standing, Zelda took Sabrina’s hands and led her back to her bedroom. “Let’s see if we can upgrade something you already own for tonight and we’ll go shopping tomorrow before the Hunt.” Together they came up with something relatively modest, as far as lingerie went, Sabrina grinning widely when she tried it on. “Do you think Nick will like it?” She asked anxiously, turning away from the mirror and pulling her robe back on.“If he doesn’t then you’ll have helped him realize he prefers warlocks.” Zelda quipped dryly, fussing with Sabrina’s hair when the girl sat next to her on the bed. This spurred a laugh from Sabrina, and she rested her head on Zelda’s shoulder. “Thank you, Auntie Zee. I know this was an unusual request.”Wrapping an arm around Sabrina, Zelda kissed the top of her head. “Nonsense, every witch has to go somewhere to get her lingerie collection started. Abigail helped me.” She offered, remembering how her friend had lounged on a chaise in the store, popping chocolates into her mouth as she dismissed one set after another; claiming herself an expert since she fancied witches more than warlocks. Sabrina laughed again and straightened up. “I’m a bit nervous.” She admitted, playing with the tie on her robe. “Well, that’s to be expected.” Zelda soothed, stilling her niece’s anxious movements. “Are you excited though? Looking forward to it?” When Sabrina nodded, Zelda smiled. “Good, that is what matters. Now, remember, tonight is about being intimate with one another without actually having S-E-X.” She winked and Sabrina rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “So, observe the unholy abstinence, get closer to your Mr. Scratch and if he doesn’t respect you… curse his cock off.” “Aunt Zelda!” Sabrina exclaimed, half scandalized, half amused. She shrugged and stood up. “If you want, I can teleport us to the edge of the woods together. Travel most of the way there but arrive separately. Not exactly the highest of fashion to show up at a Lupercalian event with one’s aunt on their heels.” Tilting her head in agreement, Sabrina declined her offer to travel even part of the way together. “I’ll make my way over. Don’t worry, Auntie Zee.” She kissed Zelda’s cheek and then went to the bathroom to finish getting ready. Zelda took her cue and went back to her room to finish getting ready as well. Not that she should be putting in much effort, this wasn’t like Lupercalias of the past, she couldn’t lose herself in Faustus. Despite her assertion that she and Faustus would remain professional, Zelda adjusted the strap of her garter one last time before teleporting to the woods; it never hurt to be prepared. The air was crisp when she arrived, Faustus already there and double checking the baskets all had the necessary items for the ritual; milk, blood, oysters and figs along with other snacks. As if sensing her presence, Faustus glanced over his shoulder as she approached him. “Zelda,” he beamed, “what a glorious night for Lupercalia.” He stood, inhaling deeply and looking at the sky. “Not a cloud to be seen and a day away from the full moon. The Dark Lord has blessed us.” Zelda’s gaze followed his, it was a beautiful night. Sabrina was lucky to have such weather on her first Lupercalia; it very easily could have snowed. Though snow wasn’t always a bad thing, it had made for a rather quick hunt her third year, the footprints on the ground leading her straight to Faustus despite his attempts to throw her off by circling back. Besides, the rather fervent activities that followed her catch melted the snow quick enough. When she brought her eyes back down, Zelda’s mouth went dry. Faustus had closed the distance between them while she was lost in the stars and memories. Swallowing, Zelda held her ground. “Is there something I can do for you, Master?” She drew out his title for the night, and there was still enough light that she could tell his eyes darkened with lust at moniker. He appeared as though he wanted to eat her alive, and the corresponding shivers racing down Zelda’s back unnecessarily told her that she’d rather enjoy it if he did. Before Faustus could respond, though, students started to materialize, chatting excitedly, hands already starting to wander, eliciting gasps of delight. Cocking a brow, Faustus stepped back and gripped his cane a bit tighter as he welcomed the students and asked them to form several orderly lines, standing with their partner. Once everyone arrived, Ambrose got the event underway, using his usual flair to entertain his fellow students. Before he blew the horn, Faustus stepped forward. “A word or two of caution. Each couple must stay together the entire night. And above all, do not stray from the path.” He looked over the group, making eye contact with each pair to ensure they understood. “All manner of lust-filled creatures stalk the woods during Lupercalia. Now,” he smiled at them, “with the Dark Lord’s blessing, let the Courting begin.”Ambrose happily blew the horn and the students were off. As they disappeared, Zelda did her best not to be too obvious in how she tracked Sabrina and Nicholas’ path with her eyes. She couldn’t help it, though she knew her girl would be alright it was a bit hard to watch her run off into the dark woods knowing dangerous creatures lurked there. Satan in Hell, is, is that how Edward felt? Watching Zelda frolic away every Lupercalia? Horrified by the potential parallels, Zelda turned away from the group and walked a few paces. She was concerned about actual beasts, while Edward had been concerned about another type of animal entirely—the human male.No, Zelda shook her head minutely, she and Edward were nothing alike in this; she’d encouraged Sabrina to follow her own instincts and heart—Edward, he’d have chained the poor girl in the morgue until Lupercalia was over. She had no worries about Sabrina’s partner. Nicholas seemed to be a good young man and if he suddenly revealed another side tonight Sabrina would hold her own and Zelda would finish the job later. Her thoughts were distracted when she noticed another basket sitting on the ground. Frowning, she peered around but of the students she could still see, each pair had a basket with them. A smile curled her lips, had he really? Picking up the basket, Zelda turned to face the warlock in question. “Someone must have miscounted.” She drawled, holding up the basket for him to see. “There was an extra anointment basket prepared.”“Shame to let it go to waste.” He murmured, and how he sounded so nonchalant Zelda did not know, for she knew for a fact this was no accident.Lifting her eyebrows once, Zelda hung the basket on her arm and headed in the opposite direction of all the students; already off the path. When she glanced over her shoulder, she was happy to see Faustus picking up his speed a bit to catch her. Faustus slipped an arm around her waist and suddenly Zelda regretted wearing her fur, she couldn’t feel the weight of his arm nearly as much as she wanted to. “Ms. Spellman,” he intoned, anchoring her deliciously to his side. “Breaking the rules already?” “Merely ensure we’re not interrupted, Mr. Blackwood.” She replied, steering them a bit deeper into the woods before stopping. Ever playing the part of a gentleman, though Zelda had known better for decades now, Faustus took the basket from her and spread of the blanket for them to lay on. It was tempting fate, to be doing this with him. Zelda knew where the night would lead, knew it would be flaunting the boundary she had set and not just toeing it. But she couldn’t find it in herself to care.Perhaps it was the nostalgia, the magic filtering in the air because of Lupercalia… perhaps it was because she’d grown tired of holding him at arms-length when for nearly two months they’d been closer than ever before. Regardless of the reasons, Zelda settled down next to Faustus, only a small distance separating them. She could practically see the tension between them and oh how she wanted to cut it. Faustus breached the neutral zone between them first, gently tucking a strand of hair the wind had caught behind her ear. “I’m pleased to be in these woods with you again, Zels.” He breathed, his hand dropping to her hip and stroking up and down along her side. “Though it violates the terms you set… that we keep our relations professional.” She found it a bit hard to concentrate, wishing there were fewer layers between them. Heaven, when had she become so desperate she couldn’t go more than a week without sex? Grateful her exterior didn’t reveal how worked up inside she was, Zelda tilted her head. “It is Lupercalia,” she stated, as though to tell him that was the only reason she was violating her own terms. “One night of carnality won’t kill us.” Perking up at her words, Faustus grinned. “No. I shouldn’t think it would.” His mouth descended upon hers and Zelda sunk into the kiss, happily letting Faustus press her back onto the blanket while his hands slid underneath her coat. Small moans emanated from them both as the kiss deepened and Zelda arched her back to feel more of Faustus against her. Satan, she’d missed this, missed him. Removing her gloves, Zelda wove her fingers into his hair, pulling him in closer and tugging him away in equal measures. They’d barely gotten started; she’d rather looked forward to anointing one another—hands and lips lazily roaming where they shouldn’t as they smeared blood and milk on their foreheads before ignoring the suggested unholy abstinence—when a howl sounded. And then sounded again. And again. Breaking apart, they shared a look. “There aren’t usually wolves this close to town.” She observed, propping herself up as Faustus did the same. “Wolves aren’t one of the creatures the area is prepared to keep out, are they?” She asked, though she already knew the answer. “No,” Faustus muttered, already standing and helping Zelda to her feet. “I have to go and gather my Judas boys, sweep the perimeter and put up additional spells.” He waved a hand and their basket was packed and suddenly hanging from her arm. “Do me a favor and make sure all the students are heading back. I don’t want some foolhardy, lust mad pair getting mauled by a pack of wolves because they thought themselves invincible.” One of the reasons it was so important to stay on the path was because days before the celebration Faustus and several acolytes went through the woods putting up protective boundaries, he hadn’t been exaggerating when he claimed lust-filled creatures stalked through the woods this time of year. But wolves, wolves weren’t one of the creatures that could be kept out with these spells. And seeing as how they shouldn’t have been this close to town in the first place, no additional spells had been placed to deter them. Zelda nodded and made to leave when Faustus tugged her back into him; his lips capturing hers in a heated kiss. “To be continued tomorrow, Madam of the Hunt?” He quirked a brow and Zelda chuckled.Repeating her logic from before, Zelda stole another kiss. “It is Lupercalia.” Faustus smirked and winked out of sight. Carefully making her way back to the clearing where they’d started, Zelda made sure to tell any students she saw to head back to the Academy or go home. Most were on their way already, shaken by the closeness of the howls. When she was certain all the students were accounted for, having cast several spells to be sure, Zelda teleported home as well. She found Sabrina in the foyer, smiling at the closed front door. “I take it even though your night was interrupted that you enjoyed yourself?” Zelda crossed her arms and leaned on the door jam across from her niece.Sighing happily, Sabrina nodded. “It was, it was actually really nice. I had a great time and,” she finally faced Zelda, “Nick and I are going to Baxter High’s dance in a little bit. He wants to get to know my mortal side.” Sabrina swayed a little side to side, playing with the necklace Zelda had given her. Her girl was practically glowing, Zelda beamed at her, happy to see her happy. And happy it was with a warlock this time. “Have a good night,” Zelda squeezed her arm, “I’m glad this wolf business hasn’t spoiled it.” Rubbing Sabrina’s arm, Zelda made for the steps, already planning to sneak into the extra bedroom later tonight to finish what had barely gotten started with Faustus. Normally, she would have teleported to his house, appearing suddenly in his bed in only a corset and matching lace panties to handle the unsated ache between her thighs, claiming he’d said they had to stay with their partner all night and she was only obeying orders. But she had no idea how long Faustus would take to reinforce the clearing for the Hunt tomorrow and she refused to wait an undetermined amount of time for him when her toys would suffice. Only, as Zelda approached her room, she heard what sounded like… crying?Hurrying in, she found Hilda sitting on the edge of her bed trying to suppress tears. “Good grief. Hilda, what’s the matter?” She rounded the bed and came to a stop in front of her sister.In short bursts, Hilda explained that she’d made her choice, had gone after Dr. Cerberus, even done the mortal thing of asking him to be her valentine… only to be rejected. “He didn’t want me.” Hilda managed in a wobbling voice between small gasps, fresh tears trekking down her cheeks. Though Zelda’s first instinct was to go and rip this mortal to shreds for hurting her little sister, she shoved that down and grasped Hilda by the shoulders. “Now, sister, compose yourself.” She ordered sternly, knowing if she coddled Hilda would only curl up under the covers and cry herself to sleep. This required a different approach. “You, Hildegard Spellman, are no ordinary woman to be brushed aside like ashes from yesterday’s Sabbath pyre. You, Hilda, are a huntress.” Face scrunching further in confusion, Hilda took several shuddering breaths. “I don’t know, if, if you’re teasing me, but I can’t take it.” And it was her failure as a sister that Hilda’s first thought was that she was teasing her. Stepping closer, Zelda placed a comforting hand on Hilda’s shoulder. “I’m not teasing you; I’m encouraging you. Make this glorified carny you’re sweet on feverish with lust. Seduce him.” She intoned, wrinkling her nose playfully. “Put on the glamour of a century, march into that store and claim what’s yours.”She shouldn’t be encouraging this, this relationship with a mortal. It had already pushed Hilda to tears and it would only cause more in the long run; when her sister was forced to end it least she reveal they were witches, or when the man died. But Zelda couldn’t stand to see Hilda in such a miserable state, especially when, from all she’d heard, this mortal returned her sister’s affections. No, he was holding back for some Satan forsaken reason, all he needed was a little… push. The pep talk had the desired effect, and once Hilda lifted herself up off the floor, Zelda ushered her to the closet. It appeared she’d be helping with another makeover tonight. When Hilda emerged from the closet once more, Zelda having vetoed her first choice because it was one of her everyday dresses, she spread her hands out. “What about this?” She spun slowly, letting Zelda get the full view of the low-cut, form-fitting leopard print dress.“Stunning. Bold. And very you.” She beamed, standing and smoothing out a few wrinkles and tucking the tag in. “Very me?” Hilda squeaked in surprise, “oh, I don’t think—”Catching her sister’s chin in her hand, Zelda lifted it until their eyes met. “Anything you wear is very you, Hildegard. You just have to like it and be comfortable and confident enough in your own skin to own it.” Hilda blushed and smiled shyly at her. Before she could respond with something soft and gooey, Zelda gave the dress another look. “How long have you had this, Hilda? And why hasn’t it made an appearance until now?” The blush deepened. “It made an appearance.” And when Zelda looked at her skeptically, Hilda brushed past her and sat down at her vanity. “Once.” “Oh, I will get that story out of you,” Zelda chuckled, coming to stand behind her sister. “But that is for another time. Now,” she leaned over so her face was right next to Hilda’s as they looked in the mirror, “you have to tell me what you want to do with your hair.” Hilda, Sabrina and Nicholas all waltzed out of the house, dressed to the nines. Once they where gone, Ambrose turned to her, eyes wide.“What did you do to her?” He grinned, looping his arm through hers and leading Zelda back to the kitchen where she’d just given Hilda a shot of liquid courage before shepherding her out the door. Pouring them each a glass as well, Zelda smirked. “Nothing. Just brought out what was already there. Hilda can sometimes forget she’s a powerful huntress. I just helped remind her.” She cocked a brow and took a drink. Ambrose lifted in own glass in a toast. “To huntresses.” He declared, knocking back his drink and refilling his glass and topping Zelda’s off. “Speaking of huntresses,” Zelda murmured, leaning against the counter. “How is yours?”A look of completely fake innocence settled on her nephew’s face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Snorting, Zelda shook her head. “Please, as if you and Prudence are subtle.”Brow lifting in challenge, Ambrose spoke over the rim of his glass. “And you and Father Blackwood are?” The comment had Zelda choking on the sip she’d just taken. Laughing, Ambrose patted her on the back to help clear her throat. “I’m teasing, Auntie, though you two are far from inconspicuous.” “Hopefully that won’t matter for much longer.” She mumbled, taking another drink. Ambrose’s eyes snapped to her. “What?!”Blinking at him, Zelda smirked. “What, what?”Shaking his head, Ambrose rounded the counter and stood in front of her. “No, no, no. You don’t get to do that. Auntie Zee, I though we were close. Two peas in a pod, two demons in Hell, two—”A bark of laughter escaped her, “how many drinks did you have before this one?” She teased, clinking her glass to his in emphasis. “That has no relevance to this conversation. Though it may have been a few, I needed something to calm me down after my interrupted,” he cleared his throat and adjusted the front of his robe, “unholy abstinence.” Laughing harder, Zelda topped off their drinks once more. “Two demons in Hell, indeed.” She didn’t see Hilda the next morning, while surprising, Zelda couldn’t help but feel a little proud of her sister; the night must have gone far better than anticipated. Keeping with the theme of surprises, Faustus called not much later, asking her to stop by the Academy. The best Zelda could guess, he wanted to discuss the extra safety precautions they’d put into place for the Hunt happening later that night. It was a Saturday, after all, and if it’d been anything to do with teaching he certainly could have waited until Monday. Despite this rational part of her brain, Zelda couldn’t help the small part of her hoping this meeting might be more… personal, in nature. Zelda strode into his office an hour later, trying to keep her expectations in check. “You summoned me, Faustus?”Standing, Faustus nodded. “I did.” He cleared his throat. “As you well know, since Constance’s death, I have been reluctant to make our relationship ‘official’, as you put it.” Her heart swooped; he’d finally come to the only reasonable conclusion—naming them a couple in front of the coven. Zelda controlled her expression though, and merely inclined her head; forcing herself to focus on the rest of the words coming out of his mouth. “Partly because my marriage to Constance… drained me.” She couldn’t hold back her scoff. “I would hardly be a burden to you, Faustus.” It rankled her a bit that he thought she might. “If anything, I could help you realize your ambitions as High Priest. As I did for Edward when he was High Priest.” Honestly, she knew Faustus was intelligent, obnoxiously so at times, how could he be so dense when it came to this? Turning on her heel, Zelda made to leave. This wasn’t the outcome she’d been expecting. She never would have pushed had she even an inkling Faustus would deny her. Something was better than nothing, despite what she’d told herself to boost her courage to take this step. “That’s the other source of my reluctance.” His voice made her pause, but Zelda didn’t turn back around. “When we were at the Academy, Zelda, when I was mentor to Edward and he my protégé…. I confided in him that I planned to ask for your hand in marriage... and your brother… he, um,” Faustus chuckled in a self-deprecating manner. “He rebuked me.” No. Zelda’s mind spun, that couldn’t be right. Edward never mentioned, never even gave a hint that Faustus wanted to marry her. But then again, neither had Faustus. She would have said yes. Back in the Academy days when things had been so clear, so simple. When she’d had both of her brothers, her unwavering faith, and love for her brother’s mentor. She wouldn’t have hesitated. Why? Why had Edward stolen that from her? Pivoting slowly, Zelda faced Faustus once more, still unable to comprehend what he was telling her; unable to wrap her head around how different her life could have been. What kind of ripple effects had Edward set in motion the day he rebuked Faustus? “Edward, he, he rebuked you?” She managed, walking forward a bit shakily. Faustus nodded reluctantly. “And I confess, I have felt his… specter hovering over us, even in the woods last night. But this morning, after my… prayers and reflection, I had a revelation from the Dark Lord.” Zelda watched him, a bit perplexed, as he rounded his desk and reached for a small box. “This revelation, it said that the time for us, has come.” Drawn to him, Zelda closed the distance between them; heart thundering in her chest. Carefully taking the box from him, Zelda flipped the lid open with trembling fingers. “Turtle-dove hearts,” she breathed. A stunned smile spread across her lips. “Faustus,” she murmured, “you’re proposing marriage?”When she asked for something official, she hadn’t anticipated this, hadn’t anticipated such a step. She thought he might make some gesture after Black Mass, an arm around her waist, a hand on the small of her back—something subtle to tell the rest of the coven they were together and shut Shirley Jackson up once and for all. But this, she swallowed down her excitement, this was unprecedented. And where before she ran from the idea, all those years ago, afraid what would happen should she accept, Zelda found she couldn’t deny herself the opportunity to marry Faustus again. “It is the Dark Lord’s will.” Faustus replied, watching her carefully. “We both know it. Perhaps it has always been so.”She quickly schooled her expression, not wanting to appear too eager. “The Dark Lord notwithstanding, I shall consider your proposal...” Zelda snapped the lid shut, “and get back to you.” Pressing her lips together to hide another smile, Zelda left his office at a deliberately slow speed only to teleport home as soon as she was out of sight. Faustus resisted the urge to pull Zelda back and demand an answer immediately. He made her wait; letting what he thought was an acceptable amount of time pass—to make it appear as if the proposal was well thought out, every angle considered, even the Dark Lord’s thoughts taken into account before he decided to ask. Yes, he made her wait, and now it was his turn. Sitting back down behind his desk, Faustus ran a hand through his hair, wondering if he’d taken it a bit too far. Naming Edward as a reason for his hesitation made sense, given their history—which had stunned Zelda, he could tell from the way her body stiffened she’d never known about his initial proposal. That comforted him, far more than he thought possible, told him that if they’d just gotten their timing right the first time so much could have changed. It didn’t matter now. The past couldn’t be altered. Though perhaps they could make up for it with this marriage. One that would have Edward rolling in his watery grave if he ever somehow found out.No, it wasn’t that he told Zelda the truth about what almost was that had been a bit much…. What might have been over the top was claiming Edward’s specter was haunting him. If his former protégé had the ability Faustus would be sorely disappointed if now was the time Edward chose to use it. There had been so many more pressing matters where Edward could, should, have intervened if he had ghostly abilities; Zelda’s love life hardly ranked top among them. But it didn’t hurt, to add a bit of flair to his explanation for the wait. Just to be sure though, that he hadn’t tipped the scales, hadn’t given Zelda more power over him; Faustus stated the Dark Lord willed it. It was a good excuse, for why he was suggesting marriage when all Zelda asked for was public acknowledgement. It was a good cover. He wasn’t proposing because he wanted to marry her—had for decades—no, he was proposing because the Dark Lord willed it. It was possibly one of the biggest lies Faustus ever told; aside from hiding Leticia’s existence. But Satan wasn’t all-seeing, which had allowed them to hide the babe; which would allow him to get away with claiming their marriage was His will. Unless the Dark Lord were watching over them in that exact moment, He’d never know. And Faustus doubted the Beast had been paying any attention to them; their relationship inconsequential to Him. Not that it mattered; the Dark Lord’s approval. Likely He didn’t care one way or the other about today’s proposal. In any case, though, Faustus couldn’t help but think he’d ignore Satan’s will if it opposed the marriage. Wondering how long Zelda might make him wait, Faustus poured himself a glass of scotch. Knowing her, she’d make him squirm, draw it out as long as she could. So, it was best he try and put it from his mind, best to just drink and try to review the updates they made to the clearing in the woods for tomorrow’s Hunt. Zelda stayed on the porch for a while, after teleporting home. Just holding the box of turtle-dove hearts to her chest, the smile she’d forced into submission before now blazing on her lips. He wanted marriage. Marriage. That combined with the conversation she’d stolen from his mind the night the twins were born.... Was it possible he loved her as well? The thought snapped Zelda out of her daydreams, foolish girl, she scolded herself, walking into the house. Love was for mortals... and weak witches apparently, if her own feelings were any indicator. No, Faustus didn’t love her. He lusted for her, wanted her by his side, relied on her advice... she’d venture to even say that he needed her. And that was a lot. It would be enough. To be with him as his wife, even if he didn’t love her the same.And though Zelda knew she should play down her exhilaration, should let this proposal sit, simmer, for a few days so she could collect herself—she’d been entirely unprepared for the suggestion of marriage—the moment she saw Hilda in the parlor, Zelda couldn’t help herself. Dropping the open box onto Hilda’s lap, Zelda cleared her throat. “Faustus has proposed,” she managed evenly.When Hilda’s face lit up, though, a high-pitched, “what?” coming out, Zelda rounded the couch to pour herself a drink; hoping to hide her excitement as well as blame the alcohol for the color in her cheeks. “What? He did not! He did not! Zelda!” Her sister’s enthusiasm was precisely what she hoped for, the outward expression of everything Zelda was forcing herself to contain—for fear if she let it show this would all somehow be snatched away.Shifting on the couch and going onto her knees so she could face Zelda, Hilda was practically bouncing. “I thought I had news. But this—” She beamed and shook her head a bit. “You’re gonna get married to a High Priest! Oh, that means a Black Wedding. And I can bake!” Hilda continued to talk herself up, and Zelda let her, happy that one of them could be so free with their emotions. “Are you ecstatic?” Her sister prompted, biting her lip and wiggling her brows.“Ecstatic?”Face falling a bit, Hilda blinked. “You don’t seem ecstatic.”Forcing herself to remain calm, Zelda handed Hilda a drink and poured one for herself. “I’m very pleased, yes.” Zelda couldn’t allow herself to be ‘ecstatic’; not again. She’d been ‘ecstatic’ about Sabrina’s Dark Baptism, thinking it’d finally lift the price Edward had assigned the girl at birth; that all blew up in her face and led to a series of dangerous events. She’d been ‘ecstatic’ to have so deftly handled a sleep demon only for Batibat to torment them all and nearly kill her family. She had been ‘ecstatic’ when she was Leticia’s mother; only to have her girl ripped away. Zelda had been ‘ecstatic’ Sabrina wanted to attend the Academy full time, only for it to end in the summoning of three high demons at the risk of the entire student body.No. Ecstatic was not a safe emotion for Zelda to have. Because as with all extremes, it had an opposite. And Zelda found that her moments of ecstasy were often brief and far between while the despair that followed lingered like a bad smell. So, perhaps if she downplayed this one the inevitable fallout would not be as devastating. Still coming to terms with Zelda’s limited response, Hilda cocked her head. “So… do you not love him? Throat going dry at how flippantly her sister said such things aloud, Zelda paled. “No, Hilda. I don’t love Faustus.” And Hilda's expression told Zelda her sister didn’t believe her for a second. But she couldn’t admit love, not to anyone but herself, not when Faustus couldn’t feel the same. Never one to let things lie, Hilda shifted on the couch to make room for Zelda. “Bit lost now.” She remarked pointedly, clearly expecting Zelda to elaborate once she sat. “I…” Zelda paused, trying to find an appropriately neutral word. “I respect him.” There, respect was acceptable, respect was easy to grasp and explain… unlike other feelings. “I am going to accept his proposal.” Her stomach swooped at finally verbalizing what she decided the second he offered her the box. “But not for love.” Hilda made a disbelieving noise but held her tongue otherwise, taking a drink instead. Unnerved by how easily her sister could read her, Zelda pushed on nonetheless, at least if she denied it out loud, she could say she tried. “I’ll marry him for power.” There a fitting motivation. No one could deny Zelda’s ambition. Her desire to rise within any and all ranks. Yes, no one would be able to deny it if she said she was marrying Faustus for power. At Hilda’s continued skepticism, Zelda caved, just a bit, trying to satisfy her sister’s curiosity and to get her off her back.“Faustus and I are well-suited. He’ll make a worthy opponent in marriage.” Just as he’d made a worthy opponent in all things. Though the game was changing, they were still the players, and she and Faustus knew one another intimately enough to keep things interesting. “And by his side, I’ll bolster him. As well as restore our family’s luster and glory.” Shaking her head in disbelief, Hilda huffed. “What changed, then?” Zelda hummed in confusion, taking a drink. “From before. I know he proposed to you when Sabrina was little, he asked me for your hand. You ran.” She noted bluntly, arching a brow. “What changed? If it’s not love.” Stunned, Zelda stared at her sister. She’d never known Hilda was aware of what happened all those nights ago; suspected, certainly, but to know the full details…. Clearing her throat, Zelda took another drink, this one larger, to buy herself an extra moment to think. “The timing wasn’t right then, it is now. Where before I couldn’t accept because of my loss of faith, now Faustus and I share a secret together; Leticia.” She swallowed at the mention of her girl—the loss still stinging—averting her eyes, Zelda exhaled and then continued. “So, if ever there comes a time when Faustus finds out about my faith, or lack thereof, well, it would be mutually assured destruction.”Hilda frowned at her, clearly about to give a lecture about accepting and admitting one’s feelings, so Zelda cut her off. “What’s your news?” This prompted a giggle from her sister, and Zelda suddenly remembered Hilda had gone after her mortal with the glamor of the century the night before and hadn’t been home that morning. “Did you entrap the shopkeeper?” She asked eagerly, leaning in for details. Pressing her lips together, Hilda swirled the remaining alcohol in her glass. “Um… not exactly.” Chewing her lip, Hilda blurt it out. “He’s an incubus. A sex demon.” She added in a low voice, though the definition was unnecessary. A sigh escaped Zelda. “Hildie,” she murmured, unsure where to even begin. Her sister, likely one of the only witches to not lose her virginity on the night of her Dark Baptism—or any of the nights that followed—was now courting a sex demon. Put out by her reaction, Hilda plowed forward. “Well, I’m reading up on how to, you know… tame him.”Well, if nothing else, Zelda could at least help with that. “You’ll need chains forged from Damascus steel, strong enough to contain the most aggressive incubus. And, fair warning, he’ll need to be wearing them whenever you—”Eyes going wide, Hilda reared back. “Oh! No, no, no, no!” Honestly, how her sister expected to be in a relationship with a literal sex demon without being able to talk about intercourse, Zelda had no idea. But Hilda supported her in most things, she supposed she could assist her sister in this. “You’ll be just fine.” Zelda reassured, even as Hilda squeaked when she revealed why she knew so much on the topic. “We both will.” She lifted a brow and allowed herself another smile. Raising her glass in response, Hilda drank to the toast before starting to pull at one of the loose strings on the pillow next to her on the couch. Easily recognizing the signs, Zelda leveled her with a look. “What else?” She deadpanned; unsure what Hilda could say that would top dating a sex demon.“He said he loves me.” Hilda supplied, red spots blooming on her cheeks. Zelda choked a little on her drink, she certainly hadn’t expected that. “Huntress indeed,” she managed when she regained herself. “You didn’t just go for the fun of the chase, you hunted to kill. Well done.” She smirked and gave her sister an appraising look.Exhaling shakily, Hilda finished her drink and, to Zelda’s surprise, reached over the back of the couch and refilled her glass. “I love him too and I told him I’m a witch.” She added in a rush, eyes wide with might have been panic.The confession startled Zelda. Apparently, love was a curse that afflicted Spellmans. First Edward with Diana, then herself with Faustus, now Hilda with Cerberus, and Sabrina... well, she seemed to fall in and out of love rather easily, as most teenagers do. Ambrose alone among them seemed free from the curse; how lucky he was.Fingers tapping the side of her glass, Zelda inclined her head, surprised to find she wasn’t as scared of this announcement as she might have been even an hour ago. Cerberus wasn’t exactly mortal... so her previous anxieties about losing her sister to the mortal realm as they had Edward was no longer a concern. And as for the coven’s opinion, well, dalliances with sex demons were commonplace among witches, so the backlash would be nonexistent; some might even be impressed. For those who disapproved for whatever reason, they’d hold their silence. She was to be the wife of a High Priest, after all, no one would speak out against her sister’s choices when Hilda was so close to that kind of power.As for her final concern about Hilda’s relationship with a mortal, that her sister would have her heart broken when the mortal aged and died, that wasn’t much of a problem anymore either. And she informed her sister of as much.“I assume this means you’ll be keeping him?” Hilda ducked her head and nodded, making Zelda’s lips tug up into a smile. “Then prepare yourself for a long-term relationship, sister.” She arched a brow and took a drink.Brow furrowing, Hilda shook her head. “What? What do you... he’s still mortal. Don’t tease me, Zelds. I’ve come to terms that our love will be short lived.” Her chin trembled as she stared into her cup.Placing a finger under her sister’s chin, Zelda gently tipped it up so Hilda met her eyes. “It would have been. But now we know you have just entered a relationship with an incubus. Which means Cerberus will have a lifespan well into the late 100s, possibly the early 200s.” Hilda’s mouth opened in closed in her confusion, so Zelda elaborated. “Incubi are not like demons such as the devouring worm we encountered in Jesse Putnam. They are generally rather lazy in any aspect not related to sex. Once they’ve claimed a body, settled in, they don’t leave it. To prolong having to find a new body, the incubus extends the life of whatever vessel they inhabit; keeping it healthy. Your fling with a wannabe vampire has just turned into something with a much longer shelf life.” Hilda’s face lit up. “Truly?”Unable to prevent herself from smiling widely in return, Zelda nodded. “Truly. Now, I will leave you to your research, so you may tame your incubus and get to do all you please with him.” Hilda blushed, but nodded. Squeezing Hilda’s hand, Zelda stood, collecting the turtle-dove hearts as she did. “You’re not mad I told Cerb I’m a witch?” The question came suddenly, and Zelda could see the concern written across her sister’s face. Shrugging, Zelda topped off her own glass. “He’s already possessed by a demon, so witches existing likely wasn’t too big of a shock. Besides, I have a feeling he’ll want to be more ensconced in our realm than the mortal realm soon enough. Besides, this means I can threaten him properly with curses and hexes if he ever hurts you.” With more emotions and feelings discussed tonight than she planned, Zelda turned and was heading towards the stairs when Hilda’s voice caught her.“You’re allowed to enjoy it, you know.”Brow creasing, Zelda stopped at the door and turned partially. “What?”Hilda nodded at the box in her hand. “You’re allowed to be happy about it. This happiness,” and she gave Zelda pointed look then, one that told her Hilda saw right through her excuses and lies. “This happiness, it can’t be stolen away. We won’t let it.”Eyes glazing over, Zelda nodded and permitted herself to smile widely once more. “If you need any help, let me know.” She indicated to the book already back in Hilda’s lap. With one last shared smile, Zelda made her way upstairs.She’d been sitting on her bed for a little under an hour, making notes for the wedding—Hilda was right, it’d be a Black Wedding, which meant it was more official than others because it involved a High Priest—and there were a number of details to organize; when the wards went off.Sabrina was home. Sure enough, footsteps sounded on the stairs moments later, Sabrina’s bedroom door opening and closing before she heard the shower start. Zelda smiled to herself, remembering all too easily what a mess she’d been after her first Lupercalia; dirt, leaves and other substances covering her. So, she waited. Waited until the shower stopped and another ten minutes had passed before getting up to check in on Sabrina.Knocking softly on her niece’s door, Zelda tentatively poked her head in before entering fully. “You don’t have to say much.” She headed Sabrina off when the girl looked wary of her presence. “Just please tell me if he was good to you?” Though she’d only encouraged and helped Sabrina do what she wanted, Zelda knew she’d be sick with herself if she’d helped and something bad happened.Suddenly, Sabrina burst into tears.Rage tore through her. “I’ll kill him.” Zelda snarled, already turning to leave. "I'll kill him, bring him back to life, then kill him dead."“Auntie, no! “Sabrina was off the bed and catching her arm. “It’s not that. Nick, we, we were attacked before,” she waved a hand, “before anything.”“Attacked?!” She repeated, lifting Sabrina’s chin, turning her head side to side and then spinning her girl in a circle to check for injuries. “By what? Faustus assured me the perimeter was secure. Wolves and other beasts shouldn’t have been able—"Cutting her off, Sabrina’s hand came up to grasp her necklace. “It was Nick’s familiar, a werewolf named Amalia.” Realization dawned on Zelda; they’d never thought to guard the area against the very creatures meant to protect them.Carefully leading Sabrina back to the bed to sit, Zelda touched her cheek. “Tell me what happened.” She urged softly.“I almost had Amalia talked down, I was so close, Auntie, but she attacked us... I had to stab her, she was going after Nick, it was the only way to protect him. I, I killed her. Oh, Auntie Zee, it was so horrible.” Fresh tears spilled over Sabrina’s lids and Zelda scooped her into a hug, running a soothing hand over her niece’s back. Swallowing the fear that had risen inside her at how close Sabrina had come to dying, Zelda held her girl closer. “Well, thank Hell you had the dagger on you. And you scoffed at my suggestion, thinking the aesthetic of the Hunt didn’t need to be played up that much.” The comment had a watery half laugh escaping her girl just as Zelda hoped.When Sabrina calmed a bit more, Zelda pulled back just a bit. “Why would his familiar do such a thing? They are sworn to protect their companions, with their lives if need be. What could possibly drive her to—"“Well, Ms. Wardwell thought it—"Zelda blanched. “Ms. Wardwell?” She bit out, a muscle in her cheek twitching and her blood pressure raising.Frowning, Sabrina nodded slowly. “Yes...” she drew out, eyeing Zelda in confusion before continuing. “Ms. Wardwell thought Amalia was infected. Rabid with jealousy. The only solution... was to kill her. Nick, Nick couldn’t do it. She was his only family, but when she attacked... Auntie, I didn’t have a choice.” She wailed, pressing her face into Zelda’s neck once more. Stroking Sabrina’s hair, Zelda sighed. “I know, darling, I know. You did the right thing, you did.” She murmured, along with other comforting words until Sabrina started to grow heavy against her in her exhaustion. Gently tucking her girl in, Zelda quietly left the room.Once in the hall though, her demeanor changed. Wardwell, she growled at just the thought of the bitch. Why was she still here? Sabrina signed the book; the witch’s job was done. And while Wardwell was likely right about the familiar, had given sound advice, for once, that didn’t make Zelda any happier to hear she was still hovering. Still interfering. She’d been stupid to think Wardwell left; her duties done and dues paid with all the time she’d been forced to live among the mortals. Her continued presence meant either the Dark Lord had abandoned her, having gotten His use and discarded her, or…. Or He still had plans for Sabrina.But why continue to use a proxy? He’d proven easily enough He could call upon Sabrina for dark devotions. Why involve Wardwell? Questions swirled in her head, making Zelda want to go and confront the witch. But until she had better footing, a better understanding of why the woman was still around, she couldn’t tip her hand. Couldn’t go after the woman half-cocked. The oversight, however, her presumption that her family was rid of the witch simply because Sabrina signed… that, that could be dealt with. The thought sparking in her the old need to punish herself for her failure. Her failure to follow-up, to ensure once and for all this dangerous witch was gone from their lives. Pacing the hall and spinning her rings so roughly they burned a bit, Zelda made a decision. Striding down the stairs, she walked out the front door and teleported away.“Zelda!” Faustus smiled at her. “I hadn’t expected to hear from you so soon...” He reached out to guide her inside and then trailed off. “What happened? You’re trembling.”And she was; with fear, with anger. Lips twisting, a few tears slipped down her cheeks despite her best effort. “I want to punish myself and you said whenever I felt that way, I should come to you instead. Does that offer still stand?” She managed a level tone until the last sentence, voice breaking at the thought he might have to turn her away for any number of reasons. It was why she was holding herself so rigidly, in case another coven member was there—she could hardly be seen collapsing into his arms. “Always.” Faustus breathed, pulling her into his house. “What can I do? Do you want to talk?”“No.” Zelda snapped, and then released a shuddering sigh. “No, I don’t.” She repeated, softer this time, as she shed her coat and shoes. “I don’t know. I feel like when I, when I practiced flagellation, I had more control, fewer things slipped through the cracks. Because the pain kept me sharp. And now, now....” the tears finally won out and poured down her cheeks freely.Embracing her, Faustus hunched over until his taller frame all but engulfed hers. Zelda slumped into him, arms slipping around his waist and holding tight. “What else can I do?” He asked, words a comforting whisper in her ear. “Just,” she exhaled shakily, “just hold me.” She hated how weak the request made her, but it was what she needed. And she felt Faustus nod, his arms tightening around her.
At some point he teleported them to his room. Suggesting they lay down, Nodding, Zelda turned around so he could unzip her dress. When he started kissing along her scars as he inched the zipper down, tenderness and care in each touch, it brought fresh tears to her eyes and he couldn’t miss how she tried to stifle her sob. Wrapping his arms around her from behind, Faustus pressed his forehead on top of her shoulder. “Please, talk to me,” he murmured, “I can help. Tell me what happened.”But she couldn’t, not yet. Not when she wasn’t even sure of what kind of threat she’d overlooked by dismissing Mary Wardwell. So, she simply shook her head and turned in his arms to kiss him lightly. “I don’t want to think of it. You can help by distracting me.” She kissed him again. “Zelda,” he hedged, bringing his hands up to cup her face. “I—"She let her dress fall to the floor, leaving only her slip. “Talk to me.” She pled, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders. “Please, just talk.” She undid his belt and shimmied his pants to the floor as well, leaving him in his undershirt and boxers. Tugging her hand, Faustus guided her to the bed and curled protectively around her, her back pressed firmly to his chest. “What about?”Sighing softly, Zelda smiled just a bit. “The wedding.” It wasn’t how she intended to tell him her answer, certainly she’d intended to make him wait, but it was what she needed. To focus on something good and not on the continued presence of a two-faced bitch.Predictably, Faustus stiffened behind her and rolled her over, so she was on her back and facing him. “The, the what?” He asked, tucking hair behind her ear, his hand lingering on her jaw.Zelda allowed her smile to widen. “The wedding. It’ll be quite the affair; we’ll have to plan everything down to the smallest detail. It’s not often a High Priest—"He cut her off with a kiss, and Zelda returned it readily; wanting to be lost. “I need to hear the actually words, Zels.” He muttered, resting his forehead against hers when they broke apart. Huffing, Zelda arched a brow. “I didn’t hear the actual words from you either.” She challenged, thoughts of Mary Wardwell already receding, fading away to haunt her another day.Faustus rolled his eyes, but grinned. “Zelda Fiona Spellman,” he stared into her eyes, “will you marry me?”“Yes, Faustus Thane Blackwood, I will marry you.” Zelda answered as haughtily as she could, though her wide smile detracted from her tone. Beaming, Faustus kissed her sweetly, drawing it out before he laid back down and pulled her into his side, so her head rested on his chest. As they lay there, discussing next steps, his hand traced gentle patterns along her upper back, and if it lingered over her more prominent scars, neither of them said acknowledged it. “I have to inform the High Council and Antipope in the morning, they like to keep records of this kind of thing.” He mumbled sleepily. Zelda hummed and merely nestled closer, not really caring about the High Council or Antipope, not right now. Not now when it felt like what Hilda said could come true. And lying against him, Zelda could almost believe. Could almost believe that this happiness couldn’t be stolen from her.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Zelda was gone when he woke. And though it followed her normal pattern, Faustus had hoped she’d be there still; that they turned a corner the night before. She came to him for help, taken him up on his offer, and then—incredibly enough—she accepted his proposal.
They were engaged.
Grinning like a fool, Faustus leveraged himself out of bed and grabbed his robe. He got ready and then went to find Judas who was gurgling happily in his crib.
“Good morning, mijo.” He murmured, scooping the boy up and balancing him on his hip as Faustus made his way down to the kitchen to get them both breakfast.
The morning passed quickly, and soon Faustus was rocking Judas to put him down for his mid-morning nap. Unfortunately, his boy didn’t want to go to sleep, despite how he rubbed his eyes.
Swaying side to side, Faustus sighed. “Jude, you need to nap, we’re going to see Zelda this afternoon.” Faustus couldn’t help but smile at how Judas perked up at the mention of Zelda only to resume his cranky eye rubbing once he realized she wasn’t there. It appeared both Blackwood men were smitten by the witch.
They were to go to the Spellman house later for a cake tasting. Though he’d been surprised by Zelda’s offer—thinking it a very quick turnaround for Hilda considering they were just engaged—they were witches and he knew nothing of baking so it very well could be possible.
But first, Judas needed to nap.
And the quickest way to get his boy to sleep was to tell him a story. Smiling a bit to himself, Faustus settled into the rocking chair in the corner of Judas’ room. What better story to tell his son then the one of how he met the woman who would be Judas’ mother?
Shifting Judas in his arms, Faustus leaned back in the chair, gently rocking back and forth. “I’m going to tell you how your mother and I met. It all started, centuries ago.”
Faustus wasn’t sure when he learned the lesson, or who even taught it to him. Perhaps he just heard it enough growing up from various coven members to not question it. To accept it as fact.
Witches and warlocks did not love. Lust and passion, of course... but love? That was something for mortals. Besides, the Dark Lord didn’t like to share.
So perhaps that was why, in hindsight, decades later, he hadn’t been able to identify the swooping feeling he experienced when he first saw her.
Just a glimpse really. Sun reflecting off auburn waves, a wicked smile and eyes that hinted she knew far more than she was saying. Though just a glimpse it froze Faustus in his tracks. When she disappeared around a corner, a flock of envious witches trailing after her, Faustus shook himself. Confused by the churning in his gut. He put it down to lust, a stronger form of it certainly, no witch or warlock ever had that kind of effect on him before—but lust all the same.
Faustus brushed it aside and continued on his way to class. Though the redheaded witch lingered in the back of his mind for the rest of the morning.
He encountered her again at lunch, eyes involuntarily homing in on her like a beacon. The feeling was back, though this time he didn’t freeze entirely. Instead, Faustus elbowed his friend, Robert, and tried to gesture causally at the witch. “Who’s that? I’ve never seen her at the Academy before.”
Robert smirked when he saw who he was talking about. “That’s because you’ve only been back from your apprenticeship in Rome for a few years, Faustus. She’s a returning student, like you. After her parents died, she stayed for a few years then went off to Europe to study for ten years. Now, she’s back to finish her final year. Name’s Spellman. And you’ve got a lot of competition.”
Blinking, Faustus’ fork paused halfway to his mouth; Spellman? Surely not from the same family as Edward. Though he couldn’t think of any other magical families in the area with the name.
He knew Edward had younger sisters, not that he bothered to remember their names; something he regretted now. Besides, he always envisioned mini female versions of his sometimes friend and full-time protégé and rival. Never someone like this—which was perhaps why Edward never described or showed him a picture of his siblings.
Edward had just left for Maine, to participate in a three-week long church conference. Though they were both years from the appointment, every step, every accomplishment mattered. And this was just another swing in the pendulum for who was ahead. Last time, Faustus was ahead, selected to travel for a month speaking with other acolytes at various covens about the Church of Night’s ways. This most recent swing had Faustus practically seething with jealousy, though he never showed it. But this, this could be a welcome distraction… this churning in his gut a certain redheaded Spellman caused.
Then he processed the rest of Robert's response. “Competition? What do you mean?”
His friend chortled. “She’s only been back a week and every person in that posse,” he pointed his fork at the crowd of warlocks and witches surrounding her, “wants to be her, fuck her, or kill her.” Robert paused a moment and shrugged. “Possibly more than one.”
Faustus narrowed his eyes at the crowd surrounding Spellman but tried to dissuade Robert of the idea that he was interested—not wanting to be so transparent. “I have no—"
“Sure.” Robert interrupted, smirk growing wider as he got up. “Like I don’t know you Faust? Come on.” He laughed and moved to return his lunch tray; the bell had rung.
Standing as well, Faustus moved more slowly, while he wouldn’t mind being intimately involved with this Spellman, that wasn't the entire reason for his inquiry. He wanted to determine what it was about her that shocked his system, made him feel this new form of lust.
Surprisingly, she was in his next lecture—one he was only taking so he could get a better grip on the curriculum before starting to teach it next year—slouched seductively in her chair, pen twirling in the air above the hand she propped up on the desk. She was murmuring to the witch next to her and smirked at the young woman’s response. Faustus had trouble dragging his eyes away from her now that he was able to examine her up close. She was even lovelier than he previously realized.
As the lesson progressed, he realized with growing awe that she possessed a marvelous mind as well; answering difficult questions with ease and a slightly bored tone. When the professor mentioned an obscure conjuring spell in passing, she sat up, far more attentive than she’d been the entire class. Her hand shot up and Faustus noted how Professor Ingall sighed before calling on her.
“Yes, Ms. Spellman?”
Her question astounded Faustus. The complexity and depth of it revealed she was far too intelligent for the likes of what the Academy offered; Professor Ingall couldn’t answer. Maybe this was why she went off to Europe. To be challenged.
Spellman frowned in displeasure at the lack of answer and slumped back once more, jotting notes down—Faustus assumed they were questions she’d be researching in the library later and not notes about the relatively dull class.
As they filtered out after the bell, he caught up with her, pushing through the throng of followers. “Spellman!”
She turned and arched a haughty brow at him, a small smirk tugging at her lips. She didn’t say anything, but neither did she turn away—so he quickly continued, before she lost interest.
“In regard to that conjuring spell, I believe—” and as he theorized the smirk on her face bloomed into a full smile at the recognition of another like mind. Faustus almost lost track of his words when that smile appeared, but he gained ground, he couldn’t lose it now. “I planned on researching the topic further, maybe you could join me.” He smiled then, the charming one that disarmed so many.
The smirk was back, and her eyes flicked up and down, taking in his entire being. “Maybe.” She replied and then turned and walked away, a good number of her followers throwing him dirty looks and sneering as they trudged after her—clearly jealous of the attention she’d given him.
It was two days later when he managed to catch her again. She’d tucked herself into the back corner of the restricted section in the library, no posse in sight, and books piled up around her, though most seemed to have been discarded as useless. She was twiddling her fingers so the pages of several books turned on their own accord as she perused them.
Faustus grinned, he’d gone to the library immediately after their conversation the other day and checked out the book needed to answer her question. He walked confidently over, only to collide with what appeared to be thin air.
She glanced up at him, eyes gleaming with amusement at his expense. Rubbing his nose with as much dignity as he could muster, Faustus held up the book and raised a brow in challenge. Spellman tilted her head in acknowledgment and flicked a wrist, dropping the spell surrounding her.
“A barrier spell?” He questioned, sitting down next to her. “Those are quite advanced, and a completely invisible and solid one even more so.” Usually, the spells glimmered to alert passerby’s and only slowed the person, like walking through molasses, not a complete stop. He’d never encountered a completely solid and invisible one… This Spellman sibling continued to astound him and pique his curiosity.
“Yes, well, I tweaked the spell a bit to increase its efficiency.” She remarked offhandedly, as though tinkering with spells with great success were no great accomplishment. “I find barrier spells are often necessary if I want to get any reading done.” She added, flicking her wrist once more and he felt the hairs on his arms lift as the spell reengaged.
Now the swooping feeling was back in addition to tingling; Faustus rarely felt this kind of power—especially coming from someone so close to his age. She was strong; incredibly so. Which only further explained why so many flocked to her, but she hadn’t let any of them inside her barrier spell. So, he really ought to stop gawking and prove himself useful or she’d likely expel him from it.
He was tempted to cast a spell as well, if only to demonstrate to her their strength was closely matched. But Faustus couldn’t think of a plausible excuse that wouldn’t seem like showing off... and he had a feeling she wouldn’t be impressed with show boating. So instead…
“I believe this is the book you’re looking for.” He placed the text on the table in front of him, just out of her reach.
A perfectly shaped brow lifted, though she couldn’t completely hide how the corner of her mouth ticked up as well at his audacity. “Is it now?”
Humming, Faustus opened the book and flipped through the pages, finding the one that discussed the spell mentioned in class. He glanced at her and didn’t bother to move the book an inch so she could see, a little pay back for his collision with the barrier.
She rolled her eyes but played his game, scooting her chair right next to his to review the text. His mind went utterly blank for a moment at the action, her scent overwhelming him; something minty mixed with something he assumed was all her. When he peered at her out of the corner of his eye she was smiling coyly, knowing exactly what his reaction to her proximity had been. And Faustus couldn’t help but return it.
Every aspect of her was weaponized in some way, and it was intoxicating.
When Faustus instigated this interaction, he’d known on some level they’d be playing the game. The one where they danced around one another a bit before inevitably falling into bed… or simply pressed against any convenient hard surface. It was in their blood, after all, as witches.
He just hadn’t imagined what a worthy opponent she would be.
Forcing himself to focus, Faustus bent his head over the book alongside Spellman, knowing his usual tricks wouldn’t work on her, and they poured over the information. Occasionally, she’d point out a passage with a perfectly manicured nail and make observations and even once or twice suggestions on how the spell or technique could be improved.
And based on how she altered the barrier spell, Faustus couldn’t see any reason why she wouldn’t be correct in these modifications as well. He eagerly engaged her in conversation, it had been so long since he’d been able to discuss complex topics with someone other than Edward. He soon lost himself in the discussion.
It was only when the librarian collided with the barrier spell that their concentration and conversation was broken. The older witch huffed and pointed at her watch. The library was closing; they’d been there for hours. Spellman dropped the spell once more.
“Zelda Spellman,” the librarian scolded. “I’ve told you time and again your barrier spells are not allowed in here. If you want quiet, use a silencing spell.”
Faustus smiled, now he knew her name without having to ask, a point in his favor. Then his smile widened at how Zelda barely restrained an eye roll.
“And I’ve told you, Sister Beatrice, a silencing spell will only have the effect I want if I cast it on the entire library. By using a barrier spell with a silencing spell ingrained in it I can create one small quiet corner in the library without interfering with anyone else’s work.”
The retort had Sister Beatrice’s face going red in indignation. “You arrogant child! The strength and control it would take to have that kind of impact is beyond your abilities.”
The woman scoffed, already waving a hand to send all the books Zelda pulled flying back to their shelves; it was only Faustus’ hand laying on top of the one they’d been using that kept it from being swept away with the rest. “Now, pack your things and go. And Faustus Blackwood,” her voice stopped them as they passed through the door. “I expected more from you.” Sister Beatrice gave him a reproving look and then snapped the doors shut on them.
The remark elicited an indelicate snort from Zelda and if anything, this endeared her to him further. And when he looked at her, Faustus knew by the spark in Zelda’s eye that she planned on taking on the unintended challenge.
“Beyond my capabilities, hmm? We’ll see about that.” She muttered, already striding away from the library with purpose and without saying goodbye; forcing Faustus to watch her leave—he certainly wasn’t going to chase her this early in the game.
No, he’d wait. See her another day. Smiling and rubbing the back of his neck, Faustus waited until Zelda was no longer in sight and then went to grab some dinner. He should have had an inkling then… that it wasn’t just lust. But he’d been relatively young and stupid, how was he to have known better?
Their next encounter was during Unholy Bible study. It was an extracurricular group, one most students didn't bother to attend. Which was why, Faustus was stunned when Zelda waltzed in, throwing her mane of red hair over her shoulder as she talked with another witch, Allison… Alexandra… possibly Abigail? He couldn’t remember, she hadn’t attended before either. So, either Zelda usually attended and was simply rejoining after her time away, bringing a friend with her… or, she came because she knew he ran the group and forced a friend to come along as a wing woman.
Faustus found himself hoping for the former, because if Zelda was as devout as him and this wasn’t just another level of the game… he may have met his match.
Clearing his throat, Faustus welcomed everyone and started to discuss one of the passages Father Henderson mentioned during the last Black Mass; wanting to see everyone’s interpretation of the selection.
When they all just looked at each other in silence, Faustus sighed, no one ever wanted to be the first to speak. “What about—” and he purposely chose a controversial passage to support an unpopular interpretation; hoping to goad someone into talking.
Zelda Spellman did not disappoint. Sitting up straighter, she narrowed her eyes at him and then spouted off another scripture without hesitation to counter his point.
The other students gawked at her, dumbstruck; no one ever debated with him, not so readily. Grinning, Faustus leaned forward in his chair. “Playing the False God’s advocate, though, what about—” and he picked another obscure text to support his outlandish position.
He could tell from her expression that Zelda realized what he was doing; that he didn’t truly believe the stance he’d taken but was trying to start a conversation among the group. A small spark appeared in her eyes, and she contradicted his point once more, with a perfectly quoted passage from the Unholy Bible—a copy of which lay unopened in her lap.
Then. He should have known then. He should have known it wasn’t just lust and awe running through him as they continued the debate, drawing in other students as they went. He should have known then he never stood a chance.
After that night in Unholy Bible study, Faustus and Zelda spent more time together than not. Zelda even shed most of her hangers-on. They debated the finer points of the Unholy Bible, researched obscure texts and spells, and argued about the best potion-spell combination to use when cursing someone.
It was the first intellectual affair Faustus ever had.
And it was far more titillating than anything he’d experienced; and they hadn’t even kissed yet. The attraction was certainly there, the tension ridiculously thick at times. But neither of them were willing to break it; wanting the other to make the first move. It got to the point that they sometimes purposely wound the other up and then left, smirking; trying to see if the right button had finally been pushed, if the game would proceed to the next level.
Two weeks passed this way.
And it wasn’t until he found himself walking down the hallway with her, passionately debating a translation that Faustus began to suspect. Suspect that what he felt towards Zelda was something else; something that went far beyond lust.
It wasn’t until the first time they kissed Faustus knew for sure that ‘lust’ hardly began to describe what Zelda Spellman sparked in him. Because if what was between them was lust alone… then he’d never truly desired anyone else before.
They’d been messing with conjuring and binding spells—attempting the spell that brought them together in the first place. Only, only the demon they summoned managed to escape and nearly killed them in the process.
When they finally banished the beast, they were breathing heavily, a bit sweaty and high on adrenaline. Faustus turned and found Zelda’s eyes already on him, and when their eyes locked, he found he didn’t care about their game anymore. He just wanted to kiss her.
Without another thought, Faustus closed the space between them and crashed his lips to hers; Zelda’s response was immediate—one arm wound around his neck while the other hand curled in his collar pulling him closer. And the way she pressed her body against his further, hungrily kissing him back… it made his heart pound.
He’d never known. Never known stars had flavor... not until he kissed her. It turned out they tasted like ambition and ancient fire, desperation and self-destruction, determination and dark matter.... and the mind-numbing fear of being alone again.
But as their lips moved together, tongues battling for dominance and hands clutching desperately, possessively, Faustus realized he wasn’t alone. Not anymore. And if he could help it, he wouldn’t be ever again, because he couldn’t lose her.
Not now that he knew what stars tasted like…. Her.
Picking her up, Zelda’s legs wrapped around his waist automatically as Faustus carried her from his father’s study and up the stairs into his room. The door swinging shut behind them.
After that day… well, it was hard to imagine, but they spent even more time together.
A good portion of it was spent learning all the glorious ways in which to make each other moan and scream. But Faustus also found himself whispering secrets he’d never told anyone into Zelda’s hair when they lay entangled in one another after. And she never once scoffed or mocked him for being weak. Instead, Satan help him, she cupped his cheek and gave him a tender kiss, eyes the softest he’d ever seen them, and she confided she too had dark secrets, a troublesome father no longer in the picture.
Faustus had never felt closer to another living being in his life. Never dreamt this possible. He was sinfully happy.
Then Edward found out. It wasn’t as though they were hiding their relationship, so to speak. But when it did turn physical, Zelda ensured they were far more discreet than Faustus would ever have bothered to be. Making it appear as though they were merely academic rivals and nothing more.
But then… then Edward came home from the church conference. He stayed longer than necessary, claiming he was building important relations with their brethren in Maine and could not return. Where before this would have burned Faustus, he barely noticed, all his energy wrapped up in Zelda in the most wonderous way.
So, when Edward finally did return home, it shocked them both. Though shocked, Faustus was also a bit relieved. He determined early on that the reason Zelda wanted discretion was so word wouldn’t get back to Edward. But now it’d been taken out of their hands, this secret, and Faustus found himself hoping they could now be openly affectionate. Zelda already knew more about him, his sordid family and past, than anyone, why keep pretending they weren’t something more to each other?
He caught them outside. They’d recklessly been out in the garden behind the Spellman house, sprawled in the sun her head resting in his lap, his fingers carding through her hair, debating the finer points of demon banishment as though they hadn’t almost failed at doing just that the other week, when a voice boomed across the yard.
“Zelda!”
Faustus froze, fingers still caught in her red waves. He glanced down at Zelda and she squeezed her eyes shut, before exhaling slowly and sitting up.
Standing gracefully and turning toward the house, Zelda ran a hand through her hair to settle it. “Brother,” she greeted calmly.
Voice impossibly grimmer than before, Edward ground out. “Inside now.” And when Faustus looked over his shoulder he knew if looks alone could kill he’d be dead.
A dramatic sigh leaving her, Zelda bent, framed his face, and kissed Faustus briefly, gently, before heading inside. He sat stunned, the kiss was so casual, so normal. It was as if they’d been together for years and not having just exited the relationship limbo they’d been in for what seemed like ages.
Turning, he watched Zelda walk leisurely back to the house, making Edward stew. It was only after the siblings disappeared inside that Faustus realized he should probably have followed.
Hurriedly standing and brushing off his pants, Faustus made his way across the yard to the Spellman’s back door. He hadn’t even reached the porch and he could already hear them yelling. Zelda had slipped into French, something he only heard her do once before when someone went after Hilda. The cold fury and flashing eyes frightened (and excited) even him. Zelda went after the wrongdoers later in the day.
He hadn’t realized it was a habit of hers, changing languages when infuriated. It was impressive and the fact that it happened during an argument over him was flattering. At the same time though, he quickly lost hope that this would be easy, that they could be openly affectionate. Opening the door, he entered in time to see Edward close almost all the space between him and Zelda, fists clenched.
Faustus moved to interfere on her behalf, anger brewing inside him at Edward’s treatment of Zelda, and concern that his protégé would make it physical. But he was suddenly rooted to the spot, Faustus looked to his feet, dumbfounded, and then back up and realized Zelda had a hand in the air, holding him in place, all while keeping her attention on her brother. She kept impressing him.
“You will not see him. Not in any capacity!” Edward bellowed, spittle gathering at the corners of his mouth. “If you insist on being a slut fine,” he spat, “but not with Blackwood.” Edward’s finger jabbed in Faustus’ direction.
Before Faustus could snarl out a response, Zelda slapped her brother sharply, the air going cold as she lost a little control of her power. “You know nothing, Edward, nothing. And simply because our parents are gone and you’re the oldest doesn’t mean you can control me.” With this declared, Zelda stalked away, releasing the spell on Faustus, catching his forearm and marching him out the door before either of he or Edward could articulate anything.
When they made it back outside, she turned to him, eyes on fire but shining at the same time. “Take me somewhere,” she demanded softly.
Unable to deny her anything right then, Faustus cupped Zelda’s cheeks, nodded and kissed her forehead before teleporting them to a clearing in the woods. “This is where I come to escape.” He clarified at her perplexed expression. “When my father…” Faustus trailed off, knowing Zelda needed no further explanation. “I also come here to think. I like to just sit and listen to the woods, it calms me. I often have my best break throughs here.” He intertwined their hands and led her to a well-worn log and sat, leaning against it. She pressed into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. Faustus wrapped an arm around her, pulling her slightly closer.
“Talk to me.” She requested, and he could tell from her tone her fight with Edward upset her more than she was letting on.
Shifting a bit, Faustus rubbed his hand up and down her arm. “Why did you go to Europe?” He always wanted to know but was never sure how to broach the topic.
A small chuckle escaped her. “To study. Surely the great Faustus Blackwood already knew that.” Some of her teasing returned and it heartened him.
Hand coming up to playfully tug a strand of her hair, Faustus huffed. “Of course, but to study what?” He retorted.
She settled against him more completely, sighing softly. “All sorts of things in the first few years. But for the last seven, midwifery.”
Stunned, Faustus pulled away from her slightly. “Midwifery?”
A brow arched in challenge. “Yes. Do you think it some soft topic?” She murmured in a dangerously soft and calm voice.
“Quite contrary.” He replied quickly, knowing what would happen if he didn’t explain. “It is an immensely difficult field and ever evolving. I’m sure you will contribute to advances in it. I was just surprised.”
Zelda bit her lip and peered up at him, her head still on his shoulder. “Why’s that?”
It was Faustus’ turn to laugh. “Because you’re in all the advanced demonology and conjuring classes. I had this picture of you becoming a demon hunter in my head.” And what a picture that’d been.
Her laughter joined his. “I take those classes simply because I’m curious. It’s learning just to learn. I already apprenticed with some of the best midwives in Europe. My apprenticeship with Sister Mauve starts next month. There’s no more I can learn about midwifery in a classroom.”
And though he’d gotten more information, Faustus was even more confused. “Why come back to finish your schooling here, then? It seems you received a far more fulfilling education in Europe—one that pertains to what you want to do.”
“Oh, I did.” She huffed and brought up a hand to intertwine with the one he draped around her. “But it was part of my deal with Edward. I studied for five years here, then got to study abroad for a decade as long as I did my last year at the Academy. Edward was horrified I didn’t think Greendale was enough to begin with, but he acquiesced when I said I would get a degree from both the Academy here and in Europe. That, and well, our parents recently died, and I think he saw me as one less thing to worry about.” Clearing her throat, Zelda shrugged. “And really, once I decided on studying there, there wasn’t much Edward could do to change my mind.”
Faustus grinned, knowing exactly how stubborn the witch cuddled against him could be. “Why midwifery?” He prompted, enjoying how open she was being. Sometimes it felt like he was enduring the burning pit just to get some personal information from her.
Apparently, this was the perfect question to ask. Zelda lit up.
Pulling away from him, she started to explain the intricacies of midwifery, what captured her interest in the first place, how everyday plants like mint could be added to potions to help with morning sickness and some of the crazy things she learned since. Faustus grinned and leaned back to watch her, loving it when she got this animated and finally realizing why she constantly smelled like mint. Anti-nausea potions would be in high demand as a midwife, Zelda likely was stockpiling the plant for when she started her apprenticeship here.
When it grew dark, he teleported them both back to the Academy, Zelda refusing to stay the night under ‘her brother’s’ roof. They came to a stop in front of the girl’s dormitory, when Faustus caught Zelda’s hand and asked the question that’d been burning through him since the altercation with Edward earlier.
“Did he warn you about me?”
Though there hadn’t been much time between when the Spellman siblings disappeared into the house and when Faustus followed, he could only imagine what Edward might have said to discourage his younger sister.
Zelda rolled her eyes. “Yes.” She huffed as though it were absurd, but then, then her brow furrowed, just a bit.
Concerned, Faustus took a step closer, though there wasn’t much space between them to begin with. “What about?” She tilted her head at him as if contemplating her answer and for a moment he didn’t think she would tell him.
“All the wrong things.” She finally breathed, still studying him as her hand landed on the doorknob, her imprint permitting her into the room. “Night, Faustus,” she tipped onto her toes to kiss him and then backed into the room, eyes trained on him and smiling softly; and it was one of her rare smiles where there wasn’t something hidden within it, just a simple smile.
Mouth pulling up to mimic hers, Faustus watched her move away. “Night, Zels,” he replied, only turning away after she quietly shut the door. As he made his way back to his room, Faustus speared his hands through his hair, unsure what to make of her response.
Had Edward warned her that Faustus was a philanderer? He was, before her. Did Edward claim he was too ambitious, too cruel, too stuck in the old ways of the church? It was likely he said all this and would say more the next chance he got. But Zelda seemed supremely unruffled by the content of the argument, only upset that it happened at all and at how Edward reacted. Did this mean she felt she should have been warned about something else? About… about feeling more than lust? Could Zelda possibly feel the same?
Shaking his head, Faustus chastised himself for even considering the possibility. While he knew it was more than lust at this point… Faustus still refused to name what else it might be— and if he couldn’t name it, he couldn’t believe Zelda might be experiencing the same thing.
Besides, he’d been told so often and for so long that deeper emotions weren’t possible for their kind… it was foolish to hope Zelda had the same defect as him.
What had once been a steady, if unnamed, relationship now was turbulent, and Faustus blamed Edward.
Zelda was caught between the two of them and couldn’t seem to find a happy medium where she wasn’t being pulled in one direction or the other. And while the sneaking around and hiding things from Edward contained a certain appeal, it wasn’t what Faustus wanted.
After almost a decade of push and pull, Faustus realized that if he wanted this to end, he’d have to be the one to step up. Be the one to approach Edward to try and reach common ground. They both cared deeply for Zelda, it wasn’t fair to put her in the middle of their rivalry.
Steeling himself, and putting on his best suit, Faustus went to the Spellman house one evening when he knew Zelda would be out checking on a patient.
If Edward was surprised to see him, he didn’t let it show. Inclining his head, Edward invited him in and offered him a drink. Thinking Edward with alcohol in him could only help his chances, Faustus accepted.
Once they were settled in the parlor, Faustus cleared his throat and jumped right in, seeing no reason to waste time with small talk. “Edward, as our tradition commands, I’ve come to ask the head of the Spellman household for Zelda’s hand in marriage.”
Silence fell, both of them staring at one another before Edward managed to find his voice. “You’re asking for what?” He croaked.
A small smile tugged on Faustus’ mouth, unable to stop himself. “Zelda’s hand. I wish to marry your sister.”
Struck dumb, Edward gaped at him a moment longer before collecting himself and downing his entire drink at once. “Out of the question.” He practically snarled, shoving out of his chair and pacing away, something dark glinting in his eye.
The response, and the ferocity of it, shocked Faustus so much he couldn’t school his face fast enough to hide the surprise and disappointment that flashed across it. Faustus stood as well, straightening his jacket and forcing his voice to remain calm. “Edward, I know we haven’t seen eye to eye on many matters these past years. But you have been my protégé for nearly a decade now. You know me; you know your sister. Zelda and I are a good match—intellectually, spiritually. And I don’t believe she would be opposed, if I am correct Zelda holds some affection for me.”
It was hardly a secret Zelda held some affection for him; the two of them flaunting Edward’s express orders for her not to see him for years now.
The subtle reminder did nothing to improve Edward’s disposition. “The two of you could be one of the few pairs of soulmates that exist in our realm, and I would still say no. You do not have my permission to marry Zelda. And should you ever broach the topic with her behind my back I will marry her off to the first warlock I can find.”
Teeth grinding, Faustus set his drink down. Edward’s refusal had nothing to do with who Faustus was as a warlock, nothing to do with his feelings or Zelda’s…. This refusal it came from a place of spite. What else would drive Edward to threaten to sell his sister? What else than trying to take whatever leg up he could in their competition?
Clenching his fists to stop himself from cursing this imbecile of a warlock, Faustus wished he brought his cane; at least then he could wring his hands around something. “Will you at least tell me why?” He managed to keep most of the anger from his tone as he looked at Edward expectantly.
A mirthless bark of laughter escaped his protégé. “No.” Edward gloated, clearly enjoying the sudden power he had over Faustus.
Not one to beg, even in circumstances such as this, Faustus left without another word. When he reappeared at his house, he punched the wall and then screamed in pain and frustration. “Ungrateful, arrogant, impious bastard!” He bellowed to the empty house; glad he sent the staff away for the night. Breathing heavily, Faustus healed his hand and started to stalk through the house, trying to come up with any valid reason Edward might have for rebuking him.
Finding none, Faustus went to the kitchen and poured himself a drink. It was as he initially thought; the rejection was out of malice, Edward turning him down simply because he could.
But, Faustus downed his drink and poured another, that meant when he became High Priest, when he had a more powerful position within the coven then just a professor at the Academy, Edward couldn’t deny him again.
He understood now. He moved prematurely; allowed his feelings to dictate his actions. Faustus had wanted to spare Zelda, and it cost him greatly in the process. He should have known better, shouldn’t have expected anything but rejection, especially given how bitter his and Edward’s rivalry had become.
This wasn’t the end of the matter.
No, it was just the beginning. All he had to do was keep working towards the High Priestship as he had for over a decade and a half. All he had to do was continue the path he set on so long ago and then the rest would fall into place.
Edward couldn’t rebuke him when he was High Priest. Smirking to himself, Faustus picked up his drink and messaged Zelda on the witching board, inviting her over. Just because he couldn’t marry her yet didn’t mean they couldn’t continue their other more carnal relations.
He wasn’t proud of how he acted after he discovered Edward usurped him. But the announcement blindsided him. He thought all the changing of favorites, the constant switches between the highest praise and darkest insults from the former High Priest was just a way to keep them on their toes. To keep them competitive with one another, so neither became complacent.
Faustus never imagined it was actually a competition; never imagined he’d lose.
Retreating to the refuge of his ancestral home, Faustus drowned his sorrows, anger, and the other multitude of emotions crashing through him in alcohol. Which meant, when his wards alerted him to Zelda approaching the house—likely thinking to comfort him with her mere presence alone as she’d done in the past—he was thoroughly drunk. He shouldn’t have been surprised to see her walking up to his front door instead of celebrating her brother’s ascension. Faustus had confided so much to her, leaned on her during some of his darkest times, it shouldn’t have been a surprise she came now, when he’d suffered a devastating blow.
But Faustus couldn’t bear to see her. Not when her brother had done what he did; stolen everything Faustus worked for out from under him. It wasn’t Zelda’s fault she bore the same last name of the man who’d stolen Faustus’ future from him in more ways than one.
No, it wasn’t her fault, but he couldn’t see her and be reminded of what he envisioned for himself just this morning. A High Priestship, Zelda as his wife now that Edward couldn’t rebuke him, a family. All of that was gone, and it was too painful to have what could have been thrown in his face. So, he refused to see her. Had one of the servants turn her away before she could even knock.
Zelda’s eyes went straight to the window he was peeking out of, allowing him to see her wounded expression. She wasn’t without her pride, though, so Zelda nodded curtly and spun on her heel before teleporting out of sight.
If possible, that hurt more than Edward being named the next High Priest. He had done it to himself though, so Faustus merely poured yet another drink.
He went to apologize. A month later. After wallowing in self-pity and realizing Zelda would have made this period more bearable. But when he went to find her, purposely choosing a time when Edward was gone….
She wasn’t there.
Hilda wrung her hands when she realized he was the person who knocked on the door. Nervously informing him that Zelda wasn’t even in the country anymore.
“What?” Faustus collapsed against the door frame, the one light at the end of this dark, horrid tunnel he’d been trapped in snuffing out.
Biting her lip, Hilda tentatively touched his arm. “She and Edward rowed the other day, horrendously. I’ve never heard them fight like that before. Afterwards… well, Zelds refused to live with him anymore. Didn’t leave a forwarding address, masked her signature so she couldn’t be found. I suppose she’ll reach out via mirror or witching board when she’s ready.”
A numbness stole over him, and Faustus nodded, forcing himself to push off the door frame and teleport home. This is what he’d been afraid of, on some level, ever since he kissed her that first time so long ago.
Being alone.
Zelda wouldn’t reach out when she was ready; not to him at least. He spurned her and now she was gone.
So, Faustus did the only thing he could think of to fill the massive holes that had been punched into his life—first with the loss of the High Priestship and now with the loss of Zelda—he buried himself in his work at the Academy and he buried himself in any willing witch or warlock that crossed his path.
She came back.
Decades later. But she came back. Though Faustus suspected Zelda only returned because word spread that Edward was courting a mortal in earnest. Likely, she believed she could talk Edward out of it and if not at least try and minimize the damage.
Faustus laid eyes on her for the first time in years at a coven event, so many flocking to her to welcome her back; ever the most popular witch in the room.
When he approached her, a spare drink in hand, she took the drink but greeted him coolly. It wasn’t anything he didn’t deserve; he gave her the cold shoulder and she was returning the favor. Though many might think several decades a bit much to hold a grudge, they were witches and decades might as well have been months in mortal time.
Besides, he wanted to earn her back. Prove he wasn’t the brash young warlock anymore; prove he still had those feelings that were more than lust.
Only, only she’d just started to warm up to him when Edward died.
It’d taken him a little over a year to get her to actually smile instead of smirk at him and now, now she couldn’t see anything beyond the shroud of grief encompassing her and her family.
He wanted to take her in his arms when she came into his office to hear the news. Wanted to rub her back and whisper comforts into her hair. But he’d just been named new High Priest of the Church of Night, replacing Edward, he didn’t think any comforts beyond that of a High Priest would be welcome. So, he held back.
Days later, at the funeral, he knew something was off.
Where was the witch who felt everything so passionately objects around her levitated inches off the ground? Where was the witch who slipped into French when her emotions became too much for the English language? Where was his Zelda and who was this shell of a woman that stood before him at the receiving line, her face blank and eyes empty?
The vacant expression was one Faustus never wanted to see on Zelda’s face ever again. And when he looked to Hilda for help, she was already eyeing Zelda with concern and determination. Sighing, he let them disappear, knowing Hilda would take care of her sister.
He waited.
Let a few years pass, let Zelda grieve the loss of her brother, let her get comfortable around and trust him again. It was also a matter of Faustus not wanting to appear too eager; as though he were taking advantage of Edward’s absence.
When they restarted what they had so many years ago, Faustus thought they’d gotten it right, the timing. And when he went to Hilda for permission to marry Zelda—though the witch wasn’t the head of the Spellman family he wanted to uphold tradition in some way—and she said yes, eyes shining happily, Faustus was sure things were finally getting back on track.
And then Zelda ran. Ended things.
He couldn’t fathom why. It was true, she wasn’t the same witch she was when they were at the Academy together. Then again, he was hardly the same warlock. But when he kissed her, he still tasted the stars and he only ever had that with her. Only felt this thing that was more than lust for her.
So, when she continued to run, to avoid him, Faustus did what he had the last time he lost her. Buried himself in someone else. Only this time, this time he married the witch. His mother claiming it was time to end his bachelor ways and he’d been lonely enough to agree. Though he knew he’d never care for Constance in the way he did Zelda, not even close, he agreed.
“And then,” Faustus grinned and looked down at Judas who was fast asleep in his arms; likely had been for some time now. “And then Zelda came back to me, and I could feel in my bones that it was our time.” He stood and carefully laid the boy in his crib. “It is our time. We weren’t the people we needed to be before. We were compatible, certainly, cared for one another. But now,” Faustus sighed happily and peered at Judas for another moment. “Now we finally have it right and you will have a mother.”With one last look at the babe, Faustus slipped out of the room and quietly shut the door. An hour later, Faustus and Judas appeared at the Spellman house for the cake tasting only to discover Hilda missing, no cakes in the kitchen, and a very agitated Zelda. “I haven’t the faintest how this slipped her mind.” Zelda muttered as she paced the kitchen, spinning her rings. “We spoke of it yesterday; she was quite eager to bake.” She hadn’t looked at him yet, not fully, withdrawn after her display of ‘vulnerability’ the night before. Carefully approaching her, Faustus put a hand on her arm. “Zels, it’s alright. We have plenty of time to plan.” When she looked ready to argue, he foisted Judas into her arms, knowing the babe would distract her from her anxieties. “Which should be the first matter of business, I suppose. Setting a date.”Startled by the babe suddenly in her arms, Zelda adjusted him naturally and then led the way into the parlor where she settled Judas onto her lap. “No use in prolonging the engagement. It’s not as though we need a grace period to get to know one another like engagements in centuries past. Why not in three weeks? Here.” She picked up a thick magazine from the coffee table and thrust it at him, eyes still on Judas. “I’ve marked a few possibilities. Why don’t you look through and see if you have a preference?” Unsure what to make of Zelda’s insistence on a short engagement, Faustus agreed to a date in three weeks’ time as he settled in the armchair across from them and halfheartedly flipped through the large wedding catalogue now in his hands. Most of his attention, though, was on the scene in front of him.She was cooing and playing with Judas who was giggling and reaching for her. Zelda had tipped Judas, so his back rested on her thighs and was bending over to nuzzle her nose against his, her hair falling in curtains to hide them, only to pull back moments later making Judas burst out in peals of laughter.This, this was the family he envisioned so long ago, before Edward stole it from him along with the High Priestship. This was to be his family and Faustus found he couldn’t, and didn’t want, to look away. Zelda felt his eyes on her but continued to play with Judas, hoping Faustus would turn his attention back to the catalog she gave him to peruse. When she dared to glance up, the expression on Faustus’ face made her heart stutter and his smile widened when their eyes met. “Keep doing this and his first word will be mama.” He murmured, though he seemed far from upset by the idea that Judas may name her before him.Swallowing down a torrent of emotion, Zelda straightened up, tucked her hair back and handed Judas over. “I’ll go see what’s keeping Hilda.” She informed him primly, teleporting away with Faustus calling after her in exasperation.Faustus sighed loudly as he gathered up Judas’ things and teleported to the Academy to get some work done; knowing even if Zelda found her sister that she wouldn’t be back any time soon. She was still running. He thought it’d been a safe enough comment; that Judas would call her mama. They were engaged for Hell’s sake, soon to be married, she would, for all intents and purposes, be his mother. From her expression, she’d melted a bit at the concept. Maybe, maybe she ran because she was supposed to be mother to Leticia as well. Could have been mother to both of them? Perhaps that was something they could rectify once they were married; claim Judas needed a sibling to replace the one he lost and ‘adopt’ Leticia back. Rumors might fly about Zelda’s fertility, about the similarity between the babes, but they’d already be flying at their sudden engagement and marriage so what did it matter?Running a hand through his hair, Faustus laid Judas down on a blanket on his office floor with some toys and decided to distract himself with some work.It was a torrential downpour outside. She should have just teleported directly into that dreadful shop. But Zelda hadn’t been sure if any of Greendale’s mortals would be holed up inside to escape the rain, so she appeared the next street over in an alley. Praise Satan she remembered an umbrella. Pushing into the store, Zelda dropped her sopping umbrella into Cerberus’ arms, far too on edge to even pretend to play nice with the mortal today and rounded the corner to find Hilda. “I swear, Hilda, it’s like you’re trying to sabotage my wedding.” Zelda snapped when her sister admitted to her mistake. She wasn’t angry at Hilda, not really, she wasn’t angry at anyone but herself and the situation she’d gotten herself into. The way Faustus looked at her, just before she dashed off with the razor thin excuse of finding Hilda though they both knew it wouldn’t change the cake situation, had rattled her. Because it seemed, just for a moment, that he loved her too. And when he noted that Judas would call her mother… it’d been too much. It had her wanting to blurt everything out again. So, here she was; avoiding Faustus. Though how she would manage that once they were actually married, how she was to ever to pull this off this worthy opponents arrangement without revealing to Faustus that she loved him… she didn’t know. Sensing her anxiety, Hilda made a sympathetic noise in the back of her throat and clasped Zelda’s hands. “A bit nervous, are we?” Zelda didn’t respond beyond pressing her lips together, because she was; nervous. Though Hilda promised her they wouldn’t let this be stolen away Zelda had a nagging feeling that if she let too much time pass, she’d lose Faustus. That somehow, this too, would be ripped from her. So, she set an absurdly short engagement period in an attempt to reduce the chance of disaster… which was why she’d come to berate Hilda for not doing her part to keep things on schedule. Softening further, Hilda’s mouth tugged up at one corner, easily reading everything that had gone through her mind. “You know what I think would help?”As always, Zelda’s defenses flew up, her prickly barrier trying to push away those who got to close. “A new maid of dishonor?” She scoffed.Hilda gave her an unimpressed look and rolled her eyes just a bit. “No.” She retorted flatly, “a little bit of fun, to unwind.” Her sister then directed her towards a woman reading tarot cards in the corner of the shop. Well, why the Heaven not? If it kept her from having to go back and face Faustus and those soft eyes he’d been looking at her with in increasing frequency. Taking the High Priestess card, it was very fitting, considering she’d soon be married to the High Priest, Zelda took a seat and listened to this imposter go on about how a secret stood between her and Faustus making it to the altar. Suddenly, images swam before her eyes.
She couldn’t hardly believe it; Edward had been named High Priest. Zelda knew she should be ecstatic, her brother was now the Dark Lord’s chosen representative. She was proud, of course, happy to see her brother achieve what he’d been working for… and yet.
And yet, she couldn’t help but feel as though Edward hadn’t truly earned it. Hadn’t put in the time to prepare, hadn’t put in the time to truly know the coven and their wants—which differed so drastically from his.
Despite everyone’s assertions that her older brother was this prodigy, for as long as she’d been alive, Zelda had never truly seen it. Edward was smart, certainly, he was passionate and charismatic… but, Zelda couldn’t see why he’d been chosen among so many others, especially at such a young age, as special.
Not that she ever dared to voice these thoughts aloud to anyone. They’d only label her as jealous. A third born and a girl at that. Besides, her father had taught Zelda at least one thing, to recognize when she needed to hold her tongue.
And then there was Faustus.
Faustus who put on a good show and then slunk away as soon as Edward was once more the center of attention. Faustus who admitted to Zelda that he dreamed of High Priesthood since he was a child. At first because he knew it would be the only way his father would ever be proud, would ever leave him alone. And then, because he found he truly had a calling, that the Unholy Bible was his passion and there was no nobler cause than to share it with others. Faustus who’d just be overpassed for a role his was far more qualified for than the warlock who got it.
Ensuring no one was paying her any mind, Zelda teleported away and appeared at the edge of Blackwood Manor’s property. Only to be turned away before she even reached the door. Glancing up, Zelda caught sight of Faustus in one of the upper windows.
“Alright then,” she ground out, forcing back the tears threatening to fall. Nodding curtly, she teleported back home.
She’d been gone no more than a few minutes, and thankfully her absence hadn’t been noted.
For the next month, she helped Edward establish himself as High Priest. Zelda interviewed and hired his assistant—Sofia, organized his acolytes, and helped him with his sermons. The extra duties distracted her from the fact that Faustus had kept a stony silence ever since the announcement—going so far as to avoid her at the Academy; she hadn’t seen him in weeks.
One night, Zelda arrived home late and ran into an elderly warlock on the porch who must have been from another coven because she did not recognize the man. Nodding politely, Zelda stepped around him only to catch the warlock eyeing her salaciously as she did.
Scoffing in disgust, Zelda hurried into the house. “Who was that?” She called out, making her way to the study where Edward was sure to be.
“Why are you late?” He asked instead, closing the book in front of him and folding his hands on top.
A huff of amusement escaped her as she sat in the chair across from him. “You answer my question first.” Though she found Edward’s attempt at a High Priest mask entertaining, Zelda was also annoyed by his inquiry. He had no right to pry into her life, especially not when he was using a tone like that. It didn’t matter that she was late because she and Sofia were fixing a problem Edward caused by overbooking himself, what mattered is that he treated her with respect; especially when she was one of the only reasons he hadn’t failed at his new position yet.
In no mood for games, Edward leaned forward. “Did you go to him?”
Zelda blinked, unsure why her brother wanted to bring up Faustus—for that was who he was talking about—now. “No.”
Sighing, Edward ran a hand over his face. “Don’t lie to me, sweet sister.” He warned, standing up as though that would make him more foreboding.
“I’m not, dear brother.” She mimicked his speech, lighting a cigarette and taking a puff.
Her brother’s lips twisted at the sight of her smoking, just as she knew they would, but he made no comment about what he deemed to be a nasty habit. It appeared that he refused to be sidetracked. “You’ve forced my hand, Zelda. If you continue this nonsense with Blackwood, I will marry you off to a suitor of my choosing.”
A laugh bubbled up her throat at the mere idea of Edward forcing her to do anything. She convinced him to let her travel to Europe for a decade when she was still a teenager, had flouted his orders to stay away from Faustus for ages; he had no sway over her. Giving him a patronizing look, Zelda smirked. “You do that.” She rolled her eyes, stubbed her cigarette out on the arm of the chair just to infuriate him and stood, heading for the kitchen, needing food and a drink.
He caught her arm in a painful grip. “I am not jesting, Zelda. You will not continue to defy my orders. You will stop seeing Blackwood.”
Though Faustus as good as ended whatever was between them a month ago by sending her away, Zelda saw no reason to tell Edward this. No, no reason at all, especially when she had to make a point that he could not control her. “I will see whoever I please, whenever I please.” She remarked coldly, eyes locked onto where his hand was bruising her arm. “You have no say in the matter, never have.”
Purpling, Edward’s lips pulled back into a sneer. “I do have a say. And if you insist on carrying on as a slut, I will find someone who can rein you in. Brother Ignacio,” he pointed towards the door where she’d just passed the elderly warlock who eyed her hungrily. “Just asked me for your hand in marriage. Clearly, he wants to marry into power, but I’m of a certain mind to say yes. To let him and his absurdly old-fashioned ways take you off my plate. And when I mentioned you would be a handful, well, Ignacio confided in me that he has certain ways, certain spells to make you a good little housewife as all witches are meant to be.”
The threat hit her like a physical blow and Zelda wrenched herself free from Edward’s grip, furious. “Take me off your plate!” She repeated heatedly, “as if I’m not the only reason your plate hasn’t shattered by now.” Then the rest of his words sunk in. “Spells to control, control me…. You would do that to me?” She demanded, hurt and anger radiating off her. “You’d sell me to the highest bidder and then allow him to control me like that? Who do you think you are?!”
Standing up straighter, Edward adjusted his collar. “Your older brother and head of your household.”
Eyes flashing, Zelda bared her teeth. “None of which gives you the right—"
“And I am now your High Priest, I can do as I please.” Edward interrupted, reducing the space between them once more and gripping her chin tightly. “And so will that man from the sounds of it.” Zelda blanched. “But I won’t do that, if you stop seeing Faustus.”
Shoving him away, Zelda’s chest heaved with emotion. “Why does it matter?! You already beat him for High Priest.” She’d lost control of this situation, how had she so rapidly lost control?
Edward took a step closer but didn’t touch her this time, merely towered over her. “Because it undermines me. You will end things; you will not say why. Or that,” he jabbed his finger at the door once more, “will be your future.”
Fury twisting her lips, Zelda tipped her chin up in defiance. “I will kill any suitor you match me with before I allow myself to be out under such a spell.” She spat, clenching her fists to keep any magic from flying. Of course, of course her dear brother could flaunt tradition where it benefitted him and then cling to it furiously when it did not. His adamance on using his new role to force marriage on her evidenced that.
“If you do, you’ll meet the same fate.” Edward informed her, a vein in his neck starting to throb. The sight of which made Zelda’s heart seize a bit involuntarily—their father had had the same tic, the same giveaway; Edward was close to snapping. But she refused to be his puppet.
Crossing her arms to hide how anger and adrenaline were making her hands shake, Zelda sneered. “Oh, so the Cain Pit will see some use, that’s hardly a first.”
The brief allusion to the first time Edward put her in the Pit and his following promise and apology had Edward frowning; his bluff clearly called. Then, his eyes lit up dangerously. “I’ll put you under the spell myself to make you marry a man of my choosing and once you’re wed, I’ll transfer the power over to him.” And from the smug look on his face, Edward was quite proud of the solution he just discovered.
Rage boiled over then and Zelda didn’t bother to restrain the spell that leapt to her hands. She wasn’t sure how long they fought, but she knew an instant before it happened that she was going to lose. She’d let her emotions get the better of her, and Edward noticed as well and took advantage.
Pinning her painfully by the throat against the wall, Edward snarled in her ear. “I could put you under right now, sweet sister. Just give me a reason and I will not hesitate.” He pulled his head back to meet her eyes. “Will you obey me? Stop seeing Blackwood?”
Jaw jutting out stubbornly, Zelda slowly nodded; knowing if she opened her mouth she’d only antagonize her brother further and very well could end up under a spell.
Relief washed over Edward and he released her. And suddenly, the cruel, harsh, controlling man who’d taken over her brother was gone, and her Eddie was back. “Good,” he smiled at her and tucked some of her hair behind her ear tenderly—as though his forearm hadn’t just been pressed against her throat. “That’s all I needed, Zelds, your help and cooperation. As new High Priest of the Church of Night I need to start off on the left foot.” Edward nodded at her and sat back down at the desk as though nothing more than a slight disagreement had occurred instead of him threatening to steal the free will the Dark Lord had gifted her with.
Nausea rolled through her and Zelda dashed upstairs to the bathroom and emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet. Gasping, she flushed and sat shaking on the floor. Her brother didn’t make empty threats, she knew, which made his words all the worse. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Zelda stood and made for the room she shared with Hilda.
Her sister was there, sitting on her bed and anxiously twisting the hem of her cardigan in her hands. “Are you leaving again?” She whispered, clearly having heard the entire altercation.
Nodding, Zelda grabbed her suitcases and started to pack. “You heard him, yes? What Edward said he’d do if I don’t fall in line.” Hilda nodded, chewing on her lip. “Then you know why I can’t stay. I can’t risk him deciding I haven’t been ‘good enough’ and putting me under.”
To her surprise, Hilda stood and helped her pack.
When they finished, Zelda placed a hand on the back of her sister’s head and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Stay safe and well, Hildie,” she breathed, cupping Hilda’s cheek. “I will be in touch soon, I think.”
Surging forward, Hilda hugged her hard, knocking the breath out of Zelda a bit. “I’ll miss you. But I understand. Do you want me to tell anyone—”
“No.” She cut Hilda off, knowing exactly who her sister was referring to and unable to think about Faustus right now. “Actually, tell Sofia I’ll be in touch. Hell knows that witch won’t be able to manage Edward on her own and as much as I hate him right now, I won’t see him fail and bringing dishonor on the Spellman name. Bye, Hildegard.” She murmured as she hugged her sister one last time, a smiling pulling up the corner of her mouth before she teleported away.
She went traveling across Europe once more; offering her services as a midwife to get by. Unable to stay in Greendale with this new power drunk Edward and a Faustus who wanted nothing to do with her. Zelda stayed away until the anger and pain faded; until Edward’s threat seemed no more important than any other petty argument they’d had in their long lives and Faustus’ rejection merely an old faded scar on her heart. She stayed away until Hilda called and told her about Diana. Shuddering as the memory faded, Zelda blinked to reorient herself. She’d forced herself to forget that particular side of Edward; preferring to remember her dearly departed brother in a better light. Especially when there was so much more of that better light to remember than there’d been of the dark, manipulative side. Shooting up from her chair, Zelda glared at the woman. “What a filthy trick to play on a bride-to-be.” She exclaimed, snatching her gloves from the table and stalking away. Wondering why this witch was showing her memories of her brother’s disapproval of her relationship with Faustus. Nothing this hedge witch showed her was new information, none of it hidden away or keeping her from the altar. But perhaps, she thought as she burst out into the pouring rain once more, perhaps it’d been to remind Zelda of how she felt, even back then. How the idea of being tied to anyone other than Faustus repulsed her. How she considered revealing herself, her feelings, then; in hopes Faustus would take pity and help her. At the very least spirit her away, if only to get the weak witch who’d fallen under the mortal throes of love away from him. She’d ultimately decided against it, had run away with only Hilda’s help, but still, she’d considered. Some secrets should remain secret.The woman’s departing words replayed in her mind. No. Zelda was giving her too much credit, she could hardly be alluding to Zelda’s love for Faustus. The woman wasn’t that good, only empaths could sense such things and even then, Zelda took precautions against such individuals. She’d have felt someone tunneling that deeply into her mind. Maybe with less prepared minds, such as those of mortals and young witches, this ‘fortune-teller’ had been able to conjure up visions, but with Zelda she had to settle for a memory. Because it’d been a memory and not a vision Zelda had seen. The likes of which she likely only accessed by coating the card with some potion that allowed her to dredge up something to fit any scenario she’d already laid out for her unwitting victim. But with Zelda, she guessed wrong. It was easy enough to deduce Zelda had a secret—who didn’t— and that it was a source of great anxiety for her and could possibly stand between her and Faustus. But it wasn’t her fear of her brother’s disapproval; she never much cared about that and Edward’s feelings were hardly secret. But the nuances of memories were hard to pick up when reading tarot and the woman had also likely latched onto her recent memory of Faustus claiming he felt Edward’s specter hovering during Lupercalia. Though it’d been a failed reading, one that simply drudged up bad memories, the woman’s advice was still sound; some secrets should remain secret. Such as her loss of faith. Despite all the progress she and Faustus had made, despite how close they’d become, despite their now mutually assured destruction…. Zelda knew if he discovered her secret, that she’d been a fake for the past decade and a half, that it would end their engagement—would end them. Gripping her umbrella tightly, Zelda teleported back home. How Hilda thought a tarot reading would be a nice distraction Zelda didn’t know, clearly her sister hadn’t partaken in one if she was recommending others. Entering the house, Zelda did her best to banish old, painful memories and looming secrets by burying herself in the wedding catalogue Faustus left on the coffee table. If she focused hard enough on the good, maybe, just this once, it could drown out the bad.Faustus frowned at the book in front of him, he’d been sure the spell he wanted was in this volume. Apparently not. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose, he needed that spell. Luke was missing. Nothing but silence from the boy for over a week now. In all likelihood, Luke was dead; the boy never missed a check in. Though Faustus wanted to believe otherwise, it was always best to err on the side of caution.Which was why he was researching additional protection spells to put on the Academy. Only, his efforts were interrupted seconds later by Ambrose bursting into the room. Eyes immediately flying to Judas’ crib, Faustus sighed in relief when he realized the noise hadn’t woken his son. Turning his attention to Ambrose, he raised his brows; of all the Spellmans he’d have expected Zelda to be the one to visit him.“Do come in.” He drawled unnecessarily, considering the boy was already three feet into the room. It was then Faustus realized how pale and sweaty Ambrose was. When the young warlock stumbled over his words, trying to apologize, Faustus cut in. “Spit it out, Brother.” Licking his lips, Ambrose fidgeted with a card in his hands. “You would never harm the Spellmans, would you?” When Faustus’ head snapped to him, his full attention now on the boy, he continued. “Or ask me to hurt them?”Stunned, Faustus furrowed his brow. “Hurt them?” He repeated, unsure where all this was coming from. Standing, he rested his hands on the desk. “My boy, I’m marrying your Aunt Zelda.” He noted pointedly, “I liberated you from house arrest…” Wherever had he gotten the idea he meant the Spellmans harm? Seeming to come to himself, Ambrose nodded. “Of course, you did. Forgive this intrusion.” And he turned to flee. Faustus frowned, though he should likely dig deeper into Ambrose’s sudden paranoia, he knew he wouldn’t get a straight answer; not tonight. Instead, he rounded his desk and called the boy back. “Ambrose, there is some news I need to share with you. It’s about young Lucas.” He grimaced, but Ambrose had been very close to their now missing, presumably dead, warlock, it was only fair to let him know. “We’ve lost him, I’m afraid.”“Lost him?” Ambrose repeated in confusion, clasping his hands in front of him.Inclining his head, Faustus leaned against his desk. “I cannot tell you more than he died in service to the Dark Lord… in service to me.” He added solemnly, for Lucas’ blood was on his hands, he’d been the one to send the boy on this mission. When Ambrose’s face went ashen once more, Faustus moved closer, just to be safe. “Luke was a true warlock. A loyal soldier in an unholy war.” For that was what they were in now, war. Faustus hadn’t thought the hunters such a threat, but they could be the only explanation for the boy’s disappearance. And if this was war, then they’d need more soldiers, and though the timing was far from ideal, Faustus realized it was time to recruit Ambrose to his Judas boys. They needed more capable young warlocks, and Ambrose was already excelling at Top Boy, he knew the boy would do well, was ready to help protect the coven from outside forces. “Will you honor him, his memory, by taking his place in the Judas Society?” And perhaps it was still Ambrose’s shock over Luke’s death, but his face did not convey much excitement when he nodded, accepting the position before he fled. Shaking his head, Faustus turned back to his books, truly needing to finish these spells surrounding the Academy and needing to assign more of his boys to tracking these hunters. She was sitting in the parlor when Ambrose stumbled in, looking horrified. Panic shot through her and Zelda stood quickly, her notes falling to the floor as she checked the wards for threats. Finding none, she turned to her nephew who seemed to have forgotten why he came into the room and was standing mutely in the middle of it. “Ambrose, darling?” She reached out for him tentatively. His eyes snapped to her then, wild and filled with grief. The expression did nothing to ease her concern. “Ambrose tell me what happened.” Zelda demanded, guiding Ambrose to the couch and sitting next to him. But he didn’t say anything, only pulled a card out of his pocket and smoothed it out for Zelda to see.
‘Death’
And it was one of those tarot cards from the woman at the bookstore. Honestly, why Hilda thought it was appropriate to let that harpy in… she’d really have to have a word with her sister.Sliding the card from Ambrose’s hands, Zelda set it face down on the coffee table. “Darling, whatever ‘visions’ that trash tarot card reader showed you, were false.” She was a bit surprised her nephew was this shaken, then again, while Ambrose wasn’t exactly the youngest of witches, he’d been housebound for so long he was likely out of practice in defending his mind, allowing that woman entry to wreak havoc.Ambrose shook his head violently. “Auntie Zee, she showed me death, that is true. But that isn’t what the card alluded to. I asked her, I asked her about Luke and I.” He admitted, glancing at her to see if she’d say anything about Prudence. When she kept her silence, he carried on. “I, I didn’t know the card referred to Luke until I went to speak to Father Blackwood to ask if he’d ever hurt you.”Touched, if a bit confused, Zelda took Ambrose’s hands in hers. “Darling, I know you are the male in the house, but you don’t need to be giving the ‘if-you-ever-hurt-her’ lectures to anyone… especially the High Priest.”“That’s, that’s not what I meant.” He brought his eyes to hers. “My vision, in my vision I—” he gulped and looked away again, ashamed. “Father Blackwood offered to initiate me into the Judas Society, but claimed I had to kill you, Aunt Hilda and Sabrina to prove myself. I, I did it.” Taken aback, Zelda sat there for a moment. “Ambrose, you would never hurt us. I know you, sweetheart, I trust you and I love you and I know your heart. You would never hurt us.” Ambrose finally brought his eyes back to her, and he looked relieved, as if he’d needed the validation of what he’d already known. “And neither would Faustus.” She added for good measure. Ambrose exhaled shakily. “I know most of the vision to be false, like you said auntie. But,” he pressed his lips together and shook his head. “But when I went to confront Father Blackwood, in what I see now as a rash decision,” he gave he a bit of a sheepish smile, though it didn’t last long. “He, he told me Luke was lost, presumed dead.” Ambrose leaned forward and flipped the card back over. “I asked her about Luke, and she showed me. In a very convoluted way, but Luke’s dead. And, and Father Blackwood asked me to join his Judas Society…. So, how can you refute some of the vision and not the rest? She was right about Luke!” His voice cracked and Zelda could see he was barely holding it together.
Drawing him into a tight hug, Zelda ran a hand up and down his back. “I can refute it because she was wrong about mine.” She countered, pulling back and taking his chin in her hand to ensure eye contact. “So utterly wrong the only logical conclusion is that she intentionally selected cards and ‘visions’ to cause trouble and induce panic. I know you, Ambrose Quin Spellman, and you would never hurt your family, no matter who or what bid you to do it. Just because pieces of this vision are proving to be true does not mean the rest of it will.” She released his chin to cup his cheek and he nodded shakily before leaning into her, pressing his face into her neck like he used to when he was small. “Thank you, Auntie Zee.” He mumbled into her neck, tears wetting her skin. “And the Judas Society?” She wrapped her arms around her nephew tightly once more. “Is something Faustus created when he first became High Priest. It is a mentoring club of a sorts, most of the boys do not have fathers and Faustus though he might provide a role model for them. The older boys in it often go on missions for Faustus and the church; though never to this end before.” She breathed, remembering how happy Luke and Ambrose had been at Christmas and Witch Epiphany. “It is a way to network, meet more warlocks in the coven and expand your horizons in the church. There is nothing evil about it. No orders to harm those you love.”Some of the tension leaked out of Ambrose then and he slumped more heavily against her. “Can, can we host a funeral for Luke?” He asked, face still hidden against her neck. “Oh darling, of course. I am so sorry.” Zelda murmured, tears coming to her eyes as Ambrose lost his remaining composure and started to sob against her. Even as she comforted her distraught nephew, Zelda couldn’t help how her eyes drifted to the tarot card on the table. This woman was stirring up trouble, trying to sow seeds of discord between the Spellmans and Faustus. Why else try and sabotage her marriage? Why else give Ambrose a vision of him murdering his family on behalf of Faustus? No, this was intentional, thought out. And the only person Zelda knew who’d been manipulating her family these past months was one woman, Mary fucking Wardwell. Swallowing back a growl, Zelda rested her cheek on Ambrose’s head as his tears started to abate and exhaustion took over. Carefully, she teleported the two of them to his room and she tucked him into bed.As she quietly exited the room, Zelda thought back to all the dangerous situations Sabrina had been pulled into, how devastated her girl had been after the failed resurrection, how upset when she’d had to sign, and now Ambrose as well? Mary Wardwell had orchestrated this pain. Had hurt her family again and again. Red tinged Zelda’s vision as she made her way back downstairs. No one did this to her family. No one. Especially not some spinster school marm hiding behind lies, glamors and a false name.It was almost time to confront Wardwell. The witch had gotten an unexpected reprieve from Zelda’s investigation and revenge when she had unwittingly assumed Wardwell left after Sabrina signed. But now, now she couldn’t let the woman operate in the shadows any longer.
But first, first Zelda would get married. She wasn’t going to let the witch win by delaying the wedding, wasn’t going to let those seeds of doubt take root. The reason Zelda was waiting to attack wasn’t just because she didn’t want to give Wardwell the satisfaction of stalling the wedding, but also, because being the High Priest’s wife would give Zelda the extra leverage she needed.
Dark Lord’s old lackey or no, this woman had meddled in their lives enough. Mary Wardwell had played her last card; literally. Zelda picked up the worn piece of paper from the coffee table and tossed it into the fire, watching as the flames consumed ‘Death’.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
In the midst of preparing for her confrontation with Wardwell, Zelda continued to plan for the wedding. And part of that was informing her niece about her impending nuptials.
She’d told Ambrose the other morning, before they had their run-ins with the ‘tarot card reader’. It’d been was easy enough, though Ambrose had been a bit smug for her taste. He’d given her a knowing smile and hugged her tight, claiming he was happy for her and would help any way he could.
Sabrina…. Zelda had put off telling her niece for as long as possible. Just as she’d known Hilda and Ambrose would be excited and happy for her; Zelda had known Sabrina wouldn’t react well to her announcement.
“Engaged.” Her niece repeated flatly, sitting abruptly on her bed. “To Father Blackwood?!”
Smoothing her skirt, Zelda nodded from where she was still hovering by the door. “Yes, we’ll be married by the end of the month.”
Brow furrowing, Sabrina looked at her a bit helplessly. “I know,” she pressed her lips together in what appeared to be an attempt to hold back an unpleasant observation. “I know you have some history with him,” Sabrina remarked.
Though what history she was speaking of Zelda did not know, she’d certainly never told her niece anything of her past with Faustus…. Then it hit her, Hilda. Of course, her interfering sister spilled the beans at some point. If she hadn’t made a vow to herself to be better, Hilda would have been seeing the inside of the Cain pit later that day for her inability to keep secrets.
Her niece’s voice recaptured her attention. “So, you have history and he helped with Leticia. But auntie,” Sabrina threw up her hands, “he excommunicated Aunt Hilda, threatened us with the same after the exorcism, sent the weird sisters after Tommy when I, I messed up the resurrection. I don’t, I don’t understand. Is it because you love him?”
Clearly, despite their current understanding of one another and the recklessness of Sabrina’s past actions, her niece still needed some perspective. “Firstly, your Aunt Hilda deserved her punishment, far worse could have happened than excommunication for participating in a Catholic baptism and it wasn’t Faustus’ decision besides. Secondly, Faustus’ disapproval of the exorcism and resurrection were no different than mine. He did what he had to do to protect the coven; I don’t hold any of that against him.”
“So, it is love then?” And even if Sabrina didn’t necessarily approve of Faustus, the way her niece’s face lit up at the possibility that Zelda found love was touching.
Oh, Zelda wished she could say yes. Because she knew more than anything else this would get Sabrina’s acceptance; an admission love. Likely, it was Sabrina’s mortal side, her immersion in the mortal realm that had her so readily proclaiming and happily receiving love. That and the ‘fairy tale’ that was her parents’ marriage; two star-crossed lovers coming together despite the odds.
But Zelda couldn’t tell Sabrina the truth. Couldn’t say she loved Faustus. She couldn’t say such things aloud even to her niece, even now when it would make this conversation so much easier. No, while it may make things easier now, it would only cause problems in the long term.
So, she lied.
Just as she had with Hilda. Only, this time, her lies were accepted… if with a disapproving look. “I respect Faustus. We are well-suited to one another and I don’t mind his company. He respects me and, I believe, enjoys my company as well.”
Sabrina’s tentative smile morphed into a frown. “Those aren’t reasons to marry someone.” She said pointedly, crossing her arms and arching a brow at Zelda in a way she knew the girl learned from her.
Exhaling slowly, Zelda brushed her hair back. “Well, we are in disagreement then. And whether you approve or not, Faustus and I are to be married.” Despite her neutral tone, Zelda dearly hoped Sabrina would approve; at least on some level. She wanted to marry Faustus, had for decades, but Zelda didn’t want to alienate Sabrina in the process.
Sputtering, Sabrina stared at her with wide eyes. “Whether or not I approve?! This affects me too! Is he going to come live here? Are you moving out?” She struck herself silent with her last question; as if she’d just considered the possibility. “You’re, you’re not moving out, right?” Sabrina asked in a small voice, picking at a loose thread on her comforter.
Softening, Zelda closed the distance between them, sat down on the bed and hugged Sabrina. “We haven’t worked out all the details. But I won’t leave you.”
“Promise?” Came a muffled question against her shoulder as Sabrina’s arms tightened around her.
The corner of Zelda’s lips tugged up. “I promise.” She murmured, pressing a kiss into her girl’s hair.
Breaking the hug, Sabrina eyed her. “Are you, are you at least happy about this? If you’re not in love?” She emphasized the word as if she didn’t quite believe Zelda—and perhaps her girl was better at reading people than she’d given her credit for. Perhaps she’d inherited a little of Hilda’s empath abilities.
Surprised by how well this conversation had gone—she’d expected more resistance, some yelling—Zelda nodded. “I am, sweetheart. Thank you for looking out for me.” Sabrina smiled at her, and Zelda touched Sabrina’s cheek and then, while her niece was slightly appeased, she brought up the other topic that had been sitting on her chest. “Darling, would, would you do me the favor of being one of my bridesmaids? Your Aunt Hilda is taking on most of the responsibilities as maid of dishonor. But I know she would love the help and I would love it if you would be in my wedding…” Trailing off, Zelda spun her rings as she watched numerous emotions flicker over Sabrina’s face.
Eventually, Sabrina nodded. “Alright, I can help out. Thank you for asking, Auntie Zee. I know this is a really important day for you.”
Though Zelda could tell Sabrina was still conflicted over the matter, her heart warmed at the fact that her girl was willing to put aside her feelings to help her. It was a true testament to how much Sabrina had matured and grown in recent months.
Placing a final kiss on Sabrina’s forehead, Zelda left to continue working; there was much to plan.
~~~~~~~~
The past few weeks had flown by in a blur of wedding planning. Praise Satan, Zelda handled most of it. Though Faustus was certainly involved and invested, wanting it to be a proper wedding, he had other matters to attend to; such as preparing the church for the Antipope’s visit.
It was rare. For such a high-ranking official within the Churches of Darkness to oversee a wedding, especially for on not in an equally high position of power. Which was why Faustus had been so stunned the warlock offered when Faustus had called to inform the high council of his impending nuptials as tradition demanded.
He’d readily accepted, of course. It was an honor to have the Antipope preside over their ceremony, and it could be a sign of better things to come. Antipopes didn’t just officiate over any ceremony, perhaps this meant he’d be moving up within the church soon.
But the Antipope’s visit wouldn’t just be about the wedding. No, it would be about the introduction of the New Testament, focusing on the Facets of Judas…. Just as the Dark Lord had bid him.
Faustus cringed as the memory resurfaced.
Satan had come to him several nights ago. He had been thrilled, at first, thinking it a blessing for his and Zelda’s marriage. That was until the Dark Lord bid him to put a manifesto before Antipope Enoch, claiming it his own.
Faustus realized then, with a sinking heart, the true reason the Antipope was coming; not because he’d done anything noteworthy in the eyes of the church, but because the Dark Lord was playing chess with their lives again and somehow Faustus was still just a pawn.
As he overlooked the documents the Dark Lord had given him to present to Antipope Enoch, however, Faustus shook his head. “You, you want this? My Lord, I trust you, but I have concerns. This would set the Churches of Darkness back hundreds of years. To hold back half of our kind, especially when they’ve made such great strides in history; Marie Antoinette, Ann Boleyn, Morgan la Fey, Leticia di Albioni, Joan of Arc—for who else but a witch could claim visions and not die but lead mortals to victory in your name, they burned her for that in the end…. Some of our greatest strides in spell casting, alchemy and demon banishing came from witches.”
Pain overcame Faustus, a white-hot knife slicing his head, sending up bursts of light before his eyes. “You dare question me!” The fire in his office roared to life and crept higher along with the Dark Lord’s fury. “You will introduce these decrees, name them after Judas as you are so found of naming everything else.” He spat, slashing His clawed hand through the air.
Still clutching his head, Faustus was able to pass off the rage twisting his face as pain. How could the Dark Lord’s mock his son and his Judas boys? They were two of the things he was most proud of, named after one of his boyhood idols, and here Lucifer was, sneering at them as though they were insignificant. The comment did nothing to incentivize Faustus to carry through with Satan’s command concerning the manifesto.
As if sensing his remaining reluctance and anger, the Dark Lord walked closer, looming over him. “You don’t have to go through with them, Blackwood.” He added, voice harsh and low. “I just need word to get back to Sabrina. I need her to do something and while Lilith is working on the girl as well, I feel the need to add another motive in case my concubine fails me again.”
The pain eased and Faustus gasped in relief. Though he wanted to argue, to press the point, to ask why another way couldn’t be used, why Lilith couldn’t be relied upon, Faustus held his tongue—knowing he wouldn’t, couldn’t, win and that any further displays of disobedience would only bring more pain.
Keeping his head bowed in submission, Faustus nodded. “I will do as you command, Dark Lord.” He murmured, his eyes remaining downcast until the Dark Lord’s presence disappeared. Rising slowly, head still aching, Faustus picked up the documents once more. If he was to present them to the Antipope as his own, he would need to be familiar with the contents—no matter how abhorrent.
Faustus settled behind his desk and studied the pages, stomach churning. As he read, his thoughts turned to Sabrina more than once; he felt somewhat bad for the young witch. Faustus knew what it was like when the Dark Lord was overly attentive and whatever games He was playing would not end well for the pawns involved.
There’d been little he could do now beyond what was ordered of him. In any case, the Dark Lord had said he wouldn’t have to go through with the changes laid out in the manifesto… as if Zelda would ever let him.
So, really, what harm could it do to show them to Antipope Enoch?
And there was no reason to tell Zelda the truth of the matter; she’d been so shocked and excited when he’d told her the Antipope was coming. He saw no need to say the warlock was coming because the Dark Lord was playing games. Even if Faustus had wanted to share, he doubted the Dark Lord would permit him to reveal as much anyway; the rules of dark devotions were strict, and Faustus did not want to incur the Dark Lord’s wrath any more than he already had.
No, it was better to let Zelda think they were being honored than to reveal they were being used.
Shaking off the memory, Faustus continued to oversee the cleaning and repair of the school; it wouldn’t do to have anything out of place when Antipope Enoch arrived. Regardless of the Antipope’s true purpose for being in Greendale, Faustus—and his coven—had their pride. And everything would be perfect for when the warlock arrived.
~~~~~
The next morning Faustus was still mulling over how he could introduce the blasted decrees and have word get back to Sabrina without taking it to the coven as a whole. Though they would likely follow him, Faustus didn’t want to take the coven even a step down that path if he could avoid it. No, there had to be a more discreet way of getting word to Sabrina without it seeming deliberate; Faustus doubted the Dark Lord would appreciate any blatant reveals. Besides, Sabrina would likely be suspicious, and not follow the path Satan wanted, if he were too obvious. No, this needed a more subtle hand.
Before he could think further on the matter, though, Prudence and her sisters barged into his room nearly making him cut himself as he shaved.
A glance at the clock told Faustus that it was just past 5:00am; turning slowly, Faustus demanded to know why they were in his bedchambers. Prudence spoke for them, claiming they shared a dream and given the upcoming events they could not delay in telling him of its contents.
Sighing, Faustus turned to face them completely. “Speak then. What did you dream of?”
The girls linked pinkies and then spoke as one, telling him what they had seen. It always unnerved him with they did this, not that he’d ever admit as much out loud. Regardless of his comfort, the dream was nonsense. Dismissing the girls, Faustus turned back to his mirrors to finish shaving.
The Spellmans would be his downfall, he huffed and knocked his razor clean before stretching his neck to get under his jaw. The girls had had dreams like this before and as with any form of premonition it needed to be taken with a grain of salt. Though, the mention of a coffin at the wedding was a bit disconcerting.
It was then he noticed Prudence hovering in the background, her sisters having departed. “Father, after the wedding, will Zelda Spellman take your name?”
Closing his eyes for patience, Faustus lifted the blade once more. “Not this again. Of course she will, Prudence.” The idea of Zelda taking his name was thrilling, and a long time coming. But Prudence’s insistence on being allowed the Blackwood name as well was a problem. Faustus had thought he dealt with this back when they were still deciding who would be Top Boy. He could not allow Prudence to take his name, it would put her in danger and would give others another point of leverage should they ever think to act against him. Apparently, the matter still needed to be addressed.
Prudence paused a moment, and then pressed on. “And will Sabrina be a Blackwood?”
The comment made his hand jerk, slicing his cheek with the razor. It galled him, the thought of Edward’s offspring, the man who’d betrayed him and stolen his life from him for so long, would take the Blackwood name. And Sabrina was just enough like her father that Faustus couldn’t forgive her for it.
A rational part of him knew it wasn’t fair to the girl, to hold her father’s sins against her… and for the most part he didn’t; not anymore. Not when Sabrina had racked up enough of her own. So, though Faustus knew he’d have to eventually make amends with Sabrina for Zelda’s sake if nothing else, Faustus could not go so far as to share a name with the girl.
“Never.” He replied in a clipped tone. “She has a little claim to the name as… well, you. Now, go to bed.” Faustus instructed, probing his physical cut while Prudence fled with the verbal one he’d inflicted.
Sighing once she’d left, Faustus cast a spell to heal the shallow wound. What should have been a joyous time spent with his fiancée planning the wedding was rapidly turning into a migraine. With the Antipope’s visit, the Dark Lord’s demands, premonitions and Prudence still badgering him about surnames… Faustus couldn’t wait for all of this to be over and for his honeymoon with Zelda to start.
~~~~~~
Four days before the wedding, Ambrose came into her room, distraught. “Auntie! Have you seen Leviathan?” He asked, anxiously searching under her and Hilda’s beds, poking his head into their bathroom.
“Leviathan?” Zelda asked, spinning on her vanity stool to watch her nephew search the room. “Why ever would your familiar be in here?” She arched a brow at Ambrose, and he slumped onto the edge of her bed.
Throwing his hands up in the air, Ambrose’s mouth opened and closed for a moment; nothing coming out. “I think he’s dead. I think Salem ate him.”
Taken aback, Zelda stood to join Ambrose on the bed. “What makes you so sure he died? Let alone that Salem ate him?”
Though familiars weren’t truly the animals they presented themselves to be, they often still displayed the instinctual behaviors of their animal forms—a side effect of running around as a different creature. So, while it wasn’t entirely implausible that Salem had eaten Leviathan as a cat would a mouse, Zelda hoped this wasn’t the case and that her nephew’s familiar had wandered off as the goblins were sometimes wont to do.
“I can’t find him anywhere. I even summoned him,” and before Zelda could interject that familiars sometimes took days to respond to a summons if their witch wasn’t in danger, Ambrose continued. “I summoned him a week ago and nothing.”
Mouth snapping shut, Zelda spun her rings in agitation. “Darling, Leviathan could be anywhere. He is a mouse; it is not difficult for such small creatures to burrow away somewhere; even larger ones. Why I remember a time when Vinegar Tom—”
At the mention of her familiar, though, Ambrose dropped his head into his hands, shoulders shaking. “That’s why I came to you. Because you lost Vinegar Tom and I wanted to know if you had a physical feeling when you lost him. Like an emptiness or a gnawing in your stomach, something like that.” He peeked at her, eyes wet but no tears falling, not yet.
“I—” Zelda swallowed, her eyes drifting over to where Vinegar Tom’s basket usually resided only to remember she’d moved him to the kitchen because it was warmer down there. “I was there, when I lost him, sweetheart. So I felt a multitude of things, but I also knew, without a doubt, that he was gone. I cannot say what a witch would normally experience when they lose a familiar. Why? Did, did you?”
Shaking his head, Ambrose sniffed. “No. I was hoping that was a good thing, because I know familiars can sense when their witch dies, end up dying themselves because of the pain. I thought there might be some kind of reciprocal connection there, that we might feel something when they, they die.”
Zelda placed a hand on his back. “Of course we feel something, dear, but it is merely grief at the loss of a close connection, a companion and loved one. Goblins and witches are not built the same, we do not feel when they die in the literal sense as they do us.” She hoped this would comfort Ambrose to a degree, give him some hope that since he couldn’t definitively feel that Leviathan was gone that the little familiar was still alive.
The words did not have the desired effect. “I have a bad feeling though,” Ambrose muttered, running his hands over his face. “Why else would he have ignored my summons if the answer wasn’t that he was dead? And Salem would be the only one to eat him. Leviathan was too smart to go outside where something else might attack him.”
Knowing she wouldn’t be able to convince her nephew otherwise, Zelda bent over and rested her chin on his shoulder, murmuring condolences, other possibilities and tactics she’d used to cope—leaving out the fact that she’d taken to killing Hilda with regularity.
~~~~~~~~
Though their wedding party was incredibly small to accommodate the short engagement period, Hilda and Sabrina her only two bridesmaids, Abigail came to visit two days before the wedding to help. Embracing Zelda hard and kissing both her cheeks while proclaiming that just because she wasn’t officially in the wedding, that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to be involved in the preparations for her best friend’s nuptials.
As always, Abigail’s presence invigorated Zelda, brought the widest smile to her face and made her feel a bit freer. And though she wished her friend had been able to bring Leticia, Zelda understood it was safer to leave the babe at home than to bring her here where she might be discovered. Nonetheless, she was thrilled Abigail had been able to join in the festivities and excitedly explained what they would be doing today as she led the witch through the house.
They all settled in the greenhouse, wrapping ribbons around the gifts the guests would be able to take with them after the reception and Zelda couldn’t contain herself.
“This wedding will be the re-making of the Spellman family. The Antipope, the unholy papal himself, is traveling from Rome, the Vatican Necropolis, to marry Faustus and I. What an honor the Dark Lord has bestowed on us.” While she’d initially been seized by anxiety when Faustus told her the news, Zelda now saw this visit for what it was—a sign. A sign that she had succeeded in her charade of faith, succeeded to the point that the Antipope was coming to oversee her marriage with Faustus. A smile made its way to her lips. “In two days, I shall, forever more, be Mrs. Zelda Spellman-Blackwood.”
Scrunching her nose in excitement, Abigail reached over and squeezed Zelda’s arm. While Hilda spoke up. “I only wish I could be there, see you down the aisle.”
Unable to restrain an eye roll, Zelda snatched the completed favor from her sister’s hand. “Oh, stop bleating, Hilda. I told you, I’m going to speak to Faustus about lifting your excommunication. I already convinced him to let you attend the play a few weeks ago, this won’t be too much of a stretch.”
Abigail smirked. “Yeah, come on Hilds, if anyone can convince Faustus to do something, it’s our girl Zee.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Zelda suggestively.
Eyes widening, Zelda kicked her under the table as Abigail chuckled, gaze flickering towards Sabrina and Ambrose in case they noticed the inuendo. Ambrose huffed in amusement into the jar of peanut butter he was eating out of and Sabrina seemed to have missed it entirely. Not wanting the comment to sink in, Zelda continued as though Abigail hadn’t spoken.
“After all, you have your duties as my maid of dishonor to carry out. Otherwise, they fall to Sabrina, who has been unusually quiet these last few days.” She noted, looking at her girl. While their initial conversation concerning her engagement and wedding had gone fairly well, Sabrina had become increasingly withdrawn as the wedding drew closer.
Sabrina scoffed. “Well if you can’t say anything nice…” she muttered, eyes barely glancing up from the box in her hands. When a general hum of confusion rose from everyone, Sabrina threw up her hands. “Putting aside the fact that you clearly don’t love Father Blackwood—” She began, tone haughty.
There it was. The true crux of the situation. Sabrina couldn’t accept the motivations Zelda had given her for getting married.
Before Zelda could respond, however, Abigail slammed her hands on the table, rattling the party favors. “You know what,” she bit out, turning a glare onto Sabrina. “I held my tongue before because your Aunt Zelda asked me to, and I think the world of her and love her. She told me you two had come to an understanding, had a heart to heart and were closer than ever. So, I didn’t give you the verbal lashing back in December you deserved and clearly still need. I won’t hold back this time.” She held up a hand to Zelda to silence her, eyes still on Sabrina. “No, Zee, she will hear this. Your aunt has done everything for you, everything. Don’t you dare try to take away or diminish the first thing I’ve seen Zelda do for herself in over a decade. You are a child; name in the Book or not. You do not get to undermine or question your aunt like this, not when your understanding of the realms and love is lacking, unfinished. Do you hear me?” Abigail’s eyes flashed, her voice thick with emotion even as her face remained stern.
Cowed into silence, Sabrina just gaped at Abigail and then turned to Hilda and Zelda to see if they would say anything. Hilda arched a brow and went back to tying ribbons on the bottles in front of her, evidently seeing no issue with Abigail’s statement.
Zelda, however, sighed softly. While Abigail’s defense and interference were appreciated, Zelda also wondered if it was how she’d explained the situation to Sabrina that had her niece pushing the issue. Trying to get Zelda to confess that love was the reason all along by being increasingly difficult with the preparations.
Before any of them could address the issue further, Salem meowed, and Ambrose picked up one of the boxes in front of him and threw it at the cat. “You better run, you little prick.”
Outbursts from Hilda and Sabrina filtered into the air, distracting everyone from the tension that had filled the room moments earlier.
Confused, Abigail turned to the children. “Her familiar ate your familiar?” She asked for clarification as she craned her head to see Salem run out of the room.
“No!” “Yes!” The kids answered at the same time, eyeing one another defiantly before they started to bicker.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Zelda raised her voice so they could hear her. “Enough.” Everyone turned to her. “Enough,” she repeated, this time softer and more tired sounding than she’d have preferred. “I’m getting married. No more fighting or talk of death, only smiles this week.”
Sabrina fell into a sullen silence but kept working, while Ambrose gave her a large, overexaggerated grin before going back to his peanut butter. Closing her eyes, Zelda returned to her task, repeating ‘Mrs. Zelda Spellman-Blackwood’, in her head like a mantra; knowing it was the only thing likely to keep her sane throughout this ordeal.
Soon enough they finished with the party favors and Sabrina was gone, stating she was meeting Nicholas and Ambrose shuffled off to his room. Abigail lingered by the door as she put her coat on.
“Zee, I’m sure you didn’t appreciate me butting in, but that girl needed a talking to.” She remarked, pulling her hair out from under her coat collar.
Exhaling slowly, Zelda approached her dearest friend. “Abs, I—”
“Should be the epitome of joy right now, you’re getting married!” Abigail clasped Zelda’s hands between her own and squeezed. “You shouldn’t have to be fighting with your niece about love, of all things.”
She huffed in amusement. “It’s Sabrina’s mortal side, we like to blame her inclinations for romantic love on that.”
Abigail smirked. “Please, Zee, I’m not stupid and neither are you.”
The comment took Zelda by surprise. “What?”
A smile tugged Abigail’s mouth to the side. “Rebecca and I feel it.” She murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Until now I’ve only said such things to her, worried what revealing it to others might cause. But that doesn’t make it any less real. We feel it. You and Faustus are allowed to feel it as well.”
No, Zelda gaped at the witch in front of her, it couldn’t be…. Was Abigail confessing to… but she couldn’t be. Such things were—
“Blasphemous.” Abigail said, finishing Zelda’s thoughts out loud—clearly having read her facial expressions. “I know. Or so we are told.” Shrugging lightly, Abigail released Zelda’s hands and bent to pick up her purse. “Anyway,” Abigail stepped forward and kissed Zelda on each cheek. “if you truly are marrying Faustus for power and glory that is your prerogative; I certainly wouldn’t judge you for it, it’s a plenty good enough reason. If, however,” she drew out the word, “there is something more to it…” she lifted a brow and cocked her head, “it’s just something to consider. Alright, well, I must be off, Rebecca is on her own with the kids and likely overrun by now. But I look forward to seeing the absolutely beautiful bride in a few days.” With a final wink, Abigail teleported away.
Needing to clear her head and think on what Abigail had said, Zelda grabbed the basket of sheets from the washer and took them outside. Though they could easily dry the things with magic, nothing quite matched the scent of sheets hung dry outside. Words bounced around her head as she flung the pieces of fabric over the clothesline.
‘Are you ecstatic?’
‘So… do you not love him?’
‘So, it is love, then?’
‘Putting aside the fact that you clearly don’t love Father Blackwood’
‘Rebecca and I feel it’
‘You and Faustus are allowed to feel it as well’
Hilda’s, Sabrina’s and Abigail’s voices tumbled over one another, sentences crashing together and reforming. But there was one conversation that was loud and clear in Zelda’s mind; the one she had with Faustus months ago. The one where she told him she loved him and then promptly stole the memory from him.
That conversation, of course, roused from the deep recesses of her mind every time the word love was brought up in reference to Faustus—which, in the last month, was surprisingly often. Perhaps, perhaps it was possible for a finite number of witches to feel more; if what Abigail said was true. But that didn’t mean Faustus would be one of those witches, didn’t mean he’d feel the same.
A small voice in the back of her head piped up. But what if he does?
Before Zelda could sort through her whirling thoughts, a figure across the yard caught her eye. Peering between the now hanging sheets, Zelda frowned. Brow furrowing, she stepped underneath the clothesline and away from the sheets.
“Constance?”
But how? She’d seen the woman die. Attended the funeral. Heaven, their mortuary had hosted the damned thing. How was it that Constance was now standing twenty yards away from her? Taking a few more steps, Zelda studied the apparition in front of her, but Constance didn’t move, didn’t so much as twitch. The light breeze rustling the sheets behind Zelda didn’t touch Constance or the flowing dress she was wearing. What could have—
“Sister Spellman?”
Starting, Zelda glanced in the direction of the voice and found Prudence approaching her. Head snapping back to where Constance stood, Zelda found the spot empty. Shaking herself, Zelda turned to the younger woman.
“I came to ask a favor of you, Sister.” Prudence explained, smiling as she came to a stop.
And though Zelda wanted to get closer with Prudence, had made a good deal of progress with the girl since the beginning of term, there just wasn’t time for favors. So, even though this was the first time Prudence had approached her for something, Zelda had to turn her away. Sighing, Zelda raised her shoulders. “Oh, I’ve got so much to do before the wedding, Prudence.”
Undeterred, Prudence pushed on. “I am the high priest’s daughter by blood, yet he denies me the Blackwood name.”
This wasn’t what Zelda had expected Prudence to ask about; perhaps something with the academy, with Leticia… but this? “I’m not sure what you expect me to do...” She replied, eyes flicking back to the spot Constance had just occupied; it was still empty.
“Entreat the high priest on my behalf.” Prudence remarked earnestly, taking a step closer. “Ask him to give me what is mine by right of birth.”
The plea melted Zelda’s heart, but she knew if Prudence was discussing this with her it was only because Faustus had already denied the girl’s wish. “Prudence,” she breathed, reaching out a hand to touch Prudence’s arm.
Pressing her lips together, Prudence glanced away from her and then back again. “Zelda, please…” she murmured, dropping the formalities. “I understand what I may inherit is small given that my father has a son. I have no intention of stealing from my brother. What I want is—” She cut herself off and Zelda knew what she wanted. A family; a place where she belonged. Clearing her throat, Prudence straightened her shoulders. “I helped you. I helped you with Leticia and I have kept that secret faithfully.”
Impressed with the girl’s ingenuity and lack of discretion when it came to blackmail, Zelda inclined her head. “I’ll speak with the high priest, but I make no promises.” She added the disclaimer, not wanting Prudence to get her hopes up in case Faustus was still reluctant. Just then Sabrina approached them, so Prudence merely nodded in thanks before walking away. Shifting her attention to Sabrina, Zelda groaned internally, she knew that expression. “What unnecessary drama are you cooking up now?”
“As a matter of fact, auntie, we do need to have a family meeting.” Sabrina turned and walked back to the house, likely to gather the others.
Sighing, Zelda flicked her wrist to hang the rest of the sheets and picked up the basket. She really didn’t need any additional problems right now. Planning a wedding, though it was a good kind of stress, was still a weight she would be happy to have off her shoulders…. And Wardwell, well, Zelda entered the back of the house and set the basket down before heading into the kitchen. Wardwell was something else entirely, though Zelda had a half-formed idea on how to deal with her.
But Sabrina’s concerns never aligned with Zelda’s, so she put them from her mind as she joined Hilda and Ambrose at the table. Zelda listened, first in shock, then in annoyance, as Sabrina recounted what she’d heard; claims that Faustus had been the one to kill Edward and Diana.
When Sabrina finished, Zelda turned to her niece. “Edward told you this?” She repeated skeptically, brow arching. “My brother, who’s been dead for sixteen years.”
“His ghost!” Sabrina corrected, clearly irritated Zelda wasn’t taking the news seriously.
“Spirits do love a witch wedding,” Hilda commented, a bit too excited about the concept. “There is an awful lot of hauntings when someone’s getting married.”
Rolling her eyes, Zelda refocused her attention on Sabrina. “There was an independent inquiry conducted by the high council when your parents died. They concluded the plane crash was a result of mechanical engine failure. Nothing more than that. It was a horrible, tragic accident.”
It was another lie.
She’d known for years someone had killed Edward and Diana deliberately. The only difference between her and Sabrina’s version, though, was that Zelda knew who was truly responsible; the Dark Lord. It wouldn’t do, though, to tell Sabrina this. Her girl had just truly learned what could come from defying the Dark Lord when she resisted the dark devotion He’d set her; Zelda couldn’t risk reigniting Sabrina’s rebellious streak.
No, it was best Sabrina continue to believe her parents’ death was an accident, if only for her own good and safety.
“Your ghost was either ill informed or, more likely, a fake.” Though Zelda was aware ghosts existed, Heaven she’d just encountered Constance’s in the garden, she knew it couldn’t possibly be Edward that appeared to Sabrina.
The only way to release a restless ghost was to fiddle with its headstone and whisper things into the ground that disturbed the being enough to rouse it from the ground. And while Edward technically had a grave, his body was not lying beneath it. It was still lost at sea, buried at the bottom of the ocean with the rest of the downed plane.
Which meant one was wholly incapable of communicating with the deceased since there was no body—Zelda knew, she’d tried in moments of weakness in the beginning; when the responsibilities became too much. She’d whipped herself after these attempts, of course, thinking she should have been strong enough to handle everything without trying to seek advice from her dead brother. All this meant, though, that Zelda knew, with absolute certainty, that Edward’s ghost could not have been brought to this plane.
Still, Sabrina pressed on. “My father,” she emphasized as though to tell Zelda that she did not believe the specter a fake, “also told me that I was to finish his work. He mentioned a manifesto.”
Nose scrunching, Hilda glanced at Ambrose. “Oh yeah, Edward did have one of those, do you remember?”
Before anyone could read too much into it, though, Zelda cut in. “Everyone knew he had a manifesto. The fact that your ‘ghost’ knew this does not mean it was really Edward. Besides, I read an early draft, romantic musings about mortal-witch intermingling, nothing more.”
“Why are you dismissing everything I say, Aunt Zelda?” Sabrina gripped the back of her chair in frustration.
For your protection, she thought, though Zelda kept that to herself not wanting to face the follow up questions that would surely follow if she gave that answer. In any case, the only credible thing this ‘ghost’ had said was that Edward and Diana were murdered, the rest was utter nonsense. But she wasn’t going to admit to that either.
Sabrina also didn’t make the most reliable witness in this case, and Zelda informed her as much. “I don’t know, something to do with the fact you were sitting in a bar, drinking absinthe in the middle of the day when you had this visitation.”
“But Father Blackwood—” Sabrina began to argue, and Zelda set her expresso cup down harder than necessary.
“Had nothing to do with your parents’ death.” She cut in sharply. “Now this conversation is closed. And since you cannot seem to separate your feelings from rational thought concerning my soon to be husband, consider your bridesmaid’s duties rescinded.”
It stung, taking Sabrina out of her wedding, but it was for the best. Her niece would just be in a miserable mood for the remaining preparations and for once Zelda did not have the energy, or the will, to put up with it. This was meant to be a happy time, and if that meant having Sabrina be a mere observer instead of a participant in her wedding, then so be it.
Ignoring Hilda’s admonishment, Zelda turned to her. “As for ghosts, the only specter I’m worried about is Constance Blackwood.”
From his perch on the counter behind her, Ambrose piped up. “What do you mean?”
“I saw her, earlier today in the cemetery, wandering amongst the gravestones. With malicious intent, no doubt, much like Sabrina.” It was a petty jab, but when she was overly stressed Zelda’s tongue became more acidic and less guarded. Shifting back to her sister, Zelda continued before anyone could respond to the comment. “Hilda, as my maid of dishonor, would you please handle it?” She touched Hilda’s forearm and looked at her with earnest that she made sure to keep out of her voice in the presence of the kids.
Hilda chuckled and shimmied a little. “Oh, yes!” She opened the notebook in front of her, the one with lists for the wedding, and marked down this task. “Ooh, Constance Blackwood, eh? I have not trapped a ghost for ages!” Her voice went up several octaves in excitement at the end and Zelda couldn’t help but smile a bit at her sister.
Not one to let things lie, Sabrina threw up her hands. “So, no one is worried about what my dad’s ghost told me?”
Swallowing the bit of cookie she’d just eaten, Zelda turned to Sabrina. “Not until I hear it straight from the horse’s mouth.” Knowing this was impossible, Zelda couldn’t help but tease a bit. “Do send Edward my way if he appears to you again, won’t you? We have so much to catch up on. Oh, and feel free to invite him to the wedding.”
A chuckle escaped Zelda at the idea. Edward would burst a blood vessel if he knew she was marrying Faustus after all those years he’d had worked to keep them apart. It might actually be a bit satisfying to see the look on Edward’s face as they made their vows. Laughing once more at that image, Zelda took another bite of her cookie as Sabrina stormed from the room; Ambrose following, likely trying to smooth things over.
Once they disappeared, Hilda smacked her lightly on the arm. “Snarky witch,” she scolded, peering at Zelda over the top of her glasses. “I know you’re acting like this because you’re stressed. What is it?”
Setting down her food, Zelda pinched the bridge of her nose, her amusement from moments before gone. “What is it? What isn’t it would be easier to answer.” She muttered, lighting a cigarette and taking a long soothing draw. “The wedding is in two days and Sabrina seems Heaven-bent on sabotage; though something is misleading her to believe Faustus was somehow involved with Edward and Diana when we both know better. Ambrose is skulking around because Leviathan is still missing and nothing I say or use to try and relate to him in terms of Vinegar Tom makes a difference. I also think he’s still upset about the vision from the tarot-card reader and of course Luke. The service we held was nice enough, but you know as well as I that burying an empty casket doesn’t provide any closure or comfort. Constance has risen from the grave to haunt me. Prudence is asking favors. And Abigail is making me question—” Zelda stopped herself, eyes going wide at what she’d almost admitted in her rant. She took another drag of nicotine to try and settle her nerves; at least she hadn’t accidently mentioned Wardwell.
Hilda lifted a brow at her. “Abigail, what, Zelds? I thought her company was just what you needed. You seemed calmer after she left, and I must confess, between the two of us, her lecturing Sabrina was needed. It should have come from me,” her sister ducked her head, and started to write some notes in her notebook to avoid eye contact. “I should have been the one to put Sabrina in her place for speaking to you like that, for making this difficult when it doesn’t need to be. But I’m glad someone did it.”
Eagerly latching onto the excuse Hilda had provided, Zelda blew smoke out of the corner of her mouth. “It was Abigail’s lecture. It had me questioning whether I’d explained all this to Sabrina properly. She’s a child and still believes in true love, it seems. She doesn’t understand why I would marry Faustus for anything else.” Yes, this was a much better topic to discuss. Much better than Abigail admitting she and Rebecca felt love, loved one another, and that it was possible for witches to experience romantic love despite all the tales.
Not appearing entirely convinced, Hilda shut her book. “Is that all?”
“Of course, what else would there be?” Zelda snapped, knowing the second she did that she was only confirming what Hilda likely suspected; that something else was on her mind that she wasn’t sharing. Before Hilda could press her further, Zelda stood and cleared her things from the table with a wave of her hand. “I need to go to the academy. Faustus and I are finalizing the seating arrangements.”
Zelda swept out of the room and up the stairs before Hilda could protest. Normally she would have just teleported away, not given her sister a chance to follow her and ask more questions. But if she was to be asking Faustus for favors, not only concerning Hilda’s excommunication, but also Prudence’s inheritance, she needed to be wearing something a bit more alluring.
Smiling as she perused her closet, Zelda pulled out one of her, and Faustus’, favorites. Yes, the red dress would do nicely.
~~~~~~~
Faustus had greeted her with a deep kiss and his eyes roved appreciatively over her dress, confirming that she’d made the right choice. Smiling, Zelda sauntered over to his desk and laid out the parchment mapping out the various tables that would be set up at the reception.
It was easy enough to determine who should go where, wanting to invite the entire coven but avoid any feuds, they arranged the various witches and warlocks accordingly.
Then, Faustus faltered. “And, um… Sister Shirley Jackson?” He scanned the desk, searching for the stone with Shirley’s name on it. “She seems to have… ah, fallen…” Faustus trailed off when Zelda intentionally knocked ash off her cigarette into the ashtray he kept for her. An ashtray in which Shirley’s stone was resting.
“Yes, it would appear so, wouldn’t it?” Zelda remarked, looking at him with her eyebrows raised expectantly.
A smirk tugged at Faustus’ lips. “Quite right,” and then after a beat, “Shirley’s a nag.”
Zelda chuckled and Faustus peered at her out of the corner of his eye, smothering a laugh of his own but clearly relishing in her response. Wanting to take advantage of his good mood, Zelda shifted to rest her hip against the desk as she tossed her hair over her shoulder; it never hurt to use all her assets when asking for favors. “Faustus, I have a request.” When he hummed in response, placing another stone in its place, Zelda continued. “My sister was, as you know, excommunicated.”
His eyebrows shot up, eyes going wide for emphasis. “Of course I know, I was the one to pass along the sentence. She witnessed a Catholic baptism, dearest.”
Dipping her head in assent, Zelda touched his forearm. “I know. It was an appropriate punishment for her actions. But Hilda has been atoning these last few months and I believe your concession in allowing her to see the Passion of Lucifer Morningstar truly helped her see the error in her ways. I believe she is ready to return to the Church of Night’s embrace.”
Faustus smiled at her knowingly and huffed a bit in amusement, he could see through her attempts to butter him up. Leaning in a bit, Faustus took the hand she’d placed on his arm and stroked his thumb over the back of it. “For your sake, Zelda, I will reverse your sister’s excommunication.”
She had to restrain herself from bouncing slightly in triumph. Though Zelda had been sure Faustus would grant her this, it was a relief to have Hilda back within the protection of the church and coven; while Zelda knew better than anyone the dangers of the church, it was better to be protected by it than to be ignored by it. Those poor witches the hunters had picked off were testaments to that. Faustus’ voice recaptured her attention.
“I assume Hilda will be keeping you company the night before the wedding, as is customary?” She didn’t respond beyond a raised brow. “Should you be… visited.” He added, a mischievous glint in his eye that told Zelda that regardless of Hilda’s presence he might try and sneak in for one last pre-marital romp; neither one of them believing the Dark Lord would actually visit to claim His rights to the bride-to-be; shivers went through Zelda at just the thought.
Wanting to distract herself, and needing to make good on the promise she’d made to Prudence about asking Faustus about her inheritance, Zelda took a fortifying drag of nicotine and jumped right in. “At the risk of straining your mercy and generosity, I wonder if you would allow me one more appeal….” At her tone, Faustus chuckled, he knew her too well not to know when she was trying to pull something over on him, when she was playing to his ego. “On behalf of your daughter, Prudence.”
The amusement left Faustus’ expression. “Zelda,” he shook his head and stepped away from her, running a hand through his hair. “This is about her wanting the Blackwood name again, isn’t it?” He turned back to face her, and Zelda could have sworn she saw a flicker of anguish in his eyes before it disappeared behind a carefully crafted mask. Too bad for him she almost always wore one just like it, meaning she could see behind the mask.
Stubbing out her cigarette, Zelda nodded. “Yes, Faustus, it is. She came to me at home today, asking me to speak to you on her behalf. She’s well aware she won’t be able to inherit much, and Prudence has no desire to take what belongs to Judas…. Darling, the poor child just wants to belong. Would it really be such an imposition to give her what she desires? It is merely a name; it wouldn’t come with anything other than evidence that she has a family. The price is minimal, Faust—”
He’d started to pace as she spoke only to round on her then. “You know nothing of the price, Zelda.” Faustus snarled, and she took an involuntary step back only to harden and close the distance between them.
“Then explain it to me, Faustus.” She retorted, voice just as cold as his. “Explain it to me and then explain it to your daughter.” Zelda pointed in the general direction of the dorms where Prudence was likely to be, spending time with her sisters. “Because I have a feeling she will not rest until she either has the last name she desires, and frankly deserves, or she has an explanation for why she must continue to carry the title of orphan in the eyes of the coven.”
Lips twisting, Faustus shook his head. “You were right. You’ve strained my mercy and generosity.”
A scoff left her then and Zelda crossed her arms. “Don’t play that game with me, Faustus Thane Blackwood. You know damn well I was only trying to manipulate you with those sweet words. You cannot keep denying Prudence is yours.”
“I don’t deny it,” he countered, sounded somewhat offended, “after the Feast and the Top Boy debacle most of the coven knows she is mine.”
Throwing up her hands, Zelda stared at him. “Then why not give her the Blackwood name? Will I be so easily cast aside once we marry? If I displease you in some way will you strip me of your name and deny—”
Faustus closed the distance between them and pulled her into him, his forehead pressing to hers. “Never. I could and would never cast you aside, Zels. You know I wouldn’t do that. You know me. I—”
She placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. “I know you.” She repeated gently, removing her hand from his mouth to cup his cheek. “I’ve had the privilege of knowing you for centuries. So, yes, I know you wouldn’t cast me aside. I’d kill you first,” she teased, trying to lighten the atmosphere that had shifted so quickly. “But Prudence does not know you as I do. She just knows you were like a father to her, and then suddenly you truly were her father and things changed. Her feelings towards you are conflicted, Faustus, and your continuous rejection of her does not help.”
“Zels—” He began, exhaling slowly.
Shaking her head, Zelda stroked her thumb over his cheek. “Just think about it, alright? I told Prudence I couldn’t make any promises, but I have to say… I’m leaning more towards her side.”
A groan escaped Faustus and his head lolled back. “You don’t understand.” And before she could once more argue that he should explain it to her, Faustus continued. “I will think about it, okay?”
“Actually, think about it?” She pressed, arching a brow. “You’ll truly consider letting Prudence be a Blackwood, you aren’t just saying it to try and appease me?”
He kissed her lightly on the nose. “I will honestly and truly consider it. Happy?” Smiling, Zelda nodded. “Good, because we do need to finish this seating chart, can’t have curses flying at our wedding.”
They moved back to the desk and worked for some time, only talking about where to shift certain coven members and trying to determine who was ranked high enough within their church to be near Antipope Enoch.
As they worked, Zelda couldn’t help but think about the tarot card reading (no matter how false she found it to be), the presence of Constance in their graveyard, and Sabrina’s declarations that Edward had returned to the living realm only to spout lies about her fiancé so soon after Faustus claimed to feel his presence. Gut churning, she glanced at Faustus. “Something odd happened to me the other day,” Zelda murmured, not quite looking at him and trying to appear nonchalant.
Faustus hummed and placed the final stone on the parchment, grinning triumphantly at the finished product before him. Waving a hand, the stones melted into the paper, leaving behind only the names inscribed on the parchment where the rock had been before—a much more efficient means of transcribing than ink.
Wetting her lips, Zelda continued. “After our initial failed cake tasting, I went to that horrendous mortal bookstore Hilda works at to try and get an answer out of her. She’d forgotten, as you know, but there was a tarot card reader there and she, well she was a fraud, but the memory she showed me was still worrisome. She said it indicated that we shouldn’t marry, that there were obstacles between us and the altar.”
Harrumphing, Faustus gently took her chin in his hand and tipped it up so she was looking him in the eye. “Prudence and her sisters came to my room this morning. They’d shared a dream, another one of their premonitions. A warning.”
Taken aback, Zelda could only repeat what he’d said. “A warning?”
After ensuring that she would maintain eye contact, Faustus released her chin and nodded. “Yes, about the wedding. They said the Spellmans would be the downfall of the Blackwoods.”
“That hardly seems logical, seeing as how I’ll be a Blackwood by the end of the week. Why would my family seek to be our downfall?” Perhaps she was being purposely obtuse. There were many signs surrounding their upcoming wedding, circling them like carrion birds do a dead or dying animal. But Zelda refused to believe that after all these years, when they’d finally gotten it right, finally were getting married, that it was the wrong thing.
An explanation existed for everything that had happened…. Zelda was certain Wardwell was behind the tarot cards, it was just a mere coincidence that Faustus had felt her dead brother’s presence a month prior—Edward could not be a ghost, it was impossible with his body in the ocean—, as for Constance, well, Hilda would get to the bottom of that. The only thing she couldn’t account for was the weird sisters’ dream.
Her casual dismissal, though, appeared to be exactly what Faustus needed. He sighed in relief and nodded. “Too right. I knew it made little sense, but you know how they are when they present a shared dream. The talking in unison, eyes closed, and pinkies linked.” He shuddered and Zelda knew it was only half for show. “I should have known to put as little stock in their prediction as you did the tarot card reader. How superstitious we have become in our old age.” Faustus chuckled and shook his head, reaching a hand up to tuck some hair behind her ear.
And if her dismissal of his worries eased his anxiety, his equally cool demeanor was a balm for hers as well. She’d just needed to talk to someone who thought things out logically as she did and didn’t jump to improbable solutions like the rest of her family.
“Indeed, we have,” she breathed in relief, leaning into his touch as the grip on her heart loosened as Faustus smiled calmly at her. Zelda knew she’d been overreacting; knew she’d been reading too much into all the coincidences.
And if these were more than coincidences, well, she was certain Mary Wardwell was somehow behind it. She needed to keep a better eye on the woman, and the way to do that was to send something small, something no one would think out of place to follow the woman. Hilda’s spiders would be perfect for the job.
Smiling, the weight in her chest dissipating even further, Zelda cocked her head at Faustus. “Whatever can we do to distract ourselves from our old age and superstitions?”
Faustus’ smile turned wicked. “I’m sure we can think of something, Lady Blackwood.” He purred, and her heart stuttered just as much at his words as his actions; he’d moved quickly so that his hands were braced on either side of her, trapping her between him and desk.
“Is that so, my lord husband?” She murmured, loving how the title rolled off her tongue.
Lust sparked in Faustus’ eyes and he crashed his mouth to hers, deepening it as he lifted her onto the desk.
~~~~~
Zelda left the academy feeling markedly better than she had since all this ghost business started. Faustus was right, they were just being superstitious, reading too much into little signs that meant nothing.
She’d gotten so used to searching for danger in every single thing that it was all she could do now. But this time, there was no danger. Not in her marriage to Faustus, anyway. Perhaps from whatever games Wardwell was playing, but not this.
No, her marriage to Faustus was good. It was happiness and love and Zelda refused to let it be tainted despite the many efforts of others.
Smiling to herself, Zelda teleported home to talk to Hilda about her spiders.
~~~~~~
He’d wanted to cancel his meeting with the Judas boys that night, spend the evening wrapped up in Zelda. They hadn’t had much time to themselves lately, not with all the planning and preparations that seemed to have them whirling in opposite directions.
It’d been a delight to peel that red dress off her, to ravish Zelda as she deserved. It had also been a most welcome distraction from what he had to do tonight. Their meeting was to take place at Dorian’s, initially meant to honor Luke—though the Spellmans had held a nice memorial, this one would be more intimate with those who knew the boy best—now it was also meant to prepare them for the Antipope’s visit.
Sighing, Faustus cleaned up, having reluctantly let Zelda leave, and headed to Dorian’s early. Several of his Judas boys were already there, just as they planned. Joining them at a table in the corner of the room, Faustus bent his head to update them on the witch hunters in the area.
After they’d lost Luke, he’d dispatched several more of his older students to investigate, in teams of two or three this time, he wouldn’t risk their safety just for answers. Several had reported back, though they didn’t have much to show for their efforts. The boys at the table with him sagged in relief, no news was good news; at least in their eyes. Faustus, however, would have preferred news, just because the hunters couldn’t be found didn’t mean they were gone.
As other boys started to trickle in, Faustus called their little meeting to a halt. The witch hunters business was to be kept within the innermost circle of the Judas Society until Faustus had more information to work with; no need to cause panic within the coven. Before they went to join the others, Faustus held up a hand.
“I will be gone for about a week after my wedding. You can contact me via mirror or witching board, if necessary.” Faustus looked at each of them pointedly, trying to convey that they shouldn’t contact him unless it was an emergency. “While I am gone, I want you to set up regular patrols around the academy and even into the Greendale woods to an extent, always go in pairs. The others will think I am simply being overly cautious with the school while I am away, let them think that, you all know that we are keeping watch for lurking hunters. Understood?” The boys nodded and Faustus did as well, giving the boys permission to join their friends at the bar.
Faustus remained seated for another minute, letting the boys congregate, get their drinks. What was meant to have been a memorial was now more a business meeting. It couldn’t be helped, there was too much to cover, with Antipope Enoch arriving the next day.
Once all the boys gathered round the fire, Faustus stood and paid his respects to Luke, his brothers toasting his memory with shouts of ‘hail Satan, hail Lucas’. It was heartening to see the boy’s memory would not be forgotten, Faustus only wished he could reveal the true circumstances under which the young warlock had fallen, given him the send off of a true servant to the Church of Night. Instead, they stood in a circle, discussing their favorite memories of Luke, laughing and shaking their heads in equal measure.
Too soon, Faustus had to turn the conversation to the Antipope. “As you are all aware, his unholy eminence will be honoring us with his presence tomorrow. You are to take turns acting as his guard while he is here.”
Though the warlock was supposed to bring his own protection, Faustus had it on good authority from the high council that Enoch liked to flaunt that rule and travel alone. It afforded him more freedom to pursue certain lusts unobserved—though there were few proclivities witches looked down upon, the fact that the Enoch felt the need to travel without security in order to indulge in them was intriguing and worrisome. It also meant the Judas boys would be standing in as guards; Faustus refused to go down in witching history as the warlock who lost the Antipope. He’d never advance in the church if that happened.
And so, they’d created a schedule, the boys rotating so that several of them were on guard then entire time; day or night. Once they’d reviewed the details, Faustus took a fortifying drink and plunged into the topic he’d been dreading the most; the manifesto.
He’d realized earlier today that this meeting would be the perfect place to introduce the manifesto the Dark Lord ordered him to present to the Antipope. It wasn’t the best solution, telling his Judas boys, but it was better than informing the coven as a whole.
As Faustus read off the facets of their new testament, many of his boys seemed confused, but they’d followed him without question for years now, and so they followed their brothers’ suit and hailed Satan as he proclaimed each tenet. Several of the boys seemed too eager about this manifesto, one smiling rather eerily as Faustus listed them off, he’d need to keep an eye on them as this progressed—though he hoped it would go no further than tonight.
Once done, Faustus packed the documents away and dismissed the group, only calling out to Ambrose to make sure the boy stayed behind. He hadn’t missed Ambrose’s expression of disgust while he listed the Facets of Judas. He’d lost the boy’s respect. It was a blow, Faustus had come to care for Ambrose, he was a young warlock who’d lost his father and then lost his way because of it—Faustus had hoped to be the father figure Ambrose so needed, just as he’d provided it for his other Judas boys. Freeing him from house arrest and then making him Top Boy had helped make headway, though Ambrose had proven himself more than deserving of those rewards.
Now, well, unfortunately Faustus had to use Ambrose. He’d known the young warlock would be there tonight, had known he’d disapprove of the manifesto, and now the boy would carry along the message of what Faustus planned to do back to his cousin.
The Dark Lord’s will was done, however convoluted, Sabrina would receive this news and then, Satan willing, act accordingly. Clapping Ambrose on the shoulder, Faustus verified that Ambrose was up to the task of guarding the Antipope with his brothers. The boy nodded and then hurried away.
Not sure what Lilith had planned, or if it was already in motion, Faustus just hoped that between the two of them, they could get Sabrina down the right path. Otherwise, well, they just might be on the receiving end of the Dark Lord’s wrath once more; and that was something Faustus dearly wanted to avoid. He still vividly remembered Satan’s wrath after Sabrina failed to sign the Book of the Beast, and then again when she bested them in court. Hopefully, hopefully this was all that was needed to fulfill the Dark Lord’s needs. Hopefully it didn’t bring harm to the girl; because Faustus wasn’t sure how he’d explain it to Zelda. She’d been understanding of his secret keeping before, concerning Lilith and her role, but Faustus doubted it would extend further if Sabrina were hurt in any way.
Exhaling slowly, Faustus sat down at the bar and ordered another drink. While he didn’t mind games for the most part, he hated it when he wasn’t in a role that allowed him to see the full picture; and when the Dark Lord was involved, no one but the Dark Lord had the full picture. Knocking back his drink, Faustus ordered another.
~~~~~~~~~
Hilda hadn’t agreed to Zelda using some of her spiders easily. Her sister had wanted to know why Zelda needed to spy on someone in the first place and, more importantly, who she wanted to spy on. It’d taken some finagling, but she’d managed to convince Hilda without giving away her secrets; though Zelda was sure if Hilda truly wanted them she could just demand her familiars report back to her before they reported to Zelda.
In any case, Mary Wardwell would now be under the watchful eyes of about 100 of Hilda’s spiders, they’d position themselves at her home, at Baxter High and in various other places the witch frequented. Everything was falling into place.
Preparing for bed, Zelda rubbed lotion onto her elbows. “I’ve arranged it with Faustus, Hilda.” She murmured, having waited to share this news in case she needed it to convince her sister to let her use her spiders. “You’re back in the Church of Night.”
A small excited gasp left Hilda. Though she knew her sister was far from religious, Zelda was aware how much Hilda had missed the coven, the get togethers, the holidays, and now she would be able to attend any academy functions without special permission.
Smiling, Zelda switched arms and lotioned that elbow. “Just in time to fulfill your duties as maid of dishonor.”
“Oh! Ooh, I’ve already begun! Yeah.” When Zelda spun on her stool in surprise, Hilda continued. “I’ve sent Lady Blackwood’s ghost back to whence it came.”
Brow arched, Zelda looked at her sister, impressed. “Oh? Have you dispatched of her so quickly?” It wasn’t that she’d doubted Hilda’s ability to deal with Constance, she’d never have asked her sister if she had, she just hadn’t expected this particular errand to be finished so quickly. Zelda had fully anticipated Constance visiting her that night. Pleased, Zelda smiled at Hilda and turned back to her mirror.
A proud chuckle escaped Hilda. “I did. It turns out, she’s not the real villain. No, that is Sister Jackson.”
Surprised, Zelda blinked and turned to face Hilda once more. “Shirley? Again?” Scowling, she stood from her seat. “I swear, I should’ve let her jump to her death when I had the chance. But no, I thought I’d send a warning first; give her the chance to back off. Apparently, she wasn’t smart enough to take the opportunity I’d given her, chose to try and harm me through other, less direct means; fiddling with gravestones and ghosts. Well, Shirley is about to find out that I don’t give second chances.”
Clucking, Hilda shook her head. “No, don’t you fret about it, because she and I are going to have us some tea and biscuits and sort out our differences once and for all.”
Zelda inclined her head, not sure what Hilda had in mind but knowing full well it didn’t end at tea and biscuits. “I appreciate that, Hilda, but there’s one more duty that falls to you.” Swallowing, Zelda rounded her bed. “The most important responsibility as maid of dishonor.” Twisting her fingers, she sat across from her sister. “Tomorrow evening, before Faustus and I are wed, will you attend me?” At Hilda’s look of horror, Zelda hurried to continue. “At least until the Dark Lord arrives.” Her throat tightened at even the mere verbalization that the Dark Lord would come for her. “If He arrives.” She added in a tremulous voice and with a nervous chuckle.
“As you wish.” Hilda murmured, eyeing her with concern. “Do you, do you really think the Dark Lord’s going to visit?”
Picking at the palm of her hand, Zelda pressed her lips together for a moment to hide their trembling. “I wouldn’t presume to second-guess Him, but… I must be ready for the possibility.” Though Zelda dreaded even the thought, she knew if she denied the possibility that the Dark Lord would somehow sense it and come for her out of spite. “After all, it is our Dark Lord’s divine right to visit any bride-to-be the night before her witch wedding and…” Zelda chewed on her lip, “claim her for Himself.”
Not missing the quiver of her chin, Hilda nodded. “I… I will be there. Whatever you need, sister.”
Almost wilting with relief, Zelda exhaled shakily and nodded. “Thank you, Hildie. I know this has been a lot of work. I appreciate it more than—”
Hilda’s hand on her arm cut her off. “Of course, Zelds. I’m always here for you.”
Lips trembling once more, Zelda patted Hilda’s hand and turned away to climb into bed. Though she longed for the distraction her flog could provide in terms of pain, Zelda knew such means were no longer an option for her. Instead, she’d rely on her sister, on her soon to be husband, and, just for tonight, some foxglove to help her sleep.
Finishing the tea she’d been drinking, Zelda slid under her enchanted blanket and fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep.
~~~~~~~~
The next day was a blur. It passed in a whirlwind of activities that took Zelda from one thing to the next in such a fashion that suddenly it was night and Faustus had summoned her to the academy to help greet Antipope Enoch.
Heart in her throat, Zelda stood next to Faustus waiting as one of the most powerful warlocks in their church stepped out of the back of his vehicle and approached them. Resisting the urge to take Faustus’ hand, Zelda stood straight and proud.
She could not falter here. Though she’d managed to deceive those around her for almost two decades, this warlock was the Antipope, it was certainly possible he’d be able to pick her for the fraud she was. Carefully stepping aside as the warlock ascended the steps, Zelda took the hand he held out, kissing the back of it as expected.
“Your most unholy, you honor us.” Faustus greeted, kissing the Antipope’s hand as well.
The words had barely left Faustus’ mouth before the Antipope was replying in a bored tone. “Yes, I know.” Zelda felt his gaze turn to her. “Faustus, this must be your betrothed, Zelda.”
Raising her head, Zelda caught a proud smile on Faustus’ lips before she met the Antipope’s eyes. “Welcome, father of fathers.” She murmured, trying hard to hide how her body was shaking with anxiety. Though if the Antipope noticed he said nothing, perhaps he was used to people shivering in his presence; Zelda certainly would have been almost two decades ago, when her faith had been intact. Being that close to power, to a representative of the Dark Lord, she’d have practically vibrated with joy at the proximity.
Antipope Enoch had other things on his mind than her physical or mental state, though. “Oh, my, she is sumptuous.” He pulled his hand away from Faustus and caressed his fingers along her hand and wrist. “My, my, my.” Zelda did her best not to grimace at his observation, though she wasn’t unaccustomed to such attention, it coming from Antipope Enoch was discomforting. “Well, rise, Sister. You please both Satan and myself.” His fingers continued to stroke along her skin and Zelda could see out of the corner of her eye how the smile had slipped from Faustus’ face and how his jaw was now clenched, and his neck muscles strained in an effort not to do anything.
Her fiancé had always been a jealous man. And had this been any other person, mortal or witch, he’d have already hexed them for touching her, for calling her sumptuous.
With his eyes on her alone, Antipope Enoch, smiled. “Do, take me inside.”
Gifting him with a small smile, Zelda bowed her head and started to lead the way, her free hand brushing along Faustus’ shoulder as she passed him. Once they took a few steps inside, Faustus got up from his kneeling position and hurried after them, subtly slipping past and directing the Antipope towards the main hall. “This way, Enoch.” He murmured, glancing back to see the warlock still held Zelda’s hand as though he were escorting her to a dance.
Only once they entered the main hall did the warlock release her and step forward to examine the academy. The students were lined up around the room on their absolutely best behavior; Faustus had made it perfectly clear that any misbehavior during the Antipope’s visit would be dealt with harshly. Though from what Zelda could observe, they were all just eager to meet the Antipope and prove themselves, no thoughts of misbehaving in sight.
Until Prudence was suddenly at her shoulder. “Sister Zelda,” she hissed, glancing to ensure the Antipope and Faustus were distracted talking to the other students. “Did you speak with my father?”
Softening, Zelda touched the girl’s hand. “I did. All he said is that he’d consider it. I’m sorry, Prudence. I tried.” She gave Prudence a small smile and then turned to follow where Faustus and Enoch had moved.
When he stopped in front of Sabrina, reached out to touch her, Zelda nearly took his hand off his body with a spell. She didn’t like the way he looked at her niece, how he lingered even as Faustus lured him away with an offer to tour the academy. Thankfully, Enoch stepped away, though his eyes roved over Sabrina once more before he turned to follow Faustus.
Quickly stopping beside her girl, Zelda grasped Sabrina’s arm. “Are you alright?” She whispered, eyes on the warlock as he departed. She hadn’t heard what the Antipope had said, but if it was anywhere near what he had said to Zelda she wasn’t sure she’d be able to restrain herself this time.
Sabrina frowned at her. “Of course, he was just complimenting my dad. Said he was a terrifyingly skilled warlock.” She smiled then, eyes glazing a bit with unshed tears.
“Oh,” Zelda licked her lips and released her niece’s arm; of course, everyone still talked about her revered brother’s skills while she was seen merely as a pretty face, sumptuous. Clearing her throat, Zelda smoothed down her skirt. “I just, the way…” When Sabrina raised a brow at her, Zelda shook her head. “Never mind. Just stay out of trouble, yes?” She nodded, grateful the Antipope hadn’t done anything untoward, and turned to follow the others once more, only to overhear Faustus call Prudence a 'gutter orphan' who was fostered at the academy.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Zelda prayed for patience. She’d truly thought she’d gotten through to Faustus concerning Prudence’s last name. But here he was, creating even more damage. The timing of Prudence’s pleas now made more sense as well, the poor girl had wanted to be recognized not only in front of their coven, but also in front of the Antipope. Glancing at the young witch, Zelda saw something harden in her eyes as she turned on her heel and stalked away. Though she wanted to follow, do some kind of damage control, Zelda would have to worry about that later. For now, she was needed by Faustus’ side. Exhaling softly, Zelda waved a hand at the students to disperse and then made after the others.
~~~~~~~
Faustus deposited Enoch in his chambers, allowing the warlock some time to freshen up after his long journey before they met once more. Leaving Ambrose and two other Judas boys on guard outside the Antipope’s room, Faustus instructed them to bring the man to his office when he was ready.
With a nod of acknowledgement from each of them, Faustus made his way back through the halls and to his office. Shutting the door behind him, Faustus slumped into one of the chairs in front of his desk and massaged his temples.
It would be an unholy blessing to have this entire ordeal over with. While initially it’d been an honor to have the Antipope preside over their wedding, regardless of why he was truly there, Faustus was quickly becoming disenchanted with the warlock.
First, he’d all but drooled over Zelda, stroking her hand and undressing her with his eyes. Then he’d had the audacity to chuckle at the academy, before eye-fucking more than a few of the students.
Of course, Prudence forcing his hand didn’t improve Faustus’ mood; he’d barely had time to even think about Zelda’s request that he reconsider letting Prudence take the Blackwood name and there his daughter was demanding to be claimed in front of the Antipope himself.
It’d been too dangerous, to claim her then. The Antipope was not someone Faustus wanted to have information on him; especially information concerning his family. Before he could think on the matter further, a voice sounded in his head.
“Faustus, your work is not yet done.”
Flinching, Faustus peered around the room to no avail; the Dark Lord wasn’t going to show himself this time. Swallowing, Faustus sat up straighter. “My Lord?”
“You must present the manifesto to Antipope Enoch. Move forward with reforming not just the Church of Night, but all of the Churches of Darkness.”
Dread filled Faustus and he stood, pacing the room. “My Lord, you said all I had to do was get word of the new tenets back to the Spellman girl. That has been achieved. You said I would not have to go through with the testaments, that—”
His throat constricted, painfully, to the point that Faustus couldn’t breathe. Clawing at his collar uselessly, Faustus fell to his knees.
“It’s become a bad habit of yours, Blackwood, defying me. You are not to question my orders, whether they change, stay the same or I rescind them completely without explanation. You are to follow, without hesitation. Do we have an understanding?”
Vision going black, Faustus nodded to the best of his ability. The pressure around his throat was gone just as suddenly as it appeared. Gasping, eyes watering, Faustus crawled over to his desk and pulled himself up into his chair.
Chest still heaving, Faustus managed to cast a quick glamor spell to hide what the Dark Lord had done just as Zelda entered the room.
“There you are,” she reproved lightly, “I’ve been looking for you. I know we have a lot going on but how you handled Prudence…” She trailed off and narrowed her eyes at him. “What happened?”
Resisting the impulse to touch his neck, Faustus shook his head. “Nothing. Just waiting for the Antipope to finish freshening up before we meet once more.” Zelda arched a brow at him, clearly sensing he wasn’t telling the truth. Sighing, Faustus stood and rounded his desk to take her hands and settled on part of the truth. “I have found, to my immense surprise, that I am not as honored by the Antipope’s presence as I assumed I would be. The man disrespected this academy, its students, me, and worst of all, you.” He snarled, hands moving to her hips possessively.
A smile touched Zelda’s lips and she leaned in to kiss him, softly, slowly. “I noticed the tension,” she murmured, hands coming up to frame his jaw where he’d been clenching so often since Enoch’s arrival. “Do not worry, darling, the Antipope will not be visiting us long. I must admit, that I too, dislike his presence.” When Faustus’ eyebrows went up, she elaborated. “I don’t like the way he looks at the students. I know age differences aren’t the same for witches as it is for mortals, but even then, a 600 year-old warlock should not be looking at our students the way he is. Shouldn’t be looking at Sabrina that way.” She added menacingly under her breath.
Nodding in understanding, and glad they were at least on the same page regarding Enoch, Faustus pulled Zelda into a hug, trying to convey as much as he could into the embrace. Apologies flying through his head for what he was about to do, for what he was about to propose to the Antipope.
~~~~~~~
Of course, of course Sabrina would barge into his meeting with the Antipope and produce a miraculously procured version of Edward’s manifesto. Faustus continued to pace his bedroom, Judas in his arms.
He should have known. This was what Prudence and her sisters meant when they came to him with their dream. The Spellmans, specifically Sabrina, would be his downfall, not within the church or the coven as Faustus had initially thought. No, she’d be his downfall with the Dark Lord.
How would Satan react, when He found out that Sabrina had offered an alternative to Antipope Enoch? How would He react when He learned that Enoch was considering both documents?
Shaking his head, Faustus bounced Judas slightly in his arms. “No, my son, the Spellmans will not prove our undoing, as the weird sisters dreamt. Perhaps this was the plan all along and the Dark Lord will speak to Enoch, steer him in the proper direction. He will choose Satan’s manifesto over that of Edward. We need not concern ourselves.”
He peered into the fire for a moment, unconvinced.
“To that end, we cannot risk that his unholiness might choose Edward’s manifesto over the one I presented. The Dark Lord would not be pleased. Providentially, I was able to procure some of that truth serum Hilda used on us during the Feast; it may not be as potent, my skills in brewing rustier than I’d have liked, it will work all the same. All I need to do is dose the Antipope in the morning and ask him his intentions. Should they prove not to follow the Dark Lord’s will, perhaps I can convince the man to take the proper course.” Faustus nodded to himself, his words more for his benefit than anything; though Judas smiled up at him. Walking over to the crib, Faustus laid the babe down. “So, sleep calmly, Judas, contingencies are in place and I will not allow harm to come to our family.”
~~~~~~~
Zelda shoved off the bed, unable to sit still as the hours crept by at an agonizing speed. The sooner this night was over, the better.
“What time is it, Hilda?” She asked for about the tenth time since they’d sequestered themselves in the room Faustus had set aside for her at the academy. Pacing restlessly, Zelda continued before Hilda had a chance to answer. “Surely the Dark Lord would’ve come by now if He were coming.”
Hesitantly, Hilda leaned forward on the bed. “There is nothing to be scared about tonight.”
Rounding on her sister, Zelda pressed a hand to her stomach, which was in knots. “I’m not scared in the least.” She retorted, ignoring Hilda’s small, ‘I know’, as she kept talking. “It is the greatest honor to be visited by the Dark Lord. He, He only picks the most devout brides to… to christen on their wedding eve.” Dropping her eyes, Zelda spun her rings anxiously, unsure of what the events tonight would tell.
Of course, she didn’t truly want to be visited by the Dark Lord, especially not in that manner. But at the same time, if He didn’t, did that mean she’d failed in her charade of faith? Did that mean He did not see her as devout? Did that mean—
Hilda’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. “Then there is no more devout a witch than you, Zelda Spellman.” She murmured, looking at Zelda carefully to convey that she was talking about devotion to her family, and not the Dark Lord. But devotion was devotion and if they were lucky the Dark Lord wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.
Flexing her hands, Zelda pressed her lips together and kept pacing the room, nausea rolling through her.
“And…” Hilda spoke again, “He may not visit. And that’s okay, too.” She finished with a whisper, easily seeing that while Zelda dearly wished the Dark Lord would not visit, she’d accept His ‘company’ if it meant maintaining her charade and protecting her family.
She allowed the words to register, a much-needed balm. The Dark Lord was very busy, after all, and witches got married all the time, He hardly could attend to each devout witch on her wedding eve. Nodding minutely, Zelda crossed back to Hilda and stood in front of her, a bit of hope sparking in her chest since they’d shut the door. “Perhaps you’re right, Hilda. Perhaps the Dark Lord won’t come.”
Relief washed over her at just the thought. A small smile coming to her face, one that Hilda returned until they heard a growl.
The doors creaked open, an orange light flooding the room, and Zelda didn’t need to see the barely concealed horror on Hilda’s face to know what awaited her. The power filling the air was evidence enough of who’d arrived. Hilda stood quickly, her eyes locked on the door where the Dark Lord stood.
“He hath come for me.” Zelda whispered, looking at Hilda and desperately wanting to take her sister’s hand to find comfort. But she let Hilda skitter out of the room unmolested, her sister would have guilt enough knowing what she’d left Zelda to, she wouldn’t make it worse by grasping at her.
Lowering herself slowly to her knees in submission, Zelda kept her eyes forward, thankful that she wasn’t allowed to look at the Dark Lord until she was bid to do so.
As she felt him come nearer, Zelda tried to determine what this meant. Had she excelled so well in portraying her devotion and faith as true and this was the Dark Lord’s idea of reward? In which case her family was safe, even if she might not be. Or… had she been caught, figured out, fingered as a fraud and this was to be her punishment? If so, then Zelda could only hope the punishment stopped with her.
Her hands twitched at her sides, desperate to cast a teleporting spell to take her somewhere far away. But Zelda managed to remain somewhat steady, even if her eyes glazed with tears, lips twisted, and chin quivered in fear.
A clawed hand gripped her shoulder and Zelda couldn’t help the shuddering gasp that escaped her. The hand trailed down her arm the nails catching on the fine fabric of her robe as it came back up, the knuckles brushing the outside of her breast.
Holding back a whimper, Zelda squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again, lips pressed into a hard line. This was for her family. Just as everything else had been. Perhaps this was the price she had to pay for not ‘keeping them in line’, subjecting herself to this. Perhaps if she settled this debt with Satan, He would leave her family alone… and then she would be free to get married and live a happy life with her family and new husband.
A bone chilling scream rent through the air. Once, twice, then a third time.
The hand was gone from her arm and when Zelda swung around the doors were closing, taking the Dark Lord and the orange light with it. Trembling, Zelda loosed the breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding just as Hilda burst into the room.
“Zelda?!” She cried out, hands up and ready to cast a spell.
The sight of her sister running to her rescue touched Zelda. Had she really been the one to scream out in pain and fear because of how the Dark Lord saw fit to treat her, and Hilda had burst in, Satan’s fury would have been immense.
Standing, Zelda buried her own fear. “Who’s that screaming to wake the dead?” She demanded, voice hoarse and not doing quite the job of showing how unaffected she wanted to pretend she was.
The two of them rushed out into the hall to find Faustus already confronting Dorcas, who pointed into the Antipope’s bedroom.
“He’s dead!” The girl shrieked, hands coming up to her mouth in horror.
Faustus strode into the room, Zelda called out to him. “Faustus?” She sprinted the rest of the way, rounding the corner into the room. Then she stumbled in surprise, Ambrose and the two other Judas boys charged with guarding Enoch were standing over the warlock’s dead body, daggers still raised in the air as though they meant to strike again.
“Ambrose!” Hilda gasped, and Zelda inhaled sharply as well. Their nephew was covered in blood.
Confusion and rage swirled through Faustus. How? How could his boys do this? They all had murderous emotions rush through them on occasion, but for the most part they never acted on them. His Judas boys were not cold-blooded killers. It made no sense, no sense at all.
Kill them, Faustus, kill them. You have the knife your daughter intended to use on you in hand already, it would be so easy. The voice, once a whisper in the back of his head was now a deafening shout, so loud it was painful, piercing his mind and making it difficult to think of doing anything but what it demanded, if only to stop the pain.
“Villains! You assassinated his unholy eminence!” The words burst out of him without much thought and Faustus advanced on the boy closest to him.
Zelda’s hands were suddenly on his shoulders, physical and magically holding him back as she shouted at him. It took a moment for her words to register, but her voice was a soothing balm against the mental wounds the Dark Lord inflicted. Her voice overpowered the Dark Lord’s. “Faustus stop! They’re just boys, let them speak. They’re just boys!” When he stopped struggling against her hold, Zelda continued in a less panicked tone. “Look, look closely you can still see the effects of a spell on them.”
And he could, now that the haze the Dark Lord had shrouded his mind in was lifting, he could see. The boys’ pupils were blown wide, making their eyes almost black, and they were dazed, their daggers having fallen to the ground. Chest heaving, Faustus flicked a wrist and all three boys were bound.
“Take them to separate cells,” he ordered, “I don’t want them colluding on a cover story. And guard them vigilantly. No harm will to come to them, I want clear answers when I question them later.”
His remaining Judas boys moved at once, leading the other three away as they called out, asking what happened and why were they covered in blood.
Adrenaline coursed through him as Faustus inspected the body and the rest of the room. Though Zelda was correct in pointing out the boys seemed to be under a spell, all the other evidence was stacked against them. They’d been found with the body, with the murder weapons, and covered in blood.
One could argue that they had to be under a spell, why else would they murder such a high-ranking member of the church without any discretion whatsoever? But Faustus had to investigate every possibility.
Exhaling, Faustus ushered everyone out of the room and shut the doors behind him; sealing the crime scene with a spell to preserve it. With the suspects in hand and the room secure, Faustus turned to Dorcas. “What were you doing up so late and in this hallway to begin with?” He asked, wondering what had led the girl to being one of their only witnesses.
Mouth opening and closing, Dorcas wrapped her arms around her middle. “His unholy eminence sent for me.” She finally managed, tears forming in her eyes. “I, I didn’t really want to, but when the Antipope summons you, you can’t really deny him… can you?”
Fire bloomed inside Faustus and when he glanced at Zelda her eyes were ablaze as well. Their suspicions had been right, and though the warlock being dead and in this manner was a horrendous mess, Faustus couldn’t find it in him to mourn the church’s loss. In fact, he felt a small bloom of hope that with Enoch's death the whole manifesto business would die as well. But those were thoughts for another time, Faustus refocused on Dorcas. “Was the door open when you arrived?”
Nodding, Dorcas licked her lips. “Wide open, anyone walking by would have seen the same thing I did. Why not even close the doors? Hide what they’d done, put a spell on the room?”
They were the same questions Faustus had, and the only feasible answer seemed to be that the boys hadn’t been thinking, were in fact enchanted in some way, to be so sloppy in this assassination. He turned back to the girl but she was visibly shaking, tears slipping down her cheeks and Faustus nodded at Zelda.
His fiancée gently took Dorcas aside, spoke to her softly as she ran her hands up and down the girl’s arms comfortingly and then instructed Prudence to take her sister to the infernal infirmary for a calming draught.
As he watched the interaction, Faustus covered his mouth and tried to collect himself. He’d almost murdered members of his own coven. And not just any member, but his Judas boys, the ones he drew close because they’d no father figure and he thought he might provide it and here he’d almost harmed them. Waves of gratitude for Zelda and her ability to hold him back washed over him.
When Zelda turned back to him, she was spinning her rings, a nervous tic of hers that he’d noticed years ago. “What now?”
“Now we need to go to your house and search it for any evidence of Ambrose’s or the other Judas boys’ involvement before something can happen to it.” Before Zelda could argue that Ambrose couldn’t possibly have done this willingly, he added. “We’ll also be looking for anything that may have enchanted them to do this.”
Seeming to understand, Zelda nodded. “I’ll go change.” She murmured, turning on her heel and heading back to her bedroom, her sister in tow.
~~~~~~~~
With trembling hands, Zelda managed to change, Hilda sitting anxiously on the bed as she did; Faustus had promised he’d come get them and they’d all teleport over together.
“Ambrose didn’t do this, Zelds. He couldn’t have.” Hilda implored, tugging at the cuffs of her jacket.
Sniffing, Zelda turned to face her sister, doing up the last buttons of her coat as she slipped her shoes on. “An hour ago I’d have agreed with you, but Hildie, he was standing over the man with a dagger in his hand and covered in blood. I think he did it—” she raised a hand to forestall Hilda’s interruption, “not willingly, of course. But unless we can prove he was under some magical influence, made to be a puppet assassin, we may lose our boy.”
Blanching, a few tears trekked down Hilda’s face. “We can’t let that happen.”
“I know.” Zelda strode forward and took Hilda’s hands in her own, squeezing hard. “We will do everything in our power to prove his innocence. While Ambrose’s body may have committed the deed, he never would have done it if he were in the right state of mind. I need you to start making a list of different potions that could reveal magical interference and I will do the same with spells. Understand?”
Hilda nodded and she pulled one of her hands free to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Are you okay?” She asked after a moment of silence passed between them.
Taken aback, Zelda looked at her sister blankly. “What do you mean? Of course I’m not. Neither are you, for that matter. Ambrose is—”
Waving her hand, Hilda pulled Zelda down to sit next to her. “I’m not talking about Ambrose. The, the Dark Lord came to claim…” she swallowed and wouldn’t meet Zelda’s eyes for a moment. “He came to hurt you.” The amendment, though a much more accurate depiction of what would have happened, was also a harder truth to stomach. “And you’d have let Him. You’d have let Him to protect us and I wish I hadn’t left the room. I should have stayed and—”
A burst of laughter escaped Zelda then. It wasn’t that she found the situation funny, far from it, but her nerves needed to release tension somehow and since flogging was off the table, laughter apparently was what her body picked. “Stayed and what, Hildie?” She asked incredulously, then she softened. “You did what you had to, just as I did. There wasn’t a choice, no letting anyone do anything. It was the Dark Lord; you don’t deny Him. Though I was stunned, and touched, when you came barreling in when the screaming started. What would you have done, if those screams had been mine?”
“Killed Him.” Hilda growled, looking Zelda dead in the eye and there wasn’t even a hint that Hilda doubted she’d have accomplished just that if Zelda had been the one in pain, in danger.
Unsure what to say, Zelda pulled her sister into a hug, holding on tightly until there was a knock on the door. Faustus poked his head in. “We’re ready to leave.”
Nodding, Zelda stood, keeping hold of Hilda’s hand as she reached for Faustus’; together they teleported to the house.
~~~~~~~~
Sabrina was stunned, understandably, but she was also resistant to the Judas boys searching the house. “What if they plant something to frame Ambrose further?” She demanded in a whisper as she, Zelda and Hilda sat in the parlor, waiting.
“Why would they do that? They want to clear their brothers’ names as much as we want to clear Ambrose’s, planting evidence would only hurt them, not help.” Zelda countered, lighting yet another cigarette as she listened to several sets of feet move around upstairs.
Faustus had offered to let her supervise the search. And she had, initially, feeling too restless to just sit and wait. The boys were being nothing but courteous, they’d gone through every drawer, searched every cranny, but left no trace that they’d been there. Perhaps it was because they feared her as a professor and a respected member of the church or perhaps, they were scared of what Faustus would do if they trashed his fiancée’s house. Either way, Zelda had no concerns about the state of the house, despite Faustus’ instructions to search it top to bottom.
She wasn’t even worried about what they would find, for she knew there was nothing that could possibly incriminate Ambrose. No, Zelda was worried they wouldn’t find anything at all. She was worried there wouldn’t be any evidence that Ambrose had been enchanted; no remnants of a potion left in one of the various cereal bowls Zelda was certain they’d find in his room, no charms stuffed under his mattress to make him more susceptible to outside control.
No, as she smoked her fourth cigarette since arriving back home, Zelda worried they would find nothing.
Drumming her fingers on the armrest, Sabrina turned to her again. “You don’t really think Ambrose killed the Antipope, do you, Aunt Zee?”
Though she wanted to say outright that of course Ambrose could not be responsible for such a thing, she couldn’t, not after what she’d seen; Zelda also didn’t want to give Sabrina false hope in how this might turn out. “He was covered in blood, dagger in hand and had no way to explain himself.”
“Same as the other boys,” Hilda added, as if that lessened Ambrose’s guilt, the fact that there were possible co-conspirators.
Frowning, Sabrina leaned towards her. “Aunt Zelda, this is Ambrose. Cousin Ambrose, nephew Ambrose. Our Ambrose.”
“Yes. The very same Ambrose who plotted to blow up the Vatican.” She muttered, picking up her drink and taking a long sip.
Though Hilda and Sabrina gave her appalled looks for bringing up Ambrose’s past crime, Zelda couldn’t stop thinking about it; and the high council wouldn’t either when they were finally informed about what was going on. It would work against him, his past plots. While Ambrose may argue he was trying to go after the false god’s pope in honor of the Dark Lord, the high council would state he was going after their unholy eminence and that, having failed before, Ambrose had bided his time until he got another chance.
Before either of them could argue with her, Faustus came back into the parlor, his Judas boys in tow. “There’s no trace of anything.” He informed them, and Zelda’s heart sank, it was just as she feared, nothing had been found to clear Ambrose’s name.
Stubbing out her cigarette, Zelda shifted in her seat to face Faustus and the boys who’d searched the house. “Did you, by chance, find Ambrose’s familiar? A mouse named Leviathan.” Though the reappearance of the mouse certainly wouldn’t clear her nephew’s name, Zelda wanted the little familiar back so that it could comfort Ambrose while he stayed in the witching cells.
Faustus glanced at the boys and they all shook their heads. “I was unaware Leviathan was missing. But even should he appear, familiars are not allowed in the witching cells, they might aid in an escape.” He informed her grimly, and Zelda frowned but nodding in understand. Then he held out a hand to her, “come, Zelda, we must return to the academy.” Zelda set her drink aside, took his hand and stood. The night was far from done, they would be questioning the boys next and beyond that she wanted to be close to Ambrose, even if it meant several floors above him. Faustus next words startled her though. “Tomorrow will be all the more challenging with the Enoch dead.”
“Wait, you’re not going through with the wedding, are you?” Sabrina voiced what they were all thinking.
Removing her hand from his, Zelda looked at Faustus, brow raised expectantly. “It’s the Dark Lord’s will, Zelda.” He supplied stiffly, and Zelda didn’t miss the sweat beading his upper lip. “We will be wed after the funeral of his unholy eminence.”
Eyes narrowing, Zelda straightened her jacket and retook Faustus’ hand, so that they may teleport together, even as Sabrina looked at her in disgust.
“A combined wedding and funeral, really, Aunt Zelda?” A scowl graced her niece’s face, but Zelda didn’t bother to respond. She knew Faustus had his reasons, and she fully intended to find out once they were alone and back at the academy.
~~~~~~~
Faustus sighed in relief when Zelda took his hand and teleported back to the academy with him without arguing. He hadn’t been sure how much longer he’d be able to keep a straight face. As his boys searched the house, Faustus kept an eye on them from the foyer, it was here the Dark Lord whispered to him again.
The voice in his head like a whip, harsher than before, demanding he go through with the wedding despite the death. Secluding himself in the mortuary office, Faustus closed the door. “But my Lord, it would be unseemly to celebrate a union when our Antipope lies murdered and his assailants unpunished.”
“I tried to help you punish them, Blackwood, you refused to slaughter them.”
Hands pressed to his head, Faustus ground his teeth. “We need more evidence, they’re only boys. They had no reason to go after Enoch. It seemed like they were under some kind of spell—”
“You defied me before, you will not defy me again. You will wed tomorrow and then you will take Enoch’s body back to Rome when you go on your honeymoon. And perhaps, if you’re good and listen to me, I will reward you.”
The Dark Lord’s presence vanished, and Faustus sighed as the pain eased, leaning against the door and regaining himself before he went back into the foyer. The big picture was still hidden from him. He couldn’t see why the Dark Lord was so invested in his wedding, why He insisted they wed and then take Enoch back to Italy; normally a delegation was sent out to collect the bodies of any fallen high-ranking church members.
But Faustus did not dare to defy the Dark Lord again, not after he fought against the urge to kill his Judas boys.
So, he told everyone that the wedding would happen, regardless of recent events. And as they made their way out of the Spellman house, Prudence and her sisters’ words echoed in his head; a coffin at the wedding. Could the rest of their premonition be true as well? Could the Spellmans, could they somehow be his and his family’s downfall?
When they arrived back at the academy, he turned to look at Zelda, as if he could see the future in her eyes. But she was pale and shaky and wouldn’t meet his gaze. Confused, Faustus took her hand to keep her from wandering off down the hall to her room, or more likely the cells downstairs where Ambrose was being kept. This was more than just the death of an old, leering Antipope, this was more than just Ambrose’s predicament. “Zels? What—?”
She twitched away from him, her eyes are glazed with tears. “Why are we going through with the wedding?” Avoidance. He knew when she was avoiding something, but he also couldn’t ignore her question.
“I told you, it is the Dark Lord’s will.”
Rolling her eyes, Zelda stepped away from him and crossed her arms. “You’ve been using that excuse for ages. I know it is only true perhaps a quarter of the time, if that. Why are we going through with the wedding when Enoch is dead and Ambrose imprisoned?” Her tone was clipped, her features hardening.
Faustus knew he’d used that line too many times over the years, but Zelda was the only one to ever call him out on it. Now he was paying for playing the boy who called wolf, she didn’t believe him. Slowly walking towards her, Faustus held up his hands in defeat. “You are right, I’ve used that excuse often. But, Zelda, it’s the truth. The Dark Lord has some plan in motion and part of it requires us to return Enoch’s body to Rome, He claimed that if I listened, followed through with His instructions that I, I may be rewarded for it.” At her slightly less skeptical expression, Faustus continued. “And, I didn’t tell you about Prudence’s entire dream. She and her sisters said there would be a coffin at our wedding. I cannot ignore that any longer, I cannot fight the Dark Lord and premonitions. We need to be wed tomorrow.”
A sigh left Zelda, but so did the tension in her shoulders, and she nodded. “Alright, tomorrow we will be wed. But first, first we talk to Ambrose and the other boys.”
Inclining his head in agreement, Faustus led the way to the witching cells, nodding at the boys who stood guard outside three of the cells. They entered the first two cells, questioned the other boys and neither of them were able to provide any information. It was a blackhole in their minds. They’d felt hunger, then nothing only to awaken to blood and horror.
Closing the cell door, Faustus ran a hand over his face. “Perhaps it is the lingering effects of the spell, but I don’t see them recalling the events any better as time passes.”
Zelda didn’t seem to be listening, she’d been anxious to see Ambrose and was standing next to her nephew’s cell door impatiently. “That cannot be determined yet, in any case we have one more person to question.” She looked at the door and waited for Faustus to unlock it. She pushed past him and gathered Ambrose into her arms before Faustus could deter her. “Darling,” she breathed, framing Ambrose’s face in her hands as she wiped the tears from his face. Just as with the other two, Ambrose wore an academy t-shirt and a too short pair of sweatpants from the lost-and-found, his clothes having been collected for evidence.
The boy blubbered, clinging to Zelda as he stumbled over his words to say he hadn’t done this. He hadn’t.
Stepping forward, Faustus squatted down next to the pair and gently pried Zelda off the boy so he could question him properly. But they got no further information out of Ambrose than the other two.
“Auntie, Auntie, I promise you, I swear on Satan’s claw that I did not do this willingly.” Ambrose told them again, eyes a bit wild. “The man was a pervert, but I never wished him dead. I—”
Zelda smoothed a hand over Ambrose’s hair and placed a kiss on his forehead. “I know, my darling, I know. We will get to the bottom of this, I promise.” When Faustus tapped her on the shoulder, she waved him off. “We have to go, just for now.” She added when the boy whimpered and clung to her. Embracing her nephew, Zelda whispered words that Faustus could not hear and then gently disengaged from the boy. “We will figure this out, darling, I promise.”
Taking her elbow, Faustus guided Zelda from the cell and shut the door behind him. She kept her back to him for a moment, and he knew she was trying to hide the tears forming in her eyes at seeing Ambrose in a cell. “Zels,” he tried, touching her shoulder and she straightened before facing him.
“Can we not make the cell more comfortable, Faustus? There’s no furniture in there, just a toilet.” When he opened his mouth to respond, Zelda grasped his forearm. “Even just blankets, please, Faustus.”
He led her away from the cells, directing the boys to rotate guard and ensure the prisoners’ safety until he returned, perhaps time would restore their lost memories. When they were out of earshot, Faustus answered her. “We cannot provide them with anything that they may use as a weapon against others or—”
“A blanket is a weapon?” Zelda hissed, pulling away from him, eyes blazing and several of the decorations in the hallway shaking as her power seeped into the air.
“Or used on themselves.” Faustus finished gently. “Blankets can be ripped apart, used to hang. I do not want to see any of the boys, Ambrose included, get so low that they take their own life.”
Calming, Zelda deliberately slowed her breathing as they made their way back to their bedchambers. When they came to a stop in front of hers, Zelda glanced over her shoulder at her room and then turned back to him. “I know it is against tradition,” she whispered stiffly, eyes landing on anything but him, “but may I stay with you for the remainder of the night?” Zelda finally brought her eyes to his as she pressed her lips together to stop their trembling
Blinking, Faustus nodded, carefully reaching to take her hand and when she didn’t pull away, he intertwined their fingers. “Did something else happen tonight that you wish to discuss?”
For a moment, Faustus didn’t think she would answer, then Zelda cleared her throat. “Hilda had to leave my room, for a little bit tonight.” She informed him vaguely, already leading the way to his room. When he looked at her blankly, she added. “A visitor came, and it would have been rude and upsetting for Hilda to remain.”
The realization hit Faustus dully in the chest, the Dark Lord had come to claim Zelda. Likely it was only the screams that had prevented Him from completing the deed. Stopping, Faustus hulled Zelda into a tight embrace, his hand running up and down her back as she shivered against him and pressed her face into his neck.
While it was technically an honor when the Dark Lord visited a bride on the eve of her witch wedding, Faustus had never quite ascribed to the same thinking. It wasn’t just his possessive streak when it came to Zelda, though that played a small part, it was that in the act of ‘claiming His rights’ the Dark Lord was essentially taking away the free will He’d bestowed upon them as a way of separating them from the mortals. And free will was their greatest strength, their greatest gift, to have that stripped away for the Dark Lord’s pleasure…. Now, if the witch were willing, Faustus would never be one to judge. But, looking at how Zelda trembled in his arms at the mere memory of what almost happened, Faustus found himself hating the tradition even more.
Swallowing, Faustus pulled back just enough so that he could cup Zelda’s cheek and look her in the eye. “I am glad your visitor couldn’t to stay.”
Zelda’s eyes widened, but the corner of her lips curled up a little as well. “Me too.” She breathed, breaking the hug completely and entering Faustus’ room.
They changed quickly and climbed into bed, it was well past midnight and they would both have to be up early not only to prepare for the wedding, but also to plan a funeral.
Curling into his side, Zelda rested her head on his shoulder. “Ambrose didn’t do this, not willingly.” She murmured, the arm she had around his waist tightening. “You saw, he was entranced. Someone cursed him to do this, stole his memory. And if Shirley wasn’t dead already, I’d say it was her, getting back at me for marrying you, for controlling her. So, she controlled my nephew, put a noose around his neck. But I, I don’t know who’s behind it. But it wasn’t—"
He squeezed her waist. “I know.” He cut her off gently. “I saw his face, the faces of my other Judas boys. I heard their answers. The remnants of magical control were obvious, once, once my mind was clear enough to see.” He trailed off, shuddering at he almost did. “We’ll get to the bottom of it. But first we must be married and return the Antipope to Italy as Satan commands.”
Silence fell between them for several minutes, each lost in their thoughts. It was only broken when Zelda tilted her head to look at him. “Distract me.” She murmured, her eyes looking at him pleadingly.
The words made his heart pound. Faustus couldn’t help but flashback to when Zelda showed up at his house, claiming she wanted to hurt herself and then asking him to distract her. Worried that she might feel inclined to hurt herself for not somehow protecting her nephew from this, Faustus blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Prudence tried to kill me.”
Zelda sat up at that. “What? Tonight?”
“Yes, only Dorcas’ screams distracted us. Like father like daughter, I suppose.” He chuckled ruefully, eyes on the ceiling.
She took his chin in her hand and forced him to look at her. “You had no choice. Your father was ill, a rare case of late-onset explosive magic, and he would have killed you and your mother during his last fit if you hadn’t intervened.”
“I enjoyed it more than I should have, didn’t exactly hesitate at the task.” Faustus admitted, the pain his father had inflicted over the decades before he’d fallen sick made it far easier to do the deed. Not wanting to think too much about his not so dearly departed father, Faustus turned the conversation back to his eldest child. “I was so determined to ensure Judas did not feel the same hatred towards me that I did my father, and yet, I never extended the same courtesy to Prudence.”
Mouth tugging to the side, Zelda released his chin and laid her head back down on his shoulder. “Prudence said you treated her as a daughter. I think the despair and hate started when it was revealed she was truly your child. It made her question everything, and then when the babes came...” she trailed off. “It hurt her to see you with them, to see you having a family when she technically had none.” Tone turning dry, Zelda pinched him, “calling her a gutter orphan didn’t help matters, I’m sure.”
A huff escaped him. “Can’t argue with that. It seems she truly is a Blackwood; I shall name her as such.”
Zelda chuckled, “oh, so now that she has attempted to murder you, you claim her?” She smiled wryly at him, only for her expression to sober moments later. “Why have you denied her as much until now?”
Still unwilling to say that it was for Prudence’s and his safety—for the same logic could be applied to allowing Zelda to take his last name and he didn’t want to think of that—Faustus shook his head. “I have my reasons. But they no longer matter, not if she sees fit to kill me in order to obtain what she wants. It will be useful, as well, she can look after the academy while we are away.”
Eyebrows flying up, Zelda propped herself on her elbow. “Surely not just Prudence. I’m sure she’ll be happy to take such a large task, but a nineteen year-old—"
“No, I’ve asked Brother Lovecraft to oversee things as well; seeing as how Shirley is dead.” He looked at her pointedly, Zelda just shrugged, and Faustus couldn’t help but smirk. “In any case, you and I both know that things go on that we, as professors, do not see. Prudence can help with that.”
Zelda nodded and laid back down, resting her head on his chest once more, her ear over his heart. And despite everything that had, or had almost, happened that night, Zelda went limp against him about a minute later; exhaustion pulling her under, and Faustus envied her a little for that.
But the day had been much more trying for her, so he couldn’t begrudge her the sleep. Shifting slightly, Faustus held Zelda more tightly against him, running a gentle hand along her back. What had he done to deserve her? To deserve a witch that stood by his side, a witch who helped him discover what the stars tasted like… a witch who managed to break through to him when he was enthralled by the Dark Lord’s vicious orders?
Pressing a soft kiss into her hair, Faustus settled down to get a bit more sleep.
~~~~~
Faustus was gone when she woke. The note on the table next to her explaining it was bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony, that he needed to have a conversation with Prudence and had to write a eulogy for Enoch as well. He’d signed the note, ‘Yours, Faustus’… hers, well it was likely as close as Zelda would ever get to an ‘I love you’, so she pocketed the note and though she wanted to check on Ambrose again, she knew she wouldn’t be able to get into the cell without Faustus, so, she teleported home to get ready.
Thankfully, Abigail was already there when she arrived. Her friend entirely unperturbed by what happened to the Antipope, Hilda having filled her in on why Ambrose wasn’t around. Abigail shook her head, said it was a shame he’d miss the wedding, but that he’d be freed soon.
“I know that boy,” she said, picking up a Danish from the plate Hilda placed on the table. “He doesn’t have a murderous bone in his body, not anymore. He got it out of his system with all that Vatican business. We all go through those phases, Ambrose grew out of his a long time ago. The high council will see this and clear him of any wrongdoing.” She winked at Zelda and stuffed the entire pastry into her mouth.
Abigail’s confidence and optimism lifted Zelda’s spirits and she happily headed upstairs with her sister and best friend. As they made for their bedroom, Zelda leaned over to Hilda. “Sabrina?” She whispered, though she’d told her niece she no longer needed to worry about bridesmaid duties, Zelda had hoped Sabrina would be there in the morning so that they could get ready together.
Shaking her head, Hilda gave her a reassuring smile. “Haven’t seen her this morning, though I heard her moving about before I headed down for breakfast. I’m sure she’s just pouting and will show up at the church in time.”
Brow wrinkling slightly, Zelda didn’t share her sister’s hopefulness, but surely Sabrina wouldn’t miss her wedding... Brushing the thoughts aside, since there was little she could do about it now, Zelda followed Abigail into her room and allowed herself to be lost in her friend’s squeals of delight at the dress and how Zelda would be the most beautiful bride.
~~~~~~~~~
The funeral was a short affair, Zelda and the rest of the wedding party listening to it from the outside of the main chamber; Abigail sneaking inside to find an empty spot in one of the back pews. Zelda had been surprised but pleased to find Prudence waiting for them, a wide smile on her face as she bowed her head and complimented Zelda’s dress.
“Prudence, I heard about what happened last night.” She murmured, as they ignored Faustus’ empty words about Enoch. “I wasn’t sure what to expect this morning.”
Smiling sheepishly, Prudence shrugged a little. “I wasn’t sure what to expect either, Zelda. But my father has seen fit to claim me as a Blackwood.” The young witch stood a little straighter, a proud glint in her eye. “It, it appears we are to be a family, Lady Blackwood.” Prudence inclined her head, watching Zelda carefully now.
Zelda returned the girl’s smile. “Indeed, Prudence. I look forward to the both of us being inducted into the Blackwood family together.”
Before Prudence could reply—though Zelda sensed the girl had wanted to hug her— the music started, indicating the funeral was over and the wedding ceremony was to begin. Picking up the rabbit, Prudence schooled her face into a neutral expression and led the way down the aisle.
Taking her dagger from Hilda, Zelda couldn’t help but smile as Hilda nudged her in the side before following Prudence. She waited a beat, took a deep breath, and then made her way down the aisle as well.
Her smile from moments before was gone, replaced with a careful mask. She’d always been careful never to show too much emotion of any kind in front of the coven, this being her wedding was no exception. Let them see you in any situation with heightened emotions, even once, and they could use it against you.
Faustus’ expression as she approached was equally blank, though she caught the minute upward tick of the corner of his mouth when he first saw her, how his eyes brightened. He likely was able to pick up the same micro-expressions on her face, each of them trying to hide their joy but not completely succeeding.
There were small touches as well, tender ways for Faustus to show he cared. The brush of his hands along her shoulders as he lifted her veil, the stroke his thumb across her hand as she drank from the goblet, how he interlinked his pinky with hers as Hilda wrapped the dried length of skin around their hands. The rest of the coven could not see any of these things, but then again, it wasn’t meant for them.
Before they could complete the ceremony, though, a deep voice echoed through the church. “Murderer!”
A form lumbered into the room and Zelda’s heart hitched. “Edward?” She breathed, her body lurching forward just a tiny bit instinctually at the sight of her brother. But she knew it couldn’t be, it was—
“Impossible.” Faustus muttered, finishing her thought out loud, his brow furrowing as now Edward and Diana approached.
The pair accused Faustus of murdering them, of murdering the Antipope, exclaiming that unless he confessed, he would face their wrath. The declarations had murmurs breaking out among the crowd, though Zelda could tell it was more because they loved the scandal than because they believed.
Huffing, Faustus raised a brow. “Your wrath? Indeed.” He shook his head, “you forget, girl, I knew your father.” At this Zelda groaned internally, no, please, please do not let it be her niece. “And whatever the circumstance, Edward Spellman would never disrespect our ceremonies and traditions as you do. And so, this petty trickery comes to an end.”
Zelda squeezed her eyes shut, knowing exactly what Faustus’ spell would reveal. The gasps and Hilda’s shocked ‘Sabrina’ were the only confirmation she needed. Still, Zelda opened her eyes to see her niece standing there, with Nicholas behind her, having played the Diana to her niece’s Edward.
Of course, their wedding couldn’t go off without a hitch. Of course, it was Sabrina. This farce of hers, her attempt to blame Faustus was ridiculous; but the ferocity with which Sabrina clung to the idea was concerning. Though Zelda had brushed off the topic of Edward’s death being anything but an accident months ago before Sabrina signed and once again the other day, it appeared as though she should’ve had a more in-depth conversation with her niece.
Despite the wrench thrown in her plan, Sabrina lifted her chin up defiantly. “I am Sabrina Spellman. I shall speak, and I shall be heard.”
Throwing off the skin linking their hands, Zelda stepped forward. “You will do no such thing.” She said, her voice dangerously low. “You have caused enough trouble for yourself already, you will not dig yourself deeper.”
Her niece looked mildly abashed, but then stood taller. “No, I’m sorry, auntie, but he’s a fraud—” Sabrina began to argue.
“Enough.” Faustus’ voice carried easily over the murmurs still occurring in the pews. “You have disrupted this wedding enough as is, you and Mr. Scratch shall be escorted back to the academy to await punishment.”
Mouth opening in astonishment, Sabrina scoffed. “Punishment for what?” She demanded, “telling the truth?”
Cocking his head slightly, Faustus took a step down as well so that he stood level with Zelda. “For once more making a mockery of our traditions. For making false accusations about serious matters such as murder. For not having any proof to support those accusations beyond animosity and a general disregard for the church. Now, either you can be escorted back to the academy to wait or you can continue to fight and end up in a magic suppressing cell to prevent you from causing any further trouble.”
Before Sabrina could say anything else, Abigail was up and out of her spot, ushering the newly exposed pair out of the church and likely to the academy. Exhaling slowly, Zelda turned to Faustus, wanting badly to apologize but refusing to look weak in front of the rest of the coven.
Running a hand over his face, Faustus turned his attention back to the crowd in front of him. “Zelda and I will need to return to the academy to address these unprecedented events. Please feel free to go to Blackwood manor and partake in the food, music and festivities there.” With a nod, the coven stood excitedly chatting in small groups as they teleported away.
Zelda stooped to pick up the skin she’d tossed to the ground and laid it on the table behind them trying to hide the emotions she was sure were flickering across her face with no regard to her mask.
It wasn’t as though she were the type of witch to dream about her wedding since she was a child. But she had had some hopes of how it would go... and her niece barging in halfway through the proceedings impersonating her dead brother certainly never crossed her mind in the list of possibilities of what could go wrong.
She pressed her fingers into the corners of her eyes and then turned to find Hilda looking at her with concern. “Zelds…”
Fidgeting unnecessarily with the crown on her head, Zelda cut her sister off. “Please go to the academy to sit with Sabrina. It certainly isn’t Abigail’s responsibility to watch over our wayward niece.”
Her sister looked at her sympathetically but nodded and teleported away. Thankful, Zelda turned to find Faustus sending Prudence away with the goblet, sheath of dried skin, the rabbit and the dagger she’d carried. It sent another twinge through her, had things gone to plan she would have been throwing that dagger straight into the air while a group of brave witches stood underneath for as long as they dared; whoever was the closest at the end got to keep it. If an injury occurred in the process… well, that wasn’t uncommon, and Hilda’s first aid kit had been ready just in case.
Finally, Faustus turned to her and offered his arm without a word. Taking it, Zelda kept quiet as they teleported back to the academy.
They appeared in his office.
Faustus pulled away from her immediately, running a hand through his hair in agitation. Her hand reached out for him of its own accord. “Faustus,” she murmured, clasping her hands together to spin her rings only to remember she’d taken them all off so the only one she’d have on was the one Faustus had meant to give her at the end of the ceremony. Swallowing the pit in her throat at the realization that she might never have that ring now, Zelda brought her eyes up from her hands back to him.
His eyes when she looked at him stunned her. They were filled with panic, desperation. “I had nothing to do with the tragedy that killed your brother, Zelda.” Faustus strode back to her and covered her hands with his. “I will eat truth cake if I must to prove that to you. I know I wasn’t exactly upset when Edward died, but given our history I think you could understand my lack of grief. It would be as if you grieved for Shirley, had she succeeded in taking your position and future from you. As for the Antipope, I’d never hurt my Judas boys like that; line them up for death after using them like puppets.”
Relief coursed through Zelda; she hadn’t expected explanations. She’d expected him to scoff at the accusations, rant about her wayward niece and then, possibly, call off the whole thing; not finding her worth the trouble.
Placing a finger on his lips, Zelda smiled sadly at him. “I know, I’m sorry for what Sabrina did, it was impulsive and insensitive. But I will certainly speak with her. I cannot fix what happened today, though I dearly wish I could—"
The stroke of his thumbs over the backs of her hands had Zelda petering off. “So, I take it that if you want to fix today that you still wish to marry me?” Faustus murmured, keeping his attention on her hands, though his thumb now was brushing specifically along her ring finger.
With immense difficulty, Zelda kept her face in check, not allowing her elation at his question show. Instead, she arched a brow. “It is still a benefit to us both if we do,” she remarked, trying to sound nonchalant, though her heart soared that Sabrina’s antics hadn’t changed his mind.
A smile spread on Faustus’ lips as he brought his eyes up to hers. “I could,” he stepped closer to her, “I could finish marrying us right now, just us.” He murmured, looking at her earnestly.
And Zelda suddenly found herself desperately wanting to finish the ceremony in private. Because here, here she didn’t have to hide behind as much of a mask, didn’t have to keep up a façade for the coven. So, she nodded, a grin creeping onto her face to match the one on Faustus’.
Carefully reaching up, Faustus removed her crown and veil for her, as if somehow sensing that it was growing heavy. He then took her hands once more and picked up where they were interrupted, his forehead coming to a rest against hers, her hands clasped to his chest.
His voice was softer now, sweeter, where before he’d been using his high priest voice, this voice, this Faustus belonged to Zelda alone. “Zelda Fiona Spellman, in the name of Satan, you shall respect me, obey me, and submit to me. As Lilith served Satan, so will you serve me. You will forsake all others, lift me up, and exalt me for all eternity. Do you so agree?”
“I do,” she breathed, hardly able to believe that they were able to steal this moment away.
Huffing in joyous disbelief, Faustus continued. “And I Faustus Thane Blackwood, in the name of Satan, shall respect you, obey you and submit to you. As Lucifer served Lilith, so will I serve you. I will forsake all others, lift you up and exalt you for all eternity.”
Zelda wet her lips. “Do you so agree?”
Smiling widely, Faustus nodded the best he could with his forehead still pressed to hers. “I do.” Closing the distance between them, Faustus kissed her slowly, deepening it and extending it in a way he certainly wouldn’t have in the church in front of the coven.
When they broke apart, Faustus reached into his robe and pulled out the rings. He slipped the small, silver circle onto her finger, kissing it before he handed her the ring she was to put on him. Rings exchanged, they stood there in silence for a moment.
“I’ve always loved those vows.” Zelda admitted, even when her faith had broken, she’d still loved them. Just as Lilith raised Lucifer out of the dust and cared for him, Zelda would do the same for Faustus. And just as Lucifer had protected Lilith, raised her up and given her power, Faustus would do the same for her. The vows were a bit old fashioned, with the whole submit and obey aspects, their marriage was more a partnership, a meeting of equals. But the words meant a lot all the same.
Humming, Faustus nodded. “Indeed. Though I must say, Lady Blackwood,” he emphasized her new title and a squeeze of his hands on her hips. “I’ve always been a bigger fan of what comes after the vows.”
Smirking at him, Zelda cocked a brow. “The party?” She intoned teasingly.
“Not quite,” Faustus growled, his eyes roving over her appreciatively. “You look ravishing in this dress, my dear.”
She preened at the comment, though she was well aware of how wonderful she looked, it was always nice when Faustus appreciated it as well. Before she could reply with some innuendo, there was a rap on the door.
Stepping out of one another’s arms, Faustus called for the person to come in. It was one of the Judas boys. “Sorry to interrupt, Father. But we still have Nick and Sabrina under watch, and we weren’t sure what to do with them…”
Reality came crashing back in with brutal strength. How Zelda managed to forget, for even a moment that the only reason they were able to share this more intimate wedding ceremony was because Sabrina had ruined the first.
Faustus leaned against his desk. “Leave Sabrina with her aunt and take Nicholas to the dorms but other than that leave them. I will tell them their punishments personally.” With a nod, the Judas boy was gone. “It has to be expulsion, Zelda. I cannot have students running around claiming I kill my predecessors and guests—especially high-ranking ones. Perhaps if I had suspended them after the Top Boy debacle, they’d have learned a lesson, but it’s too late for that now. Expulsion—”
“Is reasonable.” Zelda finished for him. Though she hated the idea of Sabrina not going to the academy, it was difficult to argue with Faustus’ logic. And given her niece’s track record, it would only be a matter of time before Sabrina did something else of this caliber… or worse.
Maybe if they enrolled her in a different witching academy things would go smoother. But that was a conversation for her and Hilda to have another day. Right now, they needed to tell the ill-informed, would-be whistleblowers of their punishments, change and then leave for the airport. There wasn’t any time left to drop in and enjoy their own party, not if they were to make their flight.
Rubbing the back of her neck, Zelda sighed. “I’ll tell Sabrina and you tell Nicholas. Meet out front in about ten minutes to catch our ride?”
“Read my mind.” Faustus replied, kissing her lightly and then leaving to go find Nicholas.
Zelda rolled her shoulders and then marched out into the hallway to find Hilda, Sabrina and Abigail all waiting for her; though Abigail hung back a little to give them a moment. Hilda and Sabrina stood when she came out, taking a few steps closer.
Never one to mince words, Zelda jumped right in. “Congratulations. You ruined my wedding day, Sabrina.”
Looking somewhat contrite, Sabrina bit her lip. “Aunt Zelda—”
She kept talking as though her niece hadn’t interrupted. “A day of greatness for the Spellman family shall now, instead, go down in infamy.”
“Where’s Ambrose, Aunt Zee.”
Arching a brow, Zelda huffed. “Your little display did nothing to prove his innocence. Ambrose is still locked in the witch’s cells with the other Judas boys who attacked the Antipope.”
While Sabrina protested her cousin’s continued imprisonment, Hilda locked eyes with her. “What about Sabrina?”
“She and Nicholas have been expelled from the academy. And they deserve it. After putting the student body and half the coven at risk during the Top Boy competition and now your horrendous accusations today, you’re lucky nothing worse was considered.” She shook her head. “Honestly, Sabrina, I raised you better than this. Better than to jump to conclusions, to run in headfirst without thought, the consequences be damned.”
Zelda turned away, she had to change before they left, and to be honest, she was having a hard time believing Sabrina would hurt her like this, go so far as to ruin her wedding while wearing her dead brother’s face. She needed some space from her niece, as awful as that sounded, Zelda needed to be the selfish one for once and to go away with her husband on her honeymoon.
Sabrina blinked at the news of her expulsion, probably surprised that she was experiencing the consequences for once, then recovered quickly. “Well, at least I stopped your wedding.”
Eyes glazing over with tears she refused to shed, Zelda let out a bark of laughter, trying to hide how much Sabrina’s actions hurt. After the conversation they’d had, where Zelda said that she was happy, this was how Sabrina purposely acted? To try and tear down what made her happy and doing it in the most painful way possible? “Oh, stopped it? Sabrina,” she shook her head, “Faustus and I were just married in his office.”
Dumbfounded, Sabrina gaped at her. “You what?”
“We’re married, Sabrina. Now if you’ll excuse me—”
Her niece caught her arm. “No! You can’t do that, Father Blackwood is evil, Auntie Zee. He’s—”
But Zelda had heard enough of what Sabrina believed back at the church. “He is my husband, Sabrina. And if you cannot trust him, I thought you as least would trust me.”
Softening a bit, Sabrina slid her hand down to hold Zelda’s hand instead. “I do trust you, auntie, but I don’t think you have all the facts. He killed my parents!”
“I don’t know what you thought you saw, Sabrina but that is nonsense.” She frowned at her niece. “Your accusations against Faustus are hurtful enough, but to have the gall, to show up as my, my dead brother,” she managed thickly, unable to fully express what seeing Edward again, like that no less, had done to her. “To believe I would marry my brother’s murderer... I thought we at least had some understanding of one another.” Jaw working side to side, Zelda turned to leave once more.
Sabrina grasped at her. “We do!” She pled, “we do have an understanding. I’m trying to protect you, like you’ve always protected me. Please Auntie Zee, I know what I saw, what I heard. I wasn’t saying anything against you, you didn’t know, but now you do—"
Sighing, Zelda placed her hands on Sabrina’s shoulders. “And I know that what appeared to you was false, sweetheart. Edward could not, and cannot, manifest as a ghost. Why can’t you believe me?”
Something sparked in Sabrina’s eyes and she yanked away. “Why can’t you believe me?!” She repeated, backing away.
“Darling…”
But Sabrina just shook her head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She sneered, striding away.
Stunned, Zelda watched Sabrina round the corner and disappear.
Hilda tentatively approached her. “Zelds?”
Pressing back tears once more, Zelda sniffed. “What Sabrina claims is untrue,” she stated tiredly, resisting the urge to run a hand through her hair.
A small smile tugged on Hilda’s lips. “I know, you told me what happened.”
“So, this must mean something, or one, is trying to manipulate our girl. And doing a good job at it if they convinced her this was a good idea.” Zelda snorted, and ran her thumb over her new ring, drawing comfort from the piece of jewelry.
Breaking into her thoughts, Hilda spoke up. “Do you think it’s time to tell her the truth?”
Her eyes snapped back to her sister. “Hilda—” she hedged in warning, voice low.
Hilda held up her hands. “I’m just saying, if she’s going around making accusations, especially so publicly...”
This was all too much to handle. Zelda had thought she’d at least be able to get through her wedding before having to tackle another task. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Zelda shrugged. “I don’t know. Let me think on it, please. In the meantime, keep an eye out for Mary Wardwell.”
Nonplussed, Hilda looked at her blankly. “Wha—, Wardwell? Why?”
“I don’t trust her and she’s a shit-stirrer if I’ve ever seen one.” Zelda spat, her hate for the woman welling up. “I think she’s somehow behind most of this. Keep her away from Sabrina if you can.”
Narrowing her eyes, Hilda crossed her arms. “There’s more to it. What aren’t you telling me?”
In for a penny… Zelda thought. “Come now Hilda, you know her backstory is rubbish. I saw your face the night she tried to feed it to us, you didn’t believe it either. I was in constant contact with Edward’s secretary, Sofia, while I was gone. She’d have told me if someone like Mary had come along. You’d have noticed as well.” She gave her sister a meaningful look and Hilda’s vague gestures told Zelda she acquiesced that fact. Validated, Zelda continued, though she glanced around to ensure no one else but Abigail was still around. “She’s not who she claims, Abigail checked for me at the Church of Shadows. They’d never heard of a Mary Wardwell and don’t even recognize her picture. The witch is entirely false, which wouldn’t be so horrible, if she didn’t continuously pull Sabrina into dire situations.” Zelda started to tick of the examples on her fingers. “The exorcism, the resurrection, taking her out of your protection the night the Greendale Thirteen and the Red Angel arrived, she gave her the materials for a séance during Winter Solstice... and I could swear it was her wearing a glamor and trying to cause trouble with those tarot cards.”
Though a bit skeptical at the last accusation, Hilda was unable to refute the long line of evidence Zelda had laid out before her. Sighing, Hilda rubbed her temples. “Alright, I’ll do what I can. But if Sabrina is expelled, she’ll have to go back to Baxter High for a bit until we find another academy… it’ll be difficult to keep Wardwell away from her.”
Damn, Zelda hadn’t thought of that, but at least Hilda would be on top of it while she was gone. And it was only a week, how much could go wrong in a week? She nearly rolled her eyes at herself at the thought, one would think that living with Sabrina would have disabused her of the idea that not much could happen in such a short span of time. In fact, where her niece was concerned, a great many things could happen. Well, it couldn’t be helped, they had to return Enoch’s body and Zelda desperately needed a break besides. “I understand, do what you can. And use your familiars; I already have them spying on her, you would have found out soon enough, I expect.”
Giving her an exasperated look, Hilda frowned. “When you get back, you’re going to tell me why you confided in Abigail before me.” She put her hands on her hips for emphasis, looking stern.
Zelda chuckled despite everything. “Of course, sister. Now I need to go change if we’re to leave on time. Watch after the kids, keep them as safe as you can. Send me updates about Ambrose.”
Her sister tsked at her to say she didn’t need the reminders. Once she was a few steps away, though, Hilda called after her. “Zelds, I’m sorry.”
Brow furrowing, Zelda spun to face Hilda once more. “For what?” She’d been the one to hide things again.
A sad smile touched Hilda’s lips. “Your wedding. I know how you were looking forward to it, to the party after.”
Sniffing, Zelda managed a halfway convincing shrug. “Well, it’s no more than I should have expected. Why would I get a to have a joyous wedding?” At the tears in Hilda’s eyes, Zelda pressed on. “But we, we had a nice moment to ourselves in the office, so I’ll take what I can.” She hugged Hilda briefly, and then moved to leave again. “Thank you, for being my maid of dishonor. I’m sorry you didn’t get to enjoy the party and listen to the entire coven rave about your cakes.” Before Hilda could turn the situation any more emotions, Zelda stepped back even further. “Go, find Sabrina, make sure she isn’t causing any more trouble.”
A chuckle escaped Hilda and she nodded before leaving the same way Sabrina had.
Hilda had barely left the hallway and suddenly Zelda was engulfed in a bear hug. “I know you don’t have much time,” Abigail murmured, having apparently crossed the bit of distance she’d put between them before to be polite, “but I had to talk to you before you left.” She pulled back and framed Zelda’s face. “Congratulations.” She offered with a wide smile, though Zelda could see it was tinged with a myriad of other emotions in addition to joy. “It’s about damn time you two did this. Should’ve happened over a century ago if you ask me.” Abigail fussed with Zelda’s hair unnecessarily. “You’re a beautiful bride, ma chérie*, I’m sorry none of it went according to plan.”
Tears brimming in her eyes, Zelda swallowed hard and wrapped her arms around Abigail for another hug. “I am too.” She admitted, finally verbalizing her disappointment. “But I shouldn’t have expected any different. I—”
“Yes, you should have,” Abigail interrupted, running her hands over Zelda’s back. “Every bride deserves to picture the perfect wedding. You are no exception to the rule, Zelda Spellman-Blackwood, not this time.”
The addition of her new last name cheered Zelda considerably and she chuckled wetly as she pulled back and caught her tears before they could fall. “Thank you, Abs. For everything,” she gripped her friend’s hands tightly, hoping Abigail understood how much she appreciated her. Then Zelda grimaced. “And, well, I may have just told Hilda about Wardwell so it’s possible she’ll reach out to you while I’m gone. Now, I really do have to go change, otherwise we’ll miss our flight.” She stole one more hug while Abigail was trying to process what she said and then was already several steps away when the words registered completely.
“Zelda Fiona, you can’t keep dropping stuff on people and running away!” She called out teasingly, and Zelda could see from her friend’s crossed arms and playful look that Abigail didn’t mind. “I’ll keep watch over them while you’re gone. Have fun! Do all the things I would do, and then definitely do all the things I wouldn’t.”
Grinning, Zelda shook her head, waved goodbye one last time and then quickly made her way to change.
~~~~~~~~
The crowd waiting for them outside the academy was small, comprised mostly of the remainder of the Judas Society who weren’t on guard; the rest of the coven was at still the reception. Despite this, Faustus made his announcements loudly and formally.
“Lady Blackwood and I will convey the Antipope’s body to its final resting place in the Necropolis beneath the Vatican, and thereafter honeymoon in Rome.” They descended a few stairs and Faustus paused to talk with Prudence for a moment before they continued. Only, only he paused again after they descended several more steps. “You forget yourself, my dear.” He stated so quietly only she could hear, “a wife walks behind her husband.”
Her eyebrows flew up, but Zelda knew better than to call him out in public. Running her tongue over her teeth, she waited a beat before following Faustus the rest of the way to the car; Judas and his nanny taking the car behind them that also held the Antipope’s body.
When the door shut behind them, Zelda waved her hand so the divider between the driver and passengers flew up and a silencing spell fell over their section. “What the heaven was that? Walk behind you?” Zelda spat, temper flaring as she stripped off her leather gloves. “That’s a wife’s place?!”
Faustus smiled at her wickedly, clearly having known those words would wind her up. “Well, there and underneath me.” He corrected, his smile morphing into a smirk.
Zelda snarled and was in his lap in seconds. “My place,” she growled, biting his neck, “is beside you.” Her hands moved down his chest, deftly undoing buttons on his shirt. “In all things.” She reached his pants and opened them as well. “Except this,” she bit his neck again, drawing a little blood. “You. Belong. Under. Me.” Zelda emphasized each word with a nip or sucking kiss, and it had Faustus practically panting underneath her. “Don’t forget it, either, dearest.” She mocked his word choice as she worked.
Promptly knocking her hat off, Faustus buried his hands in her hair, unable to argue with her when she was grinding so beautifully on his lap. Removing one hand to unclasp the broach at her throat, Zelda’s cloak fell to the floor, leaving her in a strapless dress. Unsurprisingly, Faustus’ eyes widened, and his mouth moved immediately to lay hungry kisses along her newly exposed skin.
Dropping her head back in pleasure, Zelda couldn’t help but think they were both a bit predictable. Faustus had known saying those words would result with her in his lap, just as Zelda had known this outfit would have him lavishing her chest in the most sinfully delicious way.
There were those who would argue that predictability was bad for a marriage and the fact that they were experiencing it already could only be a bad sign. But, Zelda sighed as Faustus bunched her dress up around her hips, if this was what predictability looked like for them… well, Zelda never wanted it to change.
~~~~~~~
Hilda frowned as she watched the cars pull away. They weren’t close enough to hear anything beyond what Blackwood had shouted, but the way Zelda stopped and then followed a pace behind the high priest was odd.
Knowing them, though, it was just another weird game. Shaking her head, Hilda moved to stand, the bench they were sitting on anything but comfortable.
Sabrina, however, didn’t budge. “I can’t believe she went through with it.” She spat, eyes on the taillights of the car as well. “After what I told her?! How could she? He’s a monster.”
“Love,” Hilda hedged, unsure how to dissuade the girl without revealing all she knew.
Shoving off the bench, Sabrina shook her head. “No! Auntie, I was trying to protect her and what do I get?! Expulsion and distrust. I—”
Brow lifting at her niece’s tone, Hilda crossed her arms. “You deserve expulsion for the stunt you pulled,” Hilda cut off Sabrina’s rant, startling her. “Pretend—, pretending to be Edward back from the grave. Sabrina,” she reprimanded, shaking her head as tears pricked her eyes once more at the memory of her dead brother standing in front of her. “That was a cruel, nasty trick you and Nicholas played.”
“We had to!! Can you imagine what he’s doing to her? If he killed my parents what is he going to do to Aunt Zelda?”
~~~~~~~~~
Hours later in Italy
She opened the box’s lid, a curious sensation stealing over her and when it settled, Zelda realized with horror that she was trapped inside her mind.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The flight was uneventful. Though it would have been faster to make a few jumps from the international teleportation locations set up around the world, traveling with a casket and a baby made that nearly impossible.
Zelda didn’t mind though. The Necropolis had provided them with a private jet to ferry the previous Antipope’s body back to Italy. And here on the plane it was as though they were in their own bubble. As if all the troubles that plagued her fell away along with the ground beneath them.
The food was delicious, she and Faustus chatted and laughed and didn’t have to worry about appearances. Only the nanny, Ann, was their constant companion in the cabin and she was at the back keeping an eye on Judas; not that he needed much minding, the spell Zelda had found to protect the babe’s ears from the pressure meant he’d fallen asleep soon after they took off.
It wasn’t long until Zelda joined her new stepson in sleep; it’d been a long, eventful, day. Toeing off her shoes, Zelda tucked her legs underneath her and curled against Faustus’ shoulder; smiling sleepily as he slipped an arm around her and pressed a kiss into her hair as she fell asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~
Faustus woke suddenly, confused, he looked around to try and determine why. Zelda was still asleep against him; Ann had fallen asleep—her hand resting lightly on Judas’ stomach— and there weren’t any crew members in sight.
Brow furrowing, Faustus eased away from his new wife and stood to stretch; perhaps he’d just been stiff or they’d hit a pocket of rough air that jostled him awake. When he turned to watch Zelda nestle back into her spot, though, Faustus started. His body was still in the seat.
Looking down, Faustus patted his torso, trying to determine what happened. Had he died and this was an out of body experience? No… no, that couldn’t be it. Could it? A voice sounded behind him, making Faustus jump.
“Merely a dream, Blackwood. I needed to speak with you in person without alerting the others.” The Dark Lord emerged from one of the back rows and stalked towards him.
Dropping to his knees, Faustus bowed his head. “My Lord, I had not expected you.”
Ignoring him, Satan took a seat in the lounge-style chair in front of him; the chair creaked ominously under his weight. “On your first morning in Italy, you will be summoned to the Necropolis and subsequently named interim Antipope. My reward to you. I will make the position permanent once I can be sure you will listen to me and carry out my will without question.”
Taken aback, Faustus struggled to find the right words. “Of course, of course my Lord. You honor me with this position. I don’t deserve—"
“No. You don’t.” Struck silent, Faustus gaped at the Dark Lord but before he could think of a reply, Satan continued. “But my last Antipope left much to be desired. You are not my first choice, but you are convenient.”
Swallowing, Faustus dipped his head once more. “I will not let you down, my Lord. I—"
One of the Dark Lord’s clawed hands waved dismissively; uninterested in Faustus’ reassurances. “Won’t question me ever again as you have this past week. Your faith is strong, Blackwood, you have potential. Do not ruin it by questioning me.”
Nodding vigorously, Faustus licked his lips. “Of course, and I apologize for questioning you befor—"
“And to keep you from questioning me, to ensure my interim Antipope answers to me and only me, I have also provided you with a Caligari spell for your wife. This part of the reward will lessen your conflict. Will help make it so you do not have to choose between my desires and your wife’s, since they are so important to you.” He sneered, eyes lingering on Zelda’s sleeping form for a moment in distaste before he turned back to Faustus.
Stomach jolting as though he’d missed a step, Faustus blinked. “I, I can do the job without the spell, my Lord.” He scrambled, trying to talk his way out of part of this. “Zelda, she, she didn’t really convince me not to kill the boys. I made the decision on my own. A moment of paternal weakness.” He tried to smile only for the gesture to falter immediately.
Satan looked down upon him dispassionately and Faustus shivered. “I am the Father of Lies, Blackwood. You think you can manipulate me?”
Eyes widening, Faustus shook his head. “No, of course not, my Lord. I—"
“You will become my new Antipope and you will bring your wife in line with the spell I’ve so generously provided.”
Rearing back, Faustus glanced at Zelda and it gave him the bit of strength he needed. Despite the assertion he’d just made, about not disobeying, Faustus shook his head. “No.” Though he wanted to be Antipope, it’d been a far-off dream of his for decades, he didn’t want it if this was the price. “If the spell is part of the deal I—"
Once more cutting him off, the Dark Lord snarled. “You swore to obey, without question, any order you received from me, Blackwood. Just now and the day you signed my Book. You pledged your mind, body and soul unreservedly to the furtherance of my designs. You cannot and will not deny this gift, this reward. Witches and warlocks the world over would jump through whatever flaming hoop I put before them simply because it was my will, but add in the incentive of being interim Antipope?”
Shaking His head, a growling laugh escaped Satan as He pointed a clawed hand at Zelda and Faustus fought the urge to put his dream self between the Dark Lord and his wife. “She is a bad influence on you, Blackwood. You will control her for me by placing Zelda under the Caligari spell when you wake. I can’t have someone capable of overruling me in my Antipope’s life and that witch accomplished such a feat by convincing you not to kill those boys.” A brow lifted, the best it could given the Dark Lord’s features, and Faustus shuddered, peering back at Zelda once more. “Do not disappoint me as your predecessor did, Blackwood, or you may find someone with an actual intent to kill you standing over your bed with a dagger next. Enoch did not understand my will, I thought you might have that capability, do not prove me wrong.” He cocked His head and waved a hand. “Here.” Just then, in the waking realm, a flight attendant walked into the cabin, a box in her hands. She set it down, spun on her heel and disappeared. “See how well others obey me, Blackwood? Your wife will be much the same when you give her that music box.” With a final nod, the Dark Lord leveraged Himself out of the chair and turned to leave.
Faustus swallowed hard and stood as well. “No.”
If he hadn’t been in dream form, Faustus is certain his knees would be knocking together in fear for so blatantly opposing Satan.
The Dark Lord froze and pivoted slowly, a feral scowl on his face. “Doing my will solely because it is my will should be reason enough. Doing it in return of the position I have gifted you even more so. But clearly you need more motivation. Fine.” Satan spat, stalking back over to loom over Faustus. “You owe me, Blackwood. I am calling upon one of the boons you promised me for sparing your last wife after her meddling in the Feast. I spared her until she bore your child.”
The remaining color in Faustus’ face drained away. “I granted you those boons to keep Constance alive until her natural time came. Not just until she’d given birth.” Though he didn’t care for Constance, was overjoyed to finally be married to Zelda, Faustus hadn’t wanted Constance dead. He knew nothing of babes, and it was only Zelda’s tutelage that made him a somewhat competent father. “Besides, you said it was a reward. This spell isn’t a reward, my Lord.”
Despite his arguments though, Faustus could feel the painful tug of his boon being called upon. He’d made a promise to the Dark Lord and now he was being called upon to make good on it. It was as powerful as a dark devotion and Faustus knew he couldn’t resist it indefinitely.
“If I say what I deem to give you are rewards, then they are rewards, Blackwood.” Satan bit out, clearly irritated with him, having not expected resistance. “The spell isn’t a punishment. It will realign your loyalties, give you an obedient and doting wife, it will make your life easier.”
Every nerve felt like it was on fire from resisting, but Faustus screwed his face and managed another. “No.”
The Dark Lord grabbed him by the throat, then, and slammed him against the side of the plane. “You will do this or you’ll see what or who else I punish for your insolence.” Satan’s gaze drifted over to Judas’ crib and Faustus croaked. “And I won’t stop with him.”
Faustus jolted awake then, in a cold sweat, heart pounding and he stood up to immediately check on Judas. But his boy was sleeping in his travel carrier, with Ann sleeping next to him protectively.
Running a shaky hand over his face, Faustus turned to face Zelda who only muttered in her sleep and shifted slightly at his sudden movement, and that was when he caught sight of the music box. He’d known it wasn’t a dream, not in the normal sense. But for a moment Faustus had still hoped he wouldn’t be forced to do this.
The Dark Lord had said to do it immediately... but surely it could wait until they had at least one night together. Nodding almost fervently to himself, Faustus shrunk the music box and stuffed it into his carry-on bag.
A sharp pain shot through him, ricocheting through his body before it settled on his back where it settled and stretched. It was the boon. It wasn’t taking kindly to being ignored, the Devil’s claw already making its way to the surface—though it likely wouldn’t be visible for a few more hours.
Carefully, Faustus took his seat next to Zelda once more, and where he’d have delighted in how she rolled to rest against him before, all he felt now was dread. They’d finally gotten their timing right and they hadn’t even gotten a full day.
Part of Faustus wished they could go back to before the Solstice, when it’d been the four of them; him, Zelda and the twins. Even after, when Leticia had been sent away for her safety, their trio had been a strong, relatively happy unit. That was all gone now.
Closing his eyes, Faustus tried to recapture the small moments of happiness they’d managed to snatch these past months. He focused hard on these before falling back into a fitful sleep.
~~~~~~~
Zelda woke to Faustus gently shaking her shoulder. “Dearest, we’re landing in ten minutes, buckle up.”
She smiled and stretched languidly before sitting up and buckling herself in. She then leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder, intertwining her hand with his. It was then she noticed how stiffly he was holding himself. “Faustus?” She lifted her head to look at him more fully. “Are you alright? Did you sleep?” She stroked her thumb over his hand in concern.
“Yes.” He muttered curtly, pointedly looking out the window and not at her.
Arching a brow, and unimpressed with his brooding, Zelda took his chin in her free hand to redirect it so he was looking at her. “Faustus if you are worried about what the high council and dark cardinals will say tomorrow when you meet them, you can just tell me. We’re married now,” she didn’t bother to hide the smile that formed when she said the word. “You don’t have to play the role of strong, distant high priest with me.”
He freed his chin and kissed the palm of the hand she’d been holding it with. “Thank you, Zels, I am concerned as to how the others will react to this news. But,” he swallowed and looked at her so tenderly that Zelda was taken aback. “Let’s not waste tonight with worries of tomorrow.”
It was clear that despite his assertions, that the ‘worries of tomorrow’ were still weighing heavily on her husband. Wanting to distract him, Zelda squeezed the hand still interlocked with hers. “How about we have a private dinner? Let Judas recover from the long trip with Ann while we go out.”
Nodding, Faustus leaned in and rested his forehead on hers, “sounds lovely, I’ll have someone make reservations for us.”
Zelda smiled again and captured his lips in a short kiss before resting her head back on his shoulder. Normally she wouldn’t be so free with her affections in public. But they were on a plane with no one to witness except Ann, and the girl was discreet beyond the norm, she wouldn’t say anything about the fearsome Zelda Spellman-Blackwood acting soft.
~~~~
They stopped at the hotel first. It was decadent. Immensely so, actually. She and Faustus had a suite to themselves while Ann and Judas were in the one next door. Zelda smiled in awe as she traced a hand over the fine comforter covering the large bed. Sighing happily, she flicked a wrist and her clothes hung themselves up one of the closets.
While she’d admired the room, Faustus had gone to wash up. Deciding that she wouldn’t mind doing the same, Zelda drifted into the bathroom to find Faustus splashing water his face.
Giving her husband a once over, Zelda couldn’t help but admire him. “Care to freshen up with me before we go?” Zelda murmured, making eye contact with her husband in the mirror as she turned on the shower water.
Something flashed across Faustus’ face, but it was gone before Zelda could identify it and then he was on her, snapping his fingers to divest them of their clothes before pressing her into the stall for a deliciously rough and frenzied session.
~~~~
Dinner went reasonably well; they’d secured a table in a private room in the back of an exclusively witch restaurant. Though Faustus was certain Zelda could tell something was off. Him sitting so stiffly in the chair there might as well be a broom handle up his ass probably didn’t help matters. It wasn’t as though he could sit back and relax, though, not with the claw mark finally emerging on his back and becoming so inflamed he could hardly wear a shirt without a burning pain.
He’d refused the Dark Lord for longer than this before, during his first dark devotion. But the mark had never grown this quickly when he’d balked.
It’d been right after his ascension to high priest.
Though he hadn’t agreed with Edward Spellman on many things, Faustus had, discreetly, supported the warlock’s efforts to abolish the Feast of Feasts. It was an outdated tradition, and one Faustus had no stomach for after his favorite aunt was selected, and his father forced him to participate.... He’d been sick for three days afterwards.
So, when Edward abolished it, Faustus mentally applauded the man, glad he no longer had to worry about his friends, family or lovers being eaten once a year. But then Edward died, and the Dark Lord came to Faustus. He’d been just as foolish then, if not more so, as he was now. Faustus had thought the Dark Lord came to congratulate him or to impart vital knowledge all high priests should know.
How wrong he’d been. The Dark Lord had come to task him a dark devotion at last.
Over the years Faustus had wondered why he’d never been called upon, having wanted the opportunity to prove to the Dark Lord that he was an able and willing servant of the Church of Night. As time passed, Faustus settled on the conclusion that the Dark Lord only asked such things of those who’s loyalty He questioned; and since Faustus’ could not be questioned in any way…
But now, now the Dark Lord had come to him and told him to reinstate the Feast.
Taken aback, even then, Faustus had questioned the action. Why let Edward abolish the tradition within their coven if only to ask Faustus to reestablish it years later? Of course, the Dark Lord did not provide an answer, merely growled at Faustus to do his duty or Satan would find another shepherd for his flock.
Faustus hesitated, at first, the Devil’s claw stretching across his back. But pain wasn’t something he was unfamiliar with, and better he bear it than someone in his coven should they or a family member die during the renewed Feast. He’d spoken the unholy vows the day he ascended to high priest, and Faustus took them seriously.
It wasn’t until the Dark Lord stole Faustus’ familiar, his old academy friend fell ill, and the Dark Lord threatened his mother, the only remaining family he had, that Faustus gave in, praying that by doing this he wasn’t condemning her anyway... to be eaten on some future date.
So, he reinstated the Feast of Feasts and he did it with a smile; just as the Dark Lord instructed. Faustus led the tradition each year since with the same faux enthusiasm, knowing if he flagged in it, the Dark Lord may see his part as unfulfilled and come after his family again. And now, now...
Faustus brought his focus back to Zelda who gave him an inquiring look but said nothing except to compliment the food and wine. He smiled slightly, she knew him well enough not to push this just yet, she was hoping if she gave him time that he would open up on his own.
When the waiter came and cleared away their food, leaving behind a fresh bottle of wine, Faustus tipped him generously enough that they wouldn’t be bothered for some time.
Needing a distraction, and time to figure out what to do, Faustus stood and swept around the table, holding out his hand with a flourish. “May I, Lady Blackwood?” He cocked a brow and Zelda smirked and placed her hand in his.
Soft music was playing, and Faustus hummed to it badly as he spun Zelda around the room in a dance that did not match the music either.
But it made Zelda laugh, her head tipping back and a wide smile on her face as they moved through the room. For a moment, Faustus was able to forget. Forget anything but the fact that he’d finally married the witch he loved, that they were on their honeymoon, that he was happy.
And then it all came crashing back when Zelda’s hand brushed against the Devil’s Claw mark on his back, making him gasp and wince.
Hands lifting off him in alarm, Zelda’s brow furrowed. “Faustus?”
“It’s nothing.” He hedged, pulling her back into him and swaying, trying to memorize this, her. Wishing it’d never change.
His words did nothing to appease her, Zelda remained stiff in his embrace, knowing something was wrong. She’d wanted to give him time, to come to her, to tell her about whatever it was that was bothering him—and it certainly was more than how the meeting at the Necropolis would go tomorrow. But she’d never been the most patient witch, so she pressed the issue.
Breaking away from him completely, Zelda crossed her arms. “Tell me what’s wrong. Is it what Sabrina did? I thought…” She thought after their intimate wedding ceremony in his office they were past that. She thought they were on the same page, the same team. “I thought we resolved the matter.” She managed, and Zelda knew there was fear and doubt in her voice, and she hated it. Hated that they were only able to bask in the happy bubble of their marriage for such a short time. Was he regretting this? Regretting her? After these past months, she’d thought they’d grown to a point where they were past doubts.
Faustus shook his head and reached for her. Zelda allowed him to draw her in, kiss her slowly, sweetly, before he rested his forehead against hers. “No.” He breathed, hands tightening around her. “I know your niece distrusts me, her accusations, though out of nowhere, are not what’s weighing on me.”
Irritated, Zelda pushed away once more to put some space between them, trying to ignore the flash of hurt on Faustus’ face when she did. “Then what?” She demanded, throwing her hands up at a loss. Her irritation faded to concern, though, when Faustus exhaled slowly and simply reached into the pocket of the jacket he’d slung over the chair. He carefully pulled out a small box and placed it on the table, waving a hand so it resumed its usual size.
“It appeared in my pocket when we sat down to eat. I didn’t bring it with me.” He informed her hastily, though the statement cleared up nothing. Giving him a pointed look, Zelda huffed and put her hands on her hips, waiting.
To Zelda’s surprise, Faustus paced the room, flexing his hands as he muttered to himself, before finally grabbing a pen from the waiter’s stand and scrawling a note on one of the order pads that had been left behind as well. Ripping off the paper, Faustus dropped it on top of the box with effort and a grimace.
She didn’t move, unsure what to make of his odd behavior and this box. “Faustus…” she murmured, taking a small step towards him.
But he backed away, instead gripping the back of one of the chairs at the table, his knuckles going white. “I can’t say it out loud.” When she looked ready to argue he cut in. “Zelda, I cannot.” Faustus looked at her beseechingly.
Taken aback, Zelda nodded and slowly walked forward and took the note. The words hit her like a train. Mouth suddenly dry, Zelda tried to swallow as she slumped into the chair across from him. When she finished the note, a trembling hand came up to her mouth as she brought her gaze back to his. “Why are you telling me?” She asked, voice broken. But she didn’t run, didn’t even consider it an option, the note made it clear what would happen to Judas, to their family, if they refused, fought.
Faustus sat in his chair as though struck. “What?”
“Why are you warning me?” Zelda repeated emphatically, waving the note and doing her best to keep tears from her eyes. “Surely that isn’t part of the Dark Lord’s plan, why defy him? You’re a high priest, soon to be interim Antipope, why risk—"
“Because I love you.”
The words were out of his mouth before Faustus could process them or the consequences. It was the first time he’d admitted those words out loud, let alone to another person. He couldn’t, couldn’t let this happen without saying it, though. Faustus knew he wasn’t supposed to warn Zelda, the claw mark stretching on his back even now for his defiance was evidence enough. But the spell was inevitable; Faustus would have to succumb to the boon he’d given the Dark Lord. Putting Zelda under the spell without so much as a warning, though… He couldn’t, wouldn’t, refused to betray her like that.
Zelda’s reaction was as he expected, stunned.
If the note and the box had been a blow, Faustus’ confession was one as well—a different kind, certainly, but a blow just the same. Swallowing and pressing her lips together, Zelda shook her head. This had to be a trick of the Dark Lord’s, another demonstration of His cruelty. He’d figured her out, somehow, her loss of faith, and this was her punishment. This spell and words she’d longed to hear from Faustus for years finally falling from his lips… they were punishments, this couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. Because “witches can’t love,” she murmured, heart seizing painfully as she denied herself the love; it’d hurt less in the end this way... when it was all revealed to be some harsh trick. “No, we don’t, it goes against—"
“Have you ever considered, that is untrue?” Faustus interrupted, leaning forward and grasping her hands where they rested on the table. “Lucifer is the Father of Lies. What does He gain by telling us witches cannot love?” And his expression was so sincere, that Zelda’s breath shuddered. There wasn’t a trace of the Dark Lord in his features, not a hint of control like there had been with Ambrose and the other Judas boys after Enoch’s murder. Faustus was, he was telling the truth.
Wetting her lips, Zelda squeezed Faustus’ hands back, needing his solid presence as support for what blasphemy she was about to say aloud. “He gets our devotion to Him above all others,” she whispered the answer in a trembling voice. Apparently, Faustus had thought this through; likely considered every other possibility for what he felt before settling on the fact that the Dark Lord must be lying.
An encouraging smile lit upon Faustus’ face and he nodded. “And what should happen, to say a high priest, when his loyalties shift more towards his bride-to-be than Satan himself? When he is immensely relieved the Dark Lord couldn’t take His bridal rites the night before the wedding? When her voice can drown out the Dark Lord’s even when He’s whispering in directly in said high priest’s ear about how easy it’d be to kill the boys guarding the Antipope?”
Disbelief welled up inside her, “wha-, what?” But she remembered how Faustus seemed possessed upon finding Enoch murdered, how he only calmed when she held him back, talked to him. It couldn’t be… could it?
“The Dark Lord wouldn’t take kindly to that, might threaten to kill the incredible witch who was powerful enough to make a warlock love, to make him question the Dark Lord. Unless, unless I somehow brought you ‘in-line’. With this.” Faustus placed a hand on the music box, a look of revulsion on his face. “Thus, bringing the high priest back in line as well.”
It all made sense, if she believed the one thing his entire story hinged on. “You, you love me?” She murmured, her fingers absently stroking along her wedding band.
A huff escaped Faustus, as if he was unable to believe this was the aspect she was focusing on. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you ever say?” She demanded, unable to keep her hurt tone hidden. But she knew the reasons, she had many of her own.
Faustus chuckled. “I didn’t believe at first, thinking it impossible, sacrilegious. When I finally accepted it, Edward rebuked me.” He paused then, letting the fact that he’d loved her since their academy days sink in. Zelda’s mouth opened uselessly, her ears ringing slightly—and she was certain her blood pressure was responsible. But she forced herself to focus on Faustus, her blood pressure be damned, he was telling her he’d loved her for almost two centuries. “Then Edward was gone, but I feared your rejection should I move too quickly, then feared scaring you away—which I did, and then…. Well, honestly, I thought I’d been making myself rather clear, recently.” He reached across the table and his thumb brushed against her ring.
He loved her.
A torrent of emotions swept through Zelda, so fast and powerful she had trouble distinguishing between them. But one stood above the others, and she didn’t need to hide it anymore. Abigail was right, would be endlessly smug about it, but she was right.
An incredulous laugh emanated from her, and Zelda turned her hands over to clasp his once more. With a final look at her husband, Zelda closed her eyes and murmured a spell that would return the memory she’d stolen from Faustus.
Faustus blinked, stunned. He’d already known what happened the night he let her take Leticia, but this, this was different. She’d altered his memory. She’d said she’d loved him. Anger flashed through him at her manipulation of his memory, but at the same time his heart soared; she loved him. And if she’d loved him then then she did now, even if she couldn’t bring herself to say it. “Satan, Zels.” He was up out of his chair and pulling her into a kiss. “We could’ve had more time.” His hands framed her hips to keep her close as he pressed his forehead to hers.
Chin quivering a little, Zelda kissed him fiercely. “Do we still have time? Even just a little?” She asked, glancing at the box even as she fumbled with his belt.
Lifting her onto the table, Faustus growled his response as he pushed her dress above her waist, and she’s shoved his pants down. Suddenly, he was inside her, and it was hard and fast and perfect, though Zelda was still mindful of the Devil’s Claw on his back.
Neither of them lasted long and when they finished, they were breathing harshly, still wrapped around one another.
Faustus cupped her jaw and shook his head. “I never wanted this. I want and need you as you, I don’t, I can’t,” and he wasn’t able to formulate anything else. “I don’t want this. He repeated. “But, I promise you, I will bring you back.” He swore, holding her hard against him.
“Even if it risks your position as Antipope?” She tried to tease, though her voice wavered. Zelda loved the warlock in front of her, faults and all. And one of his faults was his ambition. It had gotten him far in life, was something she found endlessly attractive, and ambition was something they had in common. So, Zelda understood ambition, how it could motivate someone, inspire them to climb higher… she also knew it could be used to manipulate someone, and as much as she loved Faustus, she wasn’t blind to his weaknesses. Would he find he enjoyed being Antipope more than he enjoyed her as herself?
Before she could spiral too far down that rabbit hole, an affronted look morphed Faustus’ face. “Zelda, no position, no amount of power, is, or ever would be, worth you.” His eyes burned into hers and the sincerity there took her breath away. “I tried to tell the Dark Lord I could do the job without the spell. It’s why he called upon my boon. I don’t want—"
And she silenced his objection with a kiss. “I know.” Zelda breathed, because now she truly did... Faustus, he, he loved her more than power, more than the Dar—, he loved her more. Trying to steady herself from the most recent swing of events, she attempted a reassuring smile. “I understand, I don’t hold you responsible. Do what you must.” She murmured, absolving him of ‘giving’ her the box. He didn’t have a choice, the harsh slash marks crossing his back an unnecessary piece of evidence. She kissed him again and murmured against his lips “I trust you. Protect our family.” And before he could stop her, she opened the box, knowing that if she wasn’t under the spell the Dark Lord would come for the kids and Hilda.
A curious sensation stole over her as the music box tinkled away, the small ballerina spinning slow circles. When the feeling settled, Zelda frowned. “Faustus, something is wrong. I don’t think it worked.” But the words only sound in her head, and horror dawned on her.
Beelzebub help her. She was aware.
Zelda had not anticipated this. This torturous feeling of literally being trapped in her mind. It was as though she’d been shrunk and then popped inside of her head; able to watch everything but unable to control her actions beyond what happened in the tiny corner she’d been regulated to.
She wouldn’t have been nearly as brave taking this on had she known… had she known it wouldn’t be her mind going to sleep and her body on autopilot.
Well, the autopilot was working perfectly but she was horrendously aware that she had no control, a thick barrier separating her from free will. Terrified, Zelda focused on Faustus who was looking at her sadly, caressing her cheek and tucking some of her hair back as a tear slipped down his cheek.
It was then Zelda realized he didn’t know she was awake either, was there. She’d never seen him cry and he certainly wouldn’t have allowed it had he known. “Faustus—" she tried to speak, to stand, to hold him, wanting to comfort, but what happened instead was worse.
“Is everything alright, husband?” Her voice sounded of its own accord, a breathless thing that had Zelda blanching inside while her body just kept sitting on the table, not even righting her dress which was still rucked up to her hips.
Faustus recoiled from her. And she couldn’t blame him, she’d flinched at the sound of her voice as well.
More tears gathering in his eyes, Faustus just shook his head and fixed his clothes before helping her off the table and tenderly fixing hers when she didn’t move to. “Oh Zels,” he breathed, pulling her into him and swaying, restarting the dance they’d stopped. Zelda’s arms slipped back around his neck on their own accord and they danced in slow circles.
At least she could hold him still, even if she felt disconnected from the action, as though she were watching through a dream.
~~~~~
The effects were instantaneous, Zelda’s face went blank, her eyes shuttered when a moment before they’d been full of emotion. Faustus backed away instinctively, horrified at the transformation.
He’d done the only thing he could think of, he pulled Zelda back into his arms and danced with her. Like this he could almost believe everything was as it should be. They didn’t stay long, Faustus paid the bill and teleported them home, checking on Judas briefly before coming back to bed.
Sleep didn’t come easily. He’d done this. He’d done this to Zelda, it was his fault. No matter that the Dark Lord had promised a reward and then offered this instead, no matter that a boon forced Faustus’ hand. He should have found a way around it.
Zelda, being the brave, compassionate and ridiculously protective witch that she was, hadn’t hesitated. She’d shouldered the burden, taken it upon herself to once more act as the guardian and protector of her family… and now his.
Faustus didn’t deserve her. Didn’t deserve her love, her loyalty… but he’d do whatever he could to free her, to be worthy of the sacrifice she’d made earlier this evening.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Faustus wasn’t in bed when she woke. Though this wasn’t a surprise, he had important meetings with the high council and dark cardinals the next few days and was likely getting ready.
Her body sat up and stretched before standing. It was the most disconcerting feeling to have her body move without her instruction. But soon she was opening her closet and rummaging through the contents.
Where had these dresses even come from? She sneered internally in distaste as her hands lifted various floral patterns, holding them against her body and twirling in front of the floor length mirror as though she were a small child playing dress up.
You fool, simply get dressed, she snapped. The dress was no less hideous on her than it’d been on the hanger, the style far from anything she ever wore, but at least she’d stopped prancing around. When she sat at the vanity and took an absurd amount of time on her makeup and hair, Zelda muttered to herself. The results were far from what she preferred, much higher maintenance, but at least it was done.
When her body finally walked out to Faustus, he choked on his coffee. Sputtering, he set his paper down on the table. “Zels, what, what are you wearing?”
Her face pouted, and Zelda wanted to scream because she didn’t do such things. But her body was still not her own. “Do you not like it, husband?” She swayed her hips a bit making the skirt swirl. “I picked it specially for you.” She bent over to give him a good luck down her extremely low neckline.
Stammering, Faustus dragged his eyes back to her face. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in your other clothes?”
“What other clothes husband? This is what all good wives wear.” She curtseyed ridiculously and then picked up the tea kettle to refresh his cup.
Faustus gaped at her for a moment and then regained himself. “No, you don’t need—” he reached and took the kettle from her. “Just, have a sit okay? Eat some breakfast.” He nodded at her encouragingly and Zelda nodded in return before sitting primly in the other chair and eating.
He stared at her, lost. She even dressed differently. What were these absurd floral patterns? Faustus had to be honest, he didn’t mind the low neckline, the cleavage, but it was so wrong to see her in anything other than her usual darker colors. He missed the dresses with all the little buttons for him to play with, undoing as many as he could during their brief discussions between classes, never enough to get them into trouble, but enough for her to be playfully irritated with him. He missed the dresses that always hid wonderful surprises underneath.
These dresses, though, it made no sense why... suddenly a wave of nausea washed over him as he remembered the Dark Lord attempting to visit Zelda the night before they wed. Were these dresses for His enjoyment? Did the Dark Lord relish in seeing Zelda in short dresses with plunging necklines because He hadn’t gotten to take her the other night? Bile rose up the back of his throat and Faustus hastily drank some coffee to cover the taste. Surely, surely Satan had better things to do than to linger, unseen, to see Zelda like this. Surely…
No longer hungry, Faustus pushed his plate away and tried to read the paper in front of him as Zelda finished eating. With a wave of his hand, the plates were cleared away and in the hallway for pickup.
Standing, Faustus rounded the table and cupped Zelda’s cheek. “I must go to the Necropolis, dearest,” he murmured, stomach churning at Zelda’s bright, but blank face, “I’ll be back tonight.” He reassured, kissing her head with a few whispered spells that would hopefully deter the Dark Lord from coming back and ‘making claims’.
“Of course, husband.” Zelda cocked her head and smiled at him.
Jaw clenching, Faustus nodded and stepped back. It wasn’t just her appearance that changed. Her speech pattern had as well. Zelda called him husband now, and he’d once been thrilled by the notion of her calling him that; but now, it sent chills through him instead. It was how she said it, not in her low, husky tones or sarcastic drawls, but in a breathy, girlish voice. With a final look at this fake Zelda, Faustus teleported away without her. Where before she’d have accompanied him to the Necropolis, he could hardly bring this version of her with him.
Arriving at his destination, Faustus straightened his shoulders and smoothed his robes before heading in, head held high. Perhaps if he proved to the Dark Lord what a good, obedient interim Antipope he was, proved he did deserve this position, he would get Zelda back.
~~~~~~~
Left at the breakfast table in the suite without instructions Zelda remained seated all day. Despite her internal raging, her fighting, clawing and curses, she could not overcome the spell. Her body didn’t even bother to turn on the lights, so when Faustus returned the room was dark and he jumped when he realized she was sitting there.
“Lucifer, Zelda.” He swore, a hand on his chest as he set down his things and turned on the lights with a snip of his fingers. Then it dawned on him. “Did,” he knelt before her, “did you sit here all day?” From his apprehensive look Zelda could tell he was hoping she’d contradict him, but she couldn’t.
“Of course, husband.” She cocked her head at him, that awful smile plastered on her face. “You did not instruct me otherwise; I did not wish to displease you by moving.”
Dropping his head into her lap, Faustus groaned. “Darling, you don’t need my permission to do anything.”
Her hand came up on its own, a feeling that was still disconcerting, to stroke his hair. “Oh, husband, but I do. Just as all good wives do.” The words nauseated Zelda and she wanted to scream and tear at her hair.
Standing and pacing away from her, Faustus scrubbed his hands over his face. “Zelda, I—" but when she continued to look at him with bland expectation he exhaled. “Please go freshen up, I’m sure you need to use the restroom. I’ll find us dinner while you do.”
Her body stood mechanically and turned prettily on its heel as she made her way through the suite to the bathroom, relieved her body was finally moving. Though she couldn’t control herself anymore, Zelda certainly felt everything physically. She was stiff from sitting ramrod straight all day, ravenous from not eating lunch, and desperately needed to go to the bathroom. Beelzebub help her if this was what it was going to be like the rest of her time under the spell.
When she came back, Faustus was tipping the bellboy for bringing up their room service. He glanced over at her and tried to smile. “Come Zelda, let’s eat.” While they ate, he talked to her about his day with the high council and dark cardinals and it was an immense relief to have something to stimulate her even if she couldn’t truly participate in the conversation.
~~~~~~~~~
When Faustus left the next morning, he kissed her on the head and told her to take care of herself and to find something to entertaining to do.
Normally, when in Europe, Zelda would have shopped to entertain herself, sampled foods, wines and gelato, gone walking through the city, taking in the gloriousness that was NOT Greendale. But for her new self, well, apparently fun and entertainment meant unnecessarily ironing all the clothes they’d packed and cleaning the hotel room by hand.
Even when she tried to play with Judas, it wasn’t the same.
The boy could tell she was different and cried, thrashing to be put down. It broke her heart further. Even when everything else had been falling apart in her life, she’d always had her skills as a midwife, had always been able to soothe a babe. And now that was gone too, her body too mechanical, too empty to provide comfort to a child. Thankfully this new torture didn’t last long, her body handing the boy back to Ann for care. The young witch eyed her oddly as she soothed the boy, not missing Zelda’s physical changes or the way Judas reacted to her.
“Must be teething,” the girl murmured, “that’s why he fussed for you my Lady.” She bobbed her head slightly after the weak excuse they both knew wasn’t true and hurried back to the suite she was sharing with the boy.
Wanting to cry and crawl into bed, Zelda had to settle for her body going back to the lavish bathroom and needlessly scrubbing the bathtub.
When Faustus returned that night she wanted to collapse into his arms and weep. But her body twirled towards him in her incredibly uncomfortable heels and planted a kiss on his cheek as though nothing were amiss.
“Did you have a better day today?” He asked, touching her cheek and looking relieved that she wasn’t sitting in the dark.
Grinning, Zelda nodded. “Indeed husband,” she chirped, and Heaven Zelda hated the sound.
Relaxing further, Faustus went to gather Judas, coming back with the babe gurgling in his arms. “What did you do then?” He asked, a hopeful smile on his face as he sat down on the couch with her and settled the boy in his lap, giving him a spoon to play with. When she told him about her day doing chores though, the smile slipped away.
“How about,” he placed Judas on the ground to play and took her hand, “we go on a tour tomorrow? Just the two of us? The high council and dark cardinals are holding a private meeting tomorrow concerning how to proceed. Ann can watch Judas. Would,” he released her hand to tuck her hair back, “would you like that?”
Smile widening, Zelda nodded with an eagerness the situation did not call for. “Oh, husband, I would like that very much.” Her body was up and in his lap before Zelda could process the movement and her lips were pressed to Faustus’, her hands burying into his hair and scratching his scalp lightly. And though there was a disconnect, it was the first time Zelda approved of what her enchanted body was doing.
Faustus returned the kiss immediately, his hands gripping onto her hips hungrily and drawing her more tightly against him. When they broke for a short breath before moving back in, his eyes snapped open and he stood abruptly, dumping her onto the floor in his haste.
“Zelda!” He exclaimed, backing away from her, looking confused and pained.
Frowning prettily, Zelda picked herself up from the ground and brushed off her dress. “Do you not desire me, husband?”
Features twisting, Faustus strode across the room and shouted in frustration. “You know I do,” he growled, gripping the back of a chair. He looked back at her, “I love you Zelda, which means we can’t. Not when,” he gestured to her current state and Zelda wanted to cry. Because she understood what Faustus was trying to do, he was trying to be gallant and she loved and hated him for it.
Loved that he cared and respected her enough to not use her when he thought her unaware. But she hated it as well, because she desperately wanted to lose herself, forget her situation, and being physical with Faustus was the only thing she and her enchanted body could agree on.
Running his hands through his hair, Faustus scooped up Judas, who’d found his way under the dining table, and took him back to the other suite. He stayed over there for some time before striding back into their suite and then straight to the bathroom, the shower starting moments later.
Zelda knew what he was doing and sighed when, instead of following her husband and pinning him to the shower wall as she’d have liked, her marionette body traipsed through the suite straightening up and then changed before climbing into bed.
Faustus came out a while later, face and body flushed from the water and the relief his hand had provided. He slid into bed and wrapped himself around her. “I’m sorry.” He whispered into her hair, holding her harder against him as if he could squeeze the real her out of this husk. Thankfully her body didn’t respond beyond leaning more heavily against him, Zelda didn’t think she could handle being rejected again.
~~~~~~~
They toured Italy the next morning. Faustus unsure what else to do.
But sometimes, when they were out and seeing the sites, he could pretend. Pretend the Zelda holding his hand wasn’t a shell of the witch he loved. Imagine that when they visited the catacombs for the previous Antipopes that Zelda would’ve been as horny as him at the power radiating from the place and they’d have fucked right there. He convinced himself, sometimes, that the hand interlaced with his still belonged to his Zelda. But then he’d look over and a vacant expression would be in her face and Faustus would be reminded of the despicable situation they were in.
Sitting at dinner that night and he tried to engage her in conversation, but it was hopeless.
They no longer had intellectual debates, no longer bantered, Zelda’s mind reduced to inane matters far below her. He knew this was the Dark Lord’s doing, why else would so much change? She flit around now, asking about tea and discussing cleaning techniques and calling him husband. He missed the witch who corrected his translations, who’s wit bit, who challenged him in every way. The Dark Lord hadn’t just taken Zelda, He’d taken everything about her. And Faustus couldn’t help but think that this was an additional punishment for having warned Zelda about the spell.
Faustus hated it.
After a particularly difficult hour of conversation, Faustus couldn’t handle it anymore. And though he’d planned on approaching this more logically, all he could think of was smashing the damned box to pieces and breaking the Caligari spell as he promised Zelda he would. Standing, he stalked into the bedroom, snatched the music box from the closet and set it on the table.
Zelda watched him with muted interest, her head cocked but eyes devoid of emotion as he tried to force the drawers open, to no success, and then proceeded to attack the box with every spell he could think of. When magic didn’t make so much as a scratch on the infernal thing, Faustus took one of the heavy candlesticks decorating the room and swung; over and over again. Swung until sweat beaded his brow, his hair hung in his face and his arms grew tired.
Not a single mark showed his efforts.
A pathetic whimper escaped Faustus and he dropped the, now heavily dented, candlestick on the ground to spear his hands through his hair as he paced away from the cursed box. Whatever protected the box was beyond Faustus’ abilities; both magical and physical. Likely it was the Dark Lord’s intention, to force the spell upon them and then make it impossible for either of them to break.
Collapsing into one of the chairs, Faustus rested his head in his hands, shoulders shaking from exertion and emotion. Without warning, Zelda’s hands were suddenly on his shoulders, massaging them gently. Slowly, Faustus sat up, and Zelda’s hands continued their ministrations.
“Zels,” he murmured hoarsely, “what are you doing?” Though he craved physical contact with her, whenever she instigated it these days Faustus knew there was a nefarious purpose behind it; that Zelda wasn’t the one in control and therefore not willingly touching him.
Her hands still working, Zelda bent to kiss his cheek. “You seem stressed, husband. I am merely doing my wifely duty to help relieve that stress.”
Lifting his hands, Faustus covered Zelda’s with his own, stilling her movements. “I am fine, dearest.” He tugged on one of her hands to lead her back in front of him. “Thank you for the gesture, though.” Faustus smiled tiredly at her and swiped his thumb over the back of her hand. “Come,” he stood and led her to the couch, selfishly allowing her to curl into his side so that he could hold her.
With little else to do, and despite that she couldn’t understand him, Faustus talked to Zelda. He told her things he never told anyone. About how he learned everything had a price, how ever since he’d become high priest years ago the Dark Lord had made frequent demands of him; ones that increasingly had him questioning his faith.
Stunned, Zelda listened as Faustus confessed to her. She knew he’d never had said such things had he known she was aware inside. But she couldn’t regret this. She couldn’t regret learning more about him, even if what she learned made Zelda want to cry. Made her want to hold him, confess her own loss of faith years ago and while Faustus hadn’t lost his completely, he was close; she could sense it. Could sense that if the Dark Lord kept pushing Faustus, he’d break as well. Just like she did.
They were so much more alike than she ever imagined. And it pained her that they were alike in this, because she knew how much it hurt to lose one’s faith; as if something had been excised. But she couldn’t do any of the things she wanted, couldn’t say them either; so, Zelda sat and listened as her husband unwittingly bared his soul.
She willed her body to hug him a bit tighter that night, though it didn’t comply, as usual.
~~~~~~~
The next morning, Faustus got up from bed and winced. Walking into the bathroom, he carefully turned to inspect his back, as he suspected, several, raised claw marks stretched across his back. His reward for his disobedience the night before. Exhaling slowly, Faustus bent to wash his face.
Zelda woke when Faustus got out of bed, but her body was a little slower to get up, some things even the spell couldn’t change—she’d never been a morning person, no matter how often she tried to force herself to be one.
When she walked into the bathroom to get ready as well, she was met with the Faustus’ injured back. A sadness filled her that the spell normally wouldn’t allow and suddenly the barrier keeping her in place was gone and she could feel everything fully. “Faustus,” she breathed, carefully tracing the welts, “we match.” She whispered, tears in her eyes at the fact that both their backs were now marked.
He whirled around, face still wet, and framed her face. “It’s you?” She nodded and laughed, she’d done it, she’d broken through. He kissed her hard, his smile ruining the kiss, but it didn’t matter, his wife was back. Pulling back, Faustus grinned. “Zelda I—"
But the moment was gone. The spell reclaimed her. She blinked at him and her smile turned from triumphant to bland in an instant. Zelda cocked her head at him when he faltered. “Yes, husband?”
A knife to the heart would have been kinder. Resting his forehead against hers, Faustus swallowed. “I love you.” He whispered, kissing her chastely before turning back to what he was doing, pain filling his eyes.
White hot rage filled Zelda, but she still couldn’t break back through. The desire to scream and rip and tear welled inside her, but it changed nothing. She’d only managed to be there for a minute before fake Zelda returned, but it gave her hope. Relit a fire that had been turning to ashes as the days passed and at Faustus’ failure to destroy the box the night before.
She wouldn’t, couldn’t, give up. If Faustus couldn’t break the spell, she would. The Dark Lord’s spell couldn’t hold her indefinitely. It wasn’t all powerful and neither was He…. He’d forgotten how fiercely witches felt, He’d underestimated her; and that would be His downfall.
All she had to do was gather herself back up, rein in her, what Hilda sometimes called volatile, emotions, and use them, direct them like a missile. Zelda couldn’t just let them rage internally anymore, while she gave nothing away on the outside. No, she’d need to have just as much internal control as she had external. It might take a little time, but she’d hone herself into a new kind of weapon; one the Dark Lord would regret letting her become.
~~~~~~~
Faustus took her husk out for another walk that afternoon, though they both knew what the outcome of the sequestered meetings would be, as did the council, the warlocks liked to pretend they were the ones actually making the decision for the next Antipope; and so they drug out their meetings without him. Which meant they had more free time to sight see.
As they were crossing the bridge to see Sant’Angelo Castle, Zelda’s body suddenly veered to the side, her hand wrenching itself free from Faustus’. Zelda watched, first confused, then alarmed, as her body climbed onto the stone railing and teetered on the edge.
By some unholy miracle, no mortals were around, but Faustus hissed at her and tried to get her to come down. His anxiety evident as he even tried casting a few spells, to no avail.
The Dark Lord’s voice sounded then, in what Zelda assumed was both of their heads’. “You better start behaving, Blackwood.” Faustus sputtered and reached for Zelda again but her body skirted his grasping hands, likely only maintaining her balance because of the Dark Lord’s interference. “Keep trying to destroy the music box, the gift I bestowed upon you and I will have your darling wife kill herself. Tell anyone else about the box and she’ll face the same fate.”
Zelda’s heart pounded against her ribs as one of her heels slipped along the rock, but she remained upright. Then, just as suddenly as she’d climbed up, Zelda’s body gracefully leapt back onto the ground, her hand taking Faustus’ and leading him towards the castle once more as if nothing had happened.
Though the experience frightened them, Faustus barely getting them to a secluded spot inside the castle before teleporting them back to the hotel, it taught Zelda something as well. While the Dark Lord was paying an absurd amount of attention to them, or likely had someone or thing watching and reporting back, He didn’t know everything. He’d missed Zelda breaking through the spell, however briefly, that morning.
This meant Faustus was being much more closely monitored than she was, understandably, her husband still had free will. It also meant Zelda could test the spell’s resiliency without bringing about any unwanted attention. Internally smiling, Zelda didn’t mind it as much as she normally would have when she lost repeatedly at chess because Caligari her was apparently inept at the game.
~~~~~~~
Despite her renewed spirit, Zelda found it difficult to remain attentive at all times. Her body was going to do what it wanted, regardless of her, and it was a different kind of torture to be cooped up in one’s own mind all day… especially when her mind had never been particularly kind to her in the past.
While she tried to focus on her new mission, keeping her attention on one topic for hours on end was impossible. So, she let her thoughts drift into nothingness more often than she probably should, but it was the only escape she had.
She did manage to break through, for an hour, the next night. Zelda had been experimenting with which emotions worked best, anger the easiest to conjure but also, apparently, the least effective against the Dark Lord’s spell—probably because it was the only emotion Satan still experienced Himself and therefore the spell was interwoven with it.
Sadness, on the other hand, had done the trick again. This time it’d been Judas twisting away from her, screaming bloody murder. Faustus had plucked the boy from her, a pained look on his face as he hurried the boy into the suite adjoining theirs. Bereft, Zelda had collapsed inside, her heart feeling as though it’d been torn out when suddenly the barrier dropped once more.
Startled, Zelda cried out incredulously.
Faustus ran back into the suite. “Zelda? What is it?” He demanded, searching the room for a threat, spell in hand.
“It’s me, Faustus.” She beamed, tears in her eyes as she took his face in her hands and crashed her lips against his. He only hesitated for a moment, pulling back to confirm she was truly awake, before Faustus picked her up and carried her to bed.
When they finished, Zelda cleaned herself up and, much to Faustus’ dismay, quickly got out of bed and went next door. She came back with a sleepy, but smiling, Judas in her arms; she’d missed the babe dearly.
An amused, but affectionate, huff escaped Faustus, and he waved a hand to freshen the sheets before pulling on his boxers so the three of them could lounge in bed. Leaning into Faustus’ side, Zelda cradled Judas to her, singing softly and stroking the boy’s cheek as he gurgled, and his tiny fist clinging to a strand of her hair possessively. It seemed he’d missed her as much as she had him.
Slipping an arm around her to hold her closer, Faustus kissed the side of her head. “We miss you, Zelda.” He shared in a hoarse whisper, touching Judas’ head. “I’ve tried destroying the box, to bring you back to us, but I can’t. I—"
“I’ve seen the marks, Faustus.” She murmured, cutting him off gently. “I know.” Lifting her head from his shoulder, Zelda kissed him again, relishing in her ability to do so. “I miss you too. Both of you,” she added, her eyes moving back to Judas. “This, this empty vessel the Dark Lord forces me to parade around in… I don’t know how much more I can stand.”
Gripping her forearm tightly, Faustus waited until she brought her eyes back to his. “I’m working on it. I promise. But after the other day…” he ducked his head in shame, knowing he’d been the reason for the Dark Lord’s little display on the bridge. “I need to be more discreet. But maybe it won’t be necessary? You’ve managed to crack the spell, you’re here now—"
A sad smile tugged at her lips. “Not for long. Not for good. Now that I have a better understanding, now that I’ve been awake for some time, I can feel the spell pulling at me. These are only reprieves, darling. I’ll keep fighting, but please hurry, Faustus,” Zelda murmured tiredly, “this is torture. I’m, I’m aware the whole time but I have no control. I can feel tiny pieces of myself slipping away every day, and I’m scared there won’t be much left if this continues.”
She’d been worrying about this for some time but had continuously pushed it to the part of her mind her consciousness didn’t occupy. But it wasn’t something she could ignore forever, especially given how easy it was to allow herself to drift away while her body was on autopilot. It became easier each time.
Tears glazed her eyes and she held a now sleeping Judas a little tighter to her chest as Faustus pulled her into his embrace more fully. “You’re, you’re awake?!” Faustus repeated, appalled. “Zels, I had no idea, I’d have made sure to, to…” He floundered, for really, what more could he have done had he known? Then the rest of her words seemed to register. “Don’t you dare leave me, Zelda Fiona Spellman-Blackwood.” He growled into her hair, though Zelda could hear the emotions thick in his voice.
“I’ll do what, what I can.” She managed, her brain starting to fog over once more. “Take, please take Judas to bed. The spell is pulling me back under, and it upsets him…” Zelda held Judas out to Faustus and her husband seemed torn, clearly wanting to respect her request but also not wanting to miss a moment with her while she was lucid. “Faustus, please, I can’t bear to have him cry to get away from me again.”
Nodding, Faustus kissed her again and then stood to carefully take Judas from her, trying not to wake the boy as they untangled Zelda’s hair from his fist. “I love you.” He murmured, cupping her cheek and pressing another kiss to her forehead.
“I love you too, darling.” Zelda replied, catching his hand in hers as the fog got thicker in her mind, making it harder to think, to stay in control. And then her tenuous control was gone, the connection she’d so painstakingly built shattered and Faustus’ hand dropped from hers. It would take time to build that up again, to break through.
Hopefully there was still enough of her left to build it before she was swept away entirely.
~~~~~~~~
Faustus could tell the moment the spell reclaimed Zelda, and it was like a physical blow, to see her stripped away once more. And if it was this difficult for him, he could only imagine what it was like for Zelda… being away the whole time. Shuddering, Faustus took Judas back to Ann and then went to sit at the small table where they ate breakfast. He needed to catch up on messages from home. Picking up the witching board they were sharing for the trip, Faustus flicked through most without much thought, they could be handled when they got back.
The messages he wanted were from his Judas boys, the ones who were supposed to be tracking the hunters. But there’d been no word from them since before the wedding and the others patrolling the school were silent as well.
Frustrated, Faustus sent a few messages to them and then opened Zelda’s inbox—if nothing else he could read them to her tomorrow, now that he knew she could appreciate them Faustus figured she’d want news from home.
There wasn’t much happening, from the sounds of it. Ambrose was still safely locked up and guarded, and Sabrina not stirring up any trouble that Hilda could suss out. When Hilda asked after Zelda though, her questions became more anxious with each day that passed without a reply. Faustus had to put the board down; guilt bubbling up inside of him.
He should respond somehow, ease Hilda’s worries which were barely concealed. But Faustus wasn’t sure how to do that. He’d lied about any number of things throughout his life and for most he didn’t regret or doubt his decision to do so. And yet, here he was, unable to lie even through a written message.
It wasn’t as though he could assure Hilda that her sister was safe and happy. Neither could he tell the younger witch what had happened, it would mean Zelda’s death. All they could do was wait until the high council meetings were over and then go back so Hilda could see the damage for herself.
There were many reasons he couldn’t reply to the younger Spellman sister, all of them valid. But the one that gnawed at him, the one that had guilt, shame and turmoil roiling through him was that…. well, Faustus had broken the promise he’d made to Hilda the night they gave Leticia away; the one where he’d sworn to take care of Zelda. Not only had he broken the promise, but Faustus had failed on the first night they were married.
Closing his eyes, Faustus set the board aside and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until colored spots of light danced behind his lids. Exhaling forcefully, Faustus heaved himself out of the chair and climbed back into bed where Zelda was already asleep.
Carefully wrapping himself around her, Faustus dropped a kiss onto Zelda’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, tears pricking his eyes. “We’ll fix this, we will.” With another promise made, all Faustus could do was hope this was one he could keep.
~~~~~~
He was gone when she woke again. The note on the breakfast table explaining that the high council had called him in, likely to tell him what they both knew… Faustus was to be the interim Antipope.
With little else to do, Zelda’s body swanned around the room straightening things that did not need it before finally settling back at the table to read a housekeeping magazine that had Zelda internally groaning in boredom.
What she’d give for a cigarette and a thick tome about curses, Latin translations or anything really, anything other than this mind-numbing drivel. For every article title she read, Zelda could name a more efficient, magical means of accomplishing the task. It was an unholy blessing when the witching board dinged again and again and again, until finally her puppet of a body set the magazine down to look at the messages pouring in.
And for once her true self and her Caligari self acted as one. Both of their brows furrowed at what she found. Garbled but frantic messages from various Judas boys, Prudence and even a few older coven members. The messages made little sense by themselves. But when looked at together, Zelda was able to piece the situation together.
Hunters in Greendale.
Ice ran through her veins, chilling her to the bone. The hunters, the ones Faustus had said weren’t near them, the ones Faustus supposedly had eyes on. They were in Greendale. And wreaking havoc from what Zelda could determine.
Frantically, Zelda tried to get her body to scroll through the messages faster. Wanting to see if anything had come through from her family. But her body acted as languidly as it had for the past few days, refusing to be hurried.
Inside Zelda practically sobbed in her desperation, but she couldn’t focus enough to regain control. Her thoughts and emotions were too scattered. When she finally reached the end of the messages, Zelda wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or anguished over the fact that neither Hilda nor Sabrina had tried to contact her within the past few hours.
She wanted to smash the board. She wanted to teleport home and find her family. She wanted to be able to actually react, instead of being trapped inside this prison that was her body. Panic pulled her under, and Zelda discovered that it was possible to hyperventilate internally while her physical body remained unaffected.
Useless.
That’s what she was. Useless. She couldn’t even message anyone back, her manicured hands simply setting the board down and picking up the magazine once more. And there she remained, flipping idly through the magazine’s glossy pages until Faustus came home ten minutes later.
“Well, it’s as we expected,” he started talking, hanging up his coat and toeing off his shoes. “I am the new interim Antipope.” Faustus held out his hands in a lackluster display of enthusiasm. And while Zelda knew his dream job had been twisted into a nightmare, she couldn’t focus on that; not when their family was in danger.
Screwing up as much power as she could, Zelda managed to get a strangled, “hunters!” out of her mouth and to jerkily fling an arm in the direction of the witching board before control was wrenched away from her once more.
Faustus blinked at her, but thankfully didn’t pause beyond that. He knew how difficult it was for her to break through, he snatched up the witching board and Zelda watched as he blanched as he read a few of the messages.
“Fuck,” he swore softly under his breath and then turned, “Ann!” He bellowed, already rushing around the room and gathering a few essentials; like their passports and the music box—unwilling to leave thing behind when it was what controlled her.
The nanny burst into the room, eyes wide with nerves and worry. “Yes, Lord Blackwood?”
“Zelda and I are returning to Greendale immediately, follow with Judas on the next flight you can book. Take our luggage with you.” He dismissed the confused girl with a wave of his hand and then turned to her. “We’ll teleport back, just us. Without Judas or the suitcases, it shouldn’t drain us too terribly, not if we each teleport ourselves. We’ll still have enough to fight the hunters.”
He held out his hand to her, but Zelda just smiled emptily at him and cocked her head. “Dear husband,” she giggled, shaking her head, “women aren’t capable of that much magic. I can’t make international jumps.” As the words left Zelda’s mouth she howled with rage. If ever there’d been a time to break through, it would be now. But the barrier was thicker, heavier than it had ever felt before and Zelda knew a layer or two had been added to the spell to keep her trapped. Apparently, her experiments with the spell’s boundaries hadn’t gone as unnoticed as she’d thought. And now she was paying for it.
Snarling, Faustus stalked away, the lights around them flickering with his anger. “You’re capable of making that jump two times over solo.” He informed her enchanted body harshly, slashing his hand through the air. And then he did something he hadn’t done since she’d taken on the spell. He gave her a direct order. “You’re making the jump with me, now.”
Something twanged up Zelda’s spine at the command, bringing her to attention. And for a moment, for a moment she thought it would work. The feeling dissipated though, and Zelda felt herself shaking her head. “Husband, you cannot demand what is impossible.” Her voice chided him lightly, as though speaking to a child and it suddenly dawned on Zelda that the Dark Lord must be interfering. Lucifer was slowing them down, keeping them from getting back. Why, Zelda couldn’t fathom, but she couldn’t dwell on it either.
Summoning strength from deep in her core, Zelda choked out another word. “Go!” Whatever game the Dark Lord was playing, He seemed intent on Zelda not being a part of it. But simply because she was sidelined, didn’t mean Faustus had to be. He had to get home, to hunt the hunters, to save their family, the coven.
Before Faustus could respond, a grating voice echoed in the room. “If you leave her here, Faustus, she won’t live past the hour.”
As the Dark Lord’s presence faded, Faustus punched the wall, his fist going through the plaster and leaving a sizable hole. A wordless roar emanated from him and he snatched up his cane and started to smack it into his hand with enough force that the rod whistled through the air each time. But he didn’t try to leave, Zelda’s balancing act on the bridge the other day still to fresh on both their minds.
Zelda tried to beg him to leave anyway. Tried to convey to Faustus in some way that he had to go, no matter the consequences. Sabrina was in danger. Ambrose was in danger, Hilda, Prudence, her students. And what was to stop the hunters in Greendale? What was to keep them from heading for the Church of Shadows, for Abigail and Rebecca, the boys and Leticia?
Her life meant nothing in comparison to theirs, he had to go.
But Faustus strode over to the mirror instead and tried to contact various coven members to no avail. He tried to scry into the school but found each of the mirrors destroyed or so badly cracked it was pointless to try and use it.
Breathing heavily, Faustus threw his cane aside and grasped Zelda’s hand. “Husband?” She barely began her question before they reappeared at the airport, Faustus bullied his way into the front of the line, cast several spells to get them on the flight leaving for Amsterdam and then the states that was supposed to leave in ten minutes and then cast more spells to get them onto the plane even though it was already pulling off to the runway.
Once they were on the plane, there was nothing to do but wait. It would be hours until they got home, anything could happen in that time. But Zelda couldn’t teleport, and Faustus refused to leave her behind to test the Dark Lord’s word. So, they were forced to sit through a torturous flight to Amsterdam where even Faustus’ magic couldn’t reduce the layover time.
As they boarded the second plane, Faustus turned to her, eyes haunted after yet failing yet again to contact the coven. “Zels, what if, the hunters couldn’t have, not all of them, right?” He looked at her imploringly, but she just smiled at him, head tilted to the side slightly in confusion. Checking that they wouldn’t be overheard, Faustus shifted in his seat to face her properly. “Satan, if there was ever a time to break through, now is it, Zelda. I need your help! Your family, Sabrina could be in trouble!”
For just a moment, Zelda felt the barrier weaken, thinning just enough for her to furrow her brow. But the control slipped through her fingers before she could grasp it and Zelda felt her expression smooth, going blank once more.
Groaning in dismay, Faustus pressed a kiss to her forehead before pulling her against his side and stroking her hair comfortingly, knowing that while externally she is fine, internally she needed the comfort.
Zelda slammed against the inside of her skull; screaming.
Because hunters came for her girl, for her family and she was thousands of miles away and useless. Even if they had been able to teleport back, it wasn't as if she’d be able to help, this husk the Dark Lord trapped her in was more a liability than anything.
And she felt hopeless. One of the things Zelda defined herself by was being able to protect her family and now the Dark Lord had taken even that away from her. Crumbling to her metaphorical floor, Zelda stopped fighting to break free; it’d do no one any good for her to have control while stuck on a plane. So, instead she curled in on herself, trying to focus on Faustus’ soothing actions and comforting words she knew he didn’t believe.
She’d done this. Accepted this spell without fighting, to protect her family. And now she was the reason they couldn’t get back in time to save them.
What had she done?
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He’d concocted this plan, this prophecy, what felt like ages ago.
What better way to spurn his precious former master, the false god, than to pervert not only the man’s pets, but also the miracles his son had performed, and ultimately the entire world he’d created?
Lucifer’s children all believed in him, all obeyed him. The false god couldn’t say the same; refusing to appear before his chattel to force them into line. In order to fulfill this plan, though, Lucifer had to wait. His glorious children did not breed with the false god’s pets, rightfully so, purebreds didn’t mate with mangy mutts.
But, just as the false god had picked a mortal to usher his child into the world, so too, would he. But he would go a step further, the child would be a piece of him, would come from his body and not just be a miraculous manifestation. Lucifer could hardly pick any mortal, though, the female had to already be introduced to the witching realm, so his half-shadow child would be raised properly.
It’d taken time; longer than Lucifer would have liked, but he’d learned how to be patient when it suited him. He’d found the right warlock eventually, though. One who was progressive enough on his own so when Lucifer started to plant ideas in his mind, suggesting that the integration of mortals was a good thing, the young warlock didn’t blink an eye; just started spouting off ideology and, in a few years’ time, would go looking for a mortal female to mate.
It was important to instill in the warlock the idea that he had to be high priest, that he should let nothing stand in his way to achieving this position and marrying a mortal. None of it would work otherwise, the Dark Lord couldn’t make exceptions for just any ordinary warlock… a high priest on the other hand, he could make an exception to their no mortals rule; for the right price, or so the man would learn.
Everything played out smoothly for years. And then a hiccup developed, Edward’s sister, Zelda.
She was intelligent, powerful, bold, self-assured… and involved with the competition. Though Lucifer’s interference would ensure Edward became the next high priest, he couldn’t have Zelda complicating the matter; it’d undermine his pawn, if she married the rival. So, he whispered lies in Edward’s ear, awful things about Blackwood, not only about how the warlock would mistreat his beloved sister, but also how her involvement with him would keep Edward from fulfilling his calling.
The whispers were enough to make sure he rebuked Blackwood when he asked to marry Zelda; thus, ensuring the man didn’t have a Spellman officially on his side. And then, years later, even after Edward was named high priest, those whispers lingered. Lucifer didn’t bother to stop Edward, not when he needlessly confronted his sister, threatened her with spells and control.
Blackwood was no longer a threat in Lucifer’s eyes, no longer in the running for high priest and no longer involved with Zelda; he was a nonfactor. But clearly the warlock was still one in Edward’s, the whispers from decades before making him paranoid. If anything, it was a blessing in disguise he hadn’t rescinded those whispers, Zelda left in a fit of indignation, making Edward easier to control and easier to push towards a mortal.
Lucifer may have nudged Diana towards Edward, he wanted his child to be beautiful, after all, and if he was to lower himself to mate with a mortal, he’d not lay with one that was subpar. He pulled some strings, made her more willing to accept the witching realm, the Path of Night, and from there, well it’d all gone to plan.
It was easy enough to convince Edward to sign his child’s name over in exchange for permission to marry Diana. The warlock already so far gone, hilariously believing in romantic love, that he’d have done anything to get what he wanted. And Lucifer had only been too happy to oblige.
Getting Diana with child, though, was a bit trickier. She was smart, and when he appeared before her in Edward’s image she hesitated, as though sensing something wasn’t right. But she’d given in eventually. One time was all it took. Lucifer knew what spells to use so he wouldn’t have to demean himself by lying with a mortal more than once.
Thirteen months later, once his glorious child was born, Edward and Diana were of no more use to him. Though Lucifer initial planned to let them live through the child’s infancy, they’d become problematic. The mortal feared the child was not Edward’s, somehow sensing the babe’s origins, and went so far as to confide in Hilda. It was when Diana finished being tool to fulfill his prophecy and became a nuisance.
It wouldn’t do for the truth to come out so soon; Diana had to go.
And Edward, well, Edward had outlived his usefulness. In fact, he’d used what Lucifer had whispered into his ear, all those years ago about mortals and taken it too far. Several steps too far. The warlock’s manifesto would have put mortals, the false god’s little pets, and his own glorious perversion of those pets—witches—on the same level.
He’d given the man too much freedom, stopped paying attention once Diana was fully tied to the witching realm and his focus had turned to her. An outside the box thinker was what he’d wanted, what Lucifer had created in Edward. A ‘progressive’ thinker fit Lucifer’s needs, a zealot did not. He'd let the ideas he'd planted grow for too long.
In his new world order, when Sabrina was of age, it would be him and his queen, ruling over everyone, witches and his hellish creatures like nobility, while mortals the slaves underneath them. If he allowed Edward to put his plan in front of the Antipope, if it should pass, there would be even greater resistance down the line when Lucifer opened the gates and allowed Hell to rain down on the earthly plane.
No, he needed his witches, his creations, on his side. So, to rid himself of two problems at once, Lucifer whispered into the pilot’s ear; the one chartering the private flight Edward and Diana were taking to Rome, and told him he was needed to save the witching world. That his passengers planned to expose them all and throw them back into the dark ages where witches were persecuted, hung, drowned and burned alive. The pilot had been only too willing to serve Lucifer, aptly crashing the plane into the middle of the ocean, after placing tethering spells on his passengers, that is, to prevent Edward from teleporting then to safety.
The couples’ demise had been too easy. But Lucifer knew when the time was to play with his prey and when to kill them quickly. With the two ‘parents’ out of the way, Sabrina was left in the care of her aunts. Lucifer was content to leave it at that. He’d micromanaged enough and there were other matters for him to deal with.
When he turned his attention back to his daughter nearly 16 years later, he was stunned to find the girl resistant to signing her name.
While he technically had her name in the book already, courtesy of Edward, Sabrina signing her own name would strengthen the hold Lucifer had over the girl. His grip on her soul would be unbreakable, she would find refusing him much more difficult than she imagined. It would also allow him to bestow upon her other things when the time came. But she needed to sign first.
Lucifer considered taking it out in the aunts, it could only be their doing that Sabrina wasn’t eager to join the coven, but torturing them would hardly make the girl more enthusiastic to join. And, if anything, Sabrina’s resistance meant his daughter would be strong enough to be his queen; he didn’t want some weak witch by his side, after all.
Despite the benefit of Sabrina’s strong personality, she still needed to sign. So, he sent Lilith to help sway the girl. Sometimes a voice other than a guardians’ was needed and Lilith hadn’t let him down yet.
It was also mildly amusing to send Lilith to unwittingly groom her replacement. The witch was so sure of what her place would be, Lucifer relished in seeing her create her own undoing.
While Lilith had never let him down, it took her longer to accomplish the task he’d set her than he’d anticipated. But Sabrina signed. Then she bent to his dark devotion. They were on the right path.
And then that damned manifesto reappeared.
He’d instructed Lilith to get the girl to tear it all down. But this wasn’t what he’d had in mind, not another push to raise mortals up to a level they had no business being on. Lilith wasn’t supervising the girl as she should be. His concubine was getting lazy, distracted. Only doing just enough to nudge Sabrina but not guide her as she’d been doing before. Lucifer would need to come up with a fitting punishment for her.
Until then, it was no matter that Sabrina had found Edward’s manifesto, the result was what he wanted even if how it happened wasn’t. Sabrina was now one step closer to her destiny. So, he’d indulge his daughter this, it clearly meant quite a lot to her. Besides, it’d never get past Antipope Enoch, not when the manifesto written by his own hand and presented by a high priest was the alternative.
Only, only Enoch did not proceed as Lucifer anticipated; he truly regretted giving his creations free will at times. The warlock looked over both the manifestos, was of mind to use pieces from each.
Rage flared within him. And while Lucifer could have appeared before Enoch to direct him back to the proper course, he had no desire to do so. If the man was so out of touch with his Dark Lord’s ambitions he didn’t deserve to live.
Lucifer had planned ahead, though, never one to let any plan this large have too many variables he didn’t control.
So, he activated the familiars in each of the boys guarding Enoch. It been easy enough to predict that Blackwood would have his Judas boys play security. Easy enough to select which ones would guard the Antipope first. It hadn’t been a coincidence that each boy had a small familiar, Ambrose the only one to notice the goblin’s disappearance—likely because having a familiar once more was still a novel to him and the others were used to theirs roaming.
The plan was needlessly elaborate. But it also provided a degree of separation between him and the outcome as well. He couldn’t have his plan revealed too soon. In any case, he rarely got to practice magic like this, it was fun to flex his fingers, as it were, and what magical being didn’t indulge in a bit of flair every now and then?
Once he set Enoch’s murder in motion, he made for Zelda’s room. He was already there, why not enjoy himself?
He’d grown bored with Lilith ages ago, not that it stopped him from using her, but something new would be nice. And it’d been some time since he’d visited a bride in her wedding eve. Zelda was beautiful, devout, and despite some of her failings in raising Sabrina, Lucifer wanted her.
Thrills went through him as he approached her, ran his hand along her arm, brushing her breast. A growl of delight escaped him; she was ripe for the taking. And he had hours. Hours of time to ravage the lovely witch kneeling so prettily and obediently in front of him. He was trying to decide how to take her first, he quite liked the sight of her on her knees, when a scream rent the air.
Though he still could have taken Zelda, pleasured himself and used her as he pleased, it was best not to be there now that Enoch’s body had been found. And that could be the only reason for the screams. The boys had been caught more quickly than he anticipated, but at least they’d done the deed.
Now all there was to do was get rid of the boys.
Free will once again tripped up his plans, though. Blackwood didn’t kill the boys as commanded. In fact, Zelda stopped him, talked him down, convinced him to imprison the culprits instead while they investigated.
Infuriated, Lucifer took it in stride. He hadn’t gotten this far, remained in power for so long without being able to adapt. But he did need the elder Spellmans and Blackwood out of the way.... They’d interfered too many times with his plans and now that it was almost time for Sabrina to come into her own, he couldn’t let them get in the way.
So, he sent Blackwood and Zelda off to Italy, with orders to return Enoch’s body and taking them both out of the equation entirely. Lucifer couldn’t risk two of the most powerful witches in the Church of Night coming back and ruining the party he had planned. To ensure they stayed away, he added the Caligari spell for good measure—knowing Zelda would have stopped at nothing to return once she learned of the events in Greendale. With Zelda and Blackwood gone, Lucifer only had a few more to get out of the way.
Ambrose, while not dead, was at least locked up and unreachable. Unable to provide his ‘cousin’ with the advice and information she often sought from him.
Meaning only Hilda remained as an obstacle to Sabrina achieving her full powers. But that would be remedied soon. He’d been nudging a group of hunters closer and closer to Greendale for months now. They were none the wiser, thinking the signs were from their false god, Lucifer laughed every time they thanked his former master for something he’d done. These hunters would dispose of Hilda Spellman for him.
And once the final Spellman was taken care of, well, then he just had to get the timing right for when to bestow his child with special abilities; just as the false god’s son was given special abilities.
Yes, it was all coming together. Soon, the final perversions of everything the false god held dear would be complete and Lucifer would have his queen by his side as the ruled the world the false god had so arrogantly thought he could control.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
She stopped fighting the spell.
Just, just for the moment. It would benefit no one if she broke through while on the plane and, honestly, it was exhausting to continually bash herself against the barrier holding her back to no avail. So, instead, Zelda gathered her anger, her fear and all her other broiling emotions and held onto them tight. Until they became a hardened pit inside her; one she’d use as a weapon as soon as these hunters who’d dared come after her family were in front of her.
Throughout the flight, Faustus repeatedly attempted to contact anyone from the coven on the witching board, while also contacting other covens close to theirs, hoping reinforcements could be sent, but if nothing else to at least warn them. He also notified the high council, alerting them to the situation and trying to order them to Greendale to handle the situation. Their response was a bit lackluster, but they said they would go investigate; Zelda didn’t have high hopes that they would arrive in time to save anyone.
Zelda desperately wanted to ask him if he’d contacted the Church of Shadows, ask if Abigail had been warned so she could take extra measures to protect Leticia and the rest of her family. But, as Zelda was now accustomed to, her body refused to verbalize her thoughts. Thankfully, Faustus turned to her about an hour later, a fraction of relief showing through the anxiety and fury on his face.
“The Church of Shadows is on lockdown; their entire coven accounted for and safe.” He murmured, taking her hand and squeezing it hard. At the news, one tiny part of Zelda unspooled, her fear for Leticia, Abigail, Rebecca and the boys easing.
The rest of her family, though, was still in grave danger. And these could be no ordinary hunters, not if they’d managed to attack an entire coven, if they’d managed to get into the academy. Zelda wasn’t sure what it meant, beyond the fact that her family was in even more danger than they’d previously assumed.
A torrent of emotions swept through her as possible scenarios of what they’d find when they returned flashed through Zelda’s mind. Blood splattered walls, bodies punctured with arrows and knife wounds, burned skin from holy water… Shuddering, Zelda tried to force it out of her mind; such thoughts only tortured her.
In an attempt to calm herself, Zelda visualized each member of her family, holding their image steady in her mind. Sabrina was first. Her girl… while her girl may be at risk and reckless, she was also smart, resourceful and strong; that would have to be enough to keep her safe until they arrived.
Ambrose, her dear felon, was safely locked away; the irony of which she didn’t miss. But at least there was no way for the hunters to reach him. Even if they had managed to break into the school, it would be impossible for them to open the witching cells to attack the people within.
And Hilda, for all her sweet demeanor, was not a witch to be trifled with; one only needed to ask Shirley. No, her sister was strong, smart, and wouldn’t let anything happen to the kids. This wouldn’t be their first encounter with hunters, after all.
A cruel voice whispered in the back of her mind that yes, while Hilda was capable and experienced with hunters, that didn’t mean a thing. They’d lost their brother, Thomas, to hunters and he’d been a powerful warlock as well.
The thought cracked what little control Zelda had gotten over herself, and her emotions started to war within her once more.
If anything happened to them, anything... it’d be her fault. Zelda thought she was protecting them by taking on this spell, but all she’d done was put nooses around their necks. If they didn’t get back in time... she’d be the reason her family died.
She’d be to blame and no one else.
Zelda should have known there was more to the Caligari spell then simple punishment, or reward as He called it. The Dark Lord had layers upon layers of reasoning for what he did, nothing had a single purpose or use, not when Satan was involved. She should have suspected as much, but she hadn’t been thinking three steps ahead as she normally did. First the appearance of music box itself, the threat to their family, Faustus’ admission…
To say she’d been overwhelmed was an understatement.
All she’d thought about was protecting her family, and, at the time, taking on the spell was the only way to do that. Foolish, ignorant, useless. Zelda hadn’t spared a thought for what could happen to her family after she was under the spell, she’d just known what would happen if she wasn’t. And once she’d been under the spell, despite having all the time in the world to devote to such things, coherent thought had become increasingly difficult.
She’d never stood a chance. The Dark Lord played her like a fiddle.
Cruel thoughts, disturbing images, and guilt swirled inside her relentlessly, all while nothing showed on the outside. Where before this would have distressed Zelda further, she was almost grateful for it when her body—despite her inner torment—rested its head on Faustus’ shoulder, and fell asleep.
~~~~
Faustus woke her an hour before they landed. The witching board, which had been in his lap the entire flight, finally started to ping with an influx of messages.
“From our coven,” Faustus breathed in relief, glancing at her before turning his gaze back to the board. She felt him cast a small silencing spell around them and then he started to read the messages aloud to her; skimming most of them, searching for those they cared about the most.
Most of the messages confirmed various members’ safety, stated the horrible ordeal was over, and reported a few casualties. But Zelda could barely register the information, she wanted to hear about the kids, about Hilda.
Finally, Faustus found a message from Prudence. He slumped in relief and smiled widely at Zelda. “Prudence says she and most of the other students are safe. That they are only alive because the Spellmans came to the rescue. Hilda, Ambrose, Sabrina, they’re all okay.” He beamed at her and then continued to read. “Though,” Faustus frowned, and Zelda wished her body would crane its neck so she could read as well. “Prudence, she…” he shook his head, confused, “she says they are only safe because Sabrina demonstrated new, and frankly frightening, abilities.”
The relief coursing through her at the news stuttered at this addition. New and frightening abilities? What in Heaven could that even mean? What happened to her girl while she was gone?
As if sensing her panic, Faustus cupped her cheek and stroked his thumb along her skin. “I know, Zelda, I know. I don’t understand it either, but they all made it, it’s alright.” He tried to give her a reassuring smile, placed a sweet kiss on her forehead before he turned back to the witching board and rapidly began to respond to messages, asking for more details and coordinating recovery efforts.
She was quivering inside, unsure how to process the information. Yes, her family was alive and safe, and the news made Zelda want to laugh from relief, want to hug Faustus hard and kiss him because their family was still whole. No harm had come to them while she was gone, no harm, they were safe. And yet…
New and frightening abilities.
Zelda didn’t like it; not one bit. Witches didn’t just develop new powers, new abilities, in times of need. If that were the case, the Greendale Thirteen would never have been hung, the Salem Witch Trials wouldn’t have occurred, and no witch would ever have fallen prey to hunters.
Lost in her thoughts as to what this could mean, Zelda didn’t even notice when they landed until Faustus hauled her off the plane; barely taking the time to find a secluded spot before teleporting them back to Greendale. She stumbled slightly on the landing, having not been ready for the jump, and before she could fully recover, Faustus was leading her up the academy stairs in the weak morning light and through the doors which were askew.
Smears of blood decorated the halls at random intervals and Zelda could feel Faustus’ hand vibrating in her own with anger, nerves and guilt for not having been there to stop it. They were feelings with which she was intimately familiar.
When her eyes lands on the rubble that was the Dark Lord’s statue, her anxiety increased tenfold. It was as she’d suspected on the plane, normal hunters weren’t capable of this kind of damage.
What had preyed on their home while they were away?
Before they could go any further, several high council members rounded the corner. Methuselah inclined his head in greeting. “Your unholy eminence, so glad to see you made it back.”
And there was something in his expression that made Zelda want to curse him into the afterlife; he looked smug. As if this whole thing was amusing, the fact that the new Antipope the Dark Lord had forced upon them was already having trouble in his hometown. Faustus’ hand tightened around hers, almost painfully, and she knew he sensed Methuselah’s enjoyment as well.
Before her husband could react, likely in a way that wouldn’t be appropriate but one Zelda would still approve of, another high council member bowed his head. “We’ve gathered witnesses, your unholy eminence, it would be best to start interviewing them now.”
Arching a brow, Faustus leveled a gaze at them. “Would it now? See, I felt it best to see to those who were injured, first. As they—”
“They are of no use to you, as of yet.” Methuselah interrupted, an apologetic smile that seemed more a sneer on his face. “We arrived some time ago, after your message. We took it upon ourselves to start the investigation, as you could not be bothered to return sooner. It really would be best to continue the work we’ve already begun in your absence.” The accusation hung thickly in the air and a few of the other high council members shuffled their feet or averted their eyes.
Grinding his teeth, Faustus released Zelda’s hand, but not before she felt a current of magic leap to his fingers and then dissipate when he regained control of himself last second. “Very well.” He bit out sharply, “we shall hold the interviews in my office. Come.” He strode down the hall, not waiting to see if they followed.
The interviews took all morning. But the stories were consistent.
The Judas boys patrolling the school raised the alarm, rousing students in time to flee or fight. The ones guarding Ambrose and the others stayed put, as was their duty, until screams sounded above. According to the boys, they’d made an executive decision; the hunters a bigger threat than their imprisoned brothers. Ambrose and the others were promptly released and they’d all ran upstairs to help.
In the fight, Ambrose was badly wounded while saving a few of the younger students. Thinking he was as good as dead, the hunters left her nephew at the academy; ushering the students who hadn’t been able to flee to the converted Church of Night.
Zelda’s heart seized. Ambrose was hurt? Without a conscious thought, Zelda tried go to the infirmary only to painfully bounce off spell’s barrier.
No.
No, no, no, her boy was hurt, horribly if the hunters hadn’t bothered to bring him along. Zelda couldn’t just stand here, she had to see him. But she didn’t have control. That hardened pit she’d garnered earlier on the plane was gone; loosened and washed away with the relief she’d felt upon hearing of her family’s safety. And the only thing she felt now was gnawing fear, and the Dark Lord thrived on fear, it was what kept witches from disobeying him, she wouldn’t be able to use it to free herself.
A ringing noise started in her ears as panic dragged her under.
The following students’ statements did nothing to calm her. Zelda shuddered internally with each account of the arrows thudding into Sabrina’s body, of the crown of thorns cutting into her skin, of her girl’s apparent death and rise from the dead, her milky white eyes, demonic voice, the flames in her hands as she levitated feet off the ground. How she burnt the hunters where they stood and resurrected several students who’d been slain rather than denounce Satan.
New and frightening abilities indeed.
The world spun, the edges tinting black, and though her body was breathing normally, Zelda felt as though she couldn’t draw a proper breath. Only when Sabrina and Hilda finally walked into the room did Zelda find a tiny bit of equilibrium. Though Ambrose wasn’t with them, Zelda knew Hilda wouldn’t have left their nephew in anything other than stable condition.
Comforted by this small thing, Zelda automatically tried to go to them, to hug them, only to slam against the inside of her skull once more; unable to move, unable to check her girl over for injuries, for what caused this sudden increase in abilities. Zelda wanted to question Sabrina, to get to the bottom of this, but she couldn’t. She was forced to stand there like an idiot, hands clasped primly in front of her, with a bland smile on her face. She wanted to cry, to scream, to hold her family, her husband, she wanted to wear her own clothes and Satan she wanted a cigarette
She pushed aside these desires though and listened intently as Faustus asked Hilda to speak first. Her sister spoke of how Sabrina had been attacked at the house, found Hilda at work having just fended off a hunter herself, how they rushed to the academy with Nicholas who’d been at Dorian’s when another hunter appeared. Hilda spoke of finding Ambrose, voice thick with emotion as she explained letting Sabrina go off on her own to try and save the others while she stayed behind to tend to Ambrose and any other wounded Nicholas could find.
Faustus then turned to Sabrina in an attempt to get some kind of explanation from her. Only her niece didn’t explain anything, didn’t even tell them what happened from her point of view, how she came into these powers, nothing. Instead, she spoke of Pandora, of being built for destruction, and went so far as to threaten Faustus; leaving him no choice then but to stand up and call out her audacity to caution her Antipope.
Both Zelda and her enchanted body widened her eyes. How could Sabrina not see the importance of figuring out what happened? Of determining the source of these powers? How could she be so arrogant, so self-possessed in the face of what happened?
How… how had her niece not even spared her a glance?
Zelda knew Sabrina was going through quite a lot, at the moment, likely trying to comprehend what was happening to her… but, how was she not suspicious? Zelda never dressed like this, not in her life or Sabrina’s. Even if Sabrina wrote off her physical appearance as a sudden change in fashion choice, did she really think Zelda would have remained silent this entire time?
High council or no, Zelda would have been Hell incarnate in her pursuit of answers, how could Sabrina not notice? She needed Sabrina to notice. Her niece knew no subtly, stated everything baldly and demanded answers. If she brought up the changes in Zelda in front of everyone, they just might be able to finagle their way around the Dark Lord’s restrictions.
But Sabrina’s eyes remained on Faustus, the warlock somehow still the enemy. “Instead of interrogating me, you should be thanking me.” Sabrina sneered, straightening up and crossing her arms.
Before Faustus could reply, Methuselah cut in. Thanking Sabrina for her service to the Church of Night, reinstating Sabrina and Nicholas to fulltime students at the academy and dismissing them so the council could determine its next steps.
Unlike Sabrina, Hilda stared at her as they made to leave, brows furrowed, and lips pressed together. And Zelda wanted to shout to her that yes, her sister’s suspicions were right, and please release her. But just as Hilda opened her mouth, her eyes still on Zelda, Faustus’ voice cut across the din.
“We are going to the infirmary first,” he stated firmly, eyeing each member of the high council, daring them to contradict him again. “Then I will decide how we proceed.” Scowls met his statement, but no one argued. Faustus turned and instructed his remaining uninjured Judas boys to sweep the area, conducting home visits for each coven member to ensure they were safe and if any were injured to bring them to the infirmary immediately.
With a final, decisive nod, Faustus took her elbow, escorting her down the hall and Zelda was so relieved she could see Ambrose she forgot her appearance; only remembering her absurd apparel when the students who were alright stopped mid-task of repairing the damage and cleaning up to stare at her as they passed.
None of that mattered right now, though, what mattered was getting to see for herself that Ambrose was indeed safe and alive.
When they entered the infirmary, Faustus stopped at the first bed and started talking quietly to the student laying there. A minute passed before he noticed her hovering behind him, not having moved since he’d released her arm. Glancing back at her, Faustus brushed the back of her hand with his fingers. “How about you check of Ambrose, Zelda.” He murmured, soft enough only she could hear.
Nodding, Zelda’s body turned on its heel to find her nephew, and as she searched Zelda was endlessly thankful that Faustus instructed her to do so, otherwise she’d have trailed after him from bed to bed to be—
There he was.
A relieved sob would have left Zelda’s mouth had she been capable. Ambrose was sitting up on one of the beds, arguing with the healer that he doesn’t need any more care and he’d rather be helping repair the school and add more defenses.
His argument dropped off when he spotted her; mouth falling open. “Auntie?” He breathed, pushing off the bed despite the healer’s protests. He hugged her hard, her arms coming up automatically to return it, but Zelda didn’t hold him nearly as tightly as she’d have liked. “What, what happened?” He asked, releasing her and his fingers brushing along the folds of her ridiculously pleated floral skirt.
“Nothing, dear nephew, we had a lovely honeymoon. Though something happened here, yes?” And just as she expected, Ambrose reared back at the sound of her voice.
Concern filled his eyes and then pure fury as he turned his gaze to Faustus where he stood conversing with another injured student. “Well, what’s a high priest after an Antipope.” Ambrose growled, barely audible as he made to cross the room towards Faustus. And she was frozen, unable to deter Ambrose, unable to grab him, to explain, to keep him safe.
By some unholy miracle, a healer reappeared in front of Ambrose before he could get more than a few steps; insisting she check him again.
Lips pulled into a snarl, his eyes still on Faustus, Ambrose shook his head. “I’ve been healed already, Sabrina—”
Shaking her head, the healer pressed him back onto the bed. “Used no spell. I don’t trust these wounds to remain healed. I cannot let you go off doing hard labor around the school and risk you collapsing half way through. If you continue to resist treatment, I will bind you to the bed.”
Ambrose stopped trying to get up, likely not wanting to be spellbound. Instead he turned to her. “Aunt Zee, tell them I’m fine. I need—"
“You should listen to the healers, nephew, they know best.” She smiled insipidly, turning her back on his confused and anguished face and coming to a stop next to Faustus who was now talking to one of his Judas boys.
“Father, I am so sorry.” The boy wheezed, one eye a swollen slit and covered in an ointment that would heal it in a matter of an hour. “We took out at least four of them, Father Blackwood. They were on their way here. There, there were too many. They were a group of angels, sir, hid the fact that they were a pack well. We couldn’t, we couldn’t. I’m sorry. But we raised the alarm, we did that much. We—"
Placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder to soothe him, Faustus shook his head. “I know, I’ve heard. If I’d known there were so many, that they were angels and not regular hunters, I’d never have left.” Guilt and regret flickered across his face before Faustus’ mask fell back in place. “Rest, brother. You did well.” Looking relieved, the boy slumped back into the mattress, in relief.
With a slow exhale, Faustus took in the rest of the room, the injured students, the coven members who were trickling in, some injured, some not. Anger sparked in Faustus’ eyes but the hand he placed on Zelda’s lower back to guide her out of the room was gentle.
Hilda was waiting for them just outside the infirmary, her arms crossed and face hard. Before her sister could say anything that may put them in a compromising position, Faustus turned to her. “Zelda, why don’t you and Hilda go catch up and unpack? I have more things to discuss with the high council.” He nodded and walked off down the hall without waiting for a response.
She blinked. Unpack? The only things they’d brought with them in their rush to get back were their passports and, she wished she could smack her forehead, the music box. While they couldn’t tell anyone about it, that didn’t mean they couldn’t show it to Hilda and pray she connected the dots.
Thankfully, her body hadn’t waited for her mind to catch up, it’d already spun upon Faustus’ instruction and started towards the sleeping corridors. Hilda a step behind her.
When they reached Zelda and Faustus’ bedroom, the music box was sitting on the bedside table; her husband had thought of everything, including transporting the box to where Hilda would see it. Hope bloomed inside Zelda for the first time since they’d learned hunters were in Greendale… maybe part of the nightmare would finally be over.
Her body pranced over to the table and picked up the box as instructed, she opened it, turning the crank. “Isn’t this music box marvelous?” She asked breathlessly, setting it down once it’d been wound. “It was a wedding present from his unholy eminence. He gave it to me on our first night in Italy.” The words came out of her mouth, unbidden, as most words had since the spell took hold. But they stunned her still. A wedding present? The thought sickened her. Is that what the Dark Lord saw the spell as? A wedding present?
Hilda hummed distractedly in agreement, “it’s lovely. Is… is everything okay? Did, did something happen with Father Blackwood?”
A giggle, something that was becoming an eerily frequent occurrence, escaped Zelda. “Happen? I don’t know what you mean, sister.” The music from the box picked up in volume and her body started to sway of its own accord. “Unless,” she grinned, “unless you’re asking about what happened when he gave me the music box? Why, we danced, of course. My husband is a marvelous dancer.” Anger boiled up inside Zelda, burning out nausea from before.
‘Stop spinning you bloody idiot, tell her. Come on, tell her how to break the spell. Stop, stop talking about tea!’
One word. That’s all she needed to force out; one word. ‘Help!’ She concentrated on the word, she’d managed mini breakthroughs before; when she’d warned Faustus of the hunters and then tried to convince him to leave without her.
Just a single word. Just say ‘help’ and Hilda will take care of the rest. Just one, please, just one. Just, just one word.
Her face didn’t even twitch.
Brow furrowing, Hilda approached her. “Are you not even worried about Ambrose or Sabrina?”
“My husband knows best in these matters.” She wanted to scream. Of course, she was worried, how could she be anything but? She knew her sister knew something was wrong; the Dark Lord had hardly been subtle in her transformation and even if He had, Hilda knew her better than anyone. Her sister would save her.
She had to.
But Hilda wasn’t tearing the room apart looking for the spell, wasn’t zeroing in on the music box as both Zelda and Faustus had hoped. She just looked at Zelda with a pained, unsure expression. “Zelds,” Hilda murmured, tentatively reaching across the table to touch her arm. Before she could say anything else, though, Prudence came sprinting into the room.
“Lady Blackwood, Sister Hilda, my father bids you come at once. It’s Ambrose!” The girl nodded and turned and hurried away without seeing if they were following.
Eyes wide, Hilda gripped her hand and toted Zelda along after her back to the infirmary. Heart thundering, Zelda pictured all manner of horrible things. The healers were concerned about his wounds not staying healed… had they reopened? Was their boy dying?
What they found when they arrived was not something Zelda could ever have imagined.
Ambrose was sitting up in bed, eyes wide and face pale, Leviathan cradled in his hands. The healers, other students, Faustus and the high council all staring at him. “I—, I coughed him up.” He murmured, astonished. “He was never lost. He, he…” Ambrose looked as though he were going to be sick.
Though baffled, Faustus took charge immediately. Turning to the healer, he crossed his arms. “Explain.”
Toying with her pen, the healer shrugged. “My best guess, your unholy eminence, is that when Sabrina healed Ambrose, because she used no spell and simply raw magic, the magic worked to rid his body of all harmful things, not just the wounds the hunters inflicted. Who knows how long the familiar would have remained in him otherwise.”
Unimpressed, Methuselah sneered. “What does a mouse have to do with anything?”
“If it was inside him… it’s possible it was used to control him.” Faustus offered, frowning. Zelda's heart lifted at the suggestion, because if this was true, it was all the evidence they needed to prove Ambrose’s innocence. Faustus stated as much. “If the familiar was used in this way, Ambrose Spellman is not guilty of murdering former Antipope Enoch.”
The entire room shifted to look at the other Judas boy who’d been accused of murder, also in bed with an injury. The boy began to hyperventilate. “Do, is mine inside me as well? Get it out! Please, get it out!”
No one moved, unsure how to proceed. Faustus looked at Zelda for a moment, as if trying to ask her something he could not voice aloud and even if he could it wasn’t as though she’d be able to actually answer.
Mouth forming a grim line, Faustus turned to Sabrina. “Could you perform the same—” he waved his hand, searching for a word, “procedure on Tobias? To remove the familiar?” He asked, and Zelda’s breath caught, or it would have had she been in control. She now knew what Faustus had wanted to ask. If he could request Sabrina perform dangerous, potentially treasonous magic. The high council instantly protested. Cries of blasphemy, prices and going against the order of things.
“No! Faustus snapped, cutting through their arguments, eyes blazing. “What’s blasphemy is not serving the Dark Lord’s justice. What’s blasphemy is not using whatever means available to us to investigate Antipope Enoch’s murder.” He looked at Sabrina once more, “can you?”
Chewing her lower lip, Sabrina eyed Faustus warily for a moment then nodded. “I think so.”
Zelda hadn’t expected anything less from Sabrina. She loved her cousin dearly, would do anything to try and clear his name; the fiasco at the wedding evidenced as much. Perhaps Faustus’ work today would prove to Sabrina that while Ambrose hadn’t done this, neither had Faustus.
Silence fell over the room as Sabrina approached Tobias. She stood over him, the boy twitching from nerves as the quiet stretched. Then, his eyes all bugged out of his head as he gagged and then coughed up a small frog. A whimper emanated from the back of Tobias’ throat. “Selene…” he held the dead familiar in his hands gently.
Shaking his head minutely, Faustus spun to take in the rest of the infirmary. “Where’s Antony? The third boy on guard when Enoch was murdered. We must see if—”
“Antony is dead, your unholy eminence.” One of the healers interrupted, eyes downcast. “Protecting the academy from the hunters.”
Paling, but jaw set, Faustus nodded. “May the Dark Lord usher him to the afterlife where he belongs.” He murmured, making the sign for Satan’s claw. “Unfortunately, we cannot leave the body Antony left behind unmolested. We must perform an autopsy; determine if his familiar resided within him as well.”
Hesitantly, Sabrina stepped up. “That might not be necessary…” Her eyes glanced over at Melvin and Elspeth.
Not missing the inference, Methuselah stepped forward. “And who would you sacrifice in return? There are no more hunters to trade, likely why you were able to bring Melvin and Elspeth back without consequence. I doubt anyone will volunteer now to accomplish something that an autopsy could answer.”
Straining against the spell, Zelda managed a small, “husband,” and a shake of her head. It wasn’t much, wasn’t a complete break through the spell, but it was something. She couldn’t let him risk Sabrina when there was another way.
Making a boy cough up a dead animal was one thing… this was something else entirely. Though the students who were taken to the Church of Night by the hunters already claimed Sabrina capable of such actions, performing such deeds in front of grown witches, an Antipope, and the high council especially, was different.
Faustus caught her eye and inclined his head a tiny bit in acknowledgement. “Methuselah is correct. An autopsy will be conducted by a team of healers in the presence of myself, the high council and the Spellman family to ensure the result’s integrity.” People scurried away to prepare for the autopsy, Faustus placing a hand on the small of Zelda’s back and led the way over to the curtained off area of the infirmary; where the dead had been laid.
A small bat.
A small bat was found inside Antony. Relief washed over Zelda, two out of three would have been compelling enough, but all three boys having their familiar inside them? That was no coincidence, that could not be denied. The boys were innocent, and no one could argue otherwise.
Collecting the familiar, Faustus pushed through the curtain where most of the student body and a good number of coven members had tried to cram in. He laid the familiars out, side by side, and braced himself on the table. “With the evidence of outside control presented to us today, in combination with the heroic efforts of Tobias, Ambrose and Antony in the face of angelic hunters, I, Faustus Thane Blackwood acting as interim Antipope, find these boys innocent of all charges and reinstate them to their former status as students and members of the Church of Night. Antony will be buried with full honors.” He raised his eyes and swept them over those congregated in front of him. “While the expulsion of their familiars does not implicate who is behind the murder, it does show they weren’t in control. This is a worrying find. I will start researching ways to prevent such dark magic from being used again, no witch should have to distrust their familiar.”
Cheers rose from the students, those who were friends with Tobias and Ambrose surging forward to pound them on their backs, all smiles and congratulations. The healers were quick to shoo everyone who wasn’t injured away, only her family and the high council remaining of those who were unhurt.
“You are free to go home, Brother Ambrose.” Faustus smiled at him, “though I will need to keep your familiar for research.”
Ambrose eyed Faustus darkly but jerked his head. “Thank you, your unholy eminence, I am relieved the truth was found and we are one step closer to justice for Antipope Enoch.”
Noting the strain in Ambrose’s voice, Faustus’ brow rose a fraction. “Dearest, why don’t you escort your nephew and the rest of your family home? I’m sure you would like to spend some time with them after our trip and the scare they had.”
Gratitude flooded through Zelda and she was only too happy for her body to comply. When the high council balked, claiming they had more questions about recent events—Enoch’s murder and the hunters—Faustus cut them off.
“I have more questions as well,” Faustus talked over the protests. “However, given what the Spellmans endured for the Church of Night, a single night will not make a difference to us, but it will to them. If you are concerned about their location, however, I can ensure they remain in the Spellman house tonight.” He turned to her and smiled, “Zelda, once you teleport your family home, tether them to the house for the night. You may go now.”
The official dismissal was all her enchanted body needed. She bobbed in a slight curtsey, murmured a soft, “of course, husband,” then took everyone in hand before they could question anything and teleported them home. She cast the tethering spell before the others fully recovered from the sudden jump.
They were home. They were all home and safe and whole.
Well, Zelda wasn’t. But that hardly mattered, everyone else was alright. She might not know what was going on with Sabrina, but they’d at least freed Ambrose and could now focus on this new, unprecedented development.
A growl from Ambrose broke Zelda from her thoughts. She hadn’t realized her nephew was trying to teleport away, only to find her tether spell firmly in place. Instead he turned and he punched the kitchen wall. “How are we to do anything to help her when we can’t leave the house?” He demanded, turning to Hilda.
Sabrina looked between them, confused. “Help her?”
Rubbing her temples, Hilda exhaled slowly. “Do you truly not see the problem?” When Sabrina gaped at them, Ambrose punched the wall again, making Hilda wince. “It’s a Caligari spell, I think.” Another punch and Hilda rounded on him. “That is really not helping, love.”
“Wait, a Caligari spell?” Sabrina turned and actually looked at Zelda for the first time since she’d been back. It broke her heart a bit, that her niece had either cared so little or been so oblivious as to not notice what was happening to her.
Running her tongue over her teeth, Hilda flexed her fingers agitatedly. “Zelds, would you mind getting us some tea?”
The request sent a slight tingle up Zelda’s spine and she mechanically began to move around the kitchen. “Of course, sweet sister. How do you take your tea? Wait, don’t tell me,” Zelda smiled blandly at them all, “sugar.”
Just as Hilda intended, Sabrina flinched back at the sound of her voice. “The Caligari spell is an old spell warlocks used to use on their wives when they got a bit uppity. It turns them into somnambulists; sleepwalkers.” Hilda explained, watching sadly as Zelda set the kettle on the stove and then twirled away to get the cups.
“Blackwood must’ve put her under when they were on their honeymoon.” Ambrose ground out, pacing through the kitchen and rubbing his knuckles roughly.
Biting her lip, Sabrina eyed her. “So, we free her.” She murmured uncertainly. “How, how do we do that?”
“He must be controlling her with that damn music box.” Yes. Yes, Zelda wanted to cheer, yes it was the music box. Now all they needed to do was destroy it. Clearly thinking the same thing, Hilda nodded to herself. “It’s in her chambers at the academy… but, but we’re tethered here. How are we—” Hilda plopped into a chair, resting her elbows on the table, massaging her temples once more.
Jaw set, Sabrina lifted her chin. “Describe it to me.” And as Hilda did, the box appeared in Sabrina’s hands; much to everyone’s continued surprise. Scowling at the box, Sabrina set it on the table, muttering about how she’d tried to warn Zelda, had tried to stop the wedding.
And the vindication in her niece’s tone irked Zelda, here she was, imprisoned in her own body, and Sabrina was having a little personal I-told-you-so session, a little victory party at what she thought was evidence that Faustus had been the villain all along.
Hilda rounded the table and quickly sifted through the draws, while Zelda continued to dance to the tinkling tune emanating from the box; Ambrose backed away from her slowly. There was the sound of broken glass, and then the spell was gone. Fully, completely, no chance of it dragging her back under.
“Satan in Hell!” She gasped, stopping mid-spin and clutching the chair in front of her as she suddenly regained control.
The triumph in Hilda’s face quickly morphed into something murderous. “I’m killing him. He swore to me he’d protect you. He couldn’t have done worse if he tried. He’s dead.”
“No!” Zelda grabbed at Hilda as she made for the greenhouse, likely to make a poppet for Faustus like they had for Shirley, seeing as how none of them could leave the house.
Ambrose snorted. “Not if I get to him first.” He remarked harshly, already marching across the kitchen for the knife block, gripping the cleaver and testing its sharpness on his thumb; apparently having already forgotten the tethering spell.
Not one to be left out, Sabrina nodded in agreement. “He put you under that awful spell, Auntie Zee. He will pay.”
Overwhelmed, Zelda clenched her fists and shouted. “I put myself under it!”
Her family froze, confused.
“You, what?” Sabrina stammered, brows furrowing in confusion.
Striding across the room, Zelda snatched the knife from Ambrose and jammed it back into the block. “Stop your dramatics.” She scolded, glare holding everyone in place, and she was suddenly very thankful Faustus had her tether them all to the house. “Sit.”
Slowly, everyone returned to the table and took a seat; Hilda bringing the now ready kettle of tea over.
Hilda exhaled shakily and poured them each a cup. “Zelds, you put yourself under a Caligari spell? Why, why would you do that? It’s why you ran from Edward—”
Eyes widening, Zelda cut her sister off, not wanting Sabrina to associate this spell with her father. “We didn’t have a choice.” She stated tersely, conjuring a cigarette and lighting it immediately, sighing when nicotine invaded her system.
“We?” Ambrose emphasized, swirling the contents of his cup and watching Zelda intently.
Another deep drag of nicotine, followed by a slow release of the smoke, and Zelda dove into what happened; the Devil’s Claw, the threat to Judas, to them, Faustus’ attempt to destroy the box, her dance along the bridge’s railing as a result, why they couldn’t return sooner….
When Zelda finished her family stared at her, gobsmacked. “So, you see,” Zelda flicked her wrist and the decanter of whiskey floated over along with a tumbler, and she poured herself a healthy glass. “Faustus wasn’t behind any of it,” she looked at Sabrina pointedly. “Not your parents’ death, not the Antipope’s death, not the Caligari spell. He’s on our side, he’s my husband. So, while there are forces we still need to fight against, Faustus is not one of them.”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Ambrose smiled sheepishly as he glanced back at the knife block. “Oh, well, you can’t blame me for wanting to kill him. How could we ever have guessed?”
An amused huff escaped Zelda, and it still thrilled her that she was in control and able to do such things, thrilled that she was free. Smiling, she reached over and cupped Ambrose’s cheek. “Oh, my dear felon, I love that you were ready to defend me. But I never want you to risk or ruin your life for the sake of mine.”
Unconvinced, Sabrina’s mouth tugged to the side. “But the death of my parents made Father Blackwood high priest, the death of Enoch made him Antipope, and he gave Ambrose Leviathan. Is it so hard to believe he’d enchant you to keep those things hidden?”
Tiredly, Zelda took another drag of her cigarette. “Faustus had nothing to do with your parents’ death. We’ve discussed this. Do you truly believe I would marry someone who had a hand in hurting my family? Even if you still cannot trust me, Faustus offered to eat truth cake and be questioned to prove his innocence in the matter.”
Taken aback, Sabrina choked a little on her tea. “He what?! When?”
“After you ruined our wedding.” Zelda snipped, the image of her decaying older brother walking stiltedly into the Church of Night’s flashing through her mind.
The information apparently stunned Sabrina, because a soft ‘oh’ was her only response for a moment. But she rallied. “Okay, but what about Enoch and the spell? Blackwood gave Ambrose his familiar, he benefited from the murder—”
Zelda set her glass down hard, startling Sabrina out of her rant. “If your theory is that Faustus gave Ambrose Leviathan with the sole purpose of controlling him, kindly explain to me how he could have known all this would come to pass.” When Sabrina stared at her blankly in confusion, she continued. “He gifted Leviathan to Ambrose when he was freed from his sentence. Constance was still alive then, and very much married to Faustus. How was he to know Constance would die in childbirth? How was he to know I would agree to marriage?” Zelda ignored the knowing face Hilda made at the comment and plunged ahead. “How was he to know our wedding would bring about a rare offer from the Antipope to conduct the ceremony? How was he to know prior to this offer that Enoch never brought his own security with him when he traveled? How was he to know a witch could even be controlled with their familiar? How was he to know that he wouldn’t be blamed for not protecting the Antipope who was staying under his roof and be executed along with the offenders to set an example? Explain these variables to me, Sabrina. If you are so certain my husband is the culprit, convince me.”
Some of the confidence and defiance leaked out of Sabrina as her mouth opened and closed silently, no answers to be found or provided.
Not done yet, Zelda added a few additional points. “And, if my husband was the mastermind, why would he allow Ambrose and Tobias to remain in the infirmary, to allow others to be near them when, if their treachery were true, they could have tried to convince others of their innocence at the least or hurt others at the worst. Why would he allow you to work on Tobias, to help him expel his familiar? Why would he order an autopsy completed on Antony, why let us and others witness the procedure as witnesses? Why lay out the evidence to the entire school and whatever members of the coven had trickled in and proclaim their innocence and dismiss the charges? Tell me that.”
When silence met her declarations once more, Zelda settled back in her chair, taking a long sip of her drink. Perhaps now, with all this logic, Sabrina would stop trying to villainize Faustus. He hadn’t helped matters in the beginning, playing the role of haughty, aloof high priest. But now, now Zelda needed to mend the rift between them, she needed her family whole; not trying to pull her in separate directions.
Clearing her throat, Sabrina fiddled with the spoon meant to stir her tea. “What now?”
Spinning her rings, Zelda took another drink. “Now? You stop using those powers.”
Taken aback, the fight flooded back into Sabrina. “Why? They’re very powerful… I am. I can do—"
Hilda shook her head vehemently. “That’s what I’ve been saying all along! Because nothing is free. Everything has strings attached. That’s how witchcraft works. You are racking up a cosmic debt the like of which the world’s never seen, young lady.”
When Sabrina looked ready to argue again, Zelda picked up where Hilda stopped. “You weren’t born with these, sweetheart; and they didn’t manifest after you signed when witches normally become more powerful. These abilities aren’t natural, Sabrina, they aren’t safe. Do not give in to them. Power can be a strong temptation, witches older, more experienced than you have fallen because they made the folly of chasing it.”
Undeterred, Sabrina sat back in her chair. “Are you really one to be giving out advice? Isn’t that what you did with marrying Father Blackwood? Chased power, or secondhand power since it wasn’t really yours, and then fell folly to it? That’s how you ended up enchanted.” The moment the words left Sabrina’s mouth she looked as though she regretted them, but she didn’t take them back; her pride clearly not allowing for it.
“Sabrina!” Hilda gasped, horrified. “You don’t—"
Though hurt by Sabrina’s crude and careless remark, she was also enraged, and that burned away everything else. Zelda held up a hand, silencing her sister, then turned her attention to Sabrina, eyes hard and Sabrina shrank from her gaze. “I gave up my free will to protect my children: you, Ambrose, Leticia, Judas, and Prudence, to protect my sister and my husband. I gave up myself, for my family. You are never to speak to me as though that sacrifice was nothing, or for nothing.”
Her throat tightened, but Zelda could not let this go unsaid. They needed to know; Sabrina needed to know. “It was torture, being under that spell, being aware the whole time, pieces of myself fading away the longer I was under. Not having control, not being able to even stand when I wanted, let alone come back and protect you once I heard hunters were in Greendale. It. Was. Torture. And I didn’t stumble into it because I was chasing power or reaching beyond myself, as you so clearly like to think.” Tears were in her eyes, but Zelda refused to stop, refused to hide this time. “I love him. And Faustus loves me. That was why we married; not power. And we’re both likely already damned to the burning pits so what does it matter that I admit it to you.” The confession shocked everyone into silence, whether it was the admission that the spell was even worse than they previously believed or that she experienced romantic love, Zelda wasn’t sure.
Chest heaving with emotion, Zelda stood and paced the room, hand to her forehead. The room was suddenly too hot, it was difficult to breathe, and for a brief moment Zelda wished she were still under the spell so she at least could rely on her body not to crumble while her mind did.
“Aunt Zelda, I—” Sabrina started, sounding ashamed and her eyes misty.
Slashing her hand through the air, Zelda talked over her niece. “The Dark Lord, or someone under His command, is playing games, Sabrina, surely you can see that. And they are intent on controlling us like puppets; Ambrose with Leviathan, Faustus and myself with the Caligari spell and now you, with these abilities. The strings pull each of us along in different ways, yes, but the strings are there. But we are Spellmans, and we won’t be used. And if it’s unavoidable, then we do it under our terms. We will not play into His hand, will not keep racking up cosmic debt, as Hilda so aptly put it. We will be smart, strategize, gather our resources and come up with a plan. But,” she sighed and picked up her drink and knocked back the rest of it, “that is for another day. I’m exhausted and we could all use some rest after this stressful week.”
Rounding the table, Zelda dropped a kiss onto Sabrina’s head, then Ambrose’s and finally Hilda’s. “I love you all, so much.” She murmured, her hand giving Hilda’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll lift the tethering spell, though it would comfort me a great deal if you all remained here tonight. Ambrose, darling, I’m sorry your first night home wasn’t more festive. Perhaps tomorrow we could—”
Her nephew was up and out of his spot before Zelda could finish and he hugged her hard. “I don’t need festivities when I have all of you.” He mumbled, cheeks a little flushed when he released Zelda and he quickly excused himself; claiming he was in desperate need of a shower and a real bed.
Touched, Zelda squeezed Hilda’s shoulder once more, nodded at Sabrina who wouldn’t quite meet her eye, and made her way upstairs. While she’d have loved to teleport back to the academy and spend the night in Faustus’ arms, Zelda had been instructed to see her family home and she didn’t want to raise suspicion by reappearing at the school too soon.
She also wanted to be close to her family.
As she readied for bed, Hilda crept into the room and shut the door behind her. “Zelds…”
Not up for a lecture, not when she was finally herself again, in her own clothes, in her own home, Zelda wearily slipped into bed. “I won’t apologize, Hilda. I’ve endured tantrums from Sabrina since she was born. We’re both too old for such things now. She needed to hear—”
“It’s not that, Zelds,” Hilda smiled sadly and climbed onto the bed, settling next to her hip. “She did. As in touch with her emotions as our niece is, she can be incredibly inconsiderate of other peoples’. And she needed to accept the truth of the situation. Sabrina doesn’t listen to advice, as much as she seeks it out. We fought last night, after the hunters but before you got back, about her use of the powers, about her wanting to reveal witching kind to the mortals of Greendale. She likened it to me telling Cerb about me being a witch.” There must have been some fire in her eyes, because Hilda hurried to continue. “I set her straight, don’t you worry. She’s not going to be making any proclamations from the rooftops any time soon. But we’ll figure her out in the morning.” Hilda clasped her hands. “What I wanted to talk about, was Faustus.”
Rolling her eyes, Zelda leaned away from Hilda, reaching to turn off her lamp. Her sister caught her arm. “Don’t be like that Zelda,” she tutted, though her eyes shone excitedly. “I just, I’m happy for you. So happy that you are letting yourself be happy. This was a long time coming between the two of you…. Love.” Her shoulder lifted up and wiggled as Hilda bit back a smile.
Zelda picked at the weighted blanket on her bed, not quite looking at Hilda. “We haven’t had much of a chance to be happy since Faustus proposed. With the tarot card reading, Luke’s sudden death, my wedding eve, Ambrose’s imprisonment, Sabrina’s charade as Edward, the music box, the hunters and now these powers…” She sighed and lifted her eyes to meet Hilda’s. “What if we never get a chance? What if we’re not allowed to have what you and Cerberus have? So much has stood in our way and continues to stand in our way. Yes, Faustus and I have managed to steal a few moments here and there, but what if that’s all we ever get?”
A small smile tugged at Hilda’s lips. “You want what Cee and I have?”
This time Zelda did turn over and switch off her light, plunging them into darkness. Her sister wasn’t deterred though and climbed completely onto the bed, nudging Zelda until they were side by side, flat on their backs. Hilda then reached over and interlaced her fingers with Zelda’s as she began to talk about all the things they both had to look forward to, how happy they would be with Cerberus and Faustus.
Tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes and slipping into her hair, Zelda smiled freely, and it was so much better than those empty ones she’d been forced to wear for the past week, that she smiled even wider. As they laid there, Zelda rolled her neck so she could look at her sister directly. “I knew you’d save me,” she murmured softly, “thank you, Hildie. And thank you for—”
Hilda cut her off with a tight squeeze of her hand. “I only saw the truth that was there. And I, I should be thanking you, Zelds.” She shifted to look at Zelda as well, their faces inches apart. “You, you took on that spell…” Hilda’s voice trembled, and unshed tears made her eyes glisten. “Oh, Zelds, I can’t even imagine—”
Lips twisting, Zelda shook her head hard, as if this would rid herself of her own tears; of the memories. “Let’s not speak of it. It’s done and I do not wish to dwell on it.”
Nodding, Hilda tipped her chin and kissed Zelda on the forehead before settling onto her back once more, eyes on the ceiling. After a moment of silence, Hilda giggled. “Can you imagine us on a double date?”
Unable to restrain herself, Zelda snorted at the idea and Hilda joined her until they were both shaking from laughter. When they finally calmed, Zelda pulled Hilda’s hand onto her abdomen and held it tight between both her hands. “I love you, sister.” She breathed, and Hilda hummed and returned the sentiment sleepily before cuddling into Zelda’s side and drifting off to sleep.
As sleep pulled Zelda under, she couldn’t help but smile. Though their lives were far from carefree or uncomplicated, her confession of love for Faustus and Hilda’s unwavering support lifted a boulder sized weight from her chest.
Now… now all they had to do was deal with the mountain on their backs.
~~~~~
Sabrina stared at the ceiling for a long time after she’d laid down in bed. Aunt Zelda’s words echoing in her head. Her cheeks flamed with residual shame and embarrassment at just the memory.
She’d been callous.
First, she’d been so wrapped up in what happened with the hunters and the aftermath that she hadn’t even noticed the awful change in her aunt—though Sabrina thought she might be given a little leeway in that regard. She had recently died, come back to life, slaughtered two angels, brought witches back to life and then healed herself and Ambrose, after all.
A voice in the back of her head whispered she still should have noticed something. Aunt Zelda never dressed like that… ever. And the fact that she hadn’t started to lecture Sabrina the moment she came in the door, let alone when she’d warned Father Blackwood not to mess with her, should have been another indicator.
Second, once she realized Zelda was enthralled, Sabrina had immediately blamed Blackwood. Not unjustly, but when it was revealed he was innocent and Aunt Zelda was aware the whole time, well, Sabrina felt certain her aunt had overheard her mutterings about being right to try and stop the wedding. And, well, while she’d been certain she was right at the time, Sabrina now shifted uncomfortably on her mattress at what she’d done to her aunt’s wedding; shame welling up once more at how she’d donned her dead father’s face and paraded into the church.
It was difficult to argue with her aunt’s logic; the many points she’d made, asking how Father Blackwood could have foreseen so much. And then…. Sabrina rolled over and punched her pillow. Then she’d… pressing her face into the pillow Sabrina shouted wordlessly into it.
Third… she’d blamed her aunt for what happened to her.
Horror, guilt, regret and a plethora of other emotions swirled inside her. How? How could she have done that? Called Aunt Zelda out? Claimed she had no right to give advice when she’d run heedlessly into a trap herself.
Only she hadn’t run into anything, Aunt Zelda allowed herself to be caught. To protect them.
Sabrina knew she had to apologize. What she’d said was unforgivable, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t try and make up for it anyway. It’s just… she’d been so mad. Here she was, with these amazing abilities that saved Melvin and Elspeth and her other classmates, abilities that helped Roz see again, that saved Ambrose, that freed Aunt Zelda… and they were telling her not to use them?
Then, then Aunt Zelda said the Dark Lord was acting the puppeteer, twitching their strings this way and that and it terrified her. Could that be true? Had she been so absorbed in the new power flowing through her, in the attention from the other students, their awe, so swept up by the idea of passing along her father’s teachings, the Antipopes and high council be damned, that Sabrina missed all the signs?
She should have realized He wasn’t done with her. Not after He’d possessed Principal Hawthorne when she initially refused to sign the Book of the Beast, not after He’d appeared behind her on the night she’d finally signed, not after all the trouble He gave her for not completing the dark devotions. But what did the Dark Lord want?
Why her?
Before Sabrina could even begin to puzzle it out, a rock pinged off her window. Frowning, she stood and walked over, another rock bouncing off the glass as she made to open it. Harvey, Theo and Roz were outside.
“Brina, there’s something you gotta see.” Harvey shouted in a hushed voice, eyes darting to the other windows to check for lights.
Shaking her head, Sabrina leaned out the window a bit. “Guys, it’s been a bad day, I really don’t want—”
“Sabrina.” Theo cut in, looking shaken. “You need to see this. It’s in the mines.”
Confused but intrigued, Sabrina nodded and pulled back, changing quickly before meeting her friends outside; it wasn't as though she'd planned to apologize tonight, she still needed to find the right words--her aunt likely didn't want to talk to her anyway. When Sabrina reached them, before she could ask any questions, Roz spoke. “You might want to bring some magical reinforcement, there could be something else down there that didn’t come out the first time.”
Nodding, Sabrina summoned Nick and once he’d arrived, disoriented and hair ruffled adorably from sleep, the five of them made for the mines; Harvey, Theo and Roz explaining in scared, hurried voices as they went.
~~~~~~
Methuselah frowned as the rest of his brothers slowly filtered into his room; they should not have to meet in secret like this. But Blackwood was an unknown entity and despite him being their interim Antipope, they could not risk him knowing of this meeting.
Or perhaps it was because he was their Antipope, that they could not risk it. The high council, Methuselah included, didn’t appreciate Blackwood leapfrogging them to the position. Tradition decreed one of the high council be raised to Antipope after the former died; not a mere high priest, and one who’d lost the previous Antipope at that. But the Dark Lord had bid their conclave and so they obeyed.
But the Dark Lord hadn’t bid them to follow Blackwood, to support him. And if they could prove the warlock unfit for the job one of them would soon replace him. As it should have been from the start.
They’d already started to build their case. While Blackwood may claim justice done in the case of Enoch’s murder, the high council disapproved of his dismissal of charges against the boys. Disapproved of his blatant disregard for their input and allowing the Spellman girl to, well, to do something that expelled the second familiar from the Tobias boy.
When they’d circled back to the issue for a third time that night, one of his brother’s threw up his hands. “What else could we do? The familiars were proof enough, and you know how many witnesses there were. We could hardly keep holding the boys.”
“We should have held the girl; she excised the dead familiars from two of the boys.”
The comment sent discontented rumbles through the room, several of their members shifting uncomfortably. “We can’t be sure she was responsible. Simple nausea and regurgitation could be the cause. The body would naturally want to expel a foreign substance; especially one such as a small animal.”
Arguments cropped up. “The body would have done so before now if it was going to—”; “the familiars were in place for weeks if the tales were true about them missing prior to the wedding—“; “all the witnesses confirmed—"
Standing, Methuselah slammed his hands on the table. “Forget the boys and be glad Enoch is dead.” When the others blinked, Methuselah continued, irritatedly. “Can you imagine how he would react to the stories of Ms. Spellman’s deeds? He’d be beside himself. Enoch always favored Edward, likely for more than one reason,” he lifted his brows to indicate it wasn’t just for Edward’s achievements or intelligence. “Enoch would have raised the girl up, heralded her as some kind of unholy messiah; tried to groom her. We are lucky she and Blackwood are so antagonistic towards one another.”
One of his brother’s pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Antagonistic or not, he protected her. Allowed her to flex her abilities in front of witnesses, sent her home under the care of her aunts. We cannot allow him to shelter this would be heretic. The Spellman girl has the potential to be more troublesome than her father.”
A scoff escaped Methuselah. “Potential? She’s raising the dead without the proper rituals if the other students are to be believed! And whether she can claim credit for the familiars or not, that’s how everyone will view it. We cannot allow her to continue to operate in this manner. Sabrina Spellman, schoolgirl or no, is a threat to our control of the church. Indeed, to the established hierarchy of all the Churches of Darkness. Imagine what might happen if our younger members started to believe Sabrina Spellman is more powerful than a high priest, an Antipope, or worse, the very council we sit on. We can’t have any ‘messiahs’, unholy or otherwise, running around.” Methuselah pushed away from the table and stalked around the room. “We need the girl.”
Another member shook his head. “She’s unreachable, Methuselah. Surrounded by her family and with the unholy eminence’s protection besides. They’d never let us near her without their presence.”
The warlock laughed humorlessly. “Not that girl; her time will come. The other one, the one Blackwood recently claimed as his daughter.” A cruel smile curled Methuselah’s lips. “Bring Prudence Blackwood. Let’s see what the child has to say about our esteemed new leader.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Prudence gasped as the spell lifted once more, greedily sucking in the air that had been denied to her. When Methuselah approached her once more, she tried to skitter away, but the bonds wouldn’t let her. “That’s everything, I swear! Please, no more. That is all I know.”
The warlock’s hand came up to stroke over her head, Prudence flinching from his touch; expecting pain because that was all the hand doled out for the past hour. Methuselah leered at her. “I know, child. You have told us all you can.” He moved suddenly and the touch to her head became a backhand to the cheek. “Take her to the dungeons.”
Panic flooded Prudence, she squirmed against the spells and ropes holding her to no avail. “Please, Brother Methuselah, I did as you bid. Please send me to the witching cells instead, they’re a step above the dungeon. The dungeon is where prisoners are kept before death—”
“Exactly.” Methuselah interrupted her, not turning to look at her as he spoke. “You, and your kin, committed blasphemy against the Churches of Darkness and will be executed accordingly.”
Before Prudence could process how quickly things had changed, two of the high council’s security guards heaved her up between them and dragged her away.
Watching her leave with disinterest, Methuselah turned back to the other high council members. “Well, the information certainly wasn’t what we expected, but we can use it nonetheless.”
Inclining their heads in agreement, his brothers started to clean up for the night. One stepped forward. “Shall we bring them in immediately?”
Methuselah shook his head. “No. We need time. We must strike peripherally before we take on the Spellman girl directly. She’s powerful, but without her support system, she’s vulnerable. The Blackwood's were problematic in their own right anyway, too powerful, too headstrong, reaching above their stations in life… they needed removing regardless of recent developments.” He murmured half to himself, and then addressed the group once more. “No one makes a move until we have everything in hand. Tomorrow morning at the earliest. In the meantime, hold your silence, we cannot risk tipping our hand.” With a final nod, Methuselah dismissed the rest of the council.
~~~
She woke the next morning and stretched automatically before realizing she was doing of her own free will. Grinning, Zelda spent a little extra time admiring the pull of each muscle as they did as she bid.
Exhaling slowly, she rolled a little to find Hilda still asleep next to her, though she was curled up tight, clearly cold because Zelda had hogged the blankets. Shaking her head in amusement, Zelda carefully got off the bed, not wanting to disturb her sister, and draped the blanket back overtop her.
Her good mood was dampened slightly, when she got dressed. Slipping back into her absurd outfit from the night before, Zelda coiffed her hair and did her makeup just as Caligari her had. As much as she wanted to wear her own clothes, she resisted.
It wouldn’t do to give themselves away; to arouse suspicions with the high council. They knew the Dark Lord made Faustus interim Antipope as a reward; it was quite possible they knew the Caligari spell was part of the reward as well. If they realized she was no longer under it, Zelda wasn’t sure what they would do.
Which was why, Zelda grumbled to herself as she put her shoes on, she would continue to wear the ugly dresses, and the too bright makeup, and why she practiced holding her arms out to the sides as her body had so often done while under the spell.
Overall, it was a convincing sell; she couldn’t get the blank look and empty smile quite right but no one would notice if they weren’t looking too closely.
Popping down to the kitchen for an expresso and black toast, Zelda kissed the top of Ambrose’s head as she made to leave. “I’m off to the academy, continue this ruse,” she gestured to her attire. “Tell Hilda and Sabrina I’ll be back tonight to check in. Hopefully I can spend some time in the library today and find some answers concerning your cousin’s new abilities.”
Ambrose huffed and shook his head. “Good luck with that, Auntie Zee. I’ll see if there’s anything I can find here.” He stood then and hugged her. “I’m glad you’re back.” Ambrose murmured, before releasing her and giving her a teasing salute before he walked off deeper into the house.
Fighting the smile on her lips, Zelda worked to school her face into something blank and then teleported to the academy to find her husband and answers.
~~~
Sabrina staggered back into the house mid-morning, having stayed the night at Theo’s with Nick, Roz and Harvey trying to determine any other explanation for the mural in the mines other than that she was the Herald of Hell.
There hadn’t been one.
Even Ms. Wardwell didn’t seem able to come up with an alternative. Well, an alternative other than creating a mandrake and ridding herself of her powers and therefore her ability to fulfill the prophecy.
Grimacing, Sabrina made her way up to her room, in hopes she might get a few hours of sleep and that that sleep would help her think more clearly; help her find another way.
Because if there wasn’t another way, if she truly was the Herald of Hell, well, Sabrina refused to be used like that. Refused to hurt those she loved, Heaven, the entire world, in that way. And if it came down to it, she would give up her powers.
She’d follow her aunt’s example. Give up herself, for her family, her friends… for everyone.
Rubbing her neck, Sabrina flung herself onto the bed. First, she’d sleep, then think, and if still nothing had come to her… well, then Sabrina would go to Ambrose for his help completing the mandrake spell.
~~~
Teleporting into their bedroom, Zelda was delighted to hear Faustus still getting ready in the bathroom. “Zelda, dearest,” he called out, likely having felt her magical signature appear, “how was everything with your family last night? I’m sure Ambrose was happy to be home. Though coughing up your familiar must have been—” Faustus trailed off as he exited the bathroom, having looked up from where he was fiddling with his cuff links. “Zelda?”
Unable to restrain herself any longer, a smile broke out on her face. “They did it.” She breathed, the two of them already closing the distance between them and colliding in an embrace. “They broke the spell, Faustus, shattered it. I’m me again.”
A relieved laugh emanated from Faustus and he pulled back to frame her face and look her over. “It’s really you. Not just a break, but you back for good?”
Nodding eagerly, Zelda immediately began to undo the buttons of his shirt. “Yes, Faustus. Now stop wasting time, we’ve missed so much because of—"
And he on her before she could finish her sentence; kissing her so passionately that he pushed her into the wall with a less than gentle thump. She groaned, Satan she’d missed this.
~~~
A knock on the door interrupted their post-coital bliss, they’d been sprawled on the bed, limbs thrown over one another and breathing heavily when it sounded. Practically growling, Faustus yanked on a robe and answered the door. “What?”
The student cowered in front of him. “The, the high council requests your and Lady Blackwood’s presence in your office at once, your unholy eminence.” She squeaked before running away, likely fearing detention for bothering him.
Snapping the door shut, Faustus turned to face Zelda, his face grim. “Summoned to my own office by the high council…” He muttered, snatching up the clothes she’d divested him of earlier.
Already off the bed, Zelda waved a hand to freshen them both up before starting to get dressed. “It doesn’t bode well,” she murmured, thoughts of what the council might want to discuss swirling through her head. Had they changed their minds about Sabrina? Did they feel threatened by her girl and no longer thought it appropriate to just thank her and send her on her way?
Lost in her thoughts as she got dressed, Zelda didn’t notice Faustus’ anxious expression until they were almost ready to leave. “Darling,” she caught his arm, “I know why I’m worried. Why are you?”
“The high council did not approve of how I handled everything yesterday,” he informed her, fumbling over his cuff links again.
Brow furrowing, Zelda batted his hands away and finished his cuffs for him. “I didn’t notice anything, are you sure—”
Faustus huffed and reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You didn’t notice because you were so worried about your family, understandably so. I was a bit more focused on the council. I already knew they didn’t want me as Antipope, even as an interim, and then I question or completely defy them? No new Antipope does that.” Faustus remarked, moving away from her to shrug his jacket on. “I thought about it all last night while repairing the damage the hunters did to the academy and Church of Night…. They’ll be looking for ways to oust me, oust us.”
Unconvinced, Zelda reapplied her lipstick in the mirror and checked her hair once more. “You’re certain it’s not Sabrina and her sudden display of new powers?”
He came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “No.” When she whirled around, fear evident in her eyes, Faustus slid his hands down to rub them comfortingly along her arms. “I cannot be certain they haven’t changed their minds about Sabrina. But,” he emphasized when she made to cut in, “given how quick they were to thank her yesterday and how quick they were to forgive her past actions, I don’t see them trying to move against your niece. If anything, they’ll want to keep her in line. The moment they try to punish her, well, they’ll find out what I did; that it doesn’t do much to deter Sabrina. If anything, it’d just spur her on to do something reckless.”
Huffing, Zelda shook her head, but Faustus’ logic was sound. The high council wouldn’t want to make an enemy out of Sabrina, not until they knew the extent of her abilities. Mildly comforted, Zelda cocked her head at Faustus. “I’m not sorry Sabrina isn’t in the crosshairs, but I am sorry you are, if what you say is true.”
Shrugging, Faustus sighed. “Well, better me than her. And, as I told you before, this is not how I imagined becoming Antipope, if anything, I think I may be content becoming a mere high priest again.” Zelda lifted a skeptical brow and Faustus laughed. “Alright, most likely I won’t be satisfied with that, but if I say it enough times it will hurt less when it happens.”
“We don’t know what will happen,” Zelda murmured, straightening his cravat. “So, it’s best we stop standing here gossiping and go and actually meet with the council.” He nodded and opened the door for her.
Resuming her Caligari spell characteristics, Zelda swayed down the hall next to Faustus, doing her best not to let her worries show on her face. What they found in the office, though, tested Zelda’s ability to hold the mask.
Prudence was bound and gagged on the floor in front of the desk, evidence of torture easy to see and the girl couldn’t even look at them.
A primitive snarl escaped Faustus and he immediately moved to free his daughter. “What is the meaning of this?” He demanded, bending to help only to be yanked back by a spell and thrust into one of the chairs with such force the seat tipped back onto two legs before it resettled.
Zelda’s body lurched forward minutely, begging her to act, to stop all this and whisk Faustus and Prudence away. But the high council already had the upper hand, it would do them no good if she exposed herself now. Better to hold off until it was revealed what this was all about, then she could spring into action. So, despite her desire to do otherwise, Zelda held still, only a soft ‘oh’ leaving her lips at what was happening.
Smirking at her, as if enjoying the fact that she was still under the Caligari spell, Methuselah turned his attention to Faustus. “Ah ah, Blackwood,” he tsked, stepping forward and wagging his finger. “Your daughter told us all manner of things. Things which make you unfit to be Antipope.”
Struggling against the spell holding him to the chair, Faustus glared at Methuselah and the rest of the council. “Anything she told you under duress cannot be taken as the truth. She’d have told you anything to stop the pain. Prudence—”
A harsh laugh interrupted him. “You think we didn’t double check the information she gave us? Faustus, this was hardly the first time we’ve colluded to rid ourselves of an Antipope we disliked. What Prudence gave us was more fruitful than we ever could have imagined.”
With a nod, several of the council members stepped aside to reveal a roughened-up Ann, with Judas in one arm and, Zelda barely bit back a gasp, Leticia in the other. “I’m sorry, Lord and Lady Blackwood, they—” Ann’s head snapped to the side as one of the council members hit her; the babes started to whimper.
No. No, no, no… they’d, they’d found her girl. Too many emotions to identify welled up inside her and Zelda couldn’t help but glance at Prudence wondering how the girl could give up her sister. She felt horrible for having such a thought a second later, Prudence was trembling on the ground, refusing to meet anyone’s eye. She’d given the only information she had, and, like Methuselah had said, it wasn’t what they’d expected but it was useful, nonetheless.
If they had Leticia, what had happened to Abigail?
The mask was slipping now, and Zelda’s fingers twitched, magic leaping to them, begging to be discharged to protect her family. It took everything in her not to act, not to scream and kill and demand to know what happened; it was a minor unholy miracle that Zelda managed to stay relatively stoic.
Faustus faired little better than she did; though he was allowed to express rage. “So, not only have you tortured my eldest, you’ve also seen fit to beat my nanny and kidnap my son.” The chair creaked dangerously underneath him as he fought to overthrow the spell holding him. A fire burned in his eyes and any other person would have run scared from the expression, but Zelda watched in horror as Methuselah laughed.
“Not just your son, Blackwood. But also your daughter.” Before Faustus could even try to deny it, Methuselah continued. “Now the real question is, did you know of this?”
Baring his teeth, Faustus tipped his chin up defiantly. “Know of what? That you stole a second babe with a passing likeness to my son and are now trying to pass it off as… what,” he scoffed, “Judas’ twin that he consumed?”
Face lighting up in a way that made Zelda’s skin crawl, Methuselah approached her. “Ahh, so you didn’t know, Prudence was so vague I couldn’t be sure. But this means your lovely wife betrayed you. Well, we can’t have an Antipope with a traitor for a wife, now can we?” Methuselah took her elbow, his fingers sliding up and under the half-sleeve of her dress, caressing the skin there, and Zelda fought the instinct to jerk away. “Is that why you put her under, Blackwood? So you’d have an obedient wife?” Before Faustus could answer, Methuselah stepped closer to her, his chest pressing against her side. “No matter, she still must be punished in the eyes of the church and not just by you. Sister Zelda hid a child of night, for what purposes I intend to find out.”
When Methuselah eyed her lecherously, Faustus spoke up. “I told her to hide the babe. I was ashamed of the girl when I’d been led to believe I would have two boys. Better to let the coven think Judas consumed his twin than let them think the girl weakened her brother while they shared the womb.”
And Faustus had fallen right into their trap.
Releasing her, Methuselah rounded the chair to face her husband once more. “So, you hid a child of the night, betrayed our Dark Lord and took the position of Antipope falsely?” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement. With far too much relish, Methuselah snapped his fingers. “I hereby strip you of your title of interim Antipope, sentence you, your wife, and Prudence Blackwood to death for your parts in these heretical acts as seen observed today and during the birth of your children. The full list of charges will be read upon execution. The charges against Ambrose Spellman for his part in the murder of Antipope Enoch and the charges against Hilda Spellman for her participation in a Catholic baptism will be reinstated until such a time the high council reviews the cases and determines a proper punishment not colored by a rogue high priest’s judgement. Sabrina Spellman will be held in a witching cell until such a time the high council can determine the source of her abilities and determine with finality that they are not a threat to others. As for the twins, Judas and Leticia Blackwood, they will be taken into custody of the church and raised in a manner that will not allow for behavior such as we’ve witnessed today.”
Red.
That was all Zelda saw, it eclipsed her vision, and she suddenly found herself with a knife in hand and she’d pressed it to one of the high council members’ throats. “You will not so much as look at my family, let alone touch or imprison them.” She spat, items in the room starting to rattle and float with her fury. “You will also tell me what happened to Abigail.” As she spoke the demand, Zelda’s eyes flitted around the room for any evidence of her friend or her family’s fate in the other warlocks’ faces.
Methuselah smirked and walked over to where Ann was sitting. “So, you are awake. We weren’t sure, though the spell must have been broken recently; I can’t imagine you’d have restrained yourself yesterday half as well without the Caligari. No matter, you’ll be punished for that as well, witches aren’t meant to go around breaking the Dark Lord’s spells. As for your fellow infidel,” he shrugged, unconcerned, “she’s been taken care of.”
The words, combined with the threats to her family, Faustus bound to a chair, Prudence bleeding at their feet, and the high council claiming guardianship over the twins… well, something inside Zelda snapped and she slit the throat of the warlock chuckling at her predicament despite the knife at his throat.
Before the man even hit the ground, Zelda flung the knife at one of the guards, hitting him in the shoulder and fired off a spell that had another warlock crumpling to the ground, not a mark on him, but eyes wide and unseeing. With every intention of taking on the high council and their security by herself, Zelda froze when Leticia’s scream rent the air.
Holding the girl up, Methuselah cocked a brow. “Do you want to play chicken, Sister Zelda? You’re powerful, incredibly so. But are you fast enough?” He backed up, the remaining council members and guards filling the space in front of him; human shields. “Are you fast enough to take out all of us and still protect your family.” He gestured to Faustus, Prudence and the babes; lifting Leticia even higher in the air, indicating that he’d readily drop her if provoked.
Anger pulsed through Zelda alongside her magic, and it was so tempting to take up the gauntlet Methuselah had thrown. Yes, the high council members were, by tradition, strong; but they were also old. And she was furious and backed into corner, two things no one had ever made her feel and then lived to talk about it.
But just one stray spell, or an intentional one she was unable to block, could kill one of the twins, could kill Prudence, kill Faustus.
So, Zelda lowered her hands, no matter how her body screamed at her, howled that she could take them; there was just too much at stake. The guards converged on her, grabbing her arms, spinning her and slamming her into a wall; much like those unruly mortals on the cop shows Ambrose liked to watch.
As she, Faustus and Prudence were ushered from the room, Methuselah called out instructions. “Let the happy couple share a cell, they can finish their honeymoon there.” He cackled, all but dropping Leticia back into Ann’s lap.
And that was the last glimpse Zelda got of the babes.
Shoved along, Zelda tried to control her breathing so objects wouldn’t float in the hall as they passed and concentrated on Prudence who was being dragged along. “If you fear a green witch barely past her dark baptism enough to bind and gag her, why are we not facing the same treatment?” Faustus hissed at her, but Zelda pressed on; needing to focus her energy on something, and Prudence was the only one she could help at the moment. “The girl’s no threat to you, especially in this condition. If you refuse to heal her, at least untie her.”
Muttering, and their egos bruised by her words, the warlocks stopped them long enough to free Prudence and she pulled the gag from her mouth and bowed her head to Zelda in gratitude, though she still refused to look at Zelda directly.
“Now get,” one of them ordered gruffly, hands gripping their arms with bruising strength.
Zelda didn’t see a single student or faculty member as they were marched through the academy, down the stairs, past the floor with the witching cells and into the depths of the building to the dungeons. A chill skittered up Zelda’s spine as they moved towards the cells; though whether it was from fear for her family or from the cold air itself, she couldn’t say.
Two cell doors opened, Prudence sent sprawling into one, the door slamming shut with a discouraging sound of finality, before she and Faustus were pushed into their own. Stumbling to catch herself, and hands now free, Zelda spun to try and take their captors unaware with an attack. But the door swung shut as well, and the moment it was sealed, Zelda felt the spells built into the walls mute her powers until she could barely feel them, let alone use them.
Dumbstruck, Faustus slid down one of the walls, forearms resting on his knees as he stared blankly ahead; likely trying to process how things had spiraled so quickly.
Just yesterday they’d freed Ambrose, proven his innocence, just this morning they’d been reunited—the Caligari spell gone for good, and now? Now they were imprisoned, their power stripped, their family in eminent danger, the twins set to be shipped off, never to be seen again and Abigail…. Zelda’s chest seized, Heaven knew what happened to Abigail, Rebecca and the boys.
Unable to sit still, Zelda paced the small cell, screaming and cursing, running her hands through her hair and clawing at the walls when every time she reached for magic and the damned things blocked her. At some point, after what felt like hours, Zelda collapsed in exhaustion, curling into Faustus’ side, who pulled her into him immediately, and wept.
With little else to do, and neither of them in the mood for talking, Faustus drifted off—he’d been up much of the night before working to fix and restore the academy and the Church of Night, after all. Sleep wouldn’t come for Zelda, though. Not when she’d effectively endangered everyone she loved and cared for.
No, she had to be punished. This was too big to go undisciplined.
Decision made, Zelda eased herself away from Faustus, guilt flashing through her as she did, but he’d only stop her and she couldn’t allow that; not after everything she’d done and failed to do in protecting her loved ones. Carefully, Zelda removed the belt looping decoratively through her dress, while it might have been more for aesthetic than functional use, it was still a solid, faux leather belt with a metal buckle.
Quietly moving to the far side of the cell, Zelda unzipped her dress to the waist and allowed the top to hang loosely around her hips. Exhaling slowly, Zelda adjusted her hold on the belt and then started; the movement coming back to her muscle memory easily despite the months that passed since her last flogging.
The impact of the first blow almost made Zelda cry out in pain. She’d lost her tolerance, become weak since she’d given up flagellation; that wouldn’t do. Shifting slightly and making sure Faustus hadn’t woken, Zelda bowed her head and began again, settling easily into her old, hard and fast pattern, trying to get as many in as she could before she was stopped.
Even when her arm started to burn, she continued... there wasn’t a number high enough to be equal to the damage she’d done to her family. She should have protected them. All of them. She should have been better.
Useless. Failure. Incompetent.
A blow landed with each word and with every one of the following similar words swirling in her head as she struck her again and again. As blood trickled down her back, a voice in the back of Zelda’s head that sounded awfully like Hilda, told her to stop. Another voice, one resembling her own, told her it still wasn’t enough, that the aftermath of hiding the damage was a concern for later, for after her punishment was complete. Zelda agreed with the latter and kept going.
~~~
Faustus’ head drooped to side a bit too far and he jerked awake, disoriented by where he was, why Zelda was no longer pressed against him, and by the sound filling the room. Turning towards the sound, Faustus shot up and was across the room before he fully processed that Zelda was in the other corner, belt in hand, and beating her back.
“No! No, no, Zelda!” He grabbed her arm and narrowly avoided being struck himself before he wrested the belt from her. Throwing the belt behind him, Faustus choked back a whimper at the sight of his wife’s back.
It was a mess.
Welts, bruises, cuts and blood littered her skin. And when she shifted to look at him, her lip was bloody as well, apparently, she’d bitten it to keep from making noise and waking him.
“Zelda...” he breathed, carefully cradling her to his chest in despair. “Why, why didn’t you wake me?” He trembled with fear, grief and anger as he held her.
“I failed them, Faustus. All of them. Sabrina, Ambrose, Hilda, Leticia, Judas, Prudence, Abi—,” her voice hitched at the thought of her friend. “Abigail, Rebecca and their boys. I failed to protect them. I, I deserved this.” She sobbed, body shaking against his.
Tears welled in his eyes even as Faustus shook his head vehemently. “You promised...” The dam broke and his own tears dripped into her hair. “And beyond that, how, how can you blame yourself?”
Pulling back, Zelda looked at him, eyes haunted. “It’s my fault Prudence was in the delivery room, my fault she was able to give that information when tor—, tortured. You asked if it was a good idea for her to know where Leticia was, to babysit… I ignored your concern. I gave Leticia to Abigail, whatever happened to her and her family is my fault. The twins, they won’t be raised with the love and care and protection we’d have provided. That’s my fault as well.” She took a shuddering inhale and before he could interrupt and say she never could have anticipated any of this, Zelda continued.
“My sister and nephew are to be incarcerated and likely sentenced to death because of me. If I had raised Sabrina right, she’d have signed the Book of the Beast the first time and Hilda’s secret would never have come to light. And had I been more observant, listened more closely when Ambrose came to me about Leviathan missing… I brushed it off, if I’d taken him more seriously, we might have figured it out sooner and he’d never have been in that situation. All this pain, this suffering and the suffering to come, it’s my fault. Mine. I should’ve protected them better. I had, had to pay.” She collapsed against him once more, her last words a muffle. “This was the only fitting punishment.”
Amazed by her ability to shoulder every responsibility and burden, Faustus shook his head sadly. “If we’re playing the blame game by your rules, anyone could twist events to fit their narrative.” He held up a hand before she could interrupt. “Had I been a better high priest, I’d have insisted Sabrina attend more Church of Night and coven events with you when she was young. If I had she’d have signed sooner, and we’d have avoided Hilda’s secret coming to light. I’m the one who gave Ambrose his familiar, I thought it a thoughtful gift after his was stripped from him as part of his initial sentencing. Had I not given him Leviathan there would have been nothing to control him with. And I never should have claimed Prudence as my own. I hadn’t claimed her for this very reason, so others couldn’t use her against me. It is my fault she was tortured.” When Zelda remained silent, Faustus cupped her cheeks and swiped at the tears still falling. “Two can play the game, Zelda, but it benefits no one. There are too many variables to take into account to lay blame on one person, on one action. Promise me, you won’t do this again.” He indicated towards her ravaged back.
Taking great gulping breaths, Zelda nodded and leaned forward to rest the top of her head against his chest.
Faustus exhaled slowly in relief and rested a hand on the back of Zelda’s head comfortingly, while the other hovered over her back uncertainly. He couldn’t heal her, not while in the cell, they had no magic; and even if they had, Faustus wasn’t sure he could undo all the damage. They needed Hilda.
Until then, he couldn’t even clean the cuts and bandage them, the high council wouldn’t care what condition they were in as long as they were alive and surely wouldn’t give them medical supplies if he even risked asking for them.
The various locks sliding outside the door had Faustus hastily pulling the dress up and zipping it despite Zelda’s whimper, he couldn’t have their captors using her pain, her injuries as pressure points. And already the dress stuck to particularly deep gashes, blood dotting, then soaking through the fabric. At a loss, Faustus removed his jacket and quickly draped it around Zelda’s shoulders just as the door opened.
Placing himself between the door and Zelda, Faustus braced himself for what would likely be a painful couple of hours. Only it wasn’t the high council or their guards.
Agatha poked her head in. “Father Blackwood, Sister Zelda, come quickly.” She waved them to the door and, though stunned, Faustus helped Zelda up, both hastily wiping their faces clean, and he supported her out the cell.
A crowd was waiting for them in the passageway. Prudence in the front, propped up between Agatha and Dorcas, his Judas boys crowding the area behind them, and various other students and even some faculty members from the academy filling the rest of the space. Apparently, they weren’t without friends and the high council had much less control than they believed.
Blinking at everyone, Faustus shook his head. “What are you all doing down here?”
Speaking up from where he was pressed against a wall, Brother Lovecraft caught their attention. “The high council’s trying to introduce some sweeping, and extremely questionable, reforms. We thought we’d check with our high priest first only to find he, our esteemed colleague Sister Zelda, and one of the academy’s top students had been imprisoned in the dungeon for no apparent reason. That didn’t sit well with us.”
Murmurs of assent sounded from the rest of the group.
Before Zelda could respond, state how touched she was, Prudence launched herself forward, her arms wrapping around Zelda—who grimaced at the contact with her back but immediately embraced the girl back. Pressing the uninjured half of her face into Zelda’s neck, Prudence shuddered. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. They, they started asking questions and when I refused to say anything against my father...” she pulled back and averted her eyes. “I shouldn’t have said anything at all, I should have been stronger. But, I, I had to give them something. And when they started asking about Constance…. It was no secret you were her midwife, that I helped with the delivery. So, they started to question me about that, perhaps hoping I’d reveal something like you and father plotted to kill Constance so you could marry. They got more than they bargained for... even then, I—, I had to protect my father. I didn’t tell them he’d approved of the plan. I couldn’t hide everything, but I could hide somethings. I didn’t think they’d, they’d go after…” Tears welled in her eyes, “I’m sorry,” she whispered again.
Tugging the young witch back into her arms, despite the pain erupting along her back, Zelda rubbed a soothing hand up and down Prudence’s. “Don’t be, sweetheart. You did all you could to protect your family. I’m sorry I put you in such a position. I wish you’d never experienced this, but I am proud of how you handled yourself.”
Chin quivering, Prudence nodded and then finally looked at Faustus, biting her lip; still desperate for his approval. Faustus pulled her into a hug and murmured things to the girl Zelda couldn’t hear. Her attention captured by a witch pushing through the crowd to embrace Zelda. Relief burst through her at the sight of her best friend; certainly worse for wear, but gloriously alive.
“Thank Hell, you’re okay.” Abigail breathed, clinging to Zelda even as they both winced. “I was so worried. They knew everything, I wasn’t even given the chance to deny.... Leticia, where—"
Framing Abigail’s face, Zelda pressed her lips together. “Upstairs, or she was. I’m not sure how long we were locked up. Rebecca, the boys?”
A slightly dismissive wave of Abigail’s hand had more relief washing through Zelda, her next words even more so. “Safe. They weren’t home when the high council came. And the warlocks seemed uninterested in anyone but Leticia and me. What’s going on, Zee? Why the sudden power plays—"
She cut her friend off. “There’s no time to explain. We have to get the twins back before we lose them forever.” A hardness crept into her tone and it seemed to fortify Prudence and Abigail, who both nodded.
Faustus, however, shook his head. “You two are in no condition to fight.” He looked at Prudence and Abigail pointedly.
Turning to Brother Lovecraft and a few other teachers, he waved a hand to indicate to all the students and Abigail. “Escort these two to the Spellman house for healing and the rest there for safety. Stay there,” he emphasized, making eye contact with each faculty member, “until you are told otherwise. Inform Hilda about what’s happening, stay on guard, they may send someone to the house in retaliation. We’ll join you soon.”
He’d have liked to send Zelda with them, but he knew she would refuse to be sent away. Prudence and Abigail seemed ready to argue as well, but Zelda cut in. “I know you love them, Judas and Leticia, but you’re injured, were tortured. Go, recover, Hilda will see to you. We’ll bring the babes soon. I promise.”
Reluctantly, the crowd in front of them disappeared in pairs or in threes, until only Prudence, Abigail, Agatha, Dorcas and Brother Lovecraft were left.
“I can help,” Abigail insisted, eyes pleading. “They didn’t get too far with me, they already had what they wanted, the beating felt more like an obligation than something they wanted to do. I—”
Zelda shook her head. “Don’t fight us on this, time’s of the essence and the longer we take the higher the chance of Methuselah getting away. Go.”
Lips twisting, Abigail nodded. “Fine.” She bit out, allowing Brother Lovecraft to take her arm, “but if you’re not back in 30 minutes I’m coming back here. You hear me, Zelda Fiona?”
Kissing her friend on the forehead, Zelda managed half a smile. “Deal. Go.” With final looks of anger mixed with resignation, Prudence and Abigail disappeared with the others.
Once everyone was gone, Faustus took the jacket from her shoulders and hissed; Zelda assumed it was at how much blood had soaked through the fabric—she could feel it sticking uncomfortably to what skin remained intact. “Let me heal some of this and then we’ll—”
But Zelda brushed his hands away, already striding towards the steps. “There’s no time, Faustus. Judas and Leticia need us.” White hot fury burned through her as she climbed the steps leading to the main floors, those decrypt old men would rue the day they crossed her; would regret ever coming for her family. Faustus fell into step next to her, trying to urgently whisper about plans.
She didn’t need a plan, though. They had the element of surprise, the high council would never expect them to be loose, let alone seeking vengeance so quickly. As they made their way through the academy, Ann exited the room Faustus had converted into a nursery.
The young woman yelped and then stifled it with a hand to her mouth. “I don’t—”
Faustus cut her off. “The children?”
“Safe. In the nursery, we’re all tethered to the academy or I’d have fled with them already. They’re making me pack for them.” Ann informed them, eyes glazing with unshed tears.
Placing a hand on the witch’s shoulder, Zelda guided her back towards the nursery. “Are any of them keeping watch over you?” When Ann shook her head no, Zelda sighed in relief. “Good, go and stay with them. Bar the room any way you can. We’ll handle the high council, they’re all still in Faustus’ office, yes?” Ann nodded and then fled, glancing back at them hopefully as she did.
This changed things. She’d assumed they would keep at least one of the babes with them as insurance.
Arrogance. That’s what it was, how the high council was acting, as if they’d already won. Instead, though, they’d left themselves vulnerable. Now there was nothing they could hold over her, nothing to make her hold back, nothing to protect them from her fully unleashing her wrath and powers on them.
It was a mistake Zelda was only too happy to take advantage of.
They moved down the rest of the hallway quickly, it would be best to ambush them all at once and they had to move fast before any left. As they approached the door, Faustus cast several complicated spells; shielding the room and ensuring no one inside could teleport away.
Sharing one final glance with each other, magic leaping to both their hands, Zelda blasted the door open and led the way inside. When she was confronted with the high council again, the men who sought to hurt her family, to steal them all away from her… something primal and predatory took over Zelda.
The first one fell before they could even stand up, the second as the door swung shut and screams filled the air.
~~~
Twins safely in hand, they teleported to the mortuary with Ann who promptly took the twins upstairs away from all the noise. When they entered the kitchen, Hilda shrieked; understandably. Zelda hadn’t considered what they looked like before they left; blood splattered and grimy from the dungeon. They were probably rather frightful to look at. But all she’d been able to think of was getting home, within her own wards, and having a modicum of control over what was happening for once.
“Hell below, what, what happened?” Hilda demanded, hand over her heart.
Abigail, who’d been sitting in front of Hilda getting healed, gave them an approving look. “I take it your ‘encounter’ with the high council went well?”
Just then Ann walked back in, running a hand through her hair. “Twins are settled upstairs in your bedroom, Lady Blackwood. I wasn’t sure where else to put them, considering how full the house is.”
Sagging in relief, Abigail pushed herself off the stool and made to leave despite Hilda’s admonishments that she wasn’t quite finished. “Oh, a few nicks and bruises are all that’s left Hildegard, stop fussing. I can heal those myself; I need to see Letty with my own eyes. Besides, I think you have another client that needs tending to.” Her friend arched a brow at Zelda and made her way out of the kitchen, Ann trailing after her asking questions about Leticia.
“Are, are either of you hurt?” Hilda asked uncertainly, the blood on their clothes making it difficult to discern what was theirs and what wasn’t.
Without saying a word and face livid, Faustus spun Zelda around, sat her on the stool and pointed to her back. A gasp escaped Hilda, and Zelda cringed, waiting for the lecture.
Gentle fingers unzipped her now sodden dress to reveal the wounds. “Zelds,” her sister breathed, voice thick with emotion.
Sniffing, Zelda kept her eyes forward, purposely not looking at Faustus or her sister. “We’ve no time to discuss it now. Heal what you can in the next 30 seconds, we need to gather everyone and discuss what steps to take….” She trailed off when movement near the back door caught her eye. “Sabrina? Ambrose? And where are you sneaking off to?” She demanded, voice taking on the authoritative tone neither her niece or nephew dared to defy.
Shoulders hunched, the two crept into the kitchen. “We were just—” Sabrina began, only for Ambrose to cut her off.
“Auntie, what happened?”
Being purposely obtuse, Zelda huffed. “Surely you’re not completely unaware of what happened at the academy. Not with the house filled with your classmates and professors? The high council—”
Ambrose took a step closer, wagging a finger. “I mean what happened to you.” He clarified, eyes trained on where Hilda was working on her back and then drifting to her stained dress.
She sat up a little straighter regardless of the painful tug on her skin. “Courtesy of the high council for our disobedience and heretical acts.” Zelda lied easily, tone haughty, and though Ambrose seemed dubious, Sabrina, thankfully, didn’t appear to question the explanation. “And though they’re no longer a threat, bigger things are at play here. Which is why so many people are here and why you two cannot be sneaking off.” Giving them an knowing look, Zelda didn’t have to wait long for them to argue. Tiredly pinching the bridge of her nose, Zelda raised her other hand, cutting off their overlapping voices. “You’ve yet to explain to me why you must leave the house.”
Lips tugging to the side and eyes wide, Ambrose blurted out. “Sabrina created a mandrake that’s absorbed her witch powers and it is on the loose in Greendale. That’s where we were going, to get the mandrake.”
Hilda’s hands froze where they’d been working her back. “All, all of your powers, love?” Her sister asked, clearly as dumbfounded by this development as Zelda was.
“Yes.” Sabrina answered, though she glared at Ambrose for spilling the truth. Then she added in, what could be described as, a petulant mumble. “And we’d have been gone twenty minutes before you got back but everyone started popping up in the front yard and then Prudence and Abigail came looking like they’d been through the wringer and we couldn’t leave until we found out what was going on.”
Mind spinning, Zelda shoved off the stool, ignoring Hilda’s protests and her aching, half-healed back. “Why, in the name of all that is damned, would you divest yourself of your powers?” She demanded, voice hoarse.
Features contorting, Sabrina twisted her fingers. “Because Ms. Wardwell manipulated me into fulfilling a prophecy, one that’s meant to bring about the end of the world. I thought, I thought I could stop it. By giving up my powers I wouldn’t be able to fulfill anything. But now, now my mandrake double could fulfill it in my place. We have to stop it before the Dark Lord retakes his original form and comes to Greendale to open the gates and release the hordes of Hell onto the earthly plane.” Pressing her lips together, Sabrina took a few steps closer to them. “It’s the only way.”
“It’s idiotic is what it is.” Zelda snapped, pacing the kitchen and swatting at Faustus’ hands when he tried to guide her into sitting back down, though his eyes were glued to Sabrina in astonishment. Mary Wardwell, Mary Wardwell…. Zelda paced a bit faster through the small space, she should have taken care of that woman immediately after the tarot card incident. But with everything that had happened leading up to and at the wedding, then the Caligari spell; she hadn’t had much a chance to spare the devious bitch a thought and now? A prophecy? This was all too much, her vision started to blur and Zelda blinked rapidly to try and bring it back into focus.
Sabrina’s voice recaptured her attention and it was then Zelda noticed her niece’s cheeks had flushed with anger. “Why is it idiotic for me to give up myself to protect everyone but not for you? If my mandrake fulfills the prophecy—"
Slicing her hand through the air, Zelda rounded on Sabrina. “I can sacrifice myself for the good of this family, you cannot. You’re not allowed to make that kind of decision until you’re well into your 100s. Besides that, we won’t be doing anything in regards to this prophecy until I can look at it in its entirety and that is final.” Before anyone could argue, she placed a hand on her forehead, trying to concentrate on a plan and not on how the room was spinning. “Now, I’m assuming you planned to meet the mandrake to kill it?” Ambrose nodded from where he’d taken up a spot on the kitchen counter. “Good, we’ll go there still, ambush the thing and capture it. Until I know what this prophecy entails, we will not destroy your abilities. We’ll keep the mandrake in the morgue until we definitively decide if you must lose your powers. If not, we’ll reverse the spell, no harm done, and if so, well, then we’ve merely prolonged the inevitable. But in either case, the mandrake won’t be able to fulfill anything, and neither will you.”
Unable to argue with her logic, Sabrina nodded. “We’re meeting in the woods. Where we hold the book signing ceremony.”
Speaking up for the first time, Faustus frowned. “Where is Mr. Scratch in all this? He’s normally glued to your side… you haven’t been distracting us so he could kill the mandrake, have you?”
“No.” Sabrina snipped, lip tugging into a slight sneer when she looked at Faustus. “He’s making sure Ms. Wardwell, or whoever she is, can’t interfere anymore.”
Eyebrows flying up, Zelda waved her hand to change into her normal clothes, wincing at the contact on her back. “And how is Nicholas managing that?”
Sighing, Sabrina shook her head and made for the back door. “Long story. One that can be told on our way, I promised the mandrake we’d meet at witching hour.” She glanced anxiously at the clock, bouncing on her toes.
Though she longed to go after Wardwell right then, Zelda nodded, damage control first, then revenge. She made to follow her niece, “very well, lead the way. Faustus,” she turned, placing a hand on his chest to stop him from following. “Go clean up the mess we left at the academy. Rid it of any evidence that the high council was here any longer than to deal with the hunter incident. Start paperwork stating they left on other business. They likely didn’t have a chance to get word out that you are no longer Antipope, use that to our advantage as long as possible; it may just save us once this is handled.” Though his face screwed up in distaste, Faustus nodded, pecked her on the lips and teleported away. She turned to her sister next. “Hilda, I need you to stay here. Finish taking care of Abigail and Prudence, look out for the students and set up a perimeter. And, and look after Judas and Leticia… please?”
Hilda’s expression softened, and she touched Zelda’s arm. “Only if you let me heal you complet—”
Biting her lip, Sabrina edged closer to the door. “I know it’s important to heal Aunt Zelda, but the mandrake…” She looked at the clock again. “I don’t know what it’ll do, it already tried making copies of Roz, Theo and Harvey. They got rid of them,” she added quickly at everyone’s horrified expressions, “but, the mandrake feels betrayed, rejected. If we don’t handle this now, it might come after you guys next.”
A scoff emanated from Ambrose. “I believe that, it wasn’t taking much of a shine to me the last time we met. It was only the suggestion of a duel that kept it from becoming more aggressive.”
This additional information settled the matter. They couldn’t risk losing any more time in pursuing the mandrake, with an apologetic look at her sister, Zelda followed Sabrina out the door, Ambrose hot on their heels.
Once outside, Zelda checked her watch. “We don’t have time for long stories as we walk through the woods, you’ll have to explain about Nicholas and Wardwell later. For now,” she gripped their hands and teleported about a little less than a quarter of a mile from the meeting site. “Tell me how this mandrake interacted with you and Hilda,” she turned to Ambrose and he readily supplied the information as they made their way closer to the clearing.
It seemed that not only had Sabrina’s powers been transferred over to the mandrake, but completely unfiltered emotions had as well. In many ways, the mandrake was like a small child, prone to temper tantrums when it didn’t get its way.
When they reached the edge of the clearing, Zelda turned to face Sabrina and Ambrose. “Stay here. I’ll approach it first, make it seem as though I know nothing of the mandrake, that I’m simply trying to find Sabrina as any concerned aunt would. Wait for my signal, Ambrose, then hit it with a knockout spell, understood?”
“Completely, Auntie Zee, be safe.” He murmured, leading Sabrina behind a small copse of trees where they would be hidden from view but could still see.
Exhaling slowly, Zelda entered the clearing. “Sabrina?” Her voice rang out, clear and firm. “Where the Heaven have you been? Hilda and I have been worried sick, do you have any idea what’s been going on?”
The mandrake spun around, and Zelda’s heart stuttered. She knew, on an intellectual level, that mandrakes were exact copies of the original, but this, this was uncanny. “Aunt Zelda?” The reply was a bit breathless and pitched higher than usual, and bile rose up the back of Zelda’s throat in response; it’s what she sounded like when she was under the Caligari spell.
Forcing it down, Zelda raised a brow. “Who else would it be? Now, really, we must be going.” She gestured with her hand expectantly.
A broad grin spread across the double’s face as she hurried over. But instead of stopping in front of her as Zelda anticipated, the mandrake barreled into her, hugging her tightly. “Oh, Auntie Zee, I missed you.” The mandrake nuzzled closer, “please don’t go away again, I love you too much for that.” The mandrake pulled back just a bit, tipping its chin so it could beam up at Zelda before burrowing back into the hug.
The double was affectionate, incredibly so, and though Zelda had braced herself for it based on Ambrose’s stories, it was painful to have this imposter niece freely express her love and care both physically and verbally when Sabrina so often withheld hers. Not that she could blame Sabrina, Zelda had never been the most expressive, she could hardly judge others for how emotional they chose to be. Still….
Still she couldn’t help but return the embrace. Though Zelda should have frozen the mandrake before it even touched her, not interacted with it more than necessary, she hesitated; held the being closer, stroked its hair and kissed the crown of its head.
Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Zelda pulled back and framed the mandrake’s face. “Let’s go home, shall we?” Signal given, Ambrose emerged from the trees and before the mandrake could fully process his presence, Zelda froze the double using the same spell she’d used on Mr. Kinkle.
And no matter how strong the new abilities Sabrina had gained were, they were useless without mobility. The look of utter heartbreak and betrayal in the mandrake’s eyes before Ambrose knocked it out with his spell imprinted itself on Zelda’s heart; she wouldn’t be forgetting that look any time soon.
Gently lowering the double on the ground, Zelda fought back tears as she bound it with thick, magical ropes, ensuring the creature couldn’t move anything, especially its hands. Not looking up, Zelda spoke over her shoulder to Ambrose. “Neither one of us should be teleporting four bodies at once after the trying week we’ve had. Please take Sabrina back to the house, I’ll follow in a moment.”
Ambrose placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed comfortingly before he turned back to Sabrina and the two of them disappeared.
Taking a moment to compose herself, Zelda teleported herself and the mandrake back to the house; appearing in the morgue. With a flick of her wrist, one of the cold storage units opened and the metal tray slid out. A whispered spell changed the temperature of the unit, though the mandrake wouldn’t need its temperature regulated, Zelda couldn’t bear to lock it in the freezing cold.
Once the mandrake was on the tray, Zelda straightened its clothes, smoothed its hair and kissed its forehead. The poor thing had lived a short life, one that never should have been, and while Zelda knew it could not live, that didn’t mean she couldn’t show it kindness and love while it was here.
Sighing, Zelda pushed the tray back into the unit, shut the door and locked it physically and magically, while also writing with a dry eraser marker on the door what the unit contained; just in case. That done, Zelda rested her forehead against the door to the fridge. “I’m sorry,” she breathed raggedly, “I’m so sorry, my sweet girl.”
A clatter on the metal, spiral staircase startled her, and Zelda jumped back, though she didn’t turn to face whoever had come down. “Yes?” She asked, casting a small glamor spell to hide the red rims of her eyes.
“Zelds,” Hilda came a little closer, “are you okay?”
Clearing her throat, Zelda nodded and turned around. “It was just difficult,” she admitted, “because it looked so much like her.” She gave Hilda a small smile and spun her rings, holding back the part that it was also difficult because she knew Sabrina would never express herself in that way with Zelda; her friends yes, Nicholas, yes, Hilda and even Ambrose to an extent... but not her. In her niece’s mind, they’d been on opposing sides for almost a decade; far too long for things to suddenly change simply because they were on the same team.
Hilda hummed sympathetically and took Zelda’s hand, breaking her from her thoughts. “We’re gathering everyone upstairs to discuss this prophecy Sabrina mentioned earlier.”
A frown tugged Zelda’s mouth. “Everyone? That seems rather unnecessary. Wouldn’t it be better if fewer people knew about it until we know for sure?”
Chuckling, Hilda spun her around and started to unzip her dress. “All the students but Prudence have gone back to the academy with Brother Lovecraft and the other professors.” She informed Zelda, hands already brushing along her back and continuing the healing that’d been interrupted before. “Once the place was cleaned there really was no reason for them to continue staying here… especially since we don’t have the space. They’re safe.” She petered off for a few minutes as she concentrated on Zelda’s skin knitting back together. “There, though some scarred, they were too deep,” she muttered, zipping Zelda’s dress back up. “The only people left upstairs are family.”
Rolling her shoulders to test the newly healed skin, Zelda squeezed her sister’s forearm in thanks. “Alright then, one crisis temporarily averted.” She glanced back at the storage unit and her heart clenched. “On to the next.”
Zelda forced the mandrake from her mind as they made their way upstairs. It wasn’t really Sabrina in that freezer, she knew, but it still hurt. Right now, though, her girl needed her full attention. So, Zelda followed her sister up the stairs.
Faustus met them at the door under the stairs and Hilda nodded slightly before continuing to the kitchen where everyone else was talking in low voices; giving them a moment.
“You alright?” He murmured, placing a hand on her hip.
Huffing, Zelda pursed her lips. “As I can be. The mandrake’s secured, for once I’m somewhat ahead of Sabrina’s schemes; though it’s not much of a win. Not when earlier today we were arrested, threatened with death along with our family.
A gentle finger under her chin lifted Zelda’s eyes to her husband’s. “We got out, saved Leticia and Judas. It’s a victory."
“One we should have had time to celebrate. Only...” Zelda trailed off, eyes drifting over his shoulder to where she could partially see Sabrina sitting at the table.
Faustus followed her line of sight and his brow furrowed. “Only your niece created a mandrake and is possibly the Herald of Hell.”
Rubbing her temple, Zelda nodded and brought her gaze back to Faustus. “If it’s true...” her voice trembled slightly, “how can I possibly protect her from it? How? Because I can’t and won’t lose her, Faustus. I have to protect her.” Chin quivering, Zelda swallowed hard.
He kissed her forehead and hugged her tenderly. “I don’t know how we stop it, but we’ll do it together. Along with everyone in the kitchen and the ones who freed us from the dungeons. You’re not alone, Zels.” Faustus tucked some hair behind her ear and when she gave him a small smile, he took her hand and led her to join the others.
And as she gazed around the room, Zelda couldn’t help but think that perhaps Faustus was right.
Before, before she thought she had to do it alone after Edward died. Thought she’d been protecting her family by not only keeping the threats away, but also by keeping them in the dark about said threats.
Now? Now they all knew of the threats, there was no hiding what they were trying to stop and still they were here; Faustus and Abigail and Prudence. They were all there, sitting with Hilda, Ambrose and Sabrina... her family, as odd and extended as it was, was there and ready to stand with her. When the fight eventually came, and one would come she had no doubt of that, Zelda could only hope it was enough.
That she was.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The kitchen had been rearranged slightly, the bench at the table pulled out and off to the side so Prudence and Ambrose could sit without having to be in the middle of the conversation and swivel their heads when different people spoke.
Silence fell as they entered, tense, anxious faces turning to them as she and Faustus stopped in the doorway. Zelda trembled slightly, whether it was from jetlag, fatigue, still recovering from the Caligari and her punishment, the news of Sabrina or a combination… the stress was starting to get to her.
As if sensing how overwhelmed she was, Faustus slipped his arm around her waist and anchored her securely to his side, his thumb brushing along her hip reassuringly. The small gesture grounded Zelda, reminded her she wasn’t alone.
And she wasn’t. The proof was right in front of her, filling this very room.
Never one to handle silence well, Abigail spoke up first. “Everything handled with the mandrake?”
Grateful for the minor distraction, Zelda nodded. “For now, yes. It’s contained in the basement, once we determine what to do with it, we’ll proceed. And in order to do that…” All eyes turned to Sabrina where she was sitting at the table. “Tell me again. This prophecy.” Zelda instructed; she needed every single detail possible if she was to maneuver this thing with her family intact.
Fidgeting at the attention, Sabrina picked at her nails as she repeated what she knew of the prophecy.
Zelda shook her head when Sabrina finished. “You should have come to one of use the moment you learned of this. Why you thought to handle it yourself, prevent it yourself… we’re your family, Sabrina. When will you learn to trust us with your safety and wellbeing?” And despite herself, Zelda’s voice cracked a bit at the end of her question.
Tears slipped down Sabrina’s cheeks. “I do. I do trust you.” Her eyes jumped from Zelda to Hilda to Ambrose; even lingered on Faustus, Prudence and Abigail for a swift moment. “I know you’ll do anything to protect me, that’s why I had to handle it. Me. Because I couldn’t risk any of you.”
Sniffing, Hilda shook her head and stood from her spot and hugged Sabrina hard. “Foolish, brave, wonderful girl.” She murmured into Sabrina’s hair, tears of her own falling.
“The time for solo acts is done. We work as a team, as a family, now. We won’t succeed otherwise. Am I clear?” Zelda made eye contact with each person in the room and they nodded, Faustus squeezing her hip in confirmation. Slightly reassured, Zelda turned back to Sabrina. “You said your friends found this prophecy in the mines?” When Sabrina nodded, Zelda exhaled slowly and spun her rings. “Show it to me.”
Her niece blinked at her. “What?”
Stepping away from Faustus, Zelda braced herself against the table. “I have more questions and seeing this mural for myself could answer them. Show me.”
With a slight shrug, Sabrina stood and made for the front door. “Okay…”
Barely restraining an eye roll, Zelda caught her girl’s arm and redirected her to the parlor. “We’re not physically going to the mines. Time is of the essence; we’ll project on the astral plane.”
Hilda was the first to move to help, grabbing candles from various cupboards and drawers. As the others moved furniture to the edges of the parlor, Hilda pulled her aside and muttered under her breath. “This isn’t safe.”
Glancing to ensure they weren’t overheard, though from how Faustus and Abigail were whispering and peering over at them periodically they were likely having similar doubts, Zelda shook her head. “I know. Double projecting is unstable at best. And the astral plane belongs to the Dark Lord, He won’t like us snooping around and will likely sic the Dweller on us sooner than we’d like. But it’s the only way. If you have another suggestion…” She trailed off, hoping her sister might have an idea.
From the look of distaste on Hilda’s face though, she didn’t have an alternative. “We’ll all be monitoring your trip. If anything looks amiss, and I mean anything, we are pulling you back out, immediately.”
A small smile tugged at Zelda’s lips. “Of course, Hildie, thank you.” She squeezed her sister’s forearm and went to join Sabrina in the middle of the candle circle the others had arranged.
She’d just finished instructing Sabrina on how double projecting would work when Faustus squatted next to her, worry etched into his brow. Patting Sabrina on the leg, Zelda turned to her husband as Hilda captured Sabrina’s attention. “Don’t make that face,” she tried to tease, tracing a wrinkle in his forehead. “You look as though you won’t see me again. I’ve astral projected countless times, Faustus, this won’t be any different.”
“We’ll make sure of that.” Faustus took her hand between his and held it tight. “I’ve finally got my family all together, I’m not going to lose you to psychopomps or the Dweller.” Inching a little closer, Faustus lowered his voice further. “Are you sure you’re up for this? The Caligari spell, the high council, the mandrake, what happened in the witching cell… no one would blame you for taking a break. Hilda could go, Abigail could, I could.”
Cupping his cheek with her free hand, Zelda smiled softly at him. “I know I’m not alone in this, but this has to be me. Sabrina is my girl, I have to see it with my own eyes, or I’ll never trust that we have all the information. I—”
Faustus cut her off with a soft kiss. “I expected as much,” he breathed, tucking a strand of her hair back. “You have five minutes, no more. Understood?”
With a nod and one more quick kiss, Zelda shooed Faustus out of the circle. Exhaling, Zelda laid down, her arm looped through Sabrina’s. “Ready?” Nodding hard, Sabrina interlaced her fingers with Zelda's and squeezed. “Okay,” Zelda closed her eyes and muttered the spell.
It was dark.
But from the smell alone, Zelda knew they were in the mines. Conjuring a small ball of light, Zelda launched it into the air to float above them, lighting the way.
Before she could even instruct Sabrina to hurry, her niece was leading her down several pathways, deeper into the mines. They passed through a boarded-up section, passed what looked like a fresh grave—a bit of pale flesh flashing through—before they came upon the mural. Zelda gasped despite herself.
She’d been hoping.
Hanging onto the tiniest shred of optimism that this prophecy couldn’t be about Sabrina. That her girl, as amazing, smart and caring as she was, had gotten a little big headed (as she had a few times—as most teenagers were wont to do) and thought this awful fate applied to her when really it didn’t.
The walls around her swayed and dipped.
“Aunt Zelda?” Sabrina clutched at her, voice high and panicked. “Aunt Zelda! Please, please focus. We need to get back. Take us back, hurry!”
And though her head felt ready to explode, her heart pounding relentlessly in her ears, Zelda reined herself in long enough to end the spell.
The warmth and sounds of the house flooded Zelda’s senses, but she still felt the cold of the mines in her soul. The prophecy, it was about her girl. What to do? What to do? What to do? The worlds spiraled through her head as she continued to lay there, ignoring everyone else and their attempts to rouse her.
It was too late to run. Heaven, there’d never really been a chance to run, not with a prophecy like it. Satan would have found them anywhere, if He’d even let them leave Greendale in the first place.
Which meant, which meant they’d have to fight.
And a fight meant risking those she loved. There was no way they’d all survive this… fate had never been kind to the Spellman family, why would it be now?
Shoving aside her fear, Zelda’s eyes snapped open as she pushed off the floor, Hilda, Faustus and Abigail backpedaling hard to avoid getting hit as she stood; they’d been clustered around her in concern.
“Zelds?” Hilda reached for her, but she was already pacing the room, thinking hard.
Zelda crossed her arms, spinning her rings as she talked out loud. “Why? Why would Wardwell push so hard for you to fulfill this? Surely, she doesn’t expect to be exempt from the Dark Lord’s new world order should this happen. It doesn’t make sense.”
“She would survive relatively unscathed, actually.” Faustus murmured, eyes widening with realization.
Everyone turned to him, when he didn’t elaborate Zelda cocked a brow. “Care to share with the class?”
Backing away from all of them unconsciously, Faustus rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Mary Wardwell is Lilith in disguise.”
Stunned silence filled the room. Then it erupted in confused chatter.
Only Zelda remained quiet, fury plain on her face. “She’s what?” The two words were bit out with such anger and force that everyone else fell quiet once more.
Fiddling with his cravat, Faustus looked at her pleadingly. “Lilith, mother of demons.”
Crackling magic filtering thickly into the air and objects around them began to float. “How long have you known Satan’s left-hand lieutenant was manipulating Sabrina?” The question was posed in such a dangerously low tone that everyone instinctively backed to the edges of the room. Not paying them any mind, Zelda kept her eyes locked on the warlock in front of her. The one she thought was different, the one who was supposed to love her… he’d kept this from her.
Straightening up, Faustus let out a short exhale. “Since she first arrived in my office in October.”
Zelda shook her head in denial, no, no he couldn’t have lied that long about her. Especially since “I asked you under truth cake—"
“You asked how I knew her, who she worked for, and what she wanted. All of which I answered honestly.” He stated quickly, eyes darting to take in the items rattling with her anger; specifically, the fire pokers. “You did not ask me who she was, only why she was meddling. Even if you had, I could not answer! As I told you during the Feast, I was commanded not to tell anyone her true identity. It wasn’t like a dark devotion, where you could resist, this was a direct command with threat of death to my family if I disobeyed.”
Ignoring everyone else in the room, Zelda stopped her pacing and stood a few feet from her husband. Unsure how to handle this, unsure if she wanted to slap, hex, curse or kill him and throw him in the Cain pit. Maybe all of them.
But before she could do anything, Sabrina spoke up. “Why are you suddenly sharing now then? When clearly you were so cozy with Ms. Ward—, with Lilith.”
Faustus blinked at the group. “Cozy? She threatened to eat me on more than one occasion. We fought constantly; we despise one another. As for why I’m telling you now, it’s relevant.”
“It was relevant before.” Zelda snapped, crossing her arms to prevent herself from slamming him into any walls; they needed answers and him lying broken at her feet wouldn’t provide those.
A restraining hand was suddenly on her shoulder; Hilda having braved the empty space between them to calm Zelda. “Regardless of relevance, we can’t change the fact that he kept Lilith’s identity a secret. Though I do want to know why you seem able to defy the Dark Lord now and not before.” She raised a brow at Faustus and waited.
Throwing up his hands, Faustus huffed in disbelief. “Because before it seemed such a trivial thing to hide Lilith’s name from you when the safety of my children hung in the balance.”
“They’re no safer now than they were before,” Abigail pointed out, “what happened?”
Faustus speared a hand through his hair. “What didn’t happen!” He practically shouted, “I no longer care about the Dark Lord, for one. As you’ve said, my family’s in danger from Him regardless of if I keep this secret. He’d have seen Zelda and I beheaded, Prudence, Hilda and Ambrose hanged, Sabrina in a cell, and the twins shipped off to Heaven knows where if it meant His prophecy came true. I put my family first then, and I am doing the same now.”
Looking at Faustus skeptically, Sabrina crossed her arms. “And why should we believe you were following orders for your family? You didn’t care about Constance. She’s dead. You didn’t care about Prudence until we forced you to admit you’re her father. I think you did it all for power, to be high priest or Antipope or whatever. And now that your power is going to be taken away by Satan you see no reason to bolster Him any longer.”
Face darkening, Faustus snarled. “Have I striven for positions of power in the past? Certainly, and I’ve let very little stand in my way. But if you need any proof I put my family and the coven above my ambitions look around you.” He swung his arms to gesture to the people in the room. “I defied the Dark Lord when I hid Leticia. I defied the Dark Lord when He ordered me to slaughter Ambrose and my other Judas boys the night of Antipope Enoch’s murder. I defied the Dark Lord by loving Zelda, by fighting the Caligari spell when I could have let it be and been Antipope peacefully. I defied Him by killing His high council when they made to steal my children, hurt my family and destroy my church. Actions speak louder than words, I should hope. As for Prudence,” his expression softened slightly when he looked at his eldest daughter, “I denied your heritage to protect you. I treated you as a daughter before you knew the truth, because it was all I could do. Look what happened the moment I claimed you as my daughter, just as I’d feared, you were used against me. She was tortured!” He added, eyes back on Sabrina and filled with fire. Her niece looked slightly abashed and finally convinced Faustus wasn’t against them. “Should I have said something about Lilith? In hindsight, yes, but I thought her gone.” His breaths came in rapid, ragged bursts, as he concluded his passionate speech.
Taking a step closer to him, Zelda clenched her fists. While she was far from innocent of secret keeping, he wasn’t off the hook. “Even if you thought her gone, after we married, after everything, you still didn’t think it important to tell me the mother of demons was playing with my girl?”
“I had no idea she was even still around! Why worry you unnecessarily? She told me her purpose was to get Sabrina to sign as I told you under truth serum. It seemed innocent enough, something we were all pushing for, and when the mission was accomplished back in December, I thought her long gone. For surely, she had better things to do than linger at a mortal high school. I never saw her again. She no longer visited my office, her shadow and familiar no longer showed up at random as small ways for her to prove she was still watching, lording her power over me. I’d no idea she was even in Greendale, let alone pulling even more insidious strings.” The words fell from his mouth in a rush and though Zelda was furious at him still, it made sense... she’d thought much the same.
Had thought Wardwell gone until Sabrina informed her otherwise in the new year. And even once she’d learned the witch was still in play, Zelda hadn’t told anyone of her concerns, had kept secrets, until after the wedding, when Hilda pressed for more details.
“Fuck.” She spat, stalking around the parlor once more, the magic pulsing around her still palpable based on the wary looks everyone was giving her. “Why would you ever accept the Dark Lord would send Lilith to get a simple signature in His book? Surely you suspected there was more to it if His left hand was here.”
Anger flashed in Faustus’ eyes once more. “Because I learned long ago not to question the Dark Lord or His plans. Learned such probing only leads to pain of some kind. Only recently have I started to question again, to resist, and my separation from Leticia and the Caligari spell were the results and reminders to keep me in place.”
He started to pace now, only to stop and point at Sabrina. “Had I known her purpose was to trick Sabrina into becoming the actual Herald of Hell, I’d have found a way to tell you like I found a way to warn you of the spell. I didn’t want the Caligari and I don’t want anyone to call Hell to our plane; especially not Sabrina. Heaven, I didn’t want her as Top Boy, why would I want her as the Herald of Hell?!” He resumed his pacing, hands flexing, and Zelda knew he was wishing for his cane to tap on the floor, an anxious habit of his. Before she could process the logic of his words, Faustus continued, somewhat under his breath. “There’s more to the prophecy, more than just being the Herald, but I can’t recall...” he trailed off, talking mostly to himself as his brows furrowed in thought.
Animosity drained from her quickly and Zelda blanched. Though her confrontation with Faustus wasn’t over by any means, he wasn’t her enemy. Satan was, Lilith was. And they both very much needed dealing with and to do that they needed the full prophecy. “More?” She repeated hoarsely, “what could possibly be left?”
Coming back to himself, Faustus explained. “I read it long ago, as part of my training to become high priest, a book of prophecies. I forget most, I never put much stock in premonitions.” He gave Prudence an apologetic look, likely remembering all the dreams she and her sisters had gone to him with. “And until Sabrina mentioned this one again, I didn’t remember it either. If I’m recalling it correctly, though, the Herald has another role in the new world she creates. But I can’t remember what,” Faustus shook his head in frustration, “I need the book to be sure.” He finally admitted, looking at the group in defeat. “The good news is, it’s at the academy library, I—"
“Nick has it.” Sabrina cut in, pale faced. “We went looking for answers when we found the mural, he found the same passage. It just mentioned the perversions, though... did, did we miss something?” And suddenly the defiant, brash young woman was gone, and a scared girl was left before them.
Faustus gave Sabrina a sympathetic look and nodded. “I believe so.”
Spinning her rings roughly, Zelda tried to control her breathing. “Then it’s high time we brought him here. Should have done it the moment Wardwell’s identity was exposed. He’s holding the mother of demons captive somehow, that won’t end well for him.”
Ambrose and Prudence quickly cleared the candles, while the adults turned to Sabrina.
“Before we summon them, I must know how Nicholas is holding Lilith captive. Is it a spell, a charm, manacles?” When Sabrina looked at her a little blankly, Zelda elaborated. “We can’t risk releasing her in transport. If we know how he’s holding her, we can keep her bound during the summoning and once they arrive.”
Grimacing, Sabrina bit her lip. “A rib.”
Blinking, Abigail held up a finger. “I’m sorry, a what?”
Her niece started talking fast. “Well, you see, she sent this monster after me, Nick managed to kill it by pulling a rib out of its body. We cast a tracking spell on it and followed that to Wardwell’s cottage, Lilith was there, though we didn’t know it was her at the time. And seeing as how she’d sent a monster we couldn’t take any risks and it turned out with a little string we could control her with the rib…. So, we made her give us some answers, but she never said anything about us missing part of the prophecy!”
A sympathetic smile curling her lips, Hilda wrapped an arm around Sabrina. “That’s because she still wanted you to fulfill it, love. You didn’t know to ask, so she didn’t share. Typical witch behavior.” And despite everything going on, Hilda flicked her gaze over to Zelda, a brow raised.
Scoffing to herself and ignoring her sister’s look, Zelda rolled up her sleeves. “If it’s merely a physical item he’s using, then Nicholas should have no problem holding onto it while we transport them here.”
“Should we warn him?” Prudence spoke up from the corner of the room. “Astral project, try a mirror? So, he doesn’t think he’s going to be attacked when he arrives?”
Faustus shook his head. “A valid idea, Prudence, but not one we can risk. Our little excursion to the mines via the astral plane was dangerous enough. The Dark Lord or one of his minions won’t let us enter again, not when He’s been planning this for Heaven knows how long. As for mirrors, we’ve no idea what kind of precautions Lilith may have taken to ward the cottage and prevent anyone from spying through the mirrors. Attempting to reach Nicholas there without the proper safety word added into the spell could lead to death.”
Eyebrows going up, Prudence cocked her head in acknowledgement. “Alright, how to we bring them here then?”
Stepping forward, Abigail placed a hand on Zelda’s shoulder. “A simple summoning spell. Doubt the mother of demons expected to be figured out, so she wouldn’t have protected that cottage she’s taken over from summoning spells. And even if she has, with the four of us,” she gestured to Hilda, Faustus, Zelda and herself, “we’ll be able to overcome it with sheer force.”
Taking one more look around the room, Zelda nodded. “No time to waste. You three, step back, just in case Lilith tries anything or Nicholas loses his grip on the rib.” And before Prudence and Ambrose could argue that they very much still had their powers and didn’t need protecting, Zelda cut them off. “You’ll provide backup should this witch somehow break loose. Let her focus on us, and you two surprise her… if it comes to that.” When they nodded, backing up and pushing Sabrina behind them, Zelda turned back to the others. “Ready?”
They nodded, coming to stand beside her. Clasping hands, they formed a line and chanted the spell together to summon Nicholas and Lilith.
The pair appeared in front of them.
Disoriented, Nicholas clutched something fiercely to his chest, giving the string attached to it a yank as if to reassure himself he still had control. Lilith sat awkwardly on the couch, but she didn’t try to move. The book appeared in Faustus’ arms a second later, he’d waited to conjure it until they had Lilith securely in hand; he didn’t wait, but immediately went to a side table and began flipping through the pages.
Having recovered from her shock, Lilith arched a brow. “Oh goodie, the gangs all here.” She drawled, completely unconcerned.
Zelda stifled an animalistic urge to gut the woman, to snarl and rip her to pieces. Instead she forced herself to ignore the witch, Hilda, Abigail and Nicholas had her well in hand, and walked over and pressed against Faustus’ side as he scanned the page; lips moving silently as he read.
“Don’t you have any idea who I am?” Lilith demanded, clearly not used to being brushed aside. “There will be consequences for what you’ve done to me. I am—”
“Lilith, mother of demons, Satan’s mistress, yada yada.” Zelda interrupted coldly, they didn’t have time for rants or attempted displays of power and intimidation. “We’re aware of who you are, and it means nothing. Now quiet or I’ll gag you.” She spared a quick glance for the brunette and a savage pang of pleasure shot through her at the demoness’ shocked face.
No, the woman wasn’t used to being challenged, especially once her identity was known, and Zelda’s easy dismissal of it should buy them some silence from her for a time. Dropping her eyes back to the book, Zelda noticed that Faustus had stopped, his finger frozen on the page.
He exhaled slowly and shook his head. “Zelda...” Faustus murmured, eyes landing on Sabrina where she’d pushed forward with what might be a look of pity. And Zelda couldn’t have that, because it meant he’d given up on her already.
Rushing over, Zelda tucked Sabrina into her side, as if that alone would protect her girl; would soften whatever blow Faustus was about to deal. Swallowing hard, Zelda nodded jerkily. “Just say it.”
“Sabrina’s meant to rule by the Dark Lord’s side. As His Queen.” Faustus informed them grimly, running a hand over his face. Zelda barely heard Lilith’s reaction.
“Queen?” The woman repeated brokenly, eyes glazing over. “Queen?” She then continued to whisper to herself.
Breaths coming in insufficient bursts, Zelda peered at her niece who’d slipped from her hold and sat down hard at the revelation. No. No, no, no.
Finally, Zelda managed words. “How? Wh—, as his child bride?!” Memories from her wedding eve flashed through her mind. How the Dark Lord loomed over her, His clawed hand on her shoulder, her arm, brushing against her. Struggling to push down the panic welling up inside her over the memory and the thought of Sabrina enduring such a thing for eternity, Zelda shook her head vehemently. Before she could say anything further, her sister spoke.
Hilda sat next to Sabrina, wrapping a protective arm around her. “Why? And how? How could He even predict there would ever be a half-witch, half-mortal child? Until Edward, our kind had no desire to mate with mortals. Date them, play with them, interact as needed yes, but never with the intention of offspring. It,” she faltered and looked at Sabrina apologetically. “It was considered blasphemy. How could the Dark Lord know this particular prophecy would come true when so many others haven’t?”
Eyes wide with horror, Ambrose stepped forward. “Unless He made sure it would happen.” When they all turned to him blankly, Ambrose rubbed a hand over his mouth before continuing. “He could ensure this prophecy came true, because it benefited Him most. And He, He could ensure that by, by…”
“By manipulating Edward.” Prudence finished baldly, coming closer as well and eyeing Sabrina. “By whispering in a warlock’s ear and telling him he must be with a mortal. Why else would a warlock stray so far from the Church of Night’s path so quickly? Progressiveness is one thing; Edward Spellman and his ideas were another.”
Abigail turned to Prudence, horror on her face. “You’re saying the Dark Lord tricked Edward onto his mortal loving path to ensure a half-shadow child was born?”
Shrugging, Prudence held up her hands. “How else could He do as Ambrose said? Ensure such a child existed to fulfill the prophecy that would allow Him to reign over the tribes of witches and mortals alike?”
An odd noise emanated from Hilda. And when they all shifted to see her, her eyes were round and filling with tears. “There’s another way Satan might have ensured Sabrina’s existence.” She whispered, looking as though she didn’t want to be thinking those words, let alone speaking them.
“You can’t be serious.” Zelda countered, realizing what her sister was suggesting and refusing to believe it.
Frowning, Sabrina looked between the two of them. “What? What could be worse than Satan pulling strings to ensure my birth so I’d fulfill this awful thing?”
Faustus shook his head. “No. You’re not saying…. Hilda,” he looked at her almost pleadingly and Zelda wanted to scream that what Hilda was suggesting was foul and impossible. But as others caught on, they didn’t seem to be in as much denial.
“Satan could be, He could have ensured Sabrina’s birth and existence by, by…” Hilda trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.
Suddenly realizing what was being suggested, Sabrina shoved off the couch. “Impregnating my mother? Because my father offered her up like a piece of meat?”
Hurrying over to her, Zelda touched her niece’s arm, but the girl pulled away; still trying to process everything. “Edward loved Diana, Sabrina, of that much I am certain.” She tried to dismiss the idea, tried to dismiss the possibility that Edward would do such a thing.
But he’d beaten her, threatened her with the Caligari spell when she refused to fall in line, he’d sold Sabrina and her name to the Dark Lord so he could break tradition and marry a mortal… but that, those weren’t the same. Her brother would never have… not to Diana… not to the mortal woman he’d torn it all down for. “He loved her.” Zelda repeated, and she wished it didn’t sound as though she were trying to convince herself as well.
Hilda stood as well. “He did,” she acknowledged softly before facing Sabrina, “however, it might be possible that you’re, you’re the Dark Lord’s… His daughter.”
The room faded for a moment and Zelda’s head swam dangerously before she managed to regain herself by clutching the back of a chair. No, it couldn’t be. Edward wouldn’t have, he couldn’t… visions of the Dark Lord standing over her as she knelt on the floor flooded her mind again. No, Edward would never have done that, not to his precious Diana.
In denial, Zelda blinked to clear her vision and argued with her sister. “No! You’re wrong. Sabrina isn’t—"
Straightening up, Hilda’s face hardened. “You think I want this to be true?! I don’t. But I was closer to Diana, Zelda. While you may have helped with the birth, I was her midwife. Me, not you.” Turning once more to their niece, Hilda looked at her imploringly. “Your parents, they, they had a bit of trouble conceiving. So, they went to the Dark Lord and asked Him to bless them with a child. He did. But then later, later Diana came to me, and… and she said she was worried about the baby, about you. And nervous because she thought the baby wasn’t Edward’s.”
Zelda leaned more heavily against the chair, needing the support. “I don’t understand. The Dark Lord had the couple He needed to fulfill the prophecy. Why—”
“Don’t you see?” Ambrose interrupted, running a hand over his head in agitation. “I’ve read of such tales in apocryphal books on Satanic lore. In siring a babe of witch, mortal and infernal blood,” Ambrose gestured to Sabrina with shaking hands. “The Dark Lord perverted the Holy Trinity. A sacrilegious conception, to birth an only ill-begotten child of His own and instigate the apocalypse!”
Silence filled the room, only Lilith’s mutterings breaking the disbelief. Or not really disbelief, not anymore, but the unwillingness to believe.
Breaking the silence, Abigail came to stand next to Zelda, a steadying hand on her back. “They had trouble conceiving because of the Dark Lord.” Abigail murmured, fitting another piece of a very dark puzzle into place. “He finally had the combination he needed for a front, to hide His true purpose. Satan couldn’t risk Diana getting pregnant with Edward’s child, not when He intended to impregnate her all along.”
Something dawned on Zelda, a horrid realization and she whipped to face Hilda. “That’s why Diana warned me and not you.”
Confused, Hilda blinked at her. “What?”
“During the Solstice.” Zelda spun her rings and began to pace the room again despite Hilda’s quiet reminder of her blood pressure and suggesting she sit. “Diana, after Gryla, she came to warn me. She didn’t get a chance to finish and we had no idea what she could be trying to say. And then, after the high demons came and attacked Sabrina... I thought she was trying to warn me of their coming. I’d never understood why she didn’t warn you about them as well. It was because she wasn’t speaking of demons coming to attack Sabrina. Diana was trying to warn me about, about Sabrina’s possible parentage. She didn’t warn you, Hilda, because the two of you had already spoken of it.”
Hilda blanched, and her chin trembled. “I, I put it down to pregnancy hysterics. And afterwards… I forgot about it. How, how could I have—"
Stopping her restless pacing, Zelda placed hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. How could you have known? Hysterical pregnancy, while not terribly common, wouldn’t have been out of place, especially for a mortal carrying a magical child. There was no precedent for what to expect from Diana, no mortal had ever carried a magical child to term before…. But that’s all in the past. We can’t,” she swallowed, “we can’t focus on things we cannot change.”
Things like Sabrina not even being related to her, not even a drop of shared blood between them.
“So, the Dark Lord tricked my father and used my mother, and now he expects me to fall in line?” Sabrina asked, expression contorting with defiance and anger. “Well, I say, not today, Satan. I don’t care who the Dark Lord is supposed to be to me. I’m a Spellman, and I will always be a Spellman.”
Tears threatening to fall, Zelda gathered Sabrina in her arms for a tight hug. “Of course, you are, sweetheart. You’re ours.” She whispered fervently into her girl’s hair, just as much for Sabrina as for herself. Sabrina was theirs, no one else’s. “And we’ll fight Him. Over my dead body is He getting you.”
Prudence’s head swiveled to take them all in. “You’d defy the Dark Lord,” she murmured, stunned.
Breaking the hug but remaining under Zelda’s arm, Sabrina smiled softly. “Of course, she would. Family comes first.” Her niece repeated the sentiment Zelda had stated so long ago at Solstice, when she’d explained that of course they’d have helped save Diana from limbo. “Besides, Aunt Zelda hasn’t believed in the Dark Lord or His ways for ages.”
The warmth that had spread through Zelda a moment ago at Sabrina’s statement about family (regardless of the recent revelation that they might not be) evaporated, replaced with ice in her veins. “Sabrina!” She exclaimed; eyes wide as she quickly took in the reactions around her.
Everyone except Hilda seemed taken aback. Prudence and Ambrose shared a look Zelda couldn’t interpret; Nicholas finally dragged his attention away from containing Lilith to stare at her, mouth partially open; Abigail appeared slightly miffed about not being told such a big secret… and Faustus, well, Zelda could barely look at him.
Thankfully she was saved from having to, Abigail spoke up. “Zelda, is, is it true?” She asked softly, eyes searching her own.
Giving Sabrina a hard look, Zelda sighed. “Well, since the cat’s already out of the bag. Yes. Since Edward died. And even if it hadn’t broken so long ago, I’d defy Satan without hesitation to protect Sabrina. To protect any of you.” Her eyes swept over her family. “I’ll kill Him before He can so much as touch you.” While Zelda could tell Faustus and Abigail wanted to discuss the matter further, there were more pressing issues to deal with. “I am safely assuming you are all with me on this. We can’t very well be enslaved under a demon army. That benefits no one.”
Murmurs of agreement immediately filled the air and Zelda nodded. “Good, we’ll need to fortify the house, can’t have Satan coming upon us unaware. And we’ll need more people to help. We cannot hope to stop the Dark Lord alone.”
“Stakes,” Ambrose offered, “I have iron stakes to surround the house.”
“And onions.” Hilda added, twisting her fingers and still looking guilty about the secret she’d kept.
A slightly manic laugh sounded from the couch. “You think stakes and onions will be enough to stop the Dark Lord?” Lilith cackled again, having finally stopped muttering to herself to interact with them. Before any of them can react, Lilith looked to Sabrina, a near feverish flush on her cheeks. “Tell me you didn’t kill the mandrake!”
While she’d been able to logically keep herself from maiming her husband because they needed information, Zelda couldn’t restrain herself any longer when it came to this woman. Zelda started towards the couch, shoving her sleeves up to eviscerate Lilith until she was unrecognizable. She didn’t care what they needed from her; the bitch was dead.
Seeing murder in her eyes, Faustus intercepted her, quickly looping an arm around her waist and hauling her back as Abigail inserted herself between Zelda and the demoness.
“Zee, I know.” She shot a deadly glare over her shoulder before returning her gaze to Zelda. “But we have to get answers.”
A growl rumbled low in Zelda’s throat and she composed herself with difficulty. Faustus carefully released her, though he remained close as if expecting her to change her mind at any moment. “We stopped Sabrina in time. No thanks to you. Why do you care?”
Nicholas stepped closer then, a perverse gleam in his eye as he used a finger to redirect Lilith’s head to look at the rest of the group. “Answer.” He demanded, holding the rib up and yanking on the string.
The urge to vomit nearly overtook Zelda when she realized what Nicholas was doing. In her haste to hear more of the prophecy, in her sudden horror at the realization of Sabrina’s heritage, in her utter rage to destroy Lilith... she’d forgotten how the demoness was being held.
She snatched the rib from him. “What are you doing?” Zelda snapped, though she’d tried to kill the woman only seconds before, she knew what it was like to have your agency taken away. She didn’t wish it upon anyone; even Lilith. “You will never do that to someone again. I don’t care the circumstances, there are countless ways to restrain a person without taking away their agency.” She dropped the bone into Lilith’s lap with one hand as she cast a holding spell with another, Hilda and Abigail adding their magic to the spell as well, just in case.
Stunned, Nicholas nodded at her mutely. He then backed away and stood next to Sabrina eyes down; chastised.
Exhaling slowly, Lilith recaptured Zelda’s attention. “Thank you,” she murmured, grasping the rib tightly; she’d managed to catch it before Zelda’s spell took hold. “You have no idea how awful, how disturbing that sensation was.”
“I have some.” Zelda bit out harshly, and Faustus’ hand landed on the small of her back, rubbing small, soothing circles. Trying to calm her, ground her, remind her she was free. Shifting into his touch to acknowledge the comfort, Zelda kept her focus on the witch still frozen on the couch. “Now answer.”
Lilith ran her tongue over her teeth as if contemplating the pros and cons, and then replied. “Killing her mandrake would have been the last perversion. Suicide. That would have allowed the Dark Lord to return in His original form. If you’re telling me the truth about the mandrake, then you’ve thrown a wrench in His plans. Lucifer won’t be a man now, but He can still return, still force the prophecy to come true. I won’t let that happen. And you all are going to help me prevent it.”
Though it seemed their ultimate goals appeared to be the same, Zelda didn’t trust the woman an inch. And Lilith’s gall is assuming they would help, that she could order them to, it did nothing for Zelda’s temper. “Why should we help you?” Zelda snarled, raising a hand and curling it, the result was a magical choke hold, lifting the small woman off the couch; she didn’t need to be close to cause damage. Her family gasped behind her and Faustus groaned quietly, but Zelda didn’t relent. “You’re the one who manipulated all this, made it possible for Sabrina to almost fulfill this cursed prophecy. We’re just lucky we caught her before she got rid of her powers permanently.” Her grip tightened with the accusation and the witch coughed uncomfortably. “Besides, why should we believe you’ve turned against the Dark Lord?”
“Perhaps someone’s defiance gave me hope,” Lilith quipped, her eyes darting to Sabrina, “reminded me my story wasn’t finished yet, that my destiny hadn’t been decided.”
Sabrina came and stood next to Zelda. “I don’t believe you.”
Somehow managing to throw Sabrina a condescending look, Lilith added. “Because I have someone I want to protect from the Dark Lord as well.” When Zelda looked at her skeptically, Lilith slowly lifted a brow and muttered a spell—her inability to use her hands meant it was weak, but she still was able to cast it despite her immobility. The mirror next to her shimmered and the face of a man appeared in the glass.
Sneering, Zelda tightened her grip on Lilith’s throat further. “You expect me to believe you’ve turned against the Dark Lord because of this man? Because you care for a mortal?”
Lilith grimaced, her cheeks turning red, but tipped her chin up in defiance. “Yes,” she rasped, “I love him. And Satan took him from me just as He took everything else. If we defeat Him, we can save not only Sabrina, but Adam as well.”
Brow furrowing, Sabrina crossed her arms. “She’s lying. She doesn’t like men, she’s a lesbian.”
Hilda looked at their niece sharply. “Sabrina!” She admonished, “don’t go guessing people’s sexuality, or assuming it. It’s rude.”
“Though it’s certainly no one’s business, if it convinces you I’m telling the truth….” Lilith tried to swallow around the hold Zelda still maintained on her throat. “I’m demisexual,” she supplied. “Why do you think I stayed with the Dark Lord for so long? Part of it was it was all I’d ever known. But He wasn’t always as He is now. And when He was just Lucifer, well, there’s never been anyone I’ve been closer to than Him. The bond we had, the intimacy, He knew and understood me better than anyone and I Him. Both of us spurned and thrown out of our homes, left for dead... survivors. We were once so close. I, I didn’t want to lose that. Even when He changed, when He no longer wanted me... I, I changed too, to be what He wanted. I couldn’t lose him, not the only person who knew me, my history, my trials and triumphs. And as the years passed there were fewer and fewer left who knew me as anything other than what I’d made myself to please Him. The mother of demons.
And as a succubus it was almost impossible to determine if someone was interested in me for me or just because of the aura I naturally give off because of my powers. Because of this I rarely managed to form a meaningful connection with anyone, that and, well, Lucifer’s cruelty put me off from even attempting to create bonds with others. He likely would have looked down upon them even if I’d managed. I did make sure to play the part most expected me to, the sexed-up demoness, making innuendos about and to anyone, it never meant anything.” Lilith sighed and tried to roll her neck a little, but Zelda held fast, unmoved by Lilith’s story. “It never meant anything until Adam, Mary’s Adam. He, he treated me like an equal, and that’s all I ever wanted, an equal, a partner. He put my needs on the same level as his, if not above and checked to see if I was taking care of myself. Adam was different. He taught me witches could love. And now the Dark Lord has him, and I will not let that stand. So, Zelda Spellman-Blackwood, you should help me because I’m protecting a loved one too.”
Eyes narrowing, Zelda gave the witch an appraising look and tightened her hold a bit more; Lilith’s face turning a darker shade of red. “This mortal isn’t your only motivation. I don’t care if you’re demisexual and bonded with him or not, there is more. And if you continue to dance around the subject, I’ll stop resisting and do what I’ve been longing to do to you since you took Sabrina to perform that exorcism.” And Zelda knew the glint in her eye, the dangerous one that held dark and painful possibilities, convinced the witch.
Lips twisting, Lilith nodded. “Fine,” she spat, and Zelda loosened her grip just a little in reward. Not missing the gesture, Lilith continued. “It’s because I want the thrown and crown. I’ve worked for them, I’ve earned them, they’re mine. And if Satan thinks He can give them to some half-witch who’s still wet behind the ears instead of me, then let’s gut the bastard and I’ll take them myself.”
There is was. There was the raw truth.
Apparently having the same thought, Sabrina cocked her head and scoffed. “At least you’re being honest.”
Seeming to think she’d given too much of herself away, Lilith smiled nastily. “That, and well, you can’t hope to defeat the Dark Lord without me.”
Hilda tugged at the sleeves of her cardigan. “But what, what do we do against the Dark Lord? I mean, He’s a bit of a god, isn’t He?”
A sneer of distaste pulled Lilith’s mouth to the side. “No. He’s not a god and never has been. That’s one of Satan’s greatest lies. He’s just a fallen angel, a creature of the cosmos. Powerfully ageless,” Lilith admitted with a slight lift of a brow, “but I’ve seen Him bleed. And I know His weak spots.” She paused for effect. “If you wish for me to tell you.
And oh, how Zelda wished she could just crush this creature’s throat and be done with her. But Lilith was right, no matter how much Zelda despised it… they needed her help. With an effort, Zelda released her choke hold and waved a hand to end the holding spell.
Her sudden freedom surprised Lilith and she landed none too gracefully, to Zelda’s slight satisfaction. Recovering quickly, she smiled at them, clasping her hands in front of her. “You’ve made the right decision.” She murmured, looking a little too smug for Zelda’s taste, but they were temporary allies, so she bit her tongue.
“So, you get the throne, Sabrina gets her freedom. No more Dark Lords, demons or anything or anyone else meddling in her life if we defeat the Dark Lord.” Hilda clarified, coming up behind Sabrina and placing her hands on the girl’s shoulders.
Arching a brow, Lilith nodded. “Sounds like a deal to me. Are the rest of you on board with that?” She asked, letting her eyes sweep over everyone.
Abigail huffed and eyed the witch carefully. “I was always partial to Lilith,” she admitted casually, though the way she glared at the demoness said differently. “Though I might change my mind if she chooses to play with the lives of people I love as the Dark Lord did.”
An impressed smile curled Lilith’s lips and she inclined her head in acknowledgment. “Duly noted.” She then turned to Ambrose and Prudence expectantly.
“For Sabrina, of course.” Ambrose stated, smiling at them where’d they’d clumped together in front of Lilith. “Family first.” He winked at Zelda and she couldn’t help the brief upward tick of her mouth in return.
Prudence took a little longer to answer. “I’ll defy Him. But not for the half-breed over there.” She jerked her chin at Sabrina. “I’ll do it for my siblings, the Dark Lord would have ripped them away from me. And I’ll do it for the coven. The high council would’ve passed archaic laws hurting witches and the Dark Lord would have done nothing to stop them. He’s not someone I put faith in anymore either.” The young woman glanced at Zelda and then averted her eyes, a slight blush on her cheeks but she looked confident enough.
Pleased, Lilith turned to Faustus. “And you, Father Blackwood?” She intoned mockingly, clearly relishing this commitment more than the others. “Will you see me on the throne as Queen of Hell?”
Stiffening, Faustus glared at the demoness. “If it means protecting my family, then yes I will align myself with you.”
“Enough of this pissing contest,” Zelda cut in before Lilith could open her mouth, likely to gloat. “If we’re to put you on the throne in place of Sabrina and the Dark Lord is already on His way, then we need to move fast. We’ve already killed the high council, you’re welcome,” she informed Lilith who’s jaw clicked shut in astonishment at the news. “You can rebuild it in whatever image you like, once we rid ourselves of the Satan.”
Half raising her hand, Sabrina spoke up. “If we’re to take on the Dark Lord, I’d like to have my powers back so I can actually help.”
Looking around the room, Lilith pursed her lips. “We’ll need more help than just that, as Zelda said, it’s going to take more than…” She pivoted slowly, counting. “Eight of us to overthrow Lucifer.”
Unable to argue, Zelda finally looked at Faustus. “Brother Lovecraft, the other staff, your Judas boys and the older students who freed us… do you think they’re behind you and the Church of Night enough to follow us down this path?”
It was Prudence who responded. “Yes. Ambrose and I can go and rally them. The ones who refuse will be thrown in cells until this is done and the ones who are too young will be left to weather the coming storm at the academy. They’ll be safe there.”
A proud smile tugged Faustus’ lips and he touched Prudence’s arm as she and Ambrose made to leave. “Be safe. Use your instincts when gathering allies.” Prudence smiled at him and nodded, biting her lip briefly before lurching forward and hugging him. Stunned, Faustus returned the gesture. “And there’s something in my office I need you to grab while you’re there.”
Turning her attention back to the group, Zelda spun her rings. “Lilith, we cannot rely on support solely from witches in Greendale. We need assistance from Hell as well.”
“If I knew where support might be garnered in Hell, do you think I’d have waited this long to turn against Lucifer?” She observed scornfully, and the tone rankled Zelda.
Closing the distance between them, Zelda used the extra inch she had on the witch to her advantage. Crowding into Lilith’s space, Zelda bared her teeth, fingers twitching to choke her again. “I don’t know how long you’d have served your master. It wasn’t until you learned He planned on making my girl Queen that you fully turned. So, my skepticism of you is well-founded and well placed. If I could do this without you, I would. If I could kill you and still keep my family safe, I would.” She smiled thinly and let her eyes flick up and down the woman and huffed as if what she found was lacking. “Unfortunately, I need you. Or so you say. But it seems you need us as well.” Before Lilith could make some quip, Zelda stepped back and lit a cigarette—pettily blowing the smoke of her first draw at Lilith. “I suggest you find the three plague kings, the higher demons who were so Heaven-bent on Sabrina not ascending they tried to kill her. They won’t like the Dark Lord’s plan to raise her still, to be thrown in with the other, more lowly, demons as soldiers. Talk to them, convince them it’s in their best interest to follow their mother, to elevate one of their own, someone intimately familiar with Hell, the witching realm and demons.”
Lilith cocked her head and lifted a brow. Though seemingly unwilling to follow an order, there was little logic in arguing against it. Huffing, Lilith rolled her shoulders. “A solid plan,” she conceded, somewhat unwillingly. “And while I’m there, I might just pick up the daggers of the ancient city of Megiddo. They’ll help us strike the Dark Lord’s most vulnerable spot; where His wings were torn from His body.” With a slightly cocky smirk, Lilith turned and teleported away, as though going to Hell to fetch demons and weapons had been her plan all along.
Rolling her eyes, Zelda shifted her attention back to the others who were staring at her; impressed with her show down with the mother of demons. “Abigail, would you be so kind as to restore my niece’s powers to her? The mandrake’s storage unit is marked, and the books Sabrina and Ambrose so carelessly used should still be down there. You can reverse engineer the spell, right?”
A chuckle escaped Abigail. “Can I, can I reverse, reverse engineer? Please, Zelda, it’s like you don’t know me at all.” She swatted playfully at Zelda before grasping Sabrina’s shoulders and steering her towards the basement. “Come on little missy, this won’t be pleasant.”
She could hear Abigail continuing to lightly scold Sabrina as they disappeared down the stairs and couldn’t fully suppress a smile. Despite the dire circumstances they’d found themselves in, Abigail still managed to make her feel better. That, and well, Zelda was infinitely grateful her friend was dealing with the mandrake so neither she nor Hilda would have to.
Looking a little uncertain, Nicholas stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I think I’ll see if Abigail needs any help.” He stated, hurrying after the other two. And the fact that he’d rather spend time with the witch who reamed him after the whole wedding debacle than with Zelda was telling. The young warlock seemed worried Zelda would do something for his role in this mess, for how he’d acted with the rib… maybe she would, if they all survived. Until then, though, Abigail probably could use another set of hands and Sabrina could use someone in her corner.
“Are we really going to confront Satan here?” Hilda asked anxiously, recapturing Zelda’s attention and looking around the house, likely imagining the entire thing in ruins.
Shaking her head, Zelda looked around as well. “No. It’s hardly ideal. But it’s a good place to prepare and rally our forces. Which means, we’ll need to set up extra spells and precautions just in case the Dark Lord arrives before we’re ready.”
“Spikes, onions and spells, coming right up.” Faustus murmured before heading outside to fortify their already existing wards.
Which left Zelda with her sister.
Hilda pulled at her fingers. “I’m so sorry, Zelds. For not telling you about Diana and her worries and that Sabrina might not be Edward’s. Heaven, this means she’s not really ours either, so Diana’s family should have taken her. If they had maybe all this could have been avoided. Oh Zelds…” Tears finally came pouring down Hilda’s cheeks and she slumped onto the couch, head buried in her hands.
The words were knives to Zelda’s heart, confirming her own worst, and often unvoiced, fears. But she couldn’t let Hilda blame herself, not for this. How could any of them anticipate a prophecy of apocalyptic proportions? Let alone Sabrina being in the middle of it all?
Sitting down next to her sister, Zelda placed a hand on Hilda’s back. “And had I told you of my concerns about Ward—, Lilith,” she corrected through gritted teeth, “sooner, we might have kept Sabrina away from her, thus keeping her from fulfilling so much of the prophecy.”
When Hilda whimpered and shook her head, still not looking at her, Zelda frowned.
Gently taking Hilda’s chin in her hand, Zelda redirected her sister’s gaze. “Your secret, if you want to call it that, is years old and one you thought unfounded. Why would you feel the need to share? It was not like mine, and you forgave me those. How could I not forgive you this?”
A watery smile tentatively curled Hilda’s lips. “Seems despite everything we need to get better at communicating.”
Giving her sister a small smile in return, Zelda tucked a strand of Hilda’s hair back. “It seems we do.” She acquiesced softly. “That’s something to improve on another time. Right now, we need to prepare the house and do everything we can to protect our girl. Hmm?”
“She is ours, isn’t she? Once a Spellman…” Hilda murmured, scrubbing a hand over her cheeks to rid it of remaining tears. “Thank you, Zelds.” She breathed, pulling her into a tight hug before standing up and clearing her throat. “I’ll make preparations in here, rally the troops once they arrive. You should go outside and help Faustus with the perimeter spells; no one knows our wards better than you.” When Zelda grimaced slightly, Hilda sighed. “You’ll have to forgive him too.”
Face scrunching slightly, Zelda jerked a shoulder. “Must I? What he kept secret put Sabrina in danger.”
Hilda arched brow. “Did it? From what we learned, Sabrina’s been in danger her whole life. Had Faustus revealed Lilith, another spy would have been sent to manipulate Sabrina. And this time no one would have been aware of it. He kept a secret, yes, but he was doing what he thought was right at the time to protect his family.” She paused a moment and tilted her head to catch Zelda’s eye when she continued to look stubbornly forward. “Sound familiar?”
Running her tongue over her teeth, Zelda stood as well. “Annoyingly so.” She muttered, somewhat hating how much sense her sister made. Zelda would have liked to harbor a bit of a grudge towards Faustus for a while, it’d been ages since she had this kind of leverage on him and his resulting efforts to make it up to her would have been lovely. But now wasn’t the time to play their normal games, though, there was too much at stake. Speaking of which… “I’m going outside to help. Do what you can in here.”
An amused huff emanated from Hilda, but her sister made no further remarks as Zelda hurried through the kitchen, snagging onions on her way, and out the back door.
Iron stakes already surrounded the property, twice actually, one ring on the outermost edges of their land and another, tighter, circle several yards back from the first. Impressed, Zelda waved her hand and sent the onions flying out to hang from the stakes.
“That saved me some time, thanks.”
Zelda jumped, not having heard Faustus come up behind her. And despite Hilda’s advice, her logic, Zelda couldn’t help the small part of her that was still mad at her husband.
When she didn’t respond, Faustus sighed. “Still angry, I see. Would it make any difference if I apologized again—"
A slap cut off his words, her arm moving on its own accord. “You didn’t really apologize a first time.” Zelda noted, flexing her hand a little to rid it of the sting.
Rubbing his cheek, Faustus cocked his head in acknowledgment. “Alright, I deserved that.” She scoffed and moved closer to the perimeter to cast additional protective spells. He trailed after her. “I am sorry, for whatever its worth. But I wouldn’t change what I did, I—"
Not letting him finish, Zelda turned and cast a spell sending him flying back into a patch of vegetables about 20 feet away. Perhaps it was a bit ridiculous to still be angry with him, especially considering everything happening; and he truly hadn’t meant any harm…. But she had so much fury, so much anxiety, doubt and a torrent of other emotions swirling inside her and Zelda needed an outlet. And Faustus happened to be the most convenient one, and she technically had a reason to use him as an outlet as well.
Faustus picked himself up and walked back over, brushing himself off as he went. “I did what I had to do to protect the twins. And I’d do it again if it meant their safety.” He finished, watching her closely. When she didn’t respond, violently or otherwise, Faustus ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Will you forgive me within the next decade?”
And his tone was a bit irritating, as though she were being childish in her refusal to forgive him immediately. If she were honest, Zelda was irritated with herself as much as Faustus. She understood his actions, would have done the same had the situation been reversed; withholding a name did seem trivial in comparison to her family’s lives.
“You’re just lucky we don’t have time for you to resurrect.” She threw at him instead, trying to slap him again.
This time he caught her wrist. “You’d have done the same.” He noted coolly.
Yes. She would have, but Zelda wasn’t quite willing to say a much yet. “Stop using that as an excuse.”
“Why? Because you know it’s true? Because you can’t argue against it.” Faustus demanded, releasing her wrist and flinging it away a little.
“Yes.” She ground out, unable to deflect any longer. But just because, on some level, Zelda understood and forgave him, it didn’t mean on another level she still didn’t want to be petulant, refuse to forgive him and walk away. How Hilda had forgiven her on more than one occasion for keeping secrets pertaining to their family’s safety Zelda wasn’t sure. Clearly, she’d need to ask her sister for tips.
Baffled, Faustus threw his hands in the air. “Then what am I to do? Just accept your anger?”
Practically trembling with everything she was trying to hold in, the next words burst out of Zelda’s mouth unbidden. “Yes! Because I am so, so full of it right now I think I might explode, and Sabrina is supposed to be a child bride and the woman I want to take it all out on is not an option.”
He softened. “Zels—"
No. She didn’t want his sympathy. “Don’t.” She ordered, turning to actually do the job they’d come outside to do; onions and stakes would only go so far.
Catching her arm, Faustus tugged gently until she faced him once more. “Zelda, we need Lilith. The plan won’t work without her.” He was likely thinking of how she’d had to be physically restrained from killing the witch not even thirty minutes prior.
“I’m well aware.” She bit out, fists clenching to contain the magic sparking there.
Faustus spread his arms out. “Would it help to hit me again?” He asked, only half-joking.
Deflating a bit, Zelda shook her head. “Not when you’re willing.” She muttered, moving once more to cast spells.
Never one to let things go, Faustus fell into step beside her. “So… I take it you forgive me then? If your real anger is directed at Lilith?” At her arched brow, he hurriedly corrected, “most of your anger is directed at her.”
She’d already lost so many people she loved to forces outside her control, she couldn’t lose him too. Not to her own actions. So, she settled for a muttered, “perhaps,” and kept walking. “If you never lie to me again.”
And there it was, the true crux of the matter… he’d lied to her. It wasn’t as though they had a history of being honest, far from it. But Zelda thought after Leticia, after the Solstice, after Lupercalia, the night of their wedding eve, the wedding itself, their entire experience with the Caligari spell, their confessions of love…. Well, she’d thought after all that they were past secrets and lies.
As if sensing where her thoughts were, Faustus scoffed lightly and shook his head in amusement. “Were you ever going to tell me about your loss of faith?” Him pointing out her hypocrisy did nothing to improve her attitude towards him.
“Now is hardly the time for such a discussion, Faustus.” She hedged, moving along the perimeter and casting more spells.
He touched her arm and she turned, eyebrow raised expectantly. “There may never be another time.” He murmured, lifting a brow of his own. “That, that was a big, heavy secret. I understand you not telling me before. I was only your high priest, and despite our history you likely worried I’d turn you in.” Faustus closed the distance between them and reached to cup her cheek, when she didn’t pull away, he stroked a thumb along her skin. “A valid concern, but I’d never have done anything to hurt you, Zelda. If you’d come to me, I’d have tried to help you back into the arms of the church, but I’d never have betrayed you.” He emphasized, looking at her earnestly.
Exhaling shakily, Zelda shrugged. “It was a chance I couldn’t take.” Faustus huffed a little at that and she realized the same explanation could easily be applied to his decision concerning Lilith. Cocking her head at him in acknowledgement, Zelda continued. “It was a chance I couldn’t take, and it was why I turned you down when you proposed the first time. I, I didn’t think I could maintain my charade and be married to you. And at the time, the charade kept my family safe, kept what was left whole. I had to pick the charade, my family, over my own wants.” She leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut briefly. “I’m sorry, but I—"
Lips quirking into a partial smile, Faustus rested his forehead against hers. “Don’t apologize. You’ve always put your family first. Over your happiness, your wants, your health, your safety.” He stated meaningfully, likely thinking of the Caligari spell. “I, I’m just glad I am now part of the family. And perhaps I can look out for you, someone has to do it.” He teased, a hand landing in her hip and drawing her closer. “I cannot promise I’ll never keep a secret in the future, or that I’ll never lie to you again. That’s a promise neither of us could make and keep. But I will do better to tell my wife everything I can, okay?”
The sentiment had Zelda smiling and she tipped onto her toes to kiss him lightly. “I’ll do the same,” she pledged when they broke, clutching him to her tightly. “But unless we focus, husband, there won’t be much of a future for us to do better in.” She took his hand and they continued around the property, casting spells with their combined magic.
After several minutes of silence, Faustus tugged her hand to stop her and Zelda could tell from his expression that he’d been working out how to say this while they walked; so she waited patiently for him to begin.
“I love you, Zelda. Your loss of faith changes nothing. I told you I about how mine was faltering. Not knowingly,” he conceded, “I thought you unaware under the Caligari spell, but you knew all the same. And now, after everything...” Faustus exhaled sharply and shrugged as if at a loss for the words he’d so carefully tried to construct during their walk.
But Zelda knew what her husband was trying to say; he’d officially been broken too. The Dark Lord had done nothing but take from him; his mother, his siblings, Constance, Leticia for a time. And then, then He'd taken her through the Caligari, had threatened her death on multiple occasions, and then allowed the high council to rip the twins away—only for a few hours but it could have been years, it could have been forever.
A shuddering exhale escaped her, and Zelda moved into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging hard to show she understood what Faustus was trying to say. Lilith hadn’t done them any favors, had helped put them in this predicament in the first place; but she was better than the dark creature who only caused them pain. She was better if only because the Dark Lord had plans for her girl and Zelda refused to let Him touch Sabrina. She was better if only because the Dark Lord liked to threaten their family and Lilith had little interest in them beyond how they could help.
She could only hope once this was all over, if they survived, that Lilith would be too busy ruling and leave them alone. Squeezing Faustus once more, Zelda pulled back and cupped his cheek. “I know, I love you too,” she breathed. “We must hold onto one another now more than ever. One another and our family, these are the only things we can have faith in now.”
Nodding, Faustus linked a hand with hers once more, kissing the back of it before intertwining their magic once more and resuming their path around the house; casting spells together.
Hilda called them inside after a time, stating everyone else had returned. And it was probably for the best, there were only so many wards one could put up before they started interfering with one another and she and Faustus were just about to try and get creative to see when they’d hit that limit.
Tiredly, the two of them trooped up the porch steps. Zelda blinked in surprise when they had to squeeze inside because it was so full. Apparently, Ambrose and Prudence had been more successful in their recruiting than expected.
Witches were packed into every corner of the kitchen, sitting on the counters, leaning against walls, sitting two to a seat, overflowing into the greenhouse.
Turning to scan the room, Zelda saw Ambrose folded into a corner, talking with a group of Judas boys at the same time she caught a glimpse of Prudence entering the kitchen with her sisters, something tucked under her arm which she held up for Faustus to see. Nodding, her husband made his way through the crowd and guided Prudence back into the other room, perhaps hoping to speak more privately there.
With a shake of her head, Zelda pushed through the mass of people in her kitchen and came to a stop in front of her nephew. “Ambrose?” She cocked a brow and let her gaze sweep over the large number of people crammed into their house.
He grinned. “Auntie!” He took her arm and directed her to the parlor. It was only slightly less full there, but with demons instead of witches; it appeared Lilith had been successful as well. “It seems we have more friends than previously believed. Prudence and I only had to lock a handful in the witching cells, the rest wanted to join, but we forced several to stay at the academy due to age. Ann is there with the twins, keeping an eye on all the youngsters.”
“I doubt this outpouring of support is because Faustus is such a benevolent leader and our family is so beloved by the coven.” She retorted, Zelda knew she’d seen the group of witches who’d come for Sabrina when she was little—the burn marks radiating up Sara’s neck still prominent against the woman’s skin despite years of spells, charms and potions. And Annabeth’s missing pinkies weren’t hard to miss either, especially when the witch had reached up to tuck hair behind her ear as Zelda searched the room.
Smirking, Ambrose gave her a shrug. “You’re not wrong. Our family seems to be either loved or despised.” He informed her casually, clearly not having expected any less. “But even those who despise us came, after a rather thorough vetting, of course.”
Zelda glanced back into the kitchen and caught Berta glaring at her; though the woman dropped her gaze quickly when their eyes met. “And why would they come?” She asked, focus lingering on the group for a moment longer before she turned back to her nephew.
“Because they don’t want a Spellman on the throne any more than we do. Especially not the half-breed.” Ambrose added the last part in an exaggerated whisper and winked at her. When she gave him an unamused stare, Ambrose’s teasing manner fell away. “We won’t let anything happen to her, Auntie, I promise.”
She rubbed the back of her neck and pressed her lips into a thin line. “I suppose we have to take what motivations we can get, as long as we want the same outcome.” Zelda took in the number of demons loitering in her parlor, including the plague kings who’d tried to kill Sabrina, and forced the surrealness of the situation away. “I take it most of the demons share the sentiment. That a half-witch girl shouldn’t rule over them and better their mother than Sabrina or the beast who’d elevate her.”
Looking around a little uneasily, Ambrose nodded. “Most likely. But Lilith seemed certain of their support, regardless of their reasons…. Beggars can’t be choosers.” He added quietly as a demon lumbered past them, its head nearly brushing the ceiling.
A scoff left Zelda before she could hold it back, no, they were certainly in no position to turn down help. She just worried about the loyalty of some of their ‘allies’. She didn’t doubt they’d fight the Dark Lord; they wouldn’t even risk being here unless they were committed.
No, she worried one might take the chance to kill Sabrina during whatever fight ensued. If they couldn’t kill Satan, then at least they could rid themselves of the unworthy Queen in the process.
There was little to do about it now. If she could, Zelda would have hidden Sabrina away behind every conceivable form of protection. But, as much as she hated it, she couldn’t. There was no guarantee the Dark Lord wouldn’t just track Sabrina down wherever they stowed her. Better Sabrina was nearby, with them when Satan came than stashed away and alone.
Resisting the urge to rub her temples to try and abate the pounding of her head, Zelda conjured a cigarette instead. She took a fortifying drag, patted Ambrose on the shoulder and made for the basement; she hadn’t seen Abigail, Sabrina or Nicholas upstairs.
As she made her way downstairs, Zelda sensed various spells being cast then abruptly cut off. Concerned, she hurried down the remaining steps and found Sabrina sitting on one of the exam tables, Abigail instructing her to complete different magical tasks.
A relieved sigh escaped her; nothing had gone wrong in the reversal process. Abigail was merely testing Sabrina’s abilities, and given what they’d been prior to this misadventure, Zelda couldn’t blame her friend.
Coming to a stop by the end of the table, Zelda arched a brow. “I take it it went well. You seem to have your powers back.” She remarked, tracking a floating tray of instruments with her eyes before turning her attention back to Sabrina.
“Very well,” Abigail murmured, eyes still on the clipboard in her hands, pen ticking off items as she went. “You can stop now,” she informed Sabrina, setting the clipboard aside and checking Sabrina’s vitals. From the way Sabrina rolled her eyes, this wasn’t the first time they’d been monitored.
Before Zelda could inquire further, Nicholas came back, dirt and soot smeared on his person. “Done. The mandrake’s destroyed, burned and the ashes buried in the woods far from the Cain pit.”
She raised a brow and rounded the table to look Sabrina over. “Did all the powers come back?”
Abigail shook her head. “Doesn’t appear so. Just the ones she was born with. That’s a risk, in reversing spells like this one. Some of the power gets trapped in the container it was transferred to. Thankfully, Miss Sabrina here had powers to spare.” She arched a brow and dropped her hands, stepping away to let Sabrina leverage herself off the table.
“But no other complications?” Zelda persisted, placing a hand on Sabrina’s shoulder and forcing her to spin slowly so she could check for abnormalities. “The mandrake has no way of coming back and wreaking havoc?”
Snorting, Abigail gave Sabrina an appraising look. “Not unless this one decides to do more stupid things and make another.”
Lips twisting, Sabrina swallowed whatever flippant comment she’d been about to make and folded her arms. “Thank you for helping me, Abigail.”
Somewhat surprised, Abigail cocked her head, lips quirking up a little. “Of course. Though I was really just helping your aunt.” She added teasingly, winking at Sabrina. Before her niece could react, Abigail turned to her. “Has anyone from my coven come?”
Baffled, Zelda just looked at her blankly. “Your coven?”
“Yes, my coven,” Abigail repeated, starting to tuck supplies back where they belonged. “You did mention that Greendale witches wouldn’t be enough; so, I sent for reinforcements. I called Rebecca, you know, saying I’m alive, Letty’s safe, all the mandatory things. And I also mentioned what we planned and asked her to gather as many Church of Shadows members as she could and rendezvous here. Rebecca sounded rather optimistic she’d find a decent number of witches to help.”
At a loss for words, Zelda stubbed out her cigarette and hugged her friend. “Thank you,” she breathed, “for everything.”
Pulling back, Abigail framed Zelda’s face with her hands. “Of course, mon cheri, what’s family for?” She kissed Zelda’s cheek and then made for the stairs. “I’m going to look for Rebecca and others from my coven. There’s no shortage of witches who the Dark Lord hurt; He spent more time burning bridges than building them. Also,” she drew the word out, “as it turned out, not many witches wish to live in Hell on Earth ruled by a demon army. Quite unpleasant.” Abigail noted, as though she were commenting on the weather. “In any case, we’ll get it done, Zee.” She smiled widely and strode up the stairs, calling out loudly for her wife before the door even swung shut behind her.
Emboldened by Abigail’s easy confidence—her friend always was much more easy-going than Zelda, seeing the good rather than the bad—Zelda turned to her niece and her boyfriend. “Alright, now that that nonsense is taken care of,” she eyed them pointedly and the two teens had enough sense to duck their heads sheepishly. “Nicholas how about you go upstairs and gather the core group? Those of us who were here for the initial reveal and plan, tell them to meet in the office. We’ll be up in a moment.”
Nodding, Nicholas hurried up the steps to search for everyone he needed in the packed upper level.
Zelda waited until the door closed once more, muffling the general chatter and noise from above, and then turned to Sabrina. “You feel alright? Stable?”
“I do,” Sabrina looked at her hands and flexed them. “Though, I miss the powers. I know, I know,” she continued before Zelda could interrupt, “they weren’t safe. And they are gone, I can tell. They felt different than my normal ones. But they were nice while I had them, and I felt like I was really helping people with them.”
Closing the distance between them, Zelda took Sabrina’s chin in her hand and lifted it so their eyes met. “You don’t need crazy powers to help people, sweetheart. You just need to have the will and desire.” This earned her a small smile and Zelda released Sabrina’s chin to cup her cheek. “Whatever comes next, you must do as I say. This isn’t me forbidding you to sneak out with Harvey, this isn’t some small thing. We have more allies than I anticipated, but I do not trust them all and I trust Lilith even less. All she’s ever done is lied, while I believe she wants the throne, I’m not sure she’ll follow through in our best interest if it means she doesn’t get it.”
Sabrina huffed, though her eyes glazed with unshed tears. “I wish we could trust her, part of me still thinks of her as Ms. Wardwell. It’s hard not to.”
A sympathetic smile touched Zelda’s lips and she tucked Sabrina’s hair back. “I know. But your Ms. Wardwell was mortal, and she’s been gone for months now. Lilith did a good job, wheedling her way into your life, making it seem as though she were a confidant. I should have acted on my suspicions sooner, perhaps then we—”
Shaking her head, Sabrina took Zelda’s hand between her own. “We’d still be here, probably. The Dark Lord’s persistent, if nothing else I’ve learned that. And, well, I probably wouldn’t have listened to you if you’d warned me.” Sabrina admitted guiltily, biting her lip. “I wish I could say I’d have been smart, would have followed your advice, but hindsight tells me that wouldn’t have happened. I’d have sought Ms. Wardwell, Lilith,” she corrected with a frown, “even more simply because I always thought I knew best. Still did until the whole mandrake incident.”
“Perhaps many things could have changed this, perhaps none at all if the Dark Lord truly is as adamant about this prophecy as I believe.” Zelda leaned against the exam table heavily, the dizziness and slight buzzing in her ears she’d been ignoring for the past hour coming back with a vengeance. “Regardless, tonight will be brimming with danger; real from the Dark Lord and potential from our supposed allies.” At Sabrina’s confused expression, Zelda elaborated. “If they feel the tables have turned against us, that the Dark Lord will not fall… it is entirely possible they will then seek to destroy what He wants. You.”
Alarmed, Sabrina let out a small squeak.
Reaching out a soothing hand, Zelda pulled Sabrina into her embrace and rubbed a hand up and down the girl’s back. “I won’t let that happen. I said over my dead body, and I meant it.” She practically growled at the idea of anyone hurting her girl. But the comment didn’t have the desired effect, Sabrina stiffened in her arms. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, and I certainly don’t want it to come to that,” Zelda hurried to add. “However, if it is between you and me, there is no choice. I know your Aunt Hilda feels much the same.” She pulled back just enough to hold Sabrina’s face in her hands. “I want our entire family to survive this ordeal, without injury if possible. And in order to make that happen, you must, you must listen to me. Do as I say, when I say, exactly how I say. Understand?”
Tears leaked out of Sabrina’s eyes and her chin quivered. “I, I can’t lose you.” She whimpered, her hands clutching at Zelda’s forearms. “Not you, please Aunt Zelda, don’t make me promise to do as you say if it means letting you die.”
She wiped her girl’s tears away gently, but kept her face stern, now wasn’t the time to be soft. “Sabrina, promise me. I will bind you with a spell if I must, please do not force my hand.”
Shaking her head vehemently, Sabrina sobbed. “No.” She flung herself into Zelda and hugged her painfully tight. “No. I won’t stand by and let you or Aunt Hilda or Ambrose die. Family comes first, you said, why should it be any different for me? I’m a Spellman. I am!”
Zelda returned the hug in kind, tears of her own springing to her eyes, but she forced them down. “You are a Spellman, sweetheart,” she confirmed, “no matter what we learn or what happens, we are your family.” Sabrina sobbed all the harder and pressed her face into Zelda’s neck, hands fisting Zelda’s jacket. “I am not asking you to act differently or have different priorities than Hilda, Ambrose or I because you are not one of us. I am telling you to have self-preservation for once, because I will not survive if something happens to you. I need you to live, to be happy and healthy and whole and safe. I need you safe, Sabrina.”
“And what about what I need?” The question was muffled against Zelda’s shoulder and if possible, Sabrina pressed against her harder.
With a tremendous effort, Zelda swallowed her tears. “You’re sixteen, you have a least a few decades to go before you truly understand what you need.”
A harrumph sounded against her shoulder next and Sabrina pulled back, though her hands still clung to Zelda. Before she could say anything, the door upstairs opened, and Hilda poked her head down. “We’re all ready, Zelds.” And though her voice was relatively calm, she chewed her lower lip anxiously.
Nodding, Zelda gently disengaged from Sabrina, taking her hand and leading her up the stairs to the office without another word. Hopefully what she’d said was enough to keep Sabrina safe, to at least make her girl second guess any rash decisions. She’d have preferred to say more, but there just wasn’t time, Heaven knew when Satan would emerge and start on His path of destruction.
Everyone was there; Hilda, Ambrose, Faustus, Abigail, Prudence, and Lilith… all squeezed into the room.
Impatient, Lilith started before the door was fully closed behind them. “As you can see, I came through on my end with the demons. Once I had the plague kings, the others fell in line quite easily.”
“And what did you promise them in return for their support?” Faustus interrupted Lilith’s gloating.
Sneering at him, Lilith turned to face the rest of the group. “They may have wanted reassurance Sabrina would never try to ascend to the throne at a later date. I was only too happy to make such guarantees.” Her focus narrowed to Sabrina then, eyes hard.
Zelda placed a hand on Sabrina’s shoulder and returned Lilith’s glare, some of the books on the shelf behind her shuddering in place as she worked to control her anger. “No need for thinly veiled threats, Lilith,” she growled, fingers twitching at her side. “Sabrina has no interest in ruling Hell, which is why we’re here in the first place.”
The demoness gave a slight shrug, as if to say she had to check and then continued. “I also managed to procure the daggers I mentioned; the ones forged in the city of Megiddo. With these we should be able to kill Lucifer. Strike him in each shoulder blade where His wings once were, and He shall fall.” She held the daggers out and both Zelda and Hilda took one.
Flipping the dagger, Zelda swiped it experimentally through the air. “It has good balance if nothing else,” she conceded, unwillingly to believe such simple weapons could cause the Dark Lord’s demise.
Equally as skeptical, Faustus placed an item on the desk for everyone to see. “In the case Lilith’s plan fails us, as her plans so often do, Prudence and I have a backup.” Ignoring Lilith’s irritated huff, Faustus turned to Prudence and allowed her to explain.
“It’s the Archaeon Configuration Edward Spellman designed.” She began, mostly for Abigail and Lilith’s sake, the rest of them had rather intimate knowledge of the configuration. “This puzzled held a powerful sleep demon. With some adjustments, my father and I believe it can hold the Dark Lord.”
Impressed, Abigail leaned forward and examined the device. “Interesting,” she murmured, prodding it and casting a quick scanning spell. “You truly believe you can enhance it enough to hold Lucifer? He is an ancient being, after all.”
Shaking his head, Faustus edged around Abigail and waved a hand over the puzzle, opening it up. “At His full strength? Unlikely. But using the daggers and everyone we’ve gathered outside this room” he gestured to the weapons still in Zelda and Hilda’s hands and then at the door, “I believe we can weaken Him enough so this prison can hold Him.”
A scoff emanated from Lilith. “Your toy is unnecessary. We’ll kill—”
“We will use any tool on hand. Satan is powerful, tricky and our allies may be unreliable. Having backup plans hurt nothing and could potentially save our lives.” Zelda cut in harshly, in no mood for their bickering. “If we cannot kill Him, we neutralize Him. Whatever it takes to keep Sabrina safe.”
Hilda hummed loudly in agreement, eyeing everyone in the room in case they felt the need to keep arguing. Zelda couldn’t help but appreciate the way her sister fiddled with the dagger in her hands menacingly for emphasis.
“Okay, so we have daggers and the configuration….” Sabrina began cautiously, and when no one seemed ready to fight beyond sending death glares across the room, she continued. “Now what?”
Lilith propped her hip against the desk and crossed her arms. “Now, I take you to Lucifer.” Objections rose from all sides and the witch rolled her eyes as she held up her hands for silence. “The Dark Lord is under the impression that you are powerless, that the mandrake scheme worked you are at His mercy. He won’t bother to check, so sure His plan is proceeding as planned and the only hitch is you’ve yet to track the mandrake down and kill it. We’ll use that to our advantage. He also underestimates your secret weapon,” Lilith spread her arms out wide to indicate to them, “your family.” She arched a brow and her lips quirked up, just a tad. “He expects me to bring you to the altar in the woods, the place where He fell, where all witches in Greendale sign their names in the Book of the Beast to pledge their loyalty to Him. The area is sacred to Him; when He emerges, if He hasn’t already, Lucifer will go there. Another advantage we have… is the Dark Lord still believes I’m loyal. He won’t expect me to deceive Him, to set a trap.”
Catching on, Zelda stepped forward, mind whirling with possibilities. “So, we get there before Him. The Dark Lord will come from the mines, there’s one quick and sure path from there to the altar, He will take that.” Zelda paced the small space in front of her, tapping the dagger against her palm as she spoke. “If we hide our allies in the tree line on the other three sides, He won’t know they’re there. Will be too arrogant to sweep the area to determine if a threat awaits.”
A wicked grin spread on Abigail’s face. “And even if Satan suspected, we have what He wants waiting for Him” she nodded towards Sabrina, “acting as a distraction from everything else happening in those woods. I assume I’m right in thinking the Dark Lord would have eyes for nothing but Sabrina once He entered the clearing?”
Nodding, Lilith’s lips curled to match Abigail’s. “Indeed, you are correct. We shall set the bait, pin Him in place with iron and spells from our helpers, kill or wound Him with the daggers” she added when Faustus made to interrupt. “If He’s not dead after that, the plague kings and the other demons can attack as they please, our witching troops ensuring Lucifer cannot escape. Once He’s weak enough, we’ll deploy the configuration, trapping Him for eternity.”
It appeared to be a sound plan. But Zelda had had too many plans sour on her to trust it; not with so much of it hinging on things she could not control. An ally could turn, the Dark Lord might overpower them despite their numbers, the daggers might do nothing, the configuration could crumble in its attempt to hold such a powerful being….
No, she wouldn’t allow this to proceed unless one crucial thing changed.
“I will take Sabrina’s place as bait.” She announced, and then, as she’s anticipated, voices rose from all directions. Zelda let the chatter last only a moment before cutting it off. “Sabrina will not be within 50 feet of the Dark Lord. She is what He wants, and she is what He will not have. I’ll glamour myself, stand in her place. If things move as quickly as planned, Satan won’t have a chance to realize He’s been tricked.”
Shaking her head ruefully, Lilith managed to speak first. “It won’t work. While Lucifer may be arrogant and distracted enough not to sense Sabrina’s powers or an ambush in the woods, He will sense if the Sabrina we put in front of Him isn’t His blood.”
Trembling, Sabrina clenched her fists. “I’m not His! In any capacity.”
Hilda placed a reassuring hand on Sabrina’s shoulder and drew her gently back. “You’re certain we cannot trick Him in this manner?” She asked, eyes boring into Lilith in a way that suggested she was considering whipping up some truth cake to be certain of the demoness’ answer.
Eyes darting between Zelda, Sabrina and Hilda, Lilith’s brow furrowed as if trying to comprehend the loyalty, love and strong desire to protect one another that flowed off them. “I am certain.” She murmured, almost apologetically.
“In that case,” Ambrose maneuvered around the room and took the dagger from Zelda’s hand. “I will join Aunt Hilda in the honor of stabbing the Dark Lord; a little payback for how He used me like a puppet to murder the Antipope.”
One of Zelda’s brows lifted on its own accord at this and she cocked her head at her nephew. “Is that so?”
Huffing, Ambrose twirled the dagger in his hands with ease. “Come on, Auntie Zee. If you can’t take Sabrina’s place, you and I both know you’re going to be standing right beside her during this entire thing to keep her safe. You’ll play the role of proud, devoted guardian whose faith has been renewed and would never question the all-powerful being who deemed her ward worthy of being raised to the Dark Lord’s Queen. Am I wrong?” He asked a little smugly.
Not appreciating her nephew’s attempt at flippancy, even if it was aimed at relieving the thick tension in the room, Zelda pursed her lips. “No.” She acquiesced curtly, glancing at the clock on the wall and wincing at how little time they had to prepare. “Alright, it’s settled then. Lilith and I will ‘present’ Sabrina to the Dark Lord.”
“We’ll have to kneel before Him,” Lilith informed them, her mouth twisting as though the words left a sour taste. “Pretend as though we’re submitting, it will play to His ego, His pride, this will gain Lucifer’s trust faster than anything. As we kneel, we’ll pin the Dark Lord to the spot, using iron horseshoes. I take it you have those on hand, given the number of iron spikes you were able to procure to surround your property.” When Zelda and Hilda nodded, Lilith continued. “The moment, the very moment we pin Him, our witch friends hiding in the trees must act. With the horseshoes and their magic containing Him, Hilda and Ambrose should have enough time to circle in behind Him and land the fatal blows.”
Pinching the inside of her arm, Zelda turned to Nicholas, Abigail and Prudence. “You three will be leading our troops; one on each side. Coordinate with them, ensure everyone knows the signal and what spell to use. We cannot have every witch casting a different spell. To ensure we hold the Dark Lord every one of us must combine our magic and lend it to the same incantation.” When they nodded at her, Zelda turned to Faustus and chewed her lip for a moment but knew there was no time to dawdle. “Faustus, you go with them, an extra pair of eyes never hurts, especially given the somewhat unsavory crowd backing us. Go, lead them to the forest now so everything’s in place before Satan arrives.”
Prudence moved first, snatching up the Archaeon Configuration and slipping out the door with only a determined nod at Zelda.
Her friend was a little slower, her eyes raking over the group and resting menacingly on Lilith as a final warning before they ultimately ended on Zelda. “Don’t go and get noble on me, Zelda Fiona,” she cautioned quietly so no one else could hear, hugging Zelda hard. “I know when you’ve got an idea in your head, remember, that’s the very last resort.”
Not wanting to risk anyone overhearing the rest of Abigail’s lecture, Zelda squeezed her friend tightly and then pulled away. “Be safe, Abs, thank you.” The two words hardly conveyed how much and how deeply she appreciated Abigail standing with her, working to protect Sabrina from the Dark Lord himself. When this was all over, Zelda would have a lot of making up to do to Abigail and Rebecca both.
With one last pat to Zelda’s cheek, Abigail left the room as well. Nicholas frowned, but kissed Sabrina swiftly on the lips, murmured something to her Zelda couldn’t hear and then left as well.
Faustus showed no sign of budging though. “I don’t like this. I should stand with you, not hide in the trees.”
The sentiment made Zelda melt, and before she could respond, Ambrose claimed he needed to smelt horseshoes, Lilith muttered something about rallying the demons, and Hilda merely ushered Sabrina from the room, not bothering with an excuse.
Once the door clicked shut, Faustus crossed the room and pulled Zelda closer, his hands on her hips. “We are husband and wife, our places are beside each other in all things, or so you claimed in the limo after we wed.”
While the fact that he remembered what she said warmed Zelda, there wasn’t time for them to argue. “Darling,” she raised her hands to frame his face, her thumbs brushing along his jaw. “The Dark Lord will believe I’ve renewed my faith so quickly because Sabrina’s my niece. He’ll believe I’ve put my disobedience behind me, the need for the Caligari spell behind me, if it means I am related to royalty.” And it disgusted Zelda that before Edward died this very well may have been true. She’d been so ambitious and power-hungry then she’d have done just about anything to advance herself, to be closer to the Dark Lord; which was partly why no one ever suspected she’d lost her faith. “You’ve blatantly defied Him too many times, and not just in general, but to Him personally. Faustus, you must—”
An unhappy growl rumbled through her husband, and his lips dipped into a frown. “I know, I know. I just worry that—”
She placed a finger against his mouth to silence him. “I worry too. I hate this. I’d replace Sabrina in a heartbeat if I had a shred of evidence the Dark Lord would fall for it. Just as I know you’d replace me, or at least stand with me, if it were possible.” Her lips tugged into a sad, tired smile. “But we must work with what we have and one thing we do not have is time. Please, go, get everyone stationed in the woods, keep the demons in line, and work with Abigail, Prudence and Nicholas to ready the Archaeon Configuration.”
With a final disgruntled huff, Faustus kissed her, pouring everything he didn’t have time to say into the movement of his lips against hers and the way he clutched her tightly. “I’ll guard your back.” He promised and then swept out of the room.
Zelda slumped against the desk once he left, trembling slightly. While she should have left the room as well, gone and prepped Sabrina, threatened Lilith against any last changes of heart, cast a ridiculous number of protection spells over Hilda and Ambrose should the trick with the daggers fail…. She couldn’t.
Not right then.
This was the first moment she’d had alone since her wedding—Zelda didn’t count the time while under the Caligari spell—and she desperately needed a moment to collect herself, to process the events slamming into her.
Events like Sabrina wasn’t really theirs; she was the Dark Lord’s daughter; she was meant to bring about the apocalypse as the Herald of Hell and then rule beside Lucifer’s side. And because all that, they were rallying demons and witches alike to fight, actually fight, the Dark Lord alongside Lilith, mother of demons and bringer of doom.
Lifting a shaking hand to her forehead, Zelda attempted to take several deep breaths to stop how the room spun around her. Now wasn’t the time for blood pressure to get the best of her and things would only get more stressful as the evening wore on. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, let her body get the best of her, wouldn’t let it put Sabrina in danger.
Mind made up, Zelda pushed off the desk only to have to grasp at the chair a foot in front of it for balance. Grinding her teeth, Zelda ignored how the world faded in and out of focus as she straightened the best she could and marched from the office, through the now thinning throngs of people and demons filling her house and into the greenhouse.
She knew Hilda had some Cat’s Claw potion somewhere in this blasted place. When used properly, over time, it helped control blood pressure. Zelda didn’t have time; she needed an immediate solution.
Which was why, when she finally found the bloody potion after swaying around the room on the brink of blacking out, Zelda grabbed it and fumbled to add ingredients to strengthen it. She didn’t bother to measure anything or wait for things to properly sit, dissolve or ferment. Hilda would have been appalled.
But Zelda didn’t have time to lay down, to use cool compresses as Hilda would’ve like. And she couldn’t risk a calming draught, which would’ve been her sister’s other solution (had she bothered to ask). No, she couldn’t take the draught, not before fighting the Dark Lord, she had to be sharp.
So, she looked the now finished potion with narrowed eyes before knocking the entire flask back, shuddering at the taste and chunks. It was disgusting. And she’d never taken so much at once before, let alone so much of one she’d altered; meaning Zelda had no clue what the possible effects could be… but then again, that might not matter in a few hours.
They all very well could be dead by then.
Besides, it seemed to be working. The room stopped tilting at least and her heart wasn’t pounding quite so loudly in her head. Though her stomach didn’t appreciate the effort, the rest of her body was slowly coming back to normal.
Pushing off the worktable where she’d braced herself after downing the potion, Zelda made for the kitchen; in desperate need to wash the taste from her mouth.
Hilda caught her exiting the greenhouse. Eyeing her suspiciously, her sister crossed her arms over her chest. “And what were you doing in there?”
She ignored Hilda for a moment, grabbing a cup and filling it up at the sink and draining it as quickly as she had the potion. “Something for my blood pressure.” She replied, smothering a burp and grimacing at the taste, while her other hand pressed to her stomach as if that would convince it to settle.
Eyebrows lifting, Hilda strode across the room and she snatched Zelda’s wrist, fingers on her pulse as Hilda kept time on her watch. When she finished, Hilda raised her gaze and frowned. “No potion I had ready would’ve acted that quickly. And I know how high your blood pressure must have been, after everything today and a week off your potions because of the Caligari. What did you do? We’ve talked about experimenting with potions on yourself before, Zelda Fiona!”
Rolling her eyes, Zelda pried her sister’s fingers off her wrist and backed away. “That was only twice and nothing too horrible came from it. Besides, I wasn’t going to test a new potion on one of our pregnant clients.” And it seemed this time she’d gotten off relatively easy, the nausea was already fading.
“Nothing too horrible?!” Hilda repeated incredulously, huffing in disbelief. “As I recall, you—”
“Are getting ready to face down the Dark Lord.” She interrupted, cocking her head at Hilda as if to remind her this was no time to bring up certain moments where she’d had… questionable, judgement.
Thankfully, Hilda inclined her head in response and turned to pick up something from the kitchen table behind her. “Here then,” she held it out to Zelda, “Ambrose just finished making them.”
Zelda took the horseshoe and examined it. “Pure iron?”
Nodding, Hilda wrung her hands. “This is going to work, right?” She asked in a whisper, and suddenly anxiety poured off her in waves so strong Zelda didn’t need her sister’s empathic abilities to sense them.
She dropped the horseshoe and pulled Hilda into a tight hug, wishing she could promise such a thing. But words failed her, so instead Zelda clung to her sister tighter and nodded jerkily. Eventually she swallowed past the lump in her throat. “It has too.” She breathed, voice quivering despite her efforts. “There’s no going back, no second chance, no do-over. We either win, or we die and Sabrina’s enslaved as a child bride to her alleged father.”
“Then we win.” Hilda stated firmly, breaking the hug, her lips pressed into a determined line.
“Then we win.” She repeated, proud her voice was strong once more. Clearing her throat, Zelda took a step back. “You should get going, get into place with Ambrose. We only have one shot at this. Aim true, brave and strike hard.” Her sister nodded, chewing on her lip. “I love you, trust you and believe in you, Hildegard Spellman. We will get this done.”
Licking her lips and sniffing, Hilda nodded. “I love, trust and believe in you too, Zelds. Our family will survive. We will get through this and move on.” And from how fast and repeatedly she nodded, Zelda could tell her sister was still just as unsure and scared about tonight as she was.
But the time for reassurances was done. Ambrose entered the kitchen, face grim. “Ready?” He asked, offering one of the daggers to Hilda.
Though she exhaled shakily, Hilda took the dagger with a steady hand. “Let’s do this.”
Ambrose nodded once, before turning and embracing Zelda hard. “Be careful. I love you.”
Lips twisting, Zelda cupped Ambrose’s face when she pulled back. “Stay as safe as you can. I love you too.”
And with that, they disappeared.
The house felt horribly empty. Where not even 30 minutes prior it’d been packed to the brim with witches and demons, the low hum of their conversations filling the air, it was now disturbingly silent. Zelda had never been particularly good with quiet. It gave her too much time to think, to blame, to spiral.
Spinning the rings on one hand, Zelda picked up the horseshoe again and walked through the house; looking for Sabrina and Lilith.
She found Lilith easily enough. The woman was lounging in and armchair in the parlor, her face blank of any emotion. It infuriated Zelda. Perhaps because she envied Lilith’s ability to at least appear calm. Normally, Zelda was quite good at maintaining a mask, but tonight that proved difficult. She’d have to collect herself before they left, she couldn’t tip Satan off by being unable to control herself.
Wrapping herself in the safest emotion whirling through her, rage, Zelda stopped in front of the demoness. “You even think of crossing us,” Zelda began, voice hard and eyes glinting dangerously. “I will make your past centuries of pain at the hands of the Dark Lord seem like walk through the park.”
Eyebrows raising, Lilith had the gall to smile at her. “I’d expect nothing less, Zelda. Though you really needn’t worry about me. I’m quite committed to our little endeavor. I don’t want Sabrina on the throne any more than you.”
Her chin tipped up in challenge. “And how do we know you’ll be any better than Satan?” It was really something they should have asked before now, while they may be extricating themselves from under the cruel thumb of one ancient being, who was to say they weren’t simply putting themselves under another?
Then again… it wasn’t as though they had much of a choice in the matter.
A small, amused huff emanated from Lilith and she stood. “You have no reason to trust me, Zelda, I’ve seen to that. I’ve hurt, manipulated and endangered your family, again and again. But it was never personal. I was doing my duty, thinking once I finished, I’d finally be rewarded with what the Dark Lord promised all those years ago. A spot by His side, as His equal, His Queen.” Lilith frowned, her brow furrowing slightly. “But things happened neither of us planned on. My faith in Him, my loyalty, both of which had been waning for decades, disappeared. And, well, I fell for a mortal man.
“The Dark Lord took the only things I ever cared about and He corrupted them, stole them or both. My beloved familiar, Stolas, was turned to spy on me by Lucifer. I was forced to kill him for the betrayal. My position as Queen, something I strove to achieve and prove myself worthy of for almost the entirety of my existence, given so carelessly to a child who didn’t even want to be involved in the witching realm. And then, Adam, sweet, sweet Adam. He loved me, and I him. And for those supposed sins the Dark Lord butchered him, assumed his image and then tricked me into eating him.” Lilith ticked off the items on her fingers, her eyes glazing over. “And that’s just within the past few months. I can’t even recall every pain from centuries past, as you so aptly put it.”
Lilith brought her eyes to Zelda’s and there was a fire there, a determination Zelda recognized. “So, while I did horrible things to your family, it was never personal. What I intend to do to Lucifer is. And if I had no care in what happened to you family and still did all those abhorrent things, imagine what I’ll do when I do when I have a stake in the matter. Imagine what you’d like to do to Satan and multiply it and then multiply it again and perhaps you’ll be close to how I feel and what I plan to do. He was nothing but cruel, I can see that now, and I will return every hurt. So, no, Zelda Spellman-Blackwood, I will not cross you. Because I refuse to spend another second under His control, used for whatever whim He has, punished for things that are not my fault.”
The woman’s chest was heaving slightly when she finished, and though Zelda was wary still, she believed the words that poured so passionately out of Lilith’s mouth.
And a small part of her sympathized with the woman; saw her in a new light. They’d both lost familiars to the Dark Lord, both lost men they loved to Him, though Zelda lost a brother and not a lover, the pain wasn’t any less intense because of the difference. And now, now the Dark Lord sought to steal something else from them both, status, power and position for Lilith and Sabrina for Zelda.
They’d both lost too much to the Dark Lord to lose anything else. Though Zelda still might not trust the witch fully, she knew Lilith wouldn’t betray them. She’d fight just as hard as Zelda to ensure Sabrina didn’t become Queen and to take the Dark Lord down.
Satisfied, Zelda inclined her head.
A small smirk quirked Lilith’s mouth, as if she knew how much even that small gesture cost Zelda. “As for you concern if I will be a better leader… I’ve no intention of continuing practices that hurt witching kind. We’ve all known enough pain.” She added the last part in almost a whisper and Zelda saw a flash of some of that pain before the mask fell back into place. “If you’d like to keep an eye on how things are run afterward, perhaps you’d consider being a high priestess? Help me shepherd our flock into a new era.”
The offer floored Zelda, it’d been the last thing she’d expected, and her mind couldn’t spare the brainpower to consider it. Not when they were still facing down their fight with Satan. Adopting an unimpressed look, Zelda scoffed. “Don’t go counting your basilisks before they hatch.”
It was a pessimistic statement, suggesting they wouldn’t win. But it shut Lilith up and before the demoness could retort, Sabrina entered the room.
”Nick texted, everything’s in place. We should head over.”
Nodding, Zelda flicked her wrist, both her and Sabrina’s clothes changing into elegant gowns; hers all black lace with a high collar and bejeweled buttons, while Sabrina’s was gold with a lower cut, feather-like details and a matching gold collar around her neck. When Sabrina gaped at her, Zelda arched a brow. “Well, we can’t very well go to meet the Dark Lord, playing the part of devoted witches in our normal clothes. Especially you. He’ll expect you to look the part of Queen. We shan’t disappoint.”
Lilith waved a hand as well, her dress transforming into a black and red lace gown.
This was it. They’d passed the moment of no return long ago, but now, now the real battle began. Zelda turned to Sabrina, gripping her niece’s shoulders. “Remember, this is an honor. You cannot believe you’re Lucifer Morningstar’s daughter, that you’re to be elevated to His Queen. You are thrilled the dishonored Edward Spellman, the man who sold you the first chance he got was not truly your father.” The words were like barbs in her throat, but Zelda forced them out anyway. “I will say things that will stun you, you cannot react. They are untrue but necessary if we are to convince the Dark Lord long enough to spring our trap. Do you understand?”
Swallowing hard, Sabrina nodded, her hand coming up to cover one of Zelda’s. “I understand, Auntie Zee.”
Forcing back tears, Zelda smiled and straightened up. “Good. Now, then, do you have your horseshoe?” She asked, tucking hers into the back of the small belt encircling her waist.
Unsure for a moment, Sabrina then smiled and cast a spell on hers. It transformed into a golden cuff bracelet, to match her necklace, and Sabrina slipped in on. “Got it. I’m ready, Auntie. Let’s end this once and for all.”
Zelda gathered Sabrina into her arms. “You’re an incredibly brave, smart, strong, kind and compassionate young witch, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you and I love you so, so very much.” Gently kissing the top of her girl’s head to not muss her hair, Zelda pulled back. “And remember, you will do as I say, when I say it.”
And though Sabrina looked like she’d prefer to argue, she nodded and took the hand Zelda offered. With an effort, Zelda held her other hand out to Lilith and the three of them teleported away.
If she hadn’t known better, Zelda would have said the woods were deserted. She couldn’t even hear the rustling of the people and demons hidden among the trees. Faustus and Abigail must have cast silencing spells, very clever ones, Zelda could still hear the insects, animals and leaves blowing in the wind.
Smoothing her hands over her dress, Zelda closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, thanking Hell the two had thought that far ahead. When she exhaled, her mask was in place. Lilith led them to the stone altar, the three of them pivoting to face the path they assumed the Dark Lord would take from the mines.
And so, they waited.
Fortunately, or so Zelda decided to interpret it, they didn’t have to wait long. A stomping sound emanated from the woods, the vibrations it sent through the ground growing stronger the closer Satan came.
Placing a hand on Sabrina’s shoulder, Zelda took a slight step forward so she could interject herself between her girl and Satan with as little pause as possible should the need arise.
The looming figure of the Dark Lord emerged from the shadows; He was still in His goat-like hybrid form. The sight sent a small sliver of relief through Zelda; Him appearing before them this way meant they prevented Sabrina from fulfilling the prophecy and the death of the mandrake at another’s hands after stripping it of Sabrina’s powers hadn’t triggered anything.
They all dropped into deep curtseys. Lilith spoke first. “My Lord,” she murmured, eyes downcast, “I have brought Sabrina as commanded. Her aunt presents her to you.”
A growl was the only answer they received for some time, none of them willing to do anything but keep their eyes on the ground; the Dark Lord wasn’t close enough to strike yet.
“Yes, Lilith, you have brought me my daughter. But, as you can see, you failed once more. I have yet to return to my original form.” He raised a clawed hand for unnecessary emphasis.
Lilith flinched, as if expecting a blow, and Zelda felt herself empathizing with the woman once more. She knew what it was like, to be conditioned to expect pain; her father had seen to that.
Despite her reaction, the demoness’ voice remained steady when she replied. “An unforeseen complication, my Lord. One Sabrina, Zelda and I were working to remedy when I received notice you were gracing us with your presence.”
Eyes still lowered; Zelda added. “My niece foolishly tried to rid herself of the magnificent gifts you bestowed upon her, my Lord. However, when we learned it was all part of your plan, we realized we must follow through with her initial actions. The mandrake has managed to evade us for now, but it is tethered to Greendale and we will capture and dispose of it soon.”
The Dark Lord took a few steps closer to them and they dropped the rest of the way to kneel on the cold ground. “Sister Zelda, I had not anticipated you being here and awake, for that matter. What happened to the lovely spell I granted you and your husband?”
Her body tensed, but Zelda gave nothing away. “The spell bonded my husband and I even further, it strengthened our loyalties to you, my Lord, and we thank you for it. Unfortunately, we were unable to express the origins of the spell, our gratitude for it and its benefits to my family. They broke the spell, fearing for my health.”
Bile burned the back of her throat as she finished thanking the Dark Lord for the torture that was the Caligari spell, but her explanation seemed to please Him; He nodded at least.
“Have you come to give Sabrina away, as is fitting for a bride?”
Red flooded every fiber of Zelda’s being and the urge to do violence, to shred this ancient being for thinking He had a right to her girl, for thinking this was a wedding, for thinking He’d get to hurt Sabrina the way He’d almost hurt her on her wedding eve….
It took every ounce of Zelda’s control and then some to stop herself from acting now and destroying the Dark Lord. They didn’t have everything in place yet, she’d ruin it if she moved too soon.
Glad her head was still bowed, hiding the warring emotions flitting across her face, Zelda nodded. “Yes, my Lord. And I wanted to convey how truly and immensely pleased the Spellmans are to have been privileged with the honor of raising the Dark Lord’s daughter and soon to be Queen of Hell. What a relief it was to know my disgraced brother Edward, a mortal-lover,” she put as much venom as possible into those words, “a high priest who did not know what was good for his own coven, was not the father to the child I raised. It all makes sense now. Thank you, thank you, my Lord for relieving me of that burden and for blessing me with this instead.”
It was an unholy miracle she didn’t stumble over the words, and if her voice shook, the Dark Lord seemed to take it for fervent devotion. Sabrina’s hands twitched at the statement, though, and Zelda desperately wanted to reach over and apologize. Yes, her girl knew the words were false. Yes, she’d warned Sabrina she might say unpleasant things to convince the Dark Lord… but that didn’t make it any easier to hear her condemn Edward.
Oblivious, the Dark Lord moved a bit closer. One more step and they would be ready to strike the first blow.
“This is why I came to visit you, Zelda, on your wedding eve.” Lilith and Sabrina’s eyes both snapped to her, though Zelda kept hers firmly on the ground. “This devotion, it deserves rewarding. I apologize I was unable to stay that night and fulfill both our wants.” The last word came out as a guttural, lust filled growl and Zelda shivered.
Wetting her lips, Zelda just barely managed to reply. “Your mere presence on my wedding eve was reward enough, my Lord, I never thought to have even been on your radar. I was humbled and honored by the visit, no matter how brief.” Her voice was thick with white-hot fury and disgust despite Zelda’s efforts, but thankfully the Dark Lord only heard the emotion and interpreted it as another follower being overwhelmed by Him.
Chuckling, Satan moved even closer. He stood directly in front of them now, but one hoof was still out of reach, so they continued the farce. “Oh, Zelda,” He lifted a hand and ran several fingers through her hair, “perhaps in the future I can make good on the promise.” Before she could even process how terrifying and nauseating the thought was, Lucifer turned His attention to Sabrina. “All of that can wait, our visit, the Horn of Gabriel, the mandrake… first I wish to look my daughter in the face.”
Zelda risked glancing at Sabrina, ready to move should her girl not be up to the task of playing happy family especially after learning about what Zelda almost endured.
But her niece lifted her gaze, face blank and eyes free of emotion; Zelda felt a rush of pride for how strong her girl was. “Dark Lord. Lucifer Morningstar. Father. I praise thee. I put myself into your thrall. Willingly.” Sabrina murmured, just as they’d instructed her.
The Dark Lord finally shifted, both hooved feet now within reach. She and Sabrina moved as one, pinning the Dark Lord to the ground, an iron horseshoe trapping each of hoof. Once they were firmly in place, the three of them scurried back, Zelda all but shoving Sabrina behind her.
“Now!” Lilith bellowed.
Their allies erupted from the trees with shouts and howls of fury. Before Satan could do more then looked around, dumbfounded, magic filled the air, anchoring Him more firmly in place.
Ambrose and Hilda came barreling out from behind a set of bushes then, daggers held high. The Dark Lord couldn’t turn, not with His feet pinned and the rest of Him held with magic, couldn’t see the new threat coming His way.
The daggers plunged into His back to the hilts and thunder cracked overhead, lightning flashing as the Dark Lord screamed in pain, His head thrown back in agony.
It didn’t kill Him.
She knew it’d been too much to ask for, such a simple, quick downfall. Even as Zelda thought this, the plague kings released their vermin; rats, bats and insects swarming the Dark Lord.
The other demons, not to be outdone, rushed forward and attacked as well. Lightning struck again, blinding them and charring every demon within a ten-foot radius of the Dark Lord.
“You think you can defeat ME?!” Satan roared, thrashing against the now weakened spell—many of their allies opting to shield their eyes to keeping the holding spell intact.
Thunder boomed directly on top of them, distracting them further.
A tremendous blast of power emanated from the Dark Lord, throwing them back at least ten feet. While she hurriedly pushed herself up, Zelda heard the clanging of the horseshoes bouncing off nearby trees.
He was loose.
The rage from before overtook Zelda. She refused to let it end this way, refused to lose. Not when her family’s lives were at stake and Sabrina was slated for slavery. No.
Raw power bubbled up inside her, and for the first time in her life, Zelda didn’t try to temper it. She turned to the Dark Lord, images of Him hurting Diana, of Him killing Edward, Him on her wedding eve, of Him forcing the Caligari spell on them, and of Him hurting Sabrina filled Zelda’s mind and her power grew even more. Without another thought, Zelda unleashed the entirety of her power on Him at once. It sent Him flying back into a tree, cracking the trunk and sending the thing toppling over.
She blasted Him again and again without pause, not giving Him a moment to recover. It was only after the first few hits that Zelda realized Lilith had joined her, adding her immense power to the attack.
Zelda caught the woman’s eye and they nodded, advancing as they released more magic. She was dimly aware of Hilda joining them, flanking Zelda’s other side, then Abigail, and Faustus, Ambrose, Prudence and her sisters, the other witches in the clearing.
There was no spell, no incantation, just pure power flowing from each of them. The sole purpose to incapacitate Satan. Lilith held up a hand after several minutes, and the magic slowly ceased; each of them breathing heavily.
A smoking crater was left in the ground, one of the Dark Lord’s hooves hanging over the side. The demoness moved forward first, cautiously.
The hoof stirred.
Using the same spell Zelda had to choke her back at the house, Lilith lifted the Dark Lord into the air by His neck. “Look who just refuses to die.” She sneered, cocking her head at the mostly limp body of the beast. “Stop fighting, you’ve lost.”
Struggling, the Dark Lord snarled at them. “I am a god! You cannot kill me!”
Lilith laughed, her head tipping back in her mirth. “If you were truly a god, we’d never have been able to do this to you. You’re just a cruel, miserable, pathetic creature who is still pained by the fact that he was thrown out of Heaven; so, you inflict that pain on everyone else. Wanting them to be as wretched as you. But we’ve had enough. Your rule is over, Lucifer. And mine,” Lilith grinned widely, her eyes shining and grip tightening, “is about to begin.” She turned to Faustus then, lips twisting slightly and then she sighed dramatically. “Go ahead.”
Smirking, Faustus stepped forward, pulling out the Archaeon Configuration, and even from where she stood several feet away, Zelda could sense the strength and number of wards, spells, and charms encompassing the puzzle.
“You think some trinket will hold me?” Satan scoffed, though He eyed the puzzle warily, likely considering what they’d already accomplished. “You cannot hope—”
Before He could speak any further, Faustus threw the configuration at the Dark Lord’s feet. Lilith cocked her head and arched a brow. “I win.” She murmured, releasing the Dark Lord and allowing Him to drop to the ground, the Archaeon Configuration sucking Him in.
The puzzled rattled along the ground for a moment after it closed, as though Satan were fighting His new bonds hard enough to shake the entire prison. Their entire group held their breath, poised and ready to strike again. But whatever additions Faustus, Prudence, Abigail and Nicholas had made, held.
They’d defeated the Dark Lord.
Lilith strode forward and picked up the configuration, tossing it in her hand. “The Dark Lord is no more. We will never refer to him as such again, he is stripped not only of his throne, but also his title. Forever more, he will merely be known as Lucifer Morningstar.” She proclaimed, turning to face them, the puzzle held aloft for all to see. “Lucifer’s reign is done. Say hello, to your Queen.” Spreading her arms wide, Lilith raised an expectant brow.
Cheers went up all around, hugs and tears while they turned to tend to injuries.
Unable to believe it, Zelda reached out a hand and steadied herself against a tree. She pivoted suddenly, craning her neck to find her family.
There was Abigail, kissing her wife rather passionately. Faustus was checking on Prudence—she seemed to have a minor injury. Ambrose was helping Hilda sit, having been closer to the magical blast from Lucifer because they’d stabbed him, they two were looking a little rough and dazed; nothing serious, but wounds that would take over a week to heal, certainly.
But where….
Zelda spun in a circle. Where was Sabrina?
She tried not to worry, not at first. There were a lot of people in the clearing and even with Sabrina’s distinctive hair, her niece wasn’t exactly tall. Moving through the crowd, Zelda tried to pinpoint the last moment her girl was by her side… or even in her eyesight.
It’d been right after the first lightning strike. The one that’d blinded them all, including Zelda. She’d lost Sabrina after that. Hadn’t the chance to spare her girl a thought, not even when Lucifer hit them all with magic. Zelda’s only thought had been to ensure the utter destruction of the being who’d stolen so much from her, caused her family so much pain. She’d been so consumed she’d lost track of Sabrina.
Panic started to build now. Where could she have gone? Sabrina wouldn’t have run, not even if Zelda had ordered her to. Pushing through people with more haste, Zelda struggled to take a full breath. No, no, no. She hadn’t done this, hadn’t taken on Lucifer himself just to lose Sabrina.
Where was she?
Zelda caught a glimpse of white hair moving behind some trees and frowned as she sprinted after it. “Sabrina?”
No answer.
When she broke through the rest of the crowd, Zelda had to follow the glimpses of Sabrina’s hair another twenty feet before she caught up. It was then she finally saw what was happening. Several demons and witches had scooped Sabrina up and were trying to smuggle her away. For what purpose, Zelda wasn’t sure, but she knew it couldn’t be good whatever it was.
“Freeze.” The order carried clearly across the space, and the small group in front of her halted, shoulders hunched. “Turn around, set down my niece, gently, and I may just let you walk away from this unscathed.” Her voice was ice and Zelda saw one of the witches shiver in response.
The group pivoted slowly, though they did not release Sabrina. One witch put her hands in the air in surrender, it was then Zelda saw the missing fingers. “Sister Zelda…” Berta tried, tone sickeningly sweet, “we were merely ushering the girl from danger. The lightning from the Dark—, Lucifer,” she corrected quickly, “must have knocked her out. We were simply ensuring Lucifer could not get his hands on her should the rest of the group fail…”
And the look on her face must have been enough to convey her disbelief and anger because the witch cringed slightly and took a step back. “Berta, I thought of anyone here you’d be one of the last to try such a thing. I thought our last ‘lesson’ would have sunk in a little deeper.” Zelda knew her eyes were gleaming dangerously, one of the demons in the back fled. She let it go.
Giving the group a feral grin, Zelda took a step towards them. “Put my niece down and walk away. You saw what I did to the Dark Lord, Satan himself, because he wanted to harm my girl. What do you think I’ll do to you this time, Berta?” She hummed a little and took another step towards them. “We accomplished what we came here to do, no need to be reckless with your lives.”
“It’s your niece’s life you should be worried about, Zelda.” One of the demons snarled, hefting her girl higher on its shoulder. “While Lucifer no longer can make her Queen, her blood means she can challenge Lilith whenever she chooses. Lilith made her promises, but there is only one way to guarantee this half-breed never rules. And that is death.”
Berta lowered her hands, a confidence coming over her. “We tried this once before, when the girl was a babe. While we didn’t know her destiny then, we still had the right intentions. If you’d let us finish the work then, Zelda, how much pain and loss could have been prevented?” She cocked her head, looking at Zelda pityingly. “As for lessons, well, we certainly learned one last time. While we’d hoped the Dark—, Lucifer, would kill you for us, we had a plan B to keep you from interfering this time.”
Before Zelda could process what the woman said, two witches appeared behind her, holding her with the same spell they’d used on Lucifer.
“Zelda,” Sara purred, her scars standing out prominently against her flushed skin, “how lovely to see you again. Though I must say, I prefer having our roles reversed.” Magic coursed through her, setting her nerves on fire and Zelda wanted to scream in pain, but Annabeth cast a silencing spell just as Sara cast hers and nothing came out of Zelda’s mouth.
The group chuckled and closed in on her, Sabrina still limp over the demon’s shoulder. “Let’s make her watch.” Berta breathed, a manic look in her eye. “Let’s see how well she deals with watching those she cares about being tortured.”
Annabeth sneered. “Only we won’t make the mistake of letting either of you go. Not alive, at least.” She shot another spell through Zelda and she writhed against it and the bonds holding her to no avail.
How could she have been so stupid?
She’d known some of their allies were questionable, but she’d expected them only to turn if it seemed Lucifer would win. And while he’d turned the tables on them briefly, they’d quickly regained the upper hand, stopping him and capturing him for good.
This had to have been their plan all along. Though it would be easy to blame Ambrose and Prudence for ever allowing the women to join, for not locking them up in one of the cells at the academy, to blame Lilith for not controlling her demons, Zelda knew this was her fault.
Vetted or not, she should have kept a better eye on the ones she was unsure of. And in the midst of battle or not, she should have kept Sabrina glued to her side. She’d taken on the most powerful being in their world to protect her niece… only to lose to the witches Zelda could have killed with her eyes closed and should have over a decade ago. The ones she’d mistakenly thought she was making an example of, using to deter others from hunting her family.
Oh, how wrong Zelda had been. And now she was paying the price.
Another spell jolted through her, wrenching Zelda from her thoughts and eclipsing her mind in agony. The women really were enjoying this, a little revenge for the wrongs she’d done to them years ago.
“Let’s get on with it. Who knows how long the others will be distracted.” The demon dumped Sabrina onto the ground, and it was then Zelda could see she was breathing, just unconscious, the steady rise and fall of her chest reassuring.
Focusing, Zelda tried to channel her powers, tried to fry the witches holding her captive, tried to annihilate the demons looming over her girl. But she was exhausted, she’d poured everything she had into defeating Lucifer, seeing him as the biggest threat. She couldn’t manage the magic necessary to break through the spells holding her.
Sabrina stirred on the ground then, a low groan emanating from her as she rolled over onto her side, eyes fluttering. And Zelda wanted to shout at her to run, to teleport home where their wards would protect her; nothing came out.
Pushing onto her knees, Sabrina put a hand to her head and her eyes landed on Zelda in disoriented shock. “Auntie?”
The demons moved to hold her at once; one grabbing each of Sabrina’s arms and forcing her to remain on her knees. Annabeth laughed darkly and hit Zelda with yet another nerve-shredding spell. “It seems we’ll get to have a little fun, won’t we?” She murmured, circling Zelda before going to stand behind Sabrina, a knife suddenly in her hand. “Fun and we’ll finally rid the realms of this monstrosity.” She spat at Sabrina whose eyes were wide with confusion and fear.
“Aunt Zelda?” She whimpered when the knife dug into her throat a little.
Tears streaming down her cheeks, Zelda shook her head and tried to overthrow the spells again; all it earned her was another painful spell ripping itself through her.
All her fault.
Hilda and Ambrose were recovering from their injuries, probably too exhausted and dazed to even realize they were missing yet. Abigail was celebrating with her wife, her coven, and might think to look for her but wouldn’t read too much into it if she couldn’t find Zelda right away.
All her fault.
The knife pressed a little harder, a trickle of blood appearing and making its way down Sabrina’s throat. “Aunt Zelda, I’m sorry for everything. I didn’t mean for this. Thank you, thank you for fighting for me, for protecting me, for loving me like a daughter even when I didn’t deserve it; especially when I didn’t deserve it. I love you.” Sabrina had tears streaking down her face as well now, but she didn’t dare to do anything other than speak. The demons were holding her arms fast, preventing any spell work, and shouting would have been fruitless—the silencing spell cast on Zelda was covering the area now as well; Berta or Sara must have seen to it as soon as Sabrina woke up.
All her fault.
I love you too, sweetheart. Zelda mouthed, still unable to form any audible words. I’m sorry. And if could only be that their captors were getting off on their suffering that they were both still alive.
All her fault.
Sara’s eyes lit up then, taking on the same manic glow Berta’s had. “Let’s torture Zelda a bit, just to show Sabrina how lucky she is we’re making a clean, quick death for her.”
Eyebrows raising, Annabeth glanced over Zelda’s shoulder and then nodded. “Be fast about it, though, the demons were right, we don’t have much time.”
All her fault. She deserved this punishment.
Dangerous smiles spread on Berta and Sara’s faces and they converged on her; alternating between horrendous spells and merely slapping or punching her. All her fault. She’d been prepared for the Dark Lord, but she hadn’t been prepared for this. All her fault.
Her niece sobbed and begged. It only spurred them on; they even removed the silencing spell from Zelda so they could hear her scream.
Between bouts, Zelda tried to reassure Sabrina. “It’s okay, I’m okay. I said it, right?” She was referring to the comment that Sabrina would be harmed over Zelda’s dead body. “Now I’m just making good on my promise.” Another spell prevented her from saying more, her body arching in pain.
“Stop, please stop!” Sabrina struggled, even if it meant the knife cutting at her throat. “It’s me you want, not her. Please!”
Growing bored, Berta and Sara let Zelda slump to the ground, all their spells releasing her. Blearily, Zelda tried to lift her head, but the effort made her vision fade to nearly black. “Sabrina?” She rasped, unable to move, to cast a spell.
All her fault.
She heard someone talking, perhaps Annabeth, but the ringing in Zelda’s ears was too loud for her to distinguish much. “In the name of the witching realm, we rid our kind of the blight that is Sabrina Morningstar, formerly Sabrina Spellman.”
“No,” Zelda managed hoarsely, though she didn’t think anyone heard her. “She’s a Spellman, she’s my girl… not a Morningstar. Mine…” She slurred, trailing off. With that as her last thought, Zelda passed out.
Her body ached dreadfully.
That was all Zelda could think of when she woke in her bed at the house. Blinking to clear her vision, Zelda turned her head and found Abigail sitting beside her, cradling Leticia.
“I thought I told you not to do anything noble,” Abigail remonstrated, lifting a brow at her.
Groaning, Zelda pushed herself up into a sitting position with shaking arms. “Nothing noble about being captured, Abs.” She muttered, taking stock of what injuries remained. “What happened?”
Abigail huffed and came to sit on the bed next to Zelda’s hip. “So, there was nothing noble about saving your niece, again, and then distracting her kidnappers by letting them torture you until help arrived?”
She rolled her eyes. “That was hardly how it happened or how I planned on it happening.” Zelda informed her friend, then she saw the potions sitting on her bedside table. Praising Hilda, she picked them up, examined them briefly and then took all three. “I caught them in the act, yes. But they ambushed me. The fact that they had a vendetta against me and that it kept them from killing Sabrina was an unholy miracle.”
The potions infused her, and Zelda sighed in relief, the aches melting away and strength flooding her system. It was then she realized how odd it was Abigail was with her and not some family member.
“Where is everyone?” She asked suspiciously.
Dropping her eyes to Leticia, Abigail tried to shrug nonchalantly. “Sabrina is safe, if that’s what you’re wondering. She’s out in the garden. Hilda’s seeing to everyone’s injuries, despite probably needing to rest from her own. She and the academy’s healers have been busy all night and most of this morning. And Ambrose is helping Prudence, her sisters and Nicholas to secure the Archaeon Configuration until Lilith takes it with her back to Hell; though he should also be resting.” Abigail added in a mutter that told Zelda she’d said as much, and her opinion ignored.
Brow furrowing, Zelda shook her head. “What is Sabrina doing in the garden? And why isn’t Faustus helping with the configuration? He’d know the best place in the academy to keep it safe until Lilith leaves.”
Her friend bit her lip. “Well, the two are related… actually.” When Abigail didn’t elaborate, she reached over and pinched her leg. “Ow,” Abigail rubbed the spot and stuck her tongue out. “Fine, I was under strict orders not to tell you until you’d rested longer, but if you’re going to be violent about it.” She let out a long sigh and let her eyes drift to the window. “Faustus was the one who found you and Sabrina in the woods. No one,” Abigail fidgeted uncomfortably, “no one else realized you were gone yet. There was so much going on, so many people, so many injuries, so much celebrating, grieving…” Abigail finally brought her gaze back to her. “I should have noticed. I am so sorry, Zee. If I’d looked for you, I could have saved you and Sabrina some trauma.”
Zelda softened, and this time when she reached out, she took Abigail’s hand. “Please, do not blame yourself. I don’t.”
Huffing, Abigail gave her a small smile. “Because you’re too busy blaming yourself, like always.” She added in a slightly teasing tone. Then her face sobered. “Anyway, Faustus was the one to find you two, he went berserk, Zee, I’d never heard or seen anything like it. What was left of the kidnappers… gruesome even by witching standards.” Abigail shuddered and cuddled Leticia closer.
Lips quirking up a bit, Zelda shook her head. “I’m not surprised. But how does that explain…” She gestured towards the back of the house where the garden was.
“He died, Zee, while saving you two,” Abigail added, as if that’d been obvious. “Faustus let his emotions get the better of him, and while he killed the kidnappers, he was also horribly wounded. Refused care until you and Sabrina were brought back to the house, until you were healed. The obstinate idiot bled out for his chivalry.”
She felt as though she’d been gut punched, Zelda couldn’t breathe, couldn’t process everything. Faustus, Faustus was dead? The world started to spin, and Zelda moved to push herself out of the bed. “I have to see him, where is he?”
A small chuckle escaped Abigail and she stepped back to let Zelda off the bed, not even trying to stop her and tell her she should rest some more. “I already told you, Heaven, the two of you deserve each other; charging into situations unheeded and with no thought for your own health and well-being.”
Rounding on her friend, if a little unsteadily, Zelda glared daggers. “This isn’t funny.” She growled, the items on her vanity rattling despite her injuries and fatigue. “You most certainly have not told me where! Is he in the morgue? In the Infernal Infirmary? Where is his body, Abigail!”
Abigail gave her and her shaking vanity an unimpressed look. “He’s in the garden… with your niece. You seem to have forgotten you have a wonderful Cain pit out there. If I’d known you’d react like this I wouldn’t have been do glib. We threw the bastard inside it and Sabrina’s standing vigil. Prudence wanted to, but aside from her father, she knows the academy best, which is why she’s helping Ambrose and Nick.”
Relief swept through her so strongly that Zelda had to sit down on her vanity stool. “Of course,” she murmured faintly, “of course, he’s in the pit. I didn’t lose him just when we’d finally gotten it right. My family is whole, we survived. We survived.” Zelda repeated this to herself softly a few times until Abigail placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
Taking pity on her, Abigail set Leticia in her crib and helped Zelda change. The three of them then made their way downstairs and out to the garden. “Go on and join Sabrina. It’s been about six hours, he should be coming out soon; not bad for a first time resurrectee.”
“Six hours?” Zelda croaked, “I’ve been unconscious for five hours?”
Her friend grimaced. “You were in bad shape, Zee. You really scared us. Given the condition you were in, I’m amazed you’re up and moving already.”
She shouldn’t be, up and moving, and they both knew it. But they also both knew she needed to see Faustus. Hugging Abigail, Zelda decided to focus on one thing at a time; and her own injuries weren’t a priority. “You’ll be around for a bit longer, right? I cannot even begin to thank you, Abs, but I think dinner would be a start, at least.”
A wide smile spread on Abigail’s face and she nodded. “I’m sticking around until our new Queen makes some important announcements. I’ll be inside if you need anything.”
Zelda turned and made her way off the porch a little precariously, and then continued to the garden where she could see Sabrina sitting on a bench they’d put there. “Darling?”
Whipping around, Sabrina bolted out of her spot and collided with Zelda. “Aunt Zelda, you’re okay.” She sighed, pressing her face into Zelda’s neck and hugging her harder. “I was so worried; they did such awful things and I couldn’t help or stop. I’m so sorry, I love you.”
Almost falling backwards from Sabrina’s embrace, Zelda smiled and carefully led Sabrina back to the bench where they could sit; she was still somewhat weak. “I love you too, sweetheart.” She began, tucking Sabrina’s hair back behind her ear. “Can you tell me what happened? Before I arrived to find you slung over a demon’s shoulder, that is.”
Her niece furrowed her brow. “I’m not sure. I was knocked back by that blast of Lucifer’s magic, just like everyone else. But before I could recover and join you, you were badass by the way, Auntie Zee. Something hit me in the back of the head. I guess it was one of the witches or demons who kidnapped me. When I woke up, you were there.”
It was what she’d assumed but hearing it didn’t make Zelda any less angry at herself or the traitors. “All of the kidnappers are dead?”
Sabrina nodded, her eyes glancing at the mound of dirt covering Faustus. “He, he slaughtered them, Auntie. I, I can’t even describe it. Not that I want to.” She shuddered and leaned into Zelda’s side. “When I asked him to look out for you during the battle, I hadn’t expected this.” Sabrina gestured to the grave in front of them. “I’m glad it wasn’t you, but I would’ve preferred not needing to bury anyone.”
Dumbfounded, Zelda pulled back a little so she could look at her niece. “When you asked Faustus to look out for me?”
Grinning sheepishly, Sabrina shrugged. “You made me promise to do what I was told. I was scared you would sacrifice yourself for me, after sending me away, and I couldn’t stand the idea. So, I went to the one person I knew would protect you at all costs and was the one I was the most okay with losing. Blackwood, he, he loves you,” Sabrina acknowledged, smiling softly. “And I should have seen it earlier, understood it, but he’d do anything for you, to keep you safe. He was the only one I could ask; I couldn’t risk Aunt Hilda or Ambrose.”
Still trying to process it all, how her niece skirted around her orders and given some of her own, Zelda shook her head. “When did you do this? We were all so busy preparing—”
“Exactly,” Sabrina cut in. “After we left the office, I waited outside, when Blackwood came out first and you didn’t, I pulled him aside. It was a very easy ask, he claimed he was already going to look out for you. And I realized it was because,” she exhaled slowly, “because that’s what family does, and Blackwood is family.”
Chin trembling at how Sabrina finally accepted Faustus, even if it’d taken his death to do it, Zelda pulled her girl into a hug. “Thank you, darling, this means so much.”
Before they could discuss anything further, the ground in front of them shifted.
Gasping, Zelda slid to her knees and started to help dig Faustus out with her hands, Sabrina joined her a second later. It took a few minutes, but they eventually uncovered Faustus. He coughed and shook the dirt from his hair. When he gained his bearings, he smiled up at her.
“You’re okay,” he breathed, reaching up to touch her cheek.
A laugh escaped Zelda at her luck. She hadn’t lost anyone; her family truly was whole. “As are you, you stupid, idiotic, imbecilic, moronic—”
Grasping her arm, Faustus tugged her down and kissed her quiet. “Are you going to call me more synonyms or can I climb out of this hole?”
She pressed her fingers to the corners of her eyes to stem any tears and shuffled back. As her husband wriggled his lower body free and hoisted himself out of the grave, Sabrina excused herself subtly. While she may have accepted Faustus, that didn’t mean she wanted to witness their reunion. Once free, Faustus knelt on the ground with her, waved a tired hand and the dirt vanished from his person entirely.
“Why did you do that?” Zelda demanded, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
Looking down to take in his appearance, Faustus shook his head. “Because I was filthy. I know I shouldn’t have wasted the energy, but Zels—”
Zelda waved a hand to cut him off. “No, you foolish man, why did you let yourself bleed out instead of getting healed yourself!”
He gave her a wry smile. “I don’t see what the problem is. You wanted to put me in here last night, your wish is my command.” Faustus bowed his head mockingly. When tears brimmed in her eyes though, his expression turned tender. “Because you needed the healers more. And I may have neglected to mention how bad my wounds were until it was a little late. I hadn’t intended on dying, I just thought I’d have more time to get help. That it wouldn’t take so many healers so much time healers to save you.” Faustus gave her a little shrug and caressed her cheek before sliding his hand into her hair. “I don’t regret it though. You’re safe, healthy, alive.”
A fresh wave of tears poured over Zelda’s cheeks, regardless of her attempt to stem them. “I thought I lost you.” She murmured, scooting a little closer to him.
A teasing smirk tugged his lips. “So, you’d have missed me then?”
Slapping his arm, Zelda couldn’t maintain the anger and collapsed into his chest. “I hate you.” She mumbled against his collarbone.
“No, you don’t.” Faustus countered, holding her to him tightly and pressing his face into her hair. After a few minutes he pulled back. “I thought I’d lost you too. When I found you, you were lying on the ground, not moving, the residue of the spells they’d used on you hanging thickly in the air. I, I lost it. I didn’t care what happened to me as long as I avenged you.”
Zelda shook her head; Abigail was right, they deserved each other. While they were normally both very controlled people, when they let emotion take over it was in the extremes.
Before she could say something to that effect, Sabrina joined them once more, a glass of water and a potion in hand. Toeing at the dirt, she held out the items like peace offerings. “Thank you, Faustus.” She ducked her head at the use of his first name but kept plugging on. “I don’t know what we’d do without my aunt. We, I,” she emphasized, “am lucky to have you in the family.”
Blinking, Faustus released Zelda to accept the water and potion. “Thank you, Sabrina. I know we’ve had a lot of trouble in the past. But I feel like it will be relatively easy to overcome our differences if we have time to talk. I’m happy and lucky to be part of this family.”
Nodding awkwardly, Sabrina hurried away back to the house.
Still stunned, Zelda shook her head. “It truly is a time for unholy miracles.” She exclaimed incredulously, watching Sabrina disappear. “First we stop an apocalyptic prophecy, then we defeat Lucifer and put a Queen in his place, and now, now you and Sabrina are getting along.”
Faustus harrumphed good-naturedly and downed the potion with a grimace and then followed it with the water. “How is everyone else? Prudence, the twins, Hilda, Ambrose?”
“Safe,” Zelda informed him, curling a hand at the base of his neck and playing with the short hairs there. “Our family is safe. Even if a few of us are a little worse for wear.”
Slumping slightly in relief, Faustus set the glasses aside and pulled Zelda into another tight embrace. “Praise Sat—,” he stopped himself and laughed. “Well, that is going to be a difficult habit to break.” He chuckled again and carefully stood up, pulling Zelda along with him. “Can we summon them all home? I would like to have everyone here and close.”
Grinning at him, Zelda arched a brow. “Has someone gone soft,” she teased, poking him lightly in the stomach.
A roll of the eyes was all she got in response. That and a kiss on her forehead before he intertwined their hands and they stiltedly made their way inside; leaning heavily on one another.
As if summoned by their thoughts, Hilda was sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea. She looked about as haggard as Zelda felt—and she’d had six hours of rest while her sister had been out healing people.
Though Zelda had known her sister was well, it was still an immense relief to see her. Extracting her hand from Faustus’, Zelda strode over and collided with her sister in a tight embrace.
Hilda sobbed into her shoulder. “You’re okay. Hell below, Zelds, I thought for sure…” Her hands clutched the back of Zelda’s dress.
Returning the hug in force, Zelda shuddered. “You were so close to Lucifer when he sent off that blast… and then you just got up and joined the attack against him as though it were nothing. Are you alright? Abigail mentioned you should be resting but you’ve been healing instead.” It was a bit difficult to scold, though, when Zelda should have been in bed still as well.
Not missing this, Hilda pulled back and wiped her eyes. “You’re one to talk,” she sniffed, smiling as she eased herself back into her chair at the table. “I could use about a week of sleep and ten of my healing draughts, but aside from that,” she waved her hand as though it were nothing.
“I’m glad you’re here. We wanted to call everyone home, talk about next steps now that Lilith is in charge.” Faustus commented, drawing up the bench and plopping into less gracefully than Hilda had; Zelda managed to sit beside him in a more dignified manner, only just.
Taking a long sip of tea, Hilda rubbed her face tiredly. “Good timing, Ambrose and Prudence were only about ten minutes behind me when I left the infirmary and that was about ten minutes ago.” She looked at the ceiling as if doing a mental headcount. “That should be everyone, yes? Sabrina is still here?”
She nodded tiredly, resting her head on Faustus’ shoulder and interlacing their hands under the table. “I’m surprised you didn’t see her; she came back inside just a few moments before us.”
Her sister shrugged a little, then winced and rubbed her shoulder. “I’d miss an elephant if it stepped on my toe, I’m so tired.” Hilda remarked, resting her chin in her hand where it was propped on the table, eyelids heavy.
Before Zelda could summon the energy to shout for their niece, Ambrose, Prudence and Sabrina all walked into the kitchen.
Prudence was the first to comprehend Zelda and Faustus were both awake and she dropped Ambrose’s hand, rounded the table to stand behind them and hugged them both at once from behind. “Thank Hell,” she breathed, “I couldn’t lose another parent.” Then, realizing what she’d said and who she’d said it in front of, Prudence cleared her throat and released them as though scalded. “I’m glad you’re both healthy and alive.” She added primly, moving to take a seat as well, face flushed.
Catching her arm, Zelda gave it a comforting squeeze. “Thank you, darling, we’re very happy you’re safe as well. Our family wouldn’t be complete otherwise.” Flush deepening, Prudence nodded and hurriedly moved to go make tea instead; apparently unwilling to face them quite yet.
Next was Ambrose, he smiled wearily and bent to hug Zelda as well before pecking her on the cheek. He then clapped Faustus on the shoulder before all by collapsing into the chair next to Hilda. Sabrina just nodded at them with a smile and sat down as well, taking the last spot. Noticing this, Sabrina conjured another chair for Prudence.
Once they were all sitting, everyone grabbing a cup of tea and sipping on it, Faustus leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “I guess first things first. It’s going to be a bit of a tight squeeze here, if all the Blackwoods move in. Might I suggest, for the sake of sanity and space, we move into Blackwood manor?”
Sabrina started in her seat and opened her mouth to argue. “What are you talking about? It’s only the two of you and you and Aunt Zelda will obviously be sharing,” she made a bit of a face but continued, “and the last spare can be Prudence’s room.”
“And the twins?” Abigail asked, waltzing into the room and perching on the ledge in the window.
Heart fluttering, Zelda swallowed. “Abs, are you, are you saying…?” And she couldn’t help how her voice pitched up at the end and Faustus leaned even further forward, his face bright with hopeful expectation.
Huffing in amusement, Abigail shook her head at them. “Of course. Leticia is your child. She should be with her twin brother, with the rest of her family. We always knew it wouldn’t be permanent, the boys called her cousin the whole time. Besides,” Abigail beamed, fidgeting in her spot with excitement, “Rebecca is pregnant, and we certainly cannot handle four children.” All exhaustion forgotten, Zelda heaved herself off the bench, rounded the table and practically tackled Abigail in a hug as everyone else expressed their congratulations from their seats. Laughing, Abigail squeezed her back. “Does this mean you’ll be our midwife?”
Sniffing back some tears, Zelda nodded as she pulled back. “Of course, Abs, I’d be delighted.”
“Good, because I don’t know how I’d tell Rebecca—”
Then it dawned on Zelda. “Rebecca fought Lucifer while pregnant?!”
A grimace replaced the wide smile on Abigail’s face. “Perhaps… but you have no idea the number of protection spells I put on her and I made sure she was at the back of the charge. Don’t worry, baby was safe.”
Mouth dropping open in slight disbelief, Zelda crossed her arms but bit her tongue. She knew Abigail and Rebecca had talked through the entire thing, taken extra precautions and ultimately, it was their family and their decision to make. “I’m just glad nothing happened.”
Surprised by the lack of lecture, Abigail nodded. “Us too. Anyway…” she paused as if to double check Zelda wouldn’t change her mind about going on a rant. “Anyway, that means little Letty gets to come home and while she and Judas can share a room for a while, that won’t work once they’re older. So, not to be butting in where it’s not my say, but… you’d be more comfortable at the mansion.”
Ambrose chuckled and held his teacup up in a toast. “Can’t argue with that.”
Turning to Sabrina, Hilda touched their niece’s hand. “You alright with that, darling? I know so much has changed recently, and we’d keep the house of course, but it really is the most sensible thing for all of us.”
Shifting a little, Sabrina nodded. “Okay, but I might come back here to stay every now and then… just for familiarity and things like that.”
Zelda smiled and walked over to kiss the top of Sabrina’s head. “Of course, sweetheart, this is your home too. Us moving, growing, doesn’t change that.” She continued around the table and sat back down next to Faustus, even that small trip having exhausted her.
How any of them were awake and functioning was beyond her.
“Lovely,” a voice drawled from kitchen door, and they all spun to find Lilith leaning against the frame. “Now that living arrangements are all settled, we can talk about something of importance.”
A scowl tugged Faustus’ lips. “Like why you’re still here?”
Lilith scrunched her nose at Faustus and continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “As the Queen of Hell, I’ll be making a lot of reforms. I need strong leadership in place if these reforms are to occur and occur with little resistance. Which means, as much as it pains me, Blackwood you will stay on as Antipope.”
Gaping at her, Faustus sat back in his spot, speechless for a moment. “What?”
Rolling her eyes, their new Queen pushed off the doorframe and came closer. “If you still want to be Antipope, that is. From what I heard your tenure was rather tumultuous.”
Suspicious, Faustus eyed Lilith. “I do… why are you allowing me to keep it?”
The demoness exhaled dramatically, as though the reasoning should be obvious. “Though I rather despise you and I know you loathe me and our relationship is rocky at best, your relationship with the coven and the covens in the area are strong. You were named Antipope under the previous administration and this will give me credibility to those who are unsure. Besides, the less turn over and change the smoother my transition as Queen will be. The covens worldwide accepted you before because Lucifer willed it. And if you state witches are now to follow my will, well, some will simply fall in line. Lucifer put his stamp of approval on you, you put yours on me… I’m now golden in their eyes. Most will accept it because in the grand scheme they don’t think what powerful beings do amongst themselves makes a local impact.”
Not one to turn down his dream job twice, especially now that it wasn’t under threat, Faustus nodded. “Alright, the Churches of Darkness do need some reform. Though I want a say in what we do and how quickly. As you said, changing too much will only create resistance.”
Brow arching, Lilith inclined her head. “Done. Now, for more local leadership.” She clasped her hands and turned to Zelda. “Have you considered my proposal?”
“When would I have done that?” Zelda asked incredulously. “While we fought Lucifer? When I found out Sabrina had been kidnapped? No, you’re right, I thought about it while I was being tortured and a knife was cutting into my niece’s throat.”
If Lilith was taken aback by her animosity, she didn’t show it. “Well, now that you have a moment, would you like to be my high priestess for the Church of Night?”
“No.” The word was out of Zelda’s mouth before she could process it. But even as she did, she didn’t want to take it back. When everyone just stared at her, stunned, Zelda felt obliged to explain. “Simply because we miraculously managed to have a happy ending, one without any of my family members dying, doesn’t mean my feelings towards you have changed. I may understand you better, Lilith, but just because you are my Queen does not mean I don’t want to strangle you, burn you, and inflict every imaginable pain on you for the part you played in this, whether you knew what would happen or not. Every time I see you,” Zelda held up her hands as if she really could choke the woman in front of her, “I have to fight down and urge to rip you apart with my bare hands. So, while I may ultimately agree with your reforms, I cannot help but want to draw and quarter you. That isn’t exactly the cordial relationship you’re likely looking for with your new high priestess.”
Impressed, Lilith’s mouth quirked into a partial smile. “Not quite,” she drawled.
Affronted, Hilda shoved out of her chair and braced herself on the table to confront Zelda. “Are you mad?!” She demanded, breathing hard. “For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve wanted power. Always power and more of it. And now, now you have the chance for it, and you say no and insult the person, the Queen offering it?! All because you want to kill her? I want to kill her as well, but Zelds, imagine how much good you could do! All the things that made us cringe, all the rituals the Dark—, Lucifer,” she corrected hastily, glancing at Lilith, “forced down our throats that hurt witches and warlocks in some way. You could change it.”
Shifting to look at Hilda fully, Lilith gave her an assessing look. “How would you like the position, Sister Hilda. Or should I say,” she held out a hand, “Mother Spellman?”
Bemused, Hilda just stared at Lilith’s hand for a moment and then tentatively reached out and shook it. “I, I have some ideas I’d like to propose.”
“I’d love to hear them.” Lilith replied, smiling widely and shaking Hilda’s hand with more vigor before releasing it. “Now, I’ve got a high priestess for the Church of Night, how about the Church of Shadows?” She turned to look at Abigail who looked as though she’d swallowed a frog.
She even turned to check behind her, as though there were another candidate there. “Me?” Abigail pointed to herself skeptically. When Lilith nodded, Abigail burst out laughing. “Oh, Heaven no.” She laughed harder and clutched her stomach. “Zee, can, can you imagine me leading a church?!” She doubled over, still cackling.
Unable to help it, Zelda laughed as well; as much at the thought of Abigail being a high priestess as her friend’s chortling.
When they finally regained themselves, small laughs slipping from them occasionally, Abigail straightened up. “Thank you for the offer, Lilith, but I have a job and I am very happy with it. In any case, the high priest of the Church of Shadows was in that clearing last night, fighting Lucifer with us. I don’t think you should replace him, seeing as he already supports you. Goes along with your ‘little change as possible’ plan.”
“Noted.” Lilith murmured, eyeing Abigail curiously and then turning back to Zelda. “If you refuse to be high priestess, can I entice you in headmistress at the academy of unseen arts? Blackwood will be too busy with his Antipope duties to do both and I’d rather not overburden Hilda; she’ll have plenty to do reforming the church with me.”
This, this was an offer Zelda could take. Smiling, she nodded. “Yes, I’ve always loved to teach and being headmistress doesn’t seem like too many more duties. I can also still practice as a midwife if I add a permanent midwifery course. This will give students hands-on experience and allow me to fully open my practice once more.”
Smirking, as though she’d somehow earned points with Zelda, Lilith shifted her focus back to Faustus and Hilda. “Lovely, now that that’s all settled, my first decree is to raise witches up to the same level as warlocks. As there has been much progress in the last decades, there isn’t a too much to do, with the exceptions for positions of power and inheritance. The two of you will see to the new laws being written, I will have final approval before they are rolled out, naturally.” Arching a brow to ensure they understood, Lilith beamed. “Wonderful. I’ve got to go, things to do, laws to reform, Hell to redecorate. I’ll be seeing you soon I’m sure.” She spun and walked towards the door.
Sabrina stood then and called after her. “What happened to Ms. Wardwell?”
The question had Lilith freezing and some of her triumph leaked away. “I’d learned she was your favorite teacher, that I wouldn’t have to work nearly as hard to gain your trust as her. In order to assume her image, I had to use her blood. This could have been accomplished without killing her, but it would have been extremely difficult to hide her away and ensure she didn’t get loose, meddle and ruin everything.”
Tears sprang into Sabrina’s eyes and she slid back into her seat. “Oh,” she murmured softly.
Chewing her lip, Lilith appeared to think for a moment and then clapped her hands. “Well, one of the perks of being Queen of Hell is I can return the dead. Your Ms. Wardwell will be,” she snapped her fingers, “back in her cottage, waking from a nap right about now.” She exhaled quietly, “it’s the least I could do, after everything.” And it was the closest to an apology they were ever like to get. With one last nod, Lilith teleported away.
Ambrose rested his head on the table then. “Okay, so we’ve figured out where we’ll live and that the twins are coming with us and everyone has their jobs all squared away. Can everything else wait until we sleep?” He lifted his head partially off the table and looked at them pleadingly.
Murmurs of agreement sounded from everyone and they slowly made their way out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Zelda and Hilda were the only two to remain behind.
“I’m proud of you, Hildie.” Zelda reached across the table and took her sister’s hand. “I always knew you were meant for so much more than working in the dreadful bookstore. While I might have always striven for power, I never had the temperament for it. I had the ideals, the will, but my ambition for power is something I’m happy to say I’ve outgrown. You will do incredible things, Hildegard Antoinette, and I for one cannot wait to see what those are.”
Though Hilda frowned at her description of the bookstore at first, she had tears in her eyes by the end of Zelda’s comment. “Oh, Zelds. You’d have done wonderfully. But I must admit, I am excited for what’s to come. Maybe,” a tear crept over the edge of her lid and slipped down her cheek, “maybe I can be the leader Edward always wanted to be, but never could. He wanted so badly to do what he thought was right for the coven. But with Lucifer playing with his and our lives, he never really had a chance. Eddie went too far, tried to force the coven in directions it didn’t want to go. I want to be a great leader, Zelds, I want to advance the Church of Night, but I also don’t want to change everything about it; because there are some truly beautiful things about our coven and some of it’s rituals…. Do you think,” she tugged her fingers, “do you think I can find a balance when Edward couldn’t?”
Zelda’s cheeks were covered with tears as well by the time her sister finished. “A very wise witch once told me to stop comparing myself to Edward, because I’d already surpassed him in every way. So, have you. We are not our brothers, Hildie, we, we are not our past. Don’t think of what Edward might or might not have achieved, it’ll only hold you back. Go forward, as completely you, and you cannot go wrong.”
A small hiccup escaped Hilda and she frantically wiped at her tears before giving it up as a loss and standing to round the table. Zelda met her halfway and they hugged, laughing and crying. For everything they’d lost, for everything they’d gained, for how they’d been able to keep their family safe and together.
When they broke apart, they gradually made their way up the stairs, wincing and groaning as their bodies protested the movements. They parted ways at Hilda’s door with a final hug and Zelda made her way to Sabrina’s next, gently rapping on the door and waiting for a small, ‘come in.’
“I thought you might be asleep,” she murmured, shutting the door behind her and gingerly taking a seat on the edge of Sabrina’s bed.
“Not quite, I’m glad you stopped before you went to bed.” And when Zelda lifted a brow, Sabrina elaborated. “I, I know I’ve apologized and said thank you a bunch of times now. And I love you, so much. I guess, I guess I’m just not sure how we proceed.”
Frowning, Zelda cocked her head. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”
Fiddling with a loose string on her comforter, Sabrina dropped her eyes. “You have this whole new family with Blackwood now, Prudence, Letty and Judas too. You’re going to be a midwife and be headmistress at the academy, which I know you’ll love. Aunt Hilda is moving on, she’s dating Cerberus and I know it’s serious and now she’s high priestess. And I have a feeling Ambrose won’t want to hang around Greendale much longer, Aunt Hilda or Blackwood will lift the rest of his sentence and he’ll be off traveling the world, filling up on all the things he’s missed the past 75 years. And he should, he should be happy! And so should Aunt Hilda and you…. It’s just, I feel like everyone is moving on and I’m getting left behind. And though I know it’s not true, a part of me can’t help but feel like you’re all distancing yourselves because I’m a Morningstar and not a Spellman and I’m related to the evil creature who hurt everyone so much. Who killed Edward and my mom, who, who came to you on your wedding night…”
The confession had Zelda crying once more and she climbed further onto the bed and pulled Sabrina into her lap; ignoring the fact that her girl was really far too big for such a thing—Sabrina curled into her anyway. “I’m so sorry, darling, but you are stuck with us until the end of time. I never thought I’d have to say this for you, but you are Sabrina Spellman!” The declaration had Sabrina laughing a little and Zelda smiled and held her girl tighter. “I know things are confusing and painful right now, and you’re right, a lot is changing for all of us. But we’d never leave you behind. If fighting Lucifer doesn’t prove we’d do anything to keep you, I don’t know what will.” She teased lightly and more of the tension and anxiety leaked from Sabrina’s body. “As for your heritage… I wish I could change that for you, but Edward loved you as his own for as long as he was able. And we, your Aunt Hilda and I, love you and Ambrose more than anything, and you are not truly ours; neither of you. Never have been.
“Blood, genetics, carrying someone in your womb… that doesn’t make a family. Loving, supporting and protecting one another, that makes a family. And I think we have that in spades.” Sabrina wrapped her arms around Zelda the best she could and held on tightly. “I know none of that will stop you from agonizing over who you are, your identity. That will probably happen for a long time. But Hilda, Ambrose, Nicholas, your mortal friends, even Faustus and Prudence, … we’ll all be here to help you figure it out along the way.”
Sabrina hugged her even harder and then pulled away, gently slipping back onto the bed so they were both more comfortable, though she cuddled into Zelda’s side. “Thank you, Aunt Zelda. I needed to hear that.”
Cupping her niece’s face, Zelda smiled. “I’ll be here to remind you of it whenever you need it, sweetheart. But perhaps not any more tonight, it’s been a strenuous past few days, for all of us. I really need some rest and I’m sure you do too.” She lifted a brow and Sabrina yawned in reply before smiling apologetically. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Zelda bopped Sabrina’s nose lightly, kissed her forehead and then stood.
When she swayed a bit, Sabrina reached out a hand to steady her. “Do you need help getting back to your room, Auntie?” She asked, concern coloring her tone.
She waved away the concern and made for the door. “I’ll be fine, darling. Go to sleep, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I love you, Aunt Zelda.” Sabrina murmured, settling back onto her bed, eyes already heavy with sleep.
Warmth spread through her and Zelda leaned against the door frame for support as she shifted a bit to look back at her girl. “I love you too, Sabrina.”
With her remaining dregs of energy, Zelda flipped off the light and shuffled down the hall to her room. She managed to unzip her dress and kick off her shoes before crawling into bed beside Faustus who was already out cold.
Zelda turned onto her side so she could see the crib containing the twins who were also fast asleep; at some point Abigail or perhaps Anne had moved them in. Her tired smile brightened when Faustus, still mostly asleep, rolled over and scooped her up and into his chest. He planted a lazy kiss to her shoulder before his breathing evened back out.
As she let sleep pull her under, Zelda didn’t squash the thought that life could only go up from here; no longer afraid to think or feel such things out of fear it would all be ripped away. Leaning more heavily against her husband, their babes finally reunited only feet away and her other children and sister sleeping safely only rooms away, Zelda sighed contentedly.
She’d done it. Kept those promises she made not only to Edward, but to herself, all those years ago. She’d kept her family safe. She’d kept them whole and together.
And now, now she had a whole army to help her continue to do just that in the future. Hilda and Cerberus (if she chose to keep the incubus), Faustus and Abigail, Heaven, even the Queen of Hell, Lilith herself had become an ally of a sort. She wasn’t alone anymore, didn’t have to shoulder it all by herself, didn’t have to take responsibility for everything, didn’t need to take the blame….
Zelda had won. And for the first time since everything in her life and faith crumbled, she didn’t feel the need to look over her shoulder, to wait for the other shoe to drop. She was happy and nothing could take that away.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Lilith strutted into Hell, humming to herself and rolling the Archaeon Configuration between her hands. It’d been a bit surprising, how easily they’d defeated Lucifer. But it’d been centuries since he had to use magic of any sort in earnest, and he’d never truly been challenged.
The ambush had certainly put things in their favor, and then Zelda Spellman-Blackwood unleashed the fury of Hell itself when the tide almost turned and Lucifer broke free. Raw, primal, unfiltered magic surged from the redhead’s hands and it’d been breathtaking to see her take on Lucifer alone, if only for a moment before Lilith and everyone else joined.
And now, Lilith sighed as she gazed around her, now she was in her rightful place. She strode through the antechamber and straight to the throne, delighting in the way demons, hellhounds, ghouls and long deceased witches alike parted and bowed as she passed.
She took a moment to appreciate the throne, it was really fine craftsmanship, if nothing else, Lucifer had good taste in furniture. Flicking her wrist to hide the configuration in a location only she knew, Lilith picked up the crown likely meant for Sabrina and placed it on her head.
Turning, Lilith tipped her chin up, surveying her people. They didn’t disappoint, cries of “hail Lilith, Queen of Hell! Hail mother of demons!” Rose all around her without hesitation and it was intoxicating.
“A girl could get used to this,” she murmured, heart twinging when it recalled how she’d said that to Adam. The pain dissipated though, and a smile spread across her face. Waving a hand to dismiss those gathered before her, Lilith waited until the last being disappeared, leaving her alone in the large room.
Though there were countless things she ought to do first, such as announce herself to the rest of the witching realm as their new, and much improved, ruler, track down any remaining Lucifer supporters, rewrite arcane and sexist laws… Lilith couldn’t help herself.
She hadn’t lied to Zelda when she said part of why she’d turned on Lucifer, why she wanted to defeat him was because of a mortal. And now that she was Queen, with all the powers of Hell flowing through her, Lilith had the means to undo the cruel sentence Lucifer imposed on Adam; killing him and then punishing him further for caring for her by trapping him in Hell.
Closing her eyes, Lilith concentrated on Adam; his bright face, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled at her, how safe she felt in his arms… she felt a sharp tug and then a gasp sounded in front of her.
“Mary?” He looked around the room, confusion written across his face and soot smearing his person. “What, what happened? Are, are you wearing a crown?” His eyes finally landed on her and his confusion visibly deepened.
Anxiety swept through Lilith then, somehow, in all the chaos that’d recently ensued, in all her grief over losing him, she’d forgotten Adam did not know her. Not really. He still thought her Mary, and why wouldn’t he, she’d kept the poor woman’s image.
But, as odd as it sounded, Lilith felt at home in this body she’d created using magic and Mary Wardwell’s blood. Felt at home in a way she never had in the body the false god forged for her and then Lucifer abused. No, this image, while not hers originally, now felt more right than she’d ever imagined it would. This body, this body had been the one she had when she changed, when she realized love was still possible, still good. This body had been the one strong enough to defy her former master, to defend herself against the cruelties she’d survived for centuries. She and this body had been through so much together and Lilith refused to return to her old form when this one was the true her.
Twisting her fingers, Lilith tried to smile at the poor man in front of her. “Adam, I—”
He lurched forward and hugged her hard. “I thought I’d never see you again.” He breathed, one arm banding firmly around her waist while his other hand cupped the back of her head, knocking her crown to the ground.
Unable to help herself, Lilith melted into his embrace, letting the symbol of all she’d worked for clatter to the floor. The crown wasn’t going anywhere, but it very well could be the last embrace she ever received from him… once he knew the truth.
Gently disengaging, Lilith grasped Adam’s hands in hers. “I am not who you think I am, Adam. My real name, and this is going to be a lot to take in, is Lilith. I am a witch and I’m as old as humankind. The false god made me for the very first Adam, had I gone alone with that plan, there’d have been no Eve.” She’d dropped her eyes to their hands, talking fast, wanting to get it all out before he could stop her, tell her she was crazy; before he could run. “I refused to be used in such a way, I fled. Lucifer Morningstar, a fallen angel, the man who’d become the Devil himself, found me wandering around the wasteland surrounding the Garden of Eden. He, we, we fell in love. He was kind at first, but then, then his bitterness, his pain, his anger, it overtook him. Lucifer transformed into a beast and I…. After only knowing a few months of bliss, I knew nothing but cruelty at his hand. I gained powers, yes, abilities I loved and never dreamed of being possible. But the price was steep.” Lilith cleared her throat and jumped ahead.
“So much happened, so many stars must have aligned to put me in your path. But I had a job to do and Mary, your Mary, I needed her, her proximity to a young witch I’d been ordered to guide, her job at the school, her face.” Lilith couldn’t bring herself to look Adam in the eye, but he hadn’t pulled away from her either, so she kept talking. “I, I killed Mary. It was the only way for me to fulfill Lucifer’s, the Devil’s will. I paraded around as her, took over her life. And it, it seemed of no consequence, she didn’t have family to miss her and I had no idea you existed until you showed up in my office on Valentine’s Day. I’ve no excuse you will find sufficient for what I’ve done. For how I tricked you, hurt you, hurt Mary. But I did love you, Adam, still do.” Lilith carefully withdrew her hands then, figuring if she was the first to retreat it would hurt less than if Adam had. “Mary is alive and well, now. It was the least I could do, she’s at her cottage, likely a little disoriented but safe. If, if you wish, I could return you to her. She is the one you love, not Lilith.”
She finally risked looking up to Adam’s face. It was pale and stiff with shock, his mouth working a little as though trying to process everything she’d told him. “So,” he said after a very long silence, “so you’re Lilith, first wife to, to Adam…”
“No!” Lilith exclaimed sharply and then ran a hand through her hair in agitation. “I’m sorry,” she added, tone softening. “I was never his wife. Though he wanted to own me, I didn’t let him. I was made as Adam’s equal, from the same clay he was. When I refused to be subservient the false god made another, Eve, only he’d learned from his mistakes, he made the poor woman from Adam’s rib, tying her to the mortal indefinitely. The stories about me are wrong, Adam, at least most of them are.”
Nodding, Adam blinked. “Of course, I’m sorry, I’m just trying, trying to wrap my head around this.”
This was going all wrong. She was the one who should be, and was trying to, apologize, how had the tables turned and now he was?
Adam tried again. “So, you’re Lilith, not Mary even though you have the same face…. So, you’re Lilith, the Devil’s lieutenant,” he repeated and then looked around again, “so that makes this…”
“Hell.” Lilith confirmed and Adam gulped. “I’m the Queen here now. I overthrew Lucifer. Stopped him from hurting me, or anyone else, ever again.”
And despite everything, Adam smiled warmly at her. “You freed yourself from him. He can never be cruel to you ever again. That’s incredible, Mar—, Lilith,” he corrected, a smile still on his lips. “I’m so happy for you. And though I know you certainly don’t need my approval, I’m proud too.”
Her heart fluttered. “Really?”
Still smiling, Adam closed the distance between them and took her hands. “Of course, Lilith, I want the same thing for you I’ve always wanted, your happiness.”
Stunned, Lilith shook her head. “After everything I’ve done—”
“You were surviving, fighting. And while I’m not… delighted,” he settled for the word, “about what you did to Mary, if what you say is true, she is alive and well and happy and that is all I ever wanted for her too.”
Swallowing past the lump in her throat and trying to concentrate on the feel of his hands engulfing hers, Lilith forced a smile. “Say the word and I’ll return you to her. I can adjust your memory; it’d be as if you’d just returned from Physicians without Frontiers. You’d have never met me or visited this horrid place."
Brow furrowing, Adam looked at her. “It can’t be that horrid if you’re here, if it’s your home.”
And it was this kindness that had grief over losing him again soon welling up inside Lilith and she sniffed and blinked back some tears. “Well, no place like home then, is there? Speaking of which, shall I send you to yours, memory tweaking free first time around.” She tried to tease, but it was like daggers in her heart. Why had she had to offer more than once? Adam should have jumped at the offer immediately, wishing to be away from her and the abhorrent things she’d done to his fiancée.
“I don’t want to forget you, Lilith. I,” Adam shook his head, as if surprised as well. “Mary and I hadn’t seen one another in years. I loved her, yes, but I don’t believe we were in love anymore. It was why I came back the way I did, hoping to fix things, rekindle them. And I did fall back in love, it just wasn’t Mary who I’d fallen in love with. I could tell there was something different, but I’d been gone so long I didn’t think I had the right to point anything out. It all makes sense now, it a darkly bizarre way.” He chuckled and shrugged a little. “I love you, Lilith. I did when I thought you were Mary, and I still do now that I know the truth.”
Vehemently shaking her head, Lilith chewed her bottom lip. “Not possible. You have a life. I stole it from you. Don’t be foolish enough to throw it away—”
He carefully leaned in and rested his forehead to hers. “You didn’t steal anything but my heart, Lilith.” And though she should laugh at the corny line, wipe his memory and send him on his way, Lilith couldn’t bring herself to do it. Adam, he, it sounded like he was picking her, loving her.
Why couldn’t she have it all?
Unsure, Lilith tilted her head up a bit to brush her nose against his. “Are you really saying…”
Adam smiled and touched the ring she’d given him, the one still on her finger. “I’d actually like to keep wearing this, if you don’t mind. I made a promise to the woman who gave it to me that I’d never take it off.”
Lilith’s eyes widened upon actually hearing the words. “Adam, you do realize you’d be stuck here for eternity with me. I already took your life from you once. I can’t do that again.”
“The vows we’d have taken state til death do us part. Well, we’ve just managed a work around is all.” He smiled hesitantly. “Unless, it was all part of your cover. In which case, I don’t want to impose, you’re Queen now and I—"
“It wasn’t.” Lilith interrupted, heart pounding. “In the beginning it was part of my cover. But then, then I fell in love with you. And it terrified me. It inspired me. It made me happier than I could remember being in centuries. But then Lucifer stole you away from me and it was a reminder that I can’t—"
Gently cupping her cheek, Adam pulled back just enough to lock eyes with her. “He’s gone. I’m not. I love you too, Lilith.” He said her name slowly, reverently. “If it’s not safe for me here or you don’t want me around all the time... I could be your Persephone; if you’d have me, that is.”
Exhaling shakily, Lilith beamed at him with tears in her eyes before she kissed him. Adam lifted her easily, his arms winding around her and even after they broke, he continued to hold her a few inches off the floor. “Would you like to be my king?” She asked softly, her finger tracing his lower lip, the other hand curled into his hair.
“I’d like to be your husband.” He murmured, kissing the tip of her finger. “I don’t want power, just you.” A smile wider than she’d ever had before stretched Lilith’s lips and she kissed Adam again. Oh, how good it felt. “It won’t be a problem, will it?” Adam asked, mumbling the question against her lips. When she merely hummed, he added. “That I’m not a witch… or a fallen angel, or something else powerful and important.”
Arching a brow, Lilith grinned at him wickedly. “It’s a good thing I’m Queen. I can do whatever I please and right now, that’s you.”
Yes, there were countless things Lilith ought to be doing. But she had an eternity to be Queen, to bark orders and reform the witching world for the better; and right now, well, she had a man who wanted to be her husband. She couldn’t very well turn down a proposal like that, and one tradition she didn’t plan on changing was consummating a marriage.
Wrapping her legs around Adam, her partner, her love, Lilith directed him to the back room where a luxurious bed awaited.
Years later
Zelda sat on the couch in the parlor at the mortuary, cooing at the babe in her arms; it’d been two months and she still couldn’t believe the little girl was with them. A new high priestess in waiting, as Sabrina liked to lovingly call her new cousin. Hilda laughed good-naturedly and would shake her head every time Sabrina did, claiming her and Cee’s daughter would be whatever she wanted, blood or not.
Letty, Judas, Finn and Ben tearing through the room, laughing as Ambrose and Prudence chased them, some kind of glamor on their faces making them look like ghouls, brought Zelda’s attention away from the babe. It was then she realized Faustus was smiling at her tenderly from across the room where he was chatting with Cerberus. The two together had been awkward at first, but once Faustus learned of Cerberus’ passion for reading and the occult, they’d get lost in conversations for hours about the obscure details of one text or another. Faustus often procuring rare texts for Cerberus just so the two of them could talk about it later. It’d been unprecedented, their friendship, but Hilda and Zelda were both relieved beyond words.
Only, the two of them weren’t absorbed in whatever latest book they’d read this time. Faustus was watching her with a look in his eye that Zelda only noticed recently, and only when she was holding a child; more specifically a baby.
A secret smile tugged at her lips and she dropped her eyes back to the babe, shifting to better settle little Nymphadora in her arms, smoothing a blonde curl back from her niece’s forehead.
Not missing her smile, Abigail nudged her in the side. “You two thinking of having one?” Her friend lifted a brow excitedly, eyes making a sweep of the immediate area to take stock of where her boys and the twins were now in the kitchen, begging Hilda and Rebecca for snacks, to where Sabrina was playing with her daughter on the floor. “The twins are five now, Ambrose is traveling more often than not, Sabrina and Prudence live at the academy almost full time… will little Dora here get another cousin?”
“Well, it’s not something we’ve really discussed,” Zelda murmured, eyes flicking back to Faustus. “But when Hilda moved back here three years ago when she and Cerberus got engaged,” she indicated to the house she’d lived in for so long, “and now with the older kids being away so much… the manor has seemed a little empty; though Faustus doesn’t travel to Italy nearly as much as he used to when Lilith first took over. Another set of little feet would be nice...”
Her friend was the first person she’d even hinted her condition too. Zelda was only four months along, just passing the mark where miscarriage was still likely the other week. She planned on telling Faustus later this week when the twins had a sleepover at a friend’s house, and they had the house to themselves.
Then she’d ask Prudence to be her midwife, after apprenticing for several years it was time for the young witch to fly completely solo for the first time. While Zelda considered asking her sister to be her midwife, Hilda was much too busy with her duties as high priestess—though things had finally started to settle after the upheaval of overthrowing Lucifer and putting Lilith on the thrown—and as a new mother. Besides, it would be good for Prudence. After those matters were settled, then she’d planned to tell everyone else.
If Abigail didn’t give it all away right then…
Barely suppressing a squeal by stuffing her fist in her mouth, Abigail grabbed Zelda’s knee and shook it slightly. “Are you saying,” her eyes glanced to Zelda’s stomach where her bump was just beginning to show to those who knew to look for it. “How far?” Abigail demanded, scooting closer and having the sense to at least act as though her proximity was so she could play with Dora.
Checking to see no one was paying any more attention than they had been, Zelda cleared her throat. “Four months.”
“Four months!” Abigail practically screeched, looking at Zelda as if she’d betrayed her for not saying something sooner. Her reaction drew the attention of everyone else though, in both the parlor and the kitchen. Zelda glared at her friend, jaw set as everyone drifted over.
Recovering first, Faustus took a step towards her. “Zels? Four months what?”
Carefully handing Dora over to Abigail, she wouldn’t hex her friend with a baby in her arms, Zelda tried to brush the matter off. This wasn’t how she’d planned everything. “I—”
“She’s four months along,” Prudence interjected from where she was leaning against the entryway to the kitchen, glamor gone, arms crossed and smile smug. When Zelda’s eyebrows shot up, Prudence huffed in amusement. “You taught me well, mother, I know a pregnant woman when I see one. Besides, you’ve been practically glowing, how no one else noticed I don’t know.”
Whoops filled the room, congratulations and back slaps and hugs. Faustus just stood a few feet away from her, looking absurdly dumbstruck and happy about the news. Though why he was so surprised Zelda wasn’t sure, it wasn’t as though marriage had dampened their appetite for one another.
When he finally crossed the room to pull her into a hug, cheers went up once more until Dora whined at the noise and Hilda collected her daughter and bounced her soothingly.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Faustus whispered, as Hilda herded everyone into the kitchen for a celebratory drink and cake.
Zelda waited a moment, letting the others move past them and then rested her hands on either side of Faustus’ neck. “I was going to Friday, when the twins had their sleepover and Ambrose, Prudence and Sabrina were all at that academy party. I wanted it to be special, I know you already have biological children, and I have Ambrose and Sabrina… but this babe,” she dropped one hand to rest on her stomach, “it’ll be, be ours and it’s what I’ve wanted for a long time.” She admitted. While she loved all her adopted children endlessly, to have one that was truly hers….
Seeming to understand, Faustus kissed her softly and covered the hand she had on her stomach with one of his. “I cannot wait to expand our family even further.” He murmured, stroking a thumb along her cheek.
Before she could reply, Letty shouted at them from the kitchen. “Mommy, Daddy, are you going to eat your cake, or can Judas and I split it?”
Shaking her head at one of her girls, Zelda broke away from Faustus and headed to the kitchen to join everyone else. “We are going to eat our cake, besides,” she bopped Letty’s nose lightly, “don’t you remember what happened the last time you and Judas ate too much cake?”
Nose scrunching, Letty shared a look with Judas and they turned back to their own plates, not even given furtive glances at other plates. Conversation swelled once more and Zelda beamed as Sabrina smiled widely next to her, suggesting names and stating she’d matured quite a bit and would make a wonderful Night Mother to her future cousin. Ambrose barked a laugh at that and started to list various examples from the last week for exactly why Sabrina shouldn’t be a Night Mother to anyone. Hilda looked near tears of joy, Dora cradled in her arms and Cerberus’ arm around her, while Rebecca was slipping Abigail a five-dollar bill with a sour look on her face.
Joy filled Zelda up, as it so often did these days.
While not every day was perfect, her pregnant clients could be stubborn and her students irksome, Sabrina still got in trouble on occasion, Ambrose’s experiments still threatened to burn down the house, the twins could be Heaven on Earth, and Prudence and her sisters still had disturbing dreams.
Though Zelda didn’t let these bother her as she once might have. Not now that she knew there were various ways in which their dreams could be interpreted. They’d foretold, almost five years ago, that the Spellmans would be the downfall of the Blackwoods.
Well, Faustus had fallen… just not in the way any of them had imagined. The downfall had been his faith in Lucifer, in the church he’d devoted his life to. It’d been the high council stripping him of his title and sentencing him to death for his part in protecting their family. Yes, the Spellmans had ruined the Antipope Lucifer had hoped to raise, to force into a mold, the Spellmans had been that Antipope’s downfall. And as a result, Faustus was able to raise again and be the kind of Antipope he’d always hoped to be, even if he and Lilith still bickered and sneered at one another whenever they interacted.
So, no, things weren’t perfect. But Zelda had learned not to focus on that anymore. Learned how to let happiness infuse her, and not worry how it might not be there the next day, or even the next hour. Because those days, when happiness was fleeting and often caused more pain than it alleviated, those days were gone.
The years of darkness were behind them. And while Zelda would have preferred to have avoided those years altogether, if it meant she got to here, to this moment, her days filled with work she was passionate about, surrounded by friends and family and love… well, she’d take on Lucifer again in a heartbeat.
Shaking herself from her thoughts, Zelda accepted a piece of cake, leaned against Faustus’ side and focused on the delighted chatter filling the room.