Day 4

The image of those accursed hickies and bite mark followed Cordelia around everywhere, non-stop. With her eyes closed, they gained more realness, more vividity. The only way to alleviate this pain was to keep her eyes open as much as possible. She blinked only when her eyeballs started to ache from a lack of moisture. Never mind the absurdity of her action. Nobody could've laughed at it, if they'd understood the gravity of the situation, the agony that these images brought to her. She tried to get her heart to be rock-hard. But the Cajun held a special place in her heart, the softest and the most vulnerable.

Yeah, she's my Rhiannon . . .

How many times had she dreamed of being that? But an egotistical stranger showed up out of nowhere, and stomped on her heart like a piece of trash. And the frightened little girl in her had nobody to run to anymore. It hurt less to have a glassful of acid thrown at her face, or to thrust gardening shears right into her eyes. No heartache she had ever experienced in her wretched life could amount to this pain. And when the moan returned to echo inside her head, Cordelia felt it chipping away at her sanity.

She knew, without a doubt, that the Woman found her agony entertaining, nothing but a circus. She bit her lip. This had to end now, or the Coven would lose the true leader. Only, she didn't know how.

By no means she assumed they had plenty of time. But this morning, a particular incident happened, which got everyone to realize that the hourglass was running out of sand.

It was about eight o'clock, when the Supreme and the council finished the morning meeting. Cordelia took a sip of her tea, as she prepared for another day. Then, the moment she put down her cup, there came crashing sounds from outside the room, and the girls crying out. She flew out of the room, and ran to the staircase, where a few girls were leaning on the railing and looking down. Doing exactly the same, Cordelia found a crowd of girls at the bottom of the stairs, right below her. In the center of the circle sat Misty on the floor, pressing her hand to her temple. The Supreme transmuted to the edge of the crowd, and almost elbowed her way to the Cajun.

"What happened?" She knelt down by Misty. But her eyes caught enough in an instant, and her hand flew to her mouth.

A huge gash, the length of her pinky finger, blemished Misty's forehead. Right before Cordelia's eyes, blood oozed from it, and trickled down her face. Someone from the mass of spectators pointed it out, and it was only then that the Cajun seemed to take notice of it. Her hand glided from her temple to the cut. When her blood-stained fingers came into her view, Misty narrowed her eyes.

"Don't move." The Supreme raised her hand to tend to the cut.

Misty, however, pulled away. "Nah, I can do that myself, Miss Cordelia." With both of her hands covering her forehead, she healed herself. She twisted her face into a weak lopsided smile. "I just missed a step and slipped, is all. Don't you worry." But her bloody forehead creased, when she looked down, and held the hem of her dress between her fingers. The article of clothing dripped with some white liquid. "Damn, I just changed into this."

Cordelia mirrored her action, looking down. There, she found out that her dress, too, fell victim to the mysterious liquid. Both of them were sitting in a pool of it, while the girls kept a good distance to avoid the same victimization. And on top of it, little shards of glass lay in and out of the pool, twinkling around them.

"Oh, shit. Miss Cordelia, your dress. I'm sorry."

The Supreme shook her head. "It's nothing. I'm relieved that you're safe."

Then, they heard clicking of heels above them. Everyone looked up in unison, as Ursula finally appeared to the railing. With the most relaxed, unruffled gait, she walked down the stairs. Her emotionless eyes kept looking at Misty, in the same distant, neutral manner an observer does at her object. She only looked down, when she lifted her long dress off the wet floor.

Misty stood up. "I'm sorry, I spilled your Almond Milk."

The Woman waved a hand, dismissive, disinterested. "Let us get another glass, then." Her eyes found Kyle, who stood behind the wall of girls. She signaled him with a snap of fingers like a dog. "Go fetch a mop, valet boy. Do not leave a single stain."

The two of them walked away from the mess, arms linked. While Misty looked back once with a guilty grimace, the Woman never did so, as though nothing had happened. The girls and Cordelia remained on the site, immobilized by bewilderment, by frustration. They watched as Almond Milk dripped from the Cajun's dress, and left a shimmering trail right in the hall, into the kitchen. Whispers began to spread among the girls, then.

The Supreme wrung her dress dry. "Girls, be mindful of the glass shards. If you need to use the stairs, also be careful, please," she said, as she cast a sympathetic glance at Kyle.

But the spilled milk was at the bottom of her priorities now. Despite Misty's reassurance, Cordelia still felt quite concerned. Her heart buzzed in agonizing fret. She felt a lump in her throat, a typical symptom at the beginning of a panic attack.

She walked into the kitchen, and found the two women at the kitchen counter, face to face. Misty, with the heels of her palms, wiped away the blood off her forehead. But in the middle of the cleaning, Ursula held her chin to examine the injury, in her distant manner. There was not a hint of love in the action. Cordelia even saw something similar to amazement, in the way the Woman's lip curled into a smirk. The sickening feeling in Cordelia's stomach got worse at the sight. She walked towards them.

Misty heard the footsteps, turned her head to the Supreme, and that very movement caused the gash to open. Blood began to trickle down her nose again.

Cordelia rushed to stop the blood with her power. Her hand became sticky with the red.

The Cajun smiled, sliding her finger across the healed skin. "Thank ya, Miss Cordelia. I thought I healed it completely, though."

"Maybe your powers haven't come back to you entirely." The Supreme wet a sheet of paper towel, and wiped her hand clean. "Just try not to use your powers for a while. Give yourself a break." She wet another sheet, then stepped closer to the girl again, to get rid of the blood.

But before she could, the Woman held Misty's chin, just as she's done seconds ago, and brought their faces closer.

"But there's something absolutely charming about your look, my pet," she said. She swiped her thumb across the bloody skin, and sucked the finger. Moans rose from somewhere deep in her, as her eyes closed.

Cordelia couldn't conceal her disgust. She looked at Misty with the same sensation, and wondered why such an inappropriate remark should gather blood to her cheeks.

ooOooOoo

The Supreme did not return to her office, but went to Queenie's room instead. The incident at the stairs disturbed her mind too much, and the scene in the kitchen only exacerbated her frustrations. Something must be done. They must find a way.

"She said she'd simply missed a step, but this has to have something to do with Ursula," Cordelia said, as she walked to and fro in the room.

"And have you seen how she ordered Kyle around?" Queenie said. "Like he's her personal servant? Of course, he didn't complain, but fuck. That Woman is so fucked up."

Cordelia felt her brows drawn together. "Could you tell him I'm sorry," she said to Zoe, who sat in the bed with the Voodoo doll. "I should've helped him, but I needed to see if Misty was really okay."

"He understands," Zoe said. "but, yeah, I'll tell him you said that. We really need to something about Ursula, though. The girls are scared of her. And I'm scared that even if Misty had a bigger accident, she'd still be smiling like she did at the stairs."

"That fucking smirk makes me sick to the stomach," the Voodoo doll said.

The Supreme stopped her feet. "I talked to Misty yesterday. She told me Ursula was born somewhere in England, and moved to what's now North Carolina. But Ursula kept the meaning of the symbol on her neck a secret from her." The image of Misty's marked neck of course flashed across her mind. "I thought I might obtain crucial information about her identity, but I wasn't so lucky."

"Yeah, I've been on the internet when I could, but no luck here, either," Queenie said.

Zoe gave a nod. "Same here. Why do I feel like she even hides it from Misty because she sees through it all, knowing Misty will tell you everything," she said to Cordelia.

"She's so pretentious," the Voodoo said. "More than Delphine. I bet she's in her bed now, making Misty bring her food and water and everything she wants like a queen, laughing at us. I hate that laugh, and that smirk, too."

"They went to the swamp, actually," the Supreme said, as she bit her nails. "I agree that she regards us as losers, though."

Zoe made a confused grimace. "The swamp? Whose car did they take? Are they driving? It's a little too far to go by taxi . . ."

Cordelia shrugged her shoulders, with her arms crossed in front of her chest. "Transmutation, I guess. I don't know."

"I don't know about you two," Queenie said with a sarcastic smirk, "but I can't imagine that Woman trying to learn how to drive, or queueing up at the DMV." She let out a snort.

They fell quiet at once, then. Although, it wasn't the Woman on the wheel that occupied the mind of the Supreme.

"Come to think of it, though," the Voodoo doll said, "have we ever seen that Woman use her powers? She always uses a lighter to smoke." She looked at the other two.

Loaded silence was their collective answer, as a new idea presented itself.

"Let me ask you this—" Queenie held up a finger. "Is she really the first Supreme as she claims to be? Doesn't the current Supreme have to die in order for the next one to gain her full power?"

"She's got a point," Zoe said, looking at the current Supreme. "It just doesn't add up. How has she lived so long, and managed to still look so young?"

"She said that it's not difficult," Cordelia said. "Marie Laveau lived for more than two centuries and still looked like in her thirties."

"But Marie Laveau wasn't a Supreme," Zoe said.

"Yeah, and even Marie had to make a bond with Papa Legba, and not without great sacrifice," the Voodoo doll said. "And may I add, it wasn't just a one-time thing. She had to sacrifice the soul of a newborn every single year."

"Delphine didn't have to make sacrifice."

"'Cause that was a curse, not a contract. Marie tricked her into drinking her potion."

The brunette seemed deep in thought. "Okay, but let's assume she actually has lived for as long as she claims. She must have extensive knowledge about ancient potions, don't you think?"

Listening to this exchange between the girls, Cordelia had the lightbulb go on in her head. "Zoe's right. Her knowledge is vast, literally covers the last five centuries." She began to walk about again. "If she could make a potion of eternal life and youth, she should be able to make a potion to alter someone's mind without the person knowing it."

"So, are we back to the original theory, her being the first Supreme?" the Voodoo doll said.

Zoe leaned forward. "What kind of potion?"

"I don't know exactly," Cordelia said.

"Don't you have to know exactly what it is, in order to concoct an antidote?"

There was a ghost of a smile, a smile of hope, on the Supreme's lips. "Not necessarily. Although alchemy has an infinite number of recipes, infinite combinations of ingredients, we only have a few antidotes to count. That's the biggest difference between alchemy and spell magic. And if I know the effect of the potion, I could easily narrow down which antidotes to make."

As she said this, her feet carried her to the door without her notice. And by the time she uttered the last word, she found herself quite out of the room.

ooOooOoo

Cordelia worked in the greenhouse for hours, even skipped lunch again. Lab equipment and books spread across the usually neat surface of the table. Jars, glass bottles, and bags of alchemic ingredients found space between the books. And the very few chosen ones sat on the desk against the wall, where the Supreme worked. She ground the essentials into powder. She picked up a beaker with a clear liquid in it, and poured it and the powder into an empty flask over a fire. After several seconds, the concoction changed its color to light orange. With crucible tongs, she lifted the flask off the fire. This was her second potion.

As she lost herself in the work, she had a feeling in her chest that she hadn't felt in a while. Hope. It made her heart feel a little bit lighter, her view less daunting. The day before, the pretentious Woman had tainted this precious heaven of a place with her unholiness. Although that memory—the picture and the sound—stuck to her mind forever, she managed to turn this greenhouse back into a place of hope, of potential to save the Cajun.

Still, she had to have her emotion under control, not to indulge in this feeling. She knew, from three decades of bitter personal experience, what could follow such optimism and high expectations. It had never resulted in a happy ending. So, as she'd always done in her life, she closed her eyes and prepared for disappointment.

Then, there came the undisputed clicking of heels. The door creaked open.

"It smells nice in here. Conjuring up something?" Ursula walked in.

Misty followed her in, like a little duckling. She sniffed the air, and her face lit up when her eyes met Cordelia's.

"Hello, Miss Cordelia," she said, walking towards her. A shiny leather satchel bag—the Supreme had never seen it before—hung from her shoulder. In her hands was a large jar, filled with swamp mud. "I got you something from the swamp. It's the same kind of mud I used to use for healing things. It's also great for your plants."

The Supreme took it, mumbling words of gratitude. She then watched Ursula kiss the Cajun on the lips.

"Don't stay here for too long, puppy, or I won't give you a massage." The Woman gave her another kiss, and throwing a malicious smirk in the direction of Cordelia, she sauntered out of the place.

Cordelia ignored it. Even the slightest hint of jealousy would allow the Woman to feed off it. The best tactics were to remain unaffected. The Supreme knew that. But, as silence began to fill the greenhouse, she felt as though the sound of her heartache grew louder.

Misty put her bag down on a stool, and began to rummage in it.

That, at least, made Cordelia smile a little. "Did you enjoy the trip?"

"Yeah!" The girl twinkled her big eyes. "We stopped by my shack first, and then sort of strolled around the deeper part o' the swamp. I found lots of fun stuff. Pretty feathers, a cool rock, bones of some kind o' animal, another cool rock . . ." She lined these things up on the edge of the messy table. ". . . The skin of a tree, a weird-shaped rock, an emerald rock . . . and more rocks."

There was the pride and precision of a museum curator. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip in joyful concentration. Even her voice sounded an octave higher, as she introduced her trophies to her companion. Cordelia lost herself in the sight. The whole being of Misty Day radiated happiness in that moment. And when she finished putting the entire collection on display, it seemed to give her great satisfaction.

She walked towards the Supreme, then. "Whatcha making there?"

Cordelia faltered, as she looked down at the two potions. "These are, um—" Although she couldn't possibly tell the girl the truth, she found it equally difficult to lie through her teeth. "These are for you, Misty. Both of them. They are potions of Vitalitas. You look very tired, and I wanted to do something for you."

The Cajun smiled. "Of course, I'm tired. I just walked around the swamp for hours."

"No, I mean this morning, what happened at the stairs."

"Told you, I was just drowsy and careless. Couldn't really sleep last night." Misty lowered her eyes. Her wild curls failed to conceal the reddening cheeks.

And only with that sight, Cordelia again understood. She didn't want to, but it came to her like the Sight. There was no escape.

"Well, but considering what happened to your injury on your forehead, I'll feel better if you take them. They are not like regular energy drinks. They help your soul heal itself." She took a mug cup off the shelf, poured one of the potions into it, and handed the cup to Misty.

And with a doubtless smile, Misty chugged the first potion. A hum of approval escaped, as she licked her lips. "Strawberry?"

"It smells like it, but I used no fruit," the Supreme said, pouring the other potion into the mug. She then watched the girl take a swig again. The childish happiness on Misty's face gave her a pang of conscience, as well as a conflicting warm feeling.

"Not as sweet as the first one, but I still like it," Misty said. She put her hands in the air, then, stretching her back. "Them Vitalis potions and a massage from Ursula, and I'll be good as new tomorrow morning!"

The mention of her nemesis pricked Cordelia's heart. Still, the same heart thumped in anticipation, in morbid optimism, at the idea that this might be the last time she had to hear the cursed name. Her apprehension vanished suddenly. It would take an hour or two for the potions to kick in, though. That was the downside of alchemy, but she could wait.

She let the Cajun go and remained in the greenhouse, waiting for Misty to appear again and rush into her arms. Her eyes made constant round trips between the door and the clock. Every second felt like an eternity. A thought flashed across her mind, then, that this could be actually Papa Legba's hell. No sound came from the academy, and it disturbed her, too.

Tidying up the place served as a good distraction for a while. She put the ingredients back on the shelves, washed the equipment, and even swept the floor. But with her great efficiency, this whole activity only took about half an hour. She sank back in a chair, as she couldn't find anything else to do with her time. It wasn't one of her options to go back to her office.

It was at this moment that her eyes caught something in front of her. On the eyepiece of her microscope, a brown moth rested its wings. Her brows knotted together. Although moths and other insects did not disgust her, their presence in the greenhouse vexed her. It was a kind of moth she had never seen before. Assuming it had come along with Misty from the swamp, she waved a hand to drive it away.

Then, two hours passed, and another hour, and another. Despite the still bright sky, her world became pitch-dark. She cursed her own stupidity. She should've kept her guard up. When someone knocked on the door at last, she knew it was simply Zoe, coming to fetch her for dinner.

"Are they there?" Cordelia asked.

The brunette shook her head.

And the Supreme did not even get a glimpse of Misty or the Woman until the next day.