Chapter 7 — Beloved Exile

The funeral wasn't long, half an hour at the most — still not short enough for Fiona.

When she got back, she tried to quietly vanish in her room, almost like a teenager sneaking back inside the house after a wild night out. The last thing she needed after standing out in the cold and feeling her weakness in every bone was for her to run into Stevie once again.

As soon as she arrived in her room, she poured herself a drink, downed it, then poured herself another.

It was only 1pm but the brown concoction was the only thing that kept her from letting her mask drop and her feelings show.

What she'd told Stevie— was true.

She was a reckless, lonely, aging, desperate old woman. She was also sick, but Stevie didn't know that. And she shouldn't. Stevie didn't deserve to be drawn into her fucked-up life. Fiona hated herself for living the way she did, for being the way she was. She also hated herself both for kissing Stevie and for rejecting her.

The sudden urge to throw her glass across the room and to listen to it shatter into a million of little pieces overcame her but she forced herself to contain her frustration.

As thoughts spiraled through her mind and whiskey down her throat, the only thing she knew was that Stevie was too important to her to drag her into the ruins. She'd never felt like that about anyone before, and deep inside she knew why: she loved Stevie. Fiona couldn't bear the thought of it; love did not quite fit her lifestyle or the reputation she had worked for all these years. But she loved her.

The Supreme knew exactly that her body's functions would decline rapidly within the next couple of months — something not even she herself was prepared for. There was also the possibility that she would commit a mass murder in order to restore her own powers and vitality. Neither of those options was a particular quality of a good lover. At least not when it was Stevie Nicks who was at stake.


Stevie felt the smooth sheets slide over her hands as her limbs lay heavy on the unfamiliar king-size bed. Her heart rate had accelerated immediately after the snow-like substance had entered her body. Using a rolled-up five dollar bill might not have been the most graceful way to do it, but she soon reminded herself that there was nothing graceful about cocaine whatsoever. The only thing she could hear now was her heart jumping in her chest and a funny tingling in her hands that soon spread to her stomach.

Not putting any thoughts into her actions, she let her right hand slide down the side of her body, eventually slipping it under the skirt of her dress and, without hesitation, into her panties. She could feel the black lace on her soft skin as she slowly started rubbing her center. It didn't take long until her movements became fast and ungentle, as she was desperate for relief. Fiona kept flashing through her mind and, even though Stevie tried to banish all memories that resembled the Supreme in any way, she found herself unable to control her mind as soon as the tension rose.

The blonde was surprised by the earliness of her pleasure's peak and, reaching it sooner than usually, she clenched the sheets with her spare hand's fingers. A current of electricity causing every part of her body to be flooded with heat overwhelmed the White Witch and, arching her back, she pressed her right hand on her center once more, waiting for the aftershocks to pass.

After catching her breath for a moment, she removed her hand from her panties and sat up into an upright position, not sure of what to do next.

Suddenly, she heard a knock on the door — was she paranoid?

Fiona entered and, without realizing it, Stevie looked at her as if she had been caught red-handed — which was true, in a way.

"Is this a bad time?" Fiona asked cautiously.

"Uh," Stevie choked, "no. Come in."

While Fiona closed the door behind her, Stevie watched carefully and hated herself for trying to catch a glimpse of the blonde's alluring shape.

It was only then that Stevie looked down and felt lucky when she saw that her dress wasn't tucked into her leggings.

Then either the superfluous energy in her body or the manners she thought she needed to maintain urged her to get up immediately. As she was unable to operate her body with full, rational control, she ended up standing closer to the Supreme than she had intended. Slightly paranoid that Fiona would catch the smell of fresh pleasure, Stevie tried to wipe her right hand on the back of her dress nonchalantly. However, she was unable to hold back a childish laugh that was merely a consequence of the cocaine and not conducive to the conversation.

Confused, Fiona paused before taking a few steps towards her opponent.

"You know, this is not easy for me."

Fiona tried to make a general, distant statement rather than one that would reveal her actual feelings.

Stevie just stood there, hoping Fiona couldn't hear her heartbeat that slowly drowned out all outside noise and got louder with every breath she took.

"There are just some things I can't…"

Fiona arrived right in front of Stevie and placed her hand on her cheek. She then took a deep breath and looked into her friend's eyes, almost getting lost in the sparkle of them, until — she couldn't help but notice that something was different, something she couldn't quite make out. But all of a sudden it hit her, and when it did, the soft and vague, forced smile on her face vanished at the same time as her hand dropped from Stevie's face.

Just when the latter, too, noticed what was happening, fear overcame her and she stepped away.

"Have you been doing drugs?" Fiona said in a sharp, agitated, yet low voice.

Stevie lowered her eyes, inhaled as much air as she possibly could and opened her mouth in preparation to defend herself but Fiona got ahead of her.

"Your pupils are dilated." She pressed one hand to Stevie's chest, "Your heart is racing."

Overwhelmed with both anger and fear, Fiona acted quickly and started searching the room for any trace of the substance.

Stevie already knew that Fiona would find the bag eventually as she hadn't even closed the drawer where she had left the remainders. She just stood there, unable to accept the fact that her whole life seemed to have turned around within the last two minutes and now, after she had surprised herself by coming to terms with it just as quickly, the singer merely waited for the inevitable misery following the exposure of her gold dust escapade.

Fiona shook up the sheets, felt up the pillows and then threw them back onto the bed in frustration. When she turned to open the upper drawer of Stevie's dresser, she discovered that it was still open and, without even having to dig, the half-empty bag of cocaine just sat there, as if it had been waiting to be discovered.

Suddenly calmer but not less angry, Fiona picked it up and then turned to Stevie.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Putting emphasis on the last part, her voice went from calm to loud and angry. While still holding on to the cocaine, Fiona rushed up to Stevie and grabbed the collar of her dress.

"Are you insane?!"

She raised her hand, displaying the bag directly in front of Stevie's eyes.

"This has almost killed you before."

Furious, Fiona threw the bag across the room when she turned her body away from Stevie and both of them watched the white powder spread across the floor.

Even though Stevie knew she had messed up, she couldn't bear to admit it since she was still deeply hurt by her friend's words from earlier that day.

"Why do you even care?"

Stevie, too, raised her voice.

"You are the Supreme. You have everything and you want nothing. Nobody. You couldn't care less if I died."

Unable to control the anger welling up inside of her when she heard those cruel words, Fiona ran up to Stevie and put all of the rage in a slap across her face, hitting her hard with the back of her hand.

"You don't know shit."

Captured by cocaine's spell, Stevie's high body slightly collapsed, catching itself just before a fall. Her long, blonde hair moved along with her face; her whole being shaken.

Watching her friend silently wince in pain, Fiona's hand wandered to cover her mouth while she was overcome with immediate remorse. The Supreme instantly felt the need to punish herself — after all, it was her who had killed so many witches to maintain her power, it was her who had wanted to sell her soul, it was her who had rejected Stevie. But she also knew that dealing with an addict required unconditional ruthlessness and, deep down, that her harsh reaction was merely proof of the importance Stevie had in her life.

Conveniently using the latter as a justification, Fiona would not allow the shock over her own actions to show in her eyes although she wasn't sure if she had managed to keep it hidden.

Even though it was Fiona who did the impetuous deed, it was Stevie who felt guilty. She kept her eyes fixed on the ground, retracing the pain on her cheek with her frail fingers.

Stevie wasn't sure whether the vibrating sound, the force of Fiona's punishment or the cocaine in her veins had evoked a certain dizziness in her body, but remaining in the slightly bent position she was in became more difficult with every second neither of them spoke.

"Sober up, missy, and then we'll talk."

Releasing her mind from contemplating her actions, the Supreme straightened her stature and determinedly rushed towards the door, exiting without looking back.

Her low voice resounded in the room and stung like a knife in midst of the heavy silence.

This was worse than rehab, Stevie thought. Losing Fiona was worse than losing cocaine.

TBC