"Are you for real, Eleonora?! You resurrected her?" Madison asked with disbelief.
The meeting was near Misty's marsh home, and a campfire had been ignited by Helen, who loved the plan they were about to come up with to get revenge on Fiona and in turn protect the rest of the coven from the dangerous acts she has committed. Madison and Zoe were resistant to the idea, but it took a sharp tongue and fierce convincing to get their views to change—after all, taking out Fiona would save every one of them, the initial four thought.
"Look, you snotty little cumrag!" the revived woman hissed, blowing smoke from her cigarette. "What happened to me could've happened to any of YOU! Alright?! Fiona killed me! I came back with the help of four of you, and I want not only revenge, but I want for the rest of you to be safe!"
"So hag-rag wants revenge? And she wants us to be safe?!" Madison retorted. "That makes tons of sense!"
"Just listen, alright?" Misty asked, looking at Julie as the white-haired woman began to speak.
"I've devised a plan, well, we have," she began, looking down at her silver Thor's Hammer amulet.
"Great, let's hear it," Madison sneered sarcastically, tossing her hands in the air.
"Madison, shut up!" Queenie ordered. Julie took a deep breath and sighed, looking at everyone in their fire-side gathering as she began to speak.
"We are not going to kill or do harm to Fiona, so to speak. We are going to…make her commit suicide," the woman explained. Helen scoffed.
"So we're technically killing her, either way," the revived witch retorted, taking a short drag on her cigarette. "My god, the inbreeding is certainly obvious in your family!" Julie's jaw dropped, her soulful gray eyes angrily staring at the woman she had helped revive for a moment of silence.
"Are you finished? Can I continue?!" the striking woman with ice-blonde hair asked emphatically.
"Well, excuse me, I didn't think there'd be a fucking finish line," Helen sneered.
Julie ignored Helen and how spiteful she was being, even though she was really getting on her nerves with uncalled-for insults and snide remarks. She shook her head and continued.
"There is a ritual that one of you have the parchment to that you brought today," she continued.
"The Sacred Taking," Queenie said, taking out the fine, old, rolled-up piece of paper from her bag and handing it to Julie, who in turn handed it to Misty as she stood up to look at her brother, Eleonora, Helen, Madison, Queenie, Zoe, Nan and Misty; it was as though she were the teacher and they were her students.
"Fiona's not going to kill herself," Madison warned.
"How do you know?" Julie asked. "It won't be on our hands. She'll have no one to blame but herself." She glanced at Chase, continuing. "Nine is a powerful number. We can all pitch in."
"What will happen to us?" Eleonora asked shyly, her green eyes illuminated by the fire.
"We will need to perform the Seven Wonders to determine the new Supreme," Misty cut in.
"The structure of the coven will change," Zoe said with worry.
"Great change is needed," Julie responded. "Like Helen said, Fiona could've slit any of our throats just so she could continue being in her position. It isn't fair. We all have the potential to be a Supreme, either a positive reinforcement on the coven…or the downfall of us all." She began to pace, keeping her eyes on each of the members in their late night gathering. "I say we fight."
"Fight?" Eleonora asked. "But we—"
"This is a fight. A fight for our protection. Our safety. When I was accepted into the, quote, 'elite boarding school' years ago, they claimed it to be a safe place. Well, tables have turned and people have died. Myrtle Snow was innocent, but still burned to death after being framed foryour murder, Helen," Julie explained, bringing up a point that the other nodded to in agreement. Her eyes had been focused on the woman, whose newly light brown eyes peered up at her.
"What will the Sacred Taking actually consist of?" Zoe asked.
Julie had not looked at the ritual herself, so she carefully opened the parchment paper, unrolling it to look down at the scripted text, reading aloud the preface to the witches in the gathering as the fire consumed the bundle of sticks in the center.
"The Sacred Taking," Julie repeated, still reading, "it says here that it is a ritual used in times of crisis to preserve the coven…" Her eyes travelled down the page, skimming what she had just read and absorbed, "it has been performed only three other times in history…." She read the last part loudly and clearly, "The first time this ritual was performed was in 1692. The coven had to flee south away from Salem to avoid persecution. The reigning Supreme at that time, Prudence Mather, suffered from consumption, and knew she would be too weak to make the journey. She gathered her witches and invoked the Sacred Taking…" She paused to gather her thoughts, "by far, it is the most hallowed sacrifice a Supreme can make."
"Oh god," Eleonora sighed, fixing her light blonde hair. "How are we going to do this?"
"We are all in this together," Julie said.
"What if we fail? What if Fiona kills one of us?" Eleonora asked worried.
Julie walked over to where she was sitting and crouched majestically, her long, light-colored skirt falling to the moist, dirt ground of the area near Misty's marsh as her snow white hair glowed in the light of the fire like freshly-fallen snow blanketing the earth. Their eyes met, and Julie nodded, recalling the many words of wisdom she had learned through her years of spiritual truth and mystic journeys.
"It is better to fight and fall," she whispered, "than to live without hope." She sprung to her feet once again, looking at the rest of the witches in the gathering; Zoe and Madison both looked up at her with awe; "it is better to stand and fight! If we run, we will only die tired. That's no way to be! Let's show Fiona where her place in this world is!"
Delphine never thought she would be eating a hamburger and fries alone, especially in a crammed cage. She remembered Queenie, her friend by strange circumstances, and how she had shared her first fast food meal with her. Strangely enough, she was wearing a plain t-shirt, and pants. Pants! Something she had never worn, being a woman of her time, so she said. Marie's first wish was complied with by Fiona, who had tricked the centuries-old woman to go with her to get "a new hairstyle"—more like a ridiculously drawn-out torture session. Marie was sitting there, her chin resting in the ball of her palm as she watched her eat.
"You know, when I had the idea to have you brought back to me," the woman said, "I thought of all the many ways I could dispose of you. But I've found it give me great pleasure just to know you in a cage."
"Oh, shut your mouth, nigress!" Delphine barked, a pickle from the burger stuck in her teeth. "Fetch me some water so I may eat in silence."
"I'm not your damn maid!" Marie cackled. "If I were you, I wouldn't be so eager to show my arrogance from that side of the cage."
"And what you gonna do? Kill me? I can't die!" Delphine laughed, dismissive in her tone as she took a French fry and put it in her mouth. "Throw me back in the box. I've seen enough of this world. I'll take no part in a country that has a nigger in the White House. Hundred years from now, when they dig me up again, the natural order'll be restored."
"You're so stupid," Marie taunted, rolling her great dark eyes. "You think I only got two choices? You have no imagination."
Delphine finished her food quickly and tossed the remainder of French fries and the wrapping of her hamburger out of the cage, kneeling up as much as she could to get a better look at her captor and sworn enemy. Her blue eyes were calculating, and Marie approached the cage with a sharp instrument as her fingers fit themselves between the grates.
"I ain't afraid of you," the woman in the cage sneered, "I wouldn't give you that satisfaction."
Suddenly, Delphine felt a sharp pain hit her wrist, and she screamed in agony to see blood gushing from the large gash Marie's knife had left on her. The voodoo priestess held a cup to the centuries-old woman's bleeding wrist, collecting the blood as it dripped—Delphine was in shock as she screamed.
"AHH!" Marie cackled, looking down to see the blood she had collected.
"Well, you're right. This gave me no satisfaction," the black woman said, "we've only just begun."
"FIONA!" Delphine screamed out. "WHY?!"
"Shut up, you cracker bitch!" Marie shouted.
"All you been is bleeding me for your poultice!" Delphine cried out. "Come tomorrow, I'll be bone dry! What did I ever do to deserve this betrayal?! The witch freed me to make me a slave! Didn't Queenie like my chicken pot pie and peach cobbler? I learned to make it just for her! Didn't Helen trust me with all those disgustin' secrets? I grimaced at all them people she killed, even her own daddy, but I still listened and kept it to myself! Get me outta here! This cage ain't fit for no human!"
"Which is why it's perfect for you!" Marie said; she smirked at Delphine before hearing a strange wheezing.
The centuries-old woman in the cage began to clutch at her chest, her blue eyes widened and gradually getting more bloodshot as she struggled to breathe. She writhed in the cage like a fish out of water—Marie's potion, which had been slipped in the food before being given to her captive, was working, and she smiled with delight to watch Delphine die a slow, agonizing death.
"H-Help! W-What the…did you…in my…f-f-f….." All life in the centuries-old woman ceased—she was dead.
"Hm, I shouldn't 've fed the animals," Marie cooed haughtily.
Nan was washing in the bathtub, minding her own business as the foamy, aromatic bubbles pleased her senses.
Fiona had needs, too—eternal life was her biggest necessity. Marie will not get one of my witches, she thought to herself, I called on Papa Legba, and he told me that the sacrifice should be attained by the one in the deal.
Yet they hadn't struck a formal deal—Fiona was doing anything to appease the great spirit she wanted to bargain with.
She noticed the bathroom door was ajar, and luckily she was not wearing her stilettos to give her presence away. She tip-toed lightly toward the bathtub, Nan's brunette hair facing her backward. She seems oblivious, she thought, and she's supposed to be clairvoyant?
Without further ado, Fiona gripped her dark hair and plunged her head down in the bathtub, Nan's body struggling for her life in response to water seeping down into her lungs. The bubbles were huge as they rapidly rose to the surface; the Supreme plunged the witch's head even deeper down in the water as the bubbles slowed down, getting smaller and smaller until they stopped completely—Nan was dead, and Fiona turned her head to see a figure, a black man with a tall hat and fancy, but flamboyant suit.
"Legba! I gave you a sacrifice!" Fiona said excitedly. "Will I be given eternal life? I did what you asked me to do!" The spirit looked at her, his eyes turning white as he clasped his gloved hands together in front of him.
"The deal is off," Papa Legba boomed, his voice like an echo through the bathroom; Fiona's eyes widened, gasping in fear.
"What?! No! I killed her just for you!" she exclaimed.
"You have no soul for me to take. The only soul here I am taking with me is…Nan," Legba explained, extending out and swaying his arm to reveal a bright white apparition-like figure; it was her ghost and she was dressed in a strange costume. Her voice, tender and sweet like in her lifetime, looked down in shock, her translucent hands travelling over the outfit her spirit was wearing.
"D-Do I have to wear this for the rest of eternity?" she asked Legba, who shook his head kindly.
"Oh no," he responded, placing his hands on her spirit's pale-white shoulders. You will find that the Other Side is filled with treats for a girl like you."
"Oh!" Nan smiled grander than she ever had before, even while alive. "Anywhere is better than here!"
"Come, child," Legba directed.
The two disappeared—Fiona was outraged, on the bathroom floor in tears.
It took an hour for Fiona to finally budge from her position on the bathroom floor as she was curled up in a tight ball, crying out of misery. She had failed, and she was even remorseful for taking Nan's life. She sobbed, even reaching up for her hair at one point during that hour to grip her hair; a few clumps had fallen out and she shook her head only to weep more. Knowing that the young witch would be in a better place on the Other Side gave her some relief as she stood up and walked down the stairs slowly, her back slouched until she saw a flash come from the ancestry room. Curious, she walked a little faster to see the figure of Helen, revived and competent, holding her hand toward the fireplace that had just been light to create the flash.
"H-Helen?"
The Supreme gasped—she was speechless, noticing the physical changes that came to her upon resurrection; slight wrinkles under her cheekbones and at the corners of her mouth, light brown eyes that lacked their fire but instead stabbed like daggers, and her hair, once a beautiful platinum shade, was now a dark, sun-kissed blonde. Her figure, buxom and curvaceous, was the same even in her revived state as when she was fully alive, before Fiona had killed her. She seemed to have a translucent glow to her that added to her once-ethereal, youthful appearance; maybe it was just her long, flowing black gown she was given to wear.
"Surprise, bitch," the revived woman sneered. "You thought you'd never see me again, huh? Well, looks like you have. The phoenix always rises from the ashes. As for you, you look like you just gave the Grim Reaper a handjob!"
"What…what are you?" Fiona asked fearfully, her brown eyes widened in shock. "W-Who brought you back?"
"Well, it seems your ambition outweighs your relevant skills," Helen sneered. "I'm the new Supreme. You know, the one you killed?" She scoffed. "I'm not telling you how I came back, but either way, you have some explaining to do. I think we are going to call the council." Tsk, she sounded before continuing, "oh, wait a minute, you had Myrtle killed, too! And…" Helen slinked closer, her heels digging into the new rug that had replaced the one drenched in her blood, "I saw what you did to that poor little girl upstairs. Eternal life…" She shook her head, "you have another thing coming if you think that will keep you warm at night. Ugh," She scoffed dismissively, "none of that will matter in the end. You'll be burned at the stake…and we will all be bringing chocolate and marshmallows to make s'mores from the fire I conjure to eat you alive."
"Does…Cordelia know?" Fiona asked, fearful of someone for the first time in a while.
"Oh, I don't know," Helen said in a harsh, hoarse, feminine voice, circling the Supreme as she continued. "It won't matter, like I say. You know, Fiona, I would know myself that the greatest tragedy for a child…to be parted with their parent."
"Get out." Fiona said forcefully, still looking at her in fear. "Just…get out! NOW!"
"Make me, you old prune!" Helen screeched. "Like you say, as my powers grow,yours will fade! Then again, I'm more powerful than you." Helen leaned into Fiona's ear threateningly and whispered: "I could swallow you whole." She backed away and continued, "you're beneath me, Fiona. I remember the last day I was fully alive. I told you once, I'll tell you again. I'm more powerful than you'll ever seek to be. I'm in, you're out!"
"Shut up, you insolent whore!"
Fiona raised her hand to prepare to strike the revived woman down; as her hand lowered to her, Helen grabbed her wrist and concentrated enough, using her powers of fire to scald her skin, causing it to bubble enough to create a permanent scar, much like she had done to the back of Eleonora's neck years before. Fiona screamed in horror, collapsing and looking to see the damage that had been done to her; Helen looked down at her as if she were a mangy dog, and put her hands on her hips.
"Aw, poor Fiona," Helen cooed sadistically. "You know, I'm generous aside from being such an…evil witch-bitch." She held open her other hand, showing a handful of large, heavy-duty sleeping pills while conjuring a fireball in her other hand. "I'm giving you two choices. Take these pills and lay back…or I will kill you myself. The choice is yours."
"But…but I—"
"Choose now! Or I'll choose your fate for you!" Helen scolded.
Fiona sighed, tears flowing from her eyes as her brown eyes tried to appease Helen with a gaze, but it didn't seem to work. She looked at the fireball—it glowed with the intensity of the Sun, which was a big ball of fire in itself, and then she looked at the pills. Pills seemed so painless, definitely more favorable than the fire that would scorch her until she became nothing but a pile of ashes. She reached up and took the pills, every single one of them, and she put three at a time into her mouth, struggling to swallow; Helen had brought her a glass of wine.
"Good choice," Helen praised with a smile, handing her a full glass. "Down it with some contentment. You'll be happy."
"Finally," Fiona said weakly, taking a big gulp of the sweet, intoxicating substance. "I'm doing something noble for the coven."
"After all, it is the most hallowed thing you could do," Helen said, sitting next to her as she watched her lay back on the same rug she herself had died on after taking all the pills. "As for this phoenix, she will soar. Lambs will become lions."
A/N:
The suspense must be killing you guys! But is Helen really the new Supreme? If not, then who?
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