THE IDEA OF WAITING FOR SOMETHING ALWAYS made the experience of waiting all the more exciting— at least, that was what Corey had always been told. However, the longer that the Coven waited for the Council to come to their collective decision, the more the witch dreaded the potential final outcome. Each of her worst fears surfaced within her mind, one after the other.
That their secret weapon would prove to be useless.
That, because Madison had been brought back, the Council could not confirm that she had ever been dead in the first place.
That Fiona would find a way to push the blame onto someone else even with all of the evidence against her.
Corey took in a deep breath, her chest shaking anxiously as she inhaled. Myrtle Snow's voice carried through the halls, a regal cadence that held itself higher than anyone else.
"You must think you're very clever, Fiona Goode." The redhead could hear the smile in the woman's voice, the soft click of her heels echoing as she stepped closer to the Supreme that sat in the center of the room.
"I do, I do think I'm very clever. I am, after all, the Supreme." There was a lingering arrogance in Fiona's voice. She still, somehow, thought she had the upper hand. The Supreme knew that the Council had only returned with hard evidence, but she was sure that it had nothing to do with her. She covered her own tracks. Or, she thought, Spalding had covered her tracks for her.
"Sadly, you are. Though, given the state of this coven and this school, one could be forgiven for thinking we've been without a Supreme for the last forty years." Myrtle's tone was teasing, condescending, hoity-toity. She wanted to savor the moment, the feeling of knowing she had Fiona in the palm of her hand.
"If you don't like the way I'm running things, take it up with the Council." Fiona's you-can't-touch-me attitude seeped through her voice. Corey could barely hold in her scoff. Her eyes focused on Madison; the blonde stood across from her, fiddling with the silk scarf that covered her neck. She was nervous. The autumnal chill was the only excuse she needed, having everyone around her knowing that— with her size and stature— she would otherwise become easily sick. That was, at least, before she had been brought back from the dead. Now, she wasn't sure what, if anything, could ail her.
"Well, that's just it. You don't run things, you run off." Myrtle raised her voice, the anger seeping through her words. "You were absent from last year's Summit Gathering, three Winter Petitions remain unsigned, you've failed to appoint a new Chancellor in over a decade, and— instead of allowing the next Supreme to rise properly— you've taken to killing off members of our already dwindling coven." She stomped her foot, her volume continuing to rise as she narrowed in on the woman in front of her. Myrtle was seething, only a foot between herself and the Supreme who didn't seem to be at all phased over the situation at hand.
"Watch yourself, Myrtle." Fiona couldn't help but laugh, her head shaking at the accusations the other woman was throwing around. "You cannot point fingers like that without proper repercussions." She smirked, bringing her lit cigarette to her lips. Her eyes narrowed at the wild-haired woman that stood before her, watching the smirk that crept across her face with baited breath.
"Madison?" Myrtle's eyes remained on the Supreme as she called out for the actress. Corey watched the blonde take in a single, shaky breath. She tried to encourage herself to stand before the woman who had once taken a sharpened letter opener to her throat. Madison squared her shoulders and closed her eyes for a moment, collecting herself. She gave Corey a reassuring smile as she made her way into the same parlor she had pretended to taunt Fiona in the night before.
The Supreme froze, her jaw slightly open as she struggled to understand what was happening. Her eyes focused on the blonde in front of her; she seemed more fearful of her presence than the older woman had remembered her being. The actress' skin was dull and gray, a sheer memory of its once porcelain glow. Fiona furrowed her brow, trying to decipher the chess piece in place before her. She truly couldn't tell if Madison was afraid of her, if it even was Madison, or if it was all an elaborate act to get her right where Myrtle wanted her.
"I'm sorry." Fiona stammered slightly, trying to regain her composure. "I'm either confused or really bored, because I don't understand how I could have killed this girl if she's standing here with us right now." Her head tilted at the actress, her gaze becoming nothing more than a silent threat. Madison rolled her eyes, shaking her head. She knew that this was the route that the Supreme would take, though she somehow hadn't seen it coming.
"Because you did kill me, you bitch," Madison scoffed. She tugged her scarf from her neck to reveal the large gash across her throat. Fiona swallowed hard, her eyes wide. She felt her heart sink to her stomach. The longer she stared at the clean, scarred slice across Madison's throat, the more that the only sound she could hear had engulfed her senses. It was her own pulse— quick, with no discernible rhythm to it. All that Fiona could truly make out was its loud thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump. Suddenly, the sound of Myrtle's voice returned.
"This is the second time, while you were under this roof, that a witch has gone missing from this place. And, in both instances, you were the last person to see either one of them alive." Myrtle held her hands behind her back, her shoulders continuing to maintain her composure. It seemed that, with each new piece of evidence that she brought forward in front of Fiona, she grew taller. The Supreme refused to shrivel, to wither away.
"Well, now, that seems like a false statement there, Myrtle, doesn't it? How could I be the last one to see Madison alive if she's standing right in front of us all at this very moment?" Again, Fiona was being facetious. She pointed her lit cigarette at the Councilwoman, jabbing it towards her with each word. For each verbal poke and prod, the blonde rebutted with a physical one.
"Because someone brought her back, with a little extra help from their friends. The witch that both the Council and this coven believe to be your true-born successor— our Supreme Elect— Corinna Nicks." Myrtle's proud expression only grew larger when the realization washed over Fiona's features. The woman's face fell; her mouth hung open as her eyes scanned back and forth. She tried desperately to look back on their past encounters, to understand where she had gone wrong, to find what signs she could have missed.
"I told you that you fucked with the wrong witch, Fiona," Corey muttered under her breath. Her back pressed against the cold wall. It sent a chill down her spine, both the feeling of the cold wood and being unable to see Fiona's face from her position in the hallway.
"The time has come for you to pay for every crime you have committed." Myrtle's voice wavered slightly as she watched the anger flash from deep within Fiona's eyes.
"I am innocent until proven guilty. And, so far, you have not proven a goddamn thing." The Supreme leaned forward, the venom in her voice evident. Though she was angry, and she let it seep through her tone, her demeanor was otherwise impenetrable. She was a brick wall, the emotions of the room bouncing from her hard shell and hurling towards the Council instead.
"The Council would like to remind you: no witch has been tried, convicted, and burned at the stake since 1926." Myrtle paused for a moment, letting the suspense get the best of Fiona. She knew that, with the moment the truth finally out in the open, the coven's nearly half-century of neglect would finally be over. She waved the actress off towards the hall before speaking once more. "I'd like to call our final witness. Spalding, stand before us."
Corey held her breath; this was their make or break moment. If Cordelia hadn't managed to complete the spell, their entire plan would crumble. Madison wrapped her arms around the musician as she approached, her heart racing. The girl stood rigid for a moment before she relaxed within the familiar embrace. They waited, patiently, for the trial to continue.
"How are you feeling today, Spalding?" Myrtle's voice was much softer than it had been previously.
"I feel fine." Spalding's southern drawl crawled from the back of his throat, no more than a croak. He gasped at the sound of his own voice, immediately searching for the source. "How am I— whose tongue is this?"
"Yours." Myrtle cleared her throat, an attempt to keep any sign of her joy over the situation under the radar. "The girls found it, hidden away. Someone enchanted it, isn't that right?" The conversation continued back and forth. Corey's focus, however, remained on the blonde beside her. Their last ditch effort worked. Spalding finally spoke.
"Yes."
"Whoever enchanted it wanted you to tell the truth. But that was the last thing you wanted to do, so you cut it out of your own head."
"Yes."
"Did you kill Madison Montgomery?"
"Madison Montgomery is alive."
"That wasn't the question."
"No. I didn't kill her."
"But you know who did."
"Yes. I do."
"Was Madison killed by the same person as Anna Leigh Leighton."
"MMMhh—" Spalding refused to answer. He chose, instead, to clamp his hand over his mouth. He needed to keep the words inside, to keep the confession from leaping forward.
"Please answer the question, Spalding."
"Yes." Spalding's lips trembled, his voice muffled from the hand that remained in place.
"Say their name."
"Please don't make me." His hand finally fell from its place, forming a fist at his side.
"Say. Their. Name."
"F—"
"Say it."
"Fiona. Fiona Goode." His voice caught in his throat, a simple whimper out into the void.
"Fiona Goode, you have given us no choice. You have been found guilty of causing intentional bodily harm to multiple daughters of Salem." Cecily paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath. She looked at her hands and swallowed hard, quickly returning her attention to the woman that sat before them. "Burn the witch."
"Seconded." Quinten's voice remained poised and collected. His demeanor, however, changed drastically; his shoulders slumped forward, his face filled with sorrow, his hands picked at the cuffs of his shirt sleeves. He couldn't bring himself to look at the Supreme, to look at the someone in front of him that he had once called a friend. It was almost as if he had never truly known the woman at all.
"The decision of this council is unanimous and final." Myrtle spoke quickly. Her voice was enough to pull the woman's attention back from the warlock to herself for only a moment. Cecily stood from her seat at the long table, the feet of her chair screeching across the floorboards filled the room briefly. Her voice quickly pulled everyone's attention to herself once more.
"The Council of Witchcraft decrees that— for the murders of our sister witch Madison Montgomery and our previous Supreme Anna Leigh Leighton— you, Fiona Goode, are hereby sentenced to death by fire." The room fell silent once more. The only sound Corey could hear quickly became her own breathing, the anticipation keeping her in place within the hallway. Then, suddenly, the collective click, click, click. The council had made their decision; Fiona was going to die.