Chapter 2 – Devotion
Harvey. She had to speak to Harvey. Her induction weekend at the Academy was lackluster. Prudence was right, everybody hated her. Not that she did not expect it, but it was radically different to imagine it, and live it. The Weird Sisters were ruthless during her harrowing night, and had it not been for Salem, she would've turned mad in that Witch Cell, surrounded by her most private fears and torments. But it was not only that. She was not oblivious to the stares, the whispers, the side looks everyone was giving her. She took them all in stride, head high and shoulders aligned. Auntie Zee would be proud, she thought. As the new kid, she was not surprised she generated talks and murmurs. However, she was no ordinary new kid. She was the daughter of a High Priest, the half-breed daughter of a deviant High Priest whom had secured the right to wed a mortal. She was the spawn of this unusual – immoral, for many members of the witching community – union. The topic was brushed aside for sixteen years, when her interactions with the witching world somewhat limited. But that was a halt only. Sixteen years fly by, especially for witches. The debate sprung again when she claimed her place in the community. Then, she fled from her Dark Baptism when she found out that Father Blackwood's speech on freewill was just that. A speech. To make her sign her name away to the Dark Lord. Speaking of which, she was all but oblivious to Father Blackwood's animosity towards her. She had to fight him on every front. The Harrowing. The dull classes he registered her to. She'd think about that later. She was physically exhausted. Mentally drained.
That is why she was hang on that old-fashioned phone, in the middle of the hallway, speaking to Harvey. Harvey was her safe harbor – safe heaven, dare her mortal part say – a comfortable place she could run to whenever she needed. And he never complained, he was always there, steady and ready to provide with reassuring words and the warmth of his embrace. Harvey was devoted to her. Her mind roamed back to the day when they went to the movies for a Grease screening, and the adoring look he sent her way when Olivia Newton-John sang the last notes to Hopelessly Devoted to You. At that moment, she thought he was devoted to her, they were devoted to each other. No matter what. He was genuine. She wondered if this is a word the witching community would ever understand. She could call him whenever, and he would be there. She could picture his warm smile. They were merely exchanging banalities, joke-flirting with another. As she said, the sound of his voice alone was helping. It was home, in a way. "It is not even my sexy voice" he told her, and she could not help but giggle. Keep talking Harvey Kinkle, just keep talking. She did not mean to say that out loud. Yet she did, and she did not even scold herself for it. It was natural, everything was natural with Harvey. There were never games on what to say, what to disclose, she could be herself.
At least, her mortal self. Of course, she had to tell him she was at some Expo with her Aunties. He knew nothing about her secret. Her other life. She had tried to tell him once before erasing the moment from his memory, literally terrified by his reaction. She couldn't lose Harvey. He was kind, loving, reassuring, safe. That word again. She did not know whether it was necessarily good to refer to your teenage boyfriend as "safe", she watched enough teen operas to know it could be problematic. Yet, whilst her life was changing fast, the challenges piling up fast in the witch world, she needed safe. She needed Harvey. She would only need Harvey. He is her first love – maybe her last, she liked to think. Deep inside, she knew she would have to tell him, eventually. It would change everything – unless it would not? Of course, it would. And there was already enough change in her life as is. Hold on to the end, that is what I intend to do. That song again. No question, when the day comes and she confesses the truth, she would hold on to Harvey.
When she hung up, she felt better. She could face another day at the Academy.
Walking back to the girls' dormitory, little did she know that on the other end of the hallway, a dark-haired warlock with whom she exchanged a few words the day before, was observing her and incidentally eavesdropping on her conversation. He did not intend to. It just so happened that he was walking by and got distracted by her disheveled blonde hair that made his mind go blank. Or was it her white negligée uncovering part of her right shoulder he itched to caress? Regardless, there he was, behind a wall in the hallway, spying on Sabrina Spellman. Her fatigued features did not make her any less beautiful. However, the fond smile that appeared on her face when she began her conversation, rendered her simply gorgeous. Whoever was on the other end of the line, they must certainly mean a lot to Sabrina. Probably her family. "I hate it here", she confessed and that immediately translated into a pang in Nicholas' chest. He wondered if someone had cursed him. He would have to check later. She hated it here. The words could not leave his head. While he wondered why she hated it so much and trying to figure out how to improve her experience amongst them, he heard her next words: "this is helping…hearing your voice." This time, it was not pang, more of a tightness that took over his chest, for less than a second. He would need to do something about that curse later. For now, all he could do, is wonder who Sabrina was speaking to, who was this person whose voice was enough to soothe the rebel blonde with the satanic voice. Is it something one could say to their family? Maybe their friends? Nick could not know. He was an orphan as long as he could remember, and while the Academy and Father Blackwood offered him shelter and solidarity, he had little experience with close family. He had his relatives from the Old Continent with whom he recently reconnected, but he would never believe their voices were soothing, leave alone telling them in such a straightforward natural way, as if they were discussing the blue sky and the sun.
He focused on how that conversation alone, that short conversation made her features relax with each second passing. He wishes he was the one having this effect on her. Instead, he was sitting on the sidelines watching someone else making her giggle like the giddy teenager she was, and it did not sit well with him. "Keep talking Harvey Kinkle, just keep talking." Harvey Kinkle. Who was Harvey Kinkle? How was that lad which name that left Sabrina's lips with such intensity, such devotion? There was something else, but he could not quite figure it out. All he knew was that he would have traded anything for his name to leave Sabrina's lips in the same way. But, for her, he was merely Nicholas – not even Nick – just Nicholas, a fellow student at the Academy. He suspected she could sense his doubts on her family history, on her mother, that would understand why she mostly kept to herself. This, and the harrowing. He was not dumb, he heard the Weird Sisters the other day, swearing they would make it a nightmare for the "half-breed" she was, a nightmare that would make her run for her life. He did not say a thing. Coward, he scolded himself. And now, there she was, standing in the hallway, clearly fatigued, hating it here, and having no one to turn but so-called Harvey Kinkle. Maybe if he had done something to stop it, or at least mellow the Weird Three – if they ever knew what mellow was, it is him she would be thanking, asking to keep talking. What if she hates it so more she did not come back to the Academy? She could not. She would not. She did not seem to be the quitter type. Another quality for Spellman. Even if she did, he would have no problem getting address of the Spellman Sisters. There he was, slowly becoming a stalker should it be necessary, while she was gone.
Elspeth got him out of his thoughts when he heard tell Melvin: "They got into a fight, Sabrina and Prudence. You know how Prudence can be but Spellman did not back down. She dished it out. Hard." Elspeth seemed content, as if Sabrina fought for her, for all those years where Prudence was playing Queen Bee around. From the sound of it, Sabrina did more than defend herself. Definitely not a quitter. And Feisty. She was a special one, and he'd only exchanged a few words with her. Never had he been more captivated by any witch, any warlock in his entire life. While he was roaming around the Academy, trying to figure out his thoughts, his reactions to her, thinking about that curse that made things to his chest, there she was, by the door, going Satan knows where, obviously on a mission by the look of determination in her eyes. She does not look like she got into a fight, she is composed, poised. She has that peculiar aura about her, a strange balance between fragility and utmost confidence that he could not quite figure out. Yet. He was, after all, the best conjurer since Edward Spellman, and on the highway to High Priesthood. He would figure it out, eventually:
- Hi there, she greeted him with her cute smile.
- Hey. So, I heard you got into a fight with Prudence.
- I did.
- I'll talk to her. Not that it would be of any help, she is insane, he thought. But it was worth a try, and everyone loves a hero.
- Please don't, it will only make her hate me more. So, did you guys date?
- For a short period of time, yes. I was involved with the Sisters.
- All three of them? All at once? Sabrina had a questioning look on her face, all Nick could do is nod, not able to look into her eyes.
- What happened?
- Their gifts include mind control. I was not sure what was real and what was… suggestion.
The look on Sabrina's face did not bode well. It seemed like she did not approve of their relationship, which he did not fully understand. He had no real understanding of how lust life worked in the mortal world, but he did not see the big deal in "being involved" with other people. Multiple people. At once. He'd need to give it a thought later, but for now he needed to change topics, and decided to focus on what she was holding in her hand:
- What are you doing with that Acheron configuration?
- Blackwood gave it to me, says as soon as I solve it, I get to take conjuring classes. Nicholas giggled slightly, amazed by Father Blackwood's antics against a student he obviously did not like.
- What? What's so funny?
- That particular configuration was your father's thesis. He designed and built it. As Nick said these words, Sabrina's demeanor changed. Even more poised, if that was even possible.
- My father did?
- Yeah. Blackwood has been trying to solve this damn thing for twenty years. I tried for three and gave up. See, the configuration is almost like a kaleidoscope, its colors and patterns are addictive and the more you stare at it, the harder it is to solve. If you're not careful it can mess with your head, you can get lost in it.
- Wonderful, she said with an ironic smile. Nick was slightly worried, she was a first-day student here, there was no way she would be able to solve that configuration. But instead of showing her concern, for some reason, he decided otherwise.
- With due respect Sabrina, you'll never be able to do it.
- If my father made it, then he probably wrote about it in his journals, right? Nicholas remembered he told her about her father's journals and that he was reading them. Determined, feisty and bright. Oh, and hot. Obviously, hot. How could he forget about that?
- Nothing explicit. Nothing I've come across.
- Yes, but you're not a Spellman. Sneak me into the library, get me access to his journals.
- What you're asking is impossible. If we got caught, and we would, we'd both be expelled from the Academy. I could not risk that, all I have is the Academy, he thought.
- I doubt I'd be expelled. They'd probably just extend my immersion indefinitely. Witty, he could add to the list of her qualities.
- Would that be such a bad thing? Being a full-time student here?
- I should go.
She hears him chuckle as she walks away, or so she figures. The reality is that he exhales a breath he was unable to get out while talking to her. He's been his flirtatious smug self on the outside, but on the inside, he was fighting all he could to keep his composure. He did not know what to make of her not answering on being a full-time student. He would sure like it, spending more time with her. Two simple interactions, fairly common, and there he was swooning over her. That lust thing was hard. That what he told himself, although deep inside, he knew it was something else. At that thought, his chest heaved with goosebumps. That bloody curse, again. He needed to get to the bottom of it.
On her end, Sabrina was so obsessed with her father's Acheron configuration that she did not give much thought to that conversation, although Nicholas did trouble her when he mentioned becoming a full-time student at the Academy. To some extent, it would make her life easier, she would not have to hide from her neighbors, her friends, her life in mortal Greendale where she had to constantly adjust not to reveal her secret. But she could not just run away, leave behind Roz and Susie. And Harvey. Sweet Harvey. She could never leave them behind, they were her friends – Harvey was her love for life, and even if he would not be, he would still remain a close friend. What they have been through together, throughout the years, was worth the secrets, the lies, the excuses, the questioning looks. It really was. For this reason alone, she could not be a full-time student at the Academy. Who did she have there? No one. Nicholas was flirting with her, and it was sort of nice, but that was it. They all hated her here. All in all, her witch life was confined to her Aunties and Ambrose, surely it was enough. Lost in the Acheron, and her thoughts she did not see the Weird Sisters approach. Harrowing, again? She tried to escape, to scream but Prudence cut her short: "They all hate you." The coincidence. That was her words to herself a few minutes ago.
That second night was horrible. Those voices, a torture. Her father must've been the worse. And Harvey. Satan, Harvey. Not being able to turn around for all of them was torture. She needed revenge and for that, a phone call to Harvey, as sweet as it would be, would not make it. Instead, the call to her Aunties and the plan they elaborated all three together, did the trick. Witchcraft could be fun. She lured Prudence, Agatha and Dorcas into thinking she was vulnerable and terrified before turning on them, with the help of the ghost kids, and made them renounce to the harrowing tradition once and for all.
During that night, Nicholas Scratch was restless. He had a bad night sleep, probably because of the blue balls I have. The last few days were a lot of studying – and thinking about Spellman, which for some reason, made him want to cut it on his steamy evenings. Not renounce though. He was a young handsome warlock after all, and that Luke Chalfant guy was particularly cute, and… gifted. He would see him at Dorian's the following day. He was no Sabrina of course, but he would do. In closing his eyes that night, he saw fogs of thoughts including mainly Sabrina. And the Dark Lord. It had been a while he did not appear in his dreams. Was it because he thought too much of Sabrina, and not enough of his Almighty Unholy Lord? Last time he lusted so much over someone, the Dark Lord appeared in his dreams, and Father Blackwood instructed him to pray for twelve hours straight, which he did. The only other time the Dark Lord invaded the intimacy of his sleep, was a prelude to a devotion he'd asked from him a few weeks later, in person.
The next morning, Nicholas heard Prudence tell everyone in a blank voice that "harrowing was over". It was not a suggestion, it was a sentence. There was no explanation, there never was with her. He made eye contact with Dorcas, asking her to follow him. He wanted explanations:
- How is it that all of a sudden, you three, the most ruthless I've ever seen, decide to make harrowing end.
- Nick, if I tell you, you have to promise to keep it to yourself. You know how Prudence can be. She'd kill me. Literally.
- Dorcas, you have my word.
- Not sure if you heard, but we've been harrowing the half-breed for a couple of nights now. Nicholas cringed at the thought of Sabrina going through a Weird-Sister's sponsored harrowing. He also sent Dorcas a bad look when she referred to Sabrina as "half-breed".
- Last night, we arguably… took it too far. At least we intended to. Dorcas was playing with the hem of her dress.
- Took it too far? How?
Nicholas wished he did not have that slight tremble in his voice. But he also knew the Weird Sisters, he knew that "far" was already something with them, leave alone "too far". For some reason, Dorcas' tone and eyes sent a shiver down his spine. He felt worried, which he never felt for anyone else. Ever. But there he was, worried about Sabrina Spellman who did barely give him the time of the day – that was a cheap shot, but she did not say his name as Harvey Kinkle's. For now. Dorcas could sense something was off with Nick, his eyes were almost pleading with her to continue. She could not put a word on what she perceived, but she sure never saw Nick like this:
- Wished you took part to it? All you had to do was ask, Nicky. Dorcas answered, willingly provoking him.
- Dorcas. How? He could not even care about her little flirting at the moment. Was it flirting?
- We wanted to hang her… to death.
- To death? Are you guys insane? What did she ever do to you to deserve this? Don't you think our ranks are depleted enough for us to kill a witch? Nicholas said all of this in stride, a lump forming in his throat at the thought of Sabrina being hung dead.
- She is not a witch, Nicholas. She is a half-breed. She would not even commit to our world full-time. She had to be forced to be among us. At the first occasion, she will turn her back on us and run to her mortal life, her mortal friends – that if she does not stab us in the back.
- Sabrina would never do that, Dorcas.
- How can you be so sure? You barely know her, Nicky. If that's just because she is a cute schoolgirl – don't look at me that way, even I noticed she was a hot one – you know you can come to me for whatever you need. She ran a hand on his forearm, smiling to him and locking her eyes with his. He was quick to take his arm off. Dorcas took that as a signal to go on:
- In any event, she turned on us. Within a minute, we found ourselves hung, choking our hearts out. I really thought it was the end. Then she showed us mercy, I guess? She untied us, even presented her hand to Prudence to help her back on her feet and told us that we must stop the harrowing. She was scary Nick. I mean, the cold blood she had to hang us and then free us within seconds, as if it were a second-by-second play she'd rehearsed, the self-composure she had and before that the way she lured us into believing she could not defend herself. I have to say, I was impressed. Prudence was too. But you did not hear it from me.
Dorcas left, did not even give Nicholas the chance to react. Where was he when all of this occurred? Partly studying, partly trying to sneak one of Edward Spellman's journals to his daughter, and partly not giving a damn at what was happening in the Academy because that is who he was. But in the process, Sabrina almost got hurt. We should have been there. Next time, he'd be there. She did not need him, that was a given. Being able to stand up, alone, to the Weird Sisters, there was something about her. The audacity, the boldness. He also felt his insides torn apart when Dorcas referred to her as a half-breed. It was disgusting. He wondered how Sabrina must feel every time it is thrown at her, he felt intense remorse at the look he gave her the other day when she spoke about her mother, her mortal mother. He was roaming in the hallways when he saw her around nearby the Dark Lord's statue, speaking. Was she praying? "You're welcome, glad we could help". No, definitely not praying:
- Who are you talking to?
- Myself. Hello, Nicholas. The way she said Nicholas felt so right, with her small smile. It was as if she was somewhat happy to see him.
- Hi. You survived your immersion. He thought better than mention the discussion he had with Dorcas.
- I did. Barely. I haven't made it to conjuring class yet, but I will. Nick could not help but doubt that, no one could solve that Acheron configuration. For two decades now. Not himself, not even the High Priest. Then again, she was a Spellman, but still. At least she'd get his help.
- About that. Look, this has to be our little secret, okay? One of your dad's journals.
- But you said…
- I said I couldn't sneak you into the library, I didn't say I couldn't sneak this out. Maybe it will help with the Acheron Configuration, but even if it doesn't, you should get to know your father.
- Thank you, Nicholas. Really. That time around, his name on her tongue felt so soft, she was conveying all her gratitude, besides that thank you. He could feel how much it meant to her. But as much as he liked that, he also needed to get closer to her. Even a tiny a bit.
- Call me Nick.
After she left him, he could not help but smile. He felt that he conveyed what he wanted, what he needed, without words. The problem was he did not know what that was, exactly. His chest tightened once again. He really needed to tend to this. As Sabrina left, she could not help but let her thoughts wander to how helpful and kind Nicholas – or rather, Nick – was to her. This weekend was not all negative. She had made a friend. She was not oblivious to his flirting and looks when he talked to her, but she brushed it off, seeing how Nick could be the same when he interacted with others in the hallways, in the dining hall. She thought of how diametrically opposed to Harvey, who did not even know how to flirt without coming off as an absolute dork – a lovely adorable dork. Her comics-loving Dork. She loved that dorkiness about him, among a myriad of other features. When she called him that night and had to lie on the Academy, she felt unhinged, so did she when he asked if he could come over to speak to her about something going on with Susie's uncle. But that Acheron was sitting there, and she needed to focus on that, for now. The lying was not pleasant, but the circumstances required it, at least for now. There was no lie when she told him she loved him. She truly did. Her hearted melted a little when he said: "I love you too Sabrina".
It melted a little more when she saw her mother's face in her father's journal and her intuition that that face had to do with solving Acheron Configuration proved right. She was not sure if it melted because she saw her mother, or because that Configuration was the symbol of the love her father had for her mother. True love, pure love he carried with him even in his scholarly works. It was a little dorky, she thought with a smile. But there it was, the love between a mortal and a dorky warlock. Sure love between a with and a dorky mortal could work.
