awakening

by green-lights-n-rabbit-holes98

Something is rotten in the town of Riverdale. Sabrina must come to terms with her choices before the odds turn against new. The Uktena, once forgotten by the Serpents, makes a powerful resurgence, led by no other than a descendant of the founding members. And Alice has to decide once and for all - to let the guilt of her past swallow her or to embrace her roots as a witch.

4. Coward's Way Out

***WARNING this chapter contains material related to suicide and racial issues. If this makes you uncomfortable, skip to the end of the chapter or feel free to not continue. If you or an acquaintance is dealing with suicidal thoughts, of if you are struggling due to current events, please reach out to someone or message me. I will listen to and support you. Thank you, and happy reading.***

SABRINA

I spend most of the car ride back to Riverdale asleep. My head still feels woozy from that memory connection with Rose Blossom. My hands, while they don't look it, still feel burned. My mind jumps from reality to the fire, to blood and red hair, to that boy. Or something looking like a human boy. And in between it all, the one name clings to my brain. Hal Cooper. How would Ali know him? Would it be wrong of me to bring it up in conversation, or would I further send her into depression? Or fear?

The toggling of nightmares stirs me awake, at least I think. No, my mind has settled, but Jughead just ran over a twig on the highway. I blink, taking time to reabsorb my surroundings. I look out the window. We're 15 miles away from town. Even more away from home. From what I consider normal.

What will become of Rose following our meeting? Part of me fears that the Sisters will relocate her to a new ward, or that she will get sick, or Joaquin will lose his position because of us. I hope nothing bad happens to Joaquin. He's a good man. He tended to me when he finished with Rose. He looked after Jughead in his childhood. If for whatever reason Salem strikes again…. I'd do anything to keep Joaquin alive. And Rose for that matter.

But I can't guarantee anything anymore now that Salem's behavior has gone beyond my control. He gave me that seizure, he murdered Midge, and Chuck, and probably dozens more before my time. And who knows how he's behaving around V…. V. She's watching over him, why do I only now remember her generosity? I'm a horrible friend! I've spent so much time helping Jughead with the article that I neglected to check on V! My senses come fully alive. I reach down for my backpack on the truck's floor, scrambling to search for my phone. It's not in there, I'm beginning to panic. Then, I realize….it's in the pocket of my coat. I sigh in relief, resting back against the passenger's seat. I take my phone out and begin texting to V right away.

Any updates on Salem?

"Your aunt text you or something?" Jughead breaks up my train of thought? "I didn't hear your phone go off."

I let my phone fall into my lap. "Trying to pick V's ear about Salem. Nothing too important." I make it sound lighthearted, but this matter is….well, it actually is very important. Salem could run loose and shed blood all over town. And V and I might not have the capability to stop him all by ourselves. It would mean involving Mister Lodge, and perhaps the Church. It would mean involving Ali…. I should probably text her too. I would rather not be badgered with questions on where I was all day. I told her I'd be at the library, and….maybe it could be true when Jughead and I come back to town. I send her an update, omitting our excursion to see Rose Blossom, and I slide my phone back into my pocket. We're now 9 and a half miles from Riverdale.

"You think Hal Cooper would be related to any of the original families?" I theorize out loud. I shift in my seat so I can face Jughead. "I mean, you have the Blossoms, and, obviously, the Pickens Family. But Cooper….it's just like you said. It sounds too old school to just magically show up in the 1990s."

Jughead snorts. "Well, if you haven't been paying attention, Riverdale is trapped between the 1950s and present day. We all act like we're living in the nuclear age, but with smart phones and hashtags. But you're right. Why would someone with a last name Cooper magically show up only when chaos occurs?" I wonder what V would think of the question. Her father may have some insight on the people coming in and out of Riverdale. Perhaps Aunties may have done work in the mortuary for a Cooper family. But out of all these people….Ali would have to know best. Rose's daughter claimed Ali and this stranger to have dated. I have never heard Ali mention this man when she's brought up fragments of her past to me. There has to be more beneath the surface, more than what she wants me to find out.

"Maybe he's connected to the supernatural." I state. "Or he's like me, and Ali."

"A witch?" I nod my head in confirmation. Jughead rolls his eyes. "That'd be the least surprising of our options." I chuckle at the comment, but my mind runs through more possibilities. What would be more surprising than this Hal Cooper being a witch, or just heavily into the supernatural? A secret council member of the Church? An underling for the Dark Lord?

A demon?

The thought makes my stomach churn. I brace myself against the dashboard to keep myself from hurling in the Jones's truck. I take deep breaths, squeezing my eyes shut to stop the dizziness. Jughead lowers the speed. "Woah. You okay? You need me to pull over?" One last deep breath, and I wave him off. I tell him I'm fine, that I can make it back to town without having to pull over.

"Just got dizzy, that's all." I push myself away from the dashboard, letting the seat embrace my back. What would Aunties say if they saw me now? What would Harvey think? No….screw what they think. No one from Greendale has tried to care about my wellbeing. They want me to comply with whatever backwards lifestyle they think will save me. Well, I can save myself. I refused to follow the Path of Night. And I refuse to play a victim, even to my familiar.

"Would food help?" Jughead asks out of nowhere. I open my eyes, darting them straight over to him. He shrugs, "'Cause I don't know about you, but I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry, Jughead."

"Exactly." He gives me a coy smile and taps the side of his head with one finger. I can't help but laugh. And the more that I think on it, I'm quite hungry myself. I did vomit up my breakfast, after all, so I should replenish my energy before digging more into the Reaper, and finding out where this Hal Cooper came from.

We take the exit leading us back into town, and we head straight for Pop's. We decide to confer over our notes during lunch, that way we can optimize our search at the library. To my surprise, Jughead wants to have the article completed by the end of the week, at the latest. "It could serve as a good source for the police." he explained to me while still in the truck. "And it could do the school some good to actually learn the town's history for once instead of a conspiracy theory thread on Twitter." He has a majority of it outlined, and he claims it shouldn't take long to put it all down on paper. With Rose's interview, it will speed up the whole process. We're about to go in when my phone buzzes. Maybe it's Ali to ask if I wanted to grab lunch, or maybe it's Archie how I'm doing. I reach into my pocket.

It's V! She responded back!

All good, 'Brina! He's an angel! How are you feeling, btw?

Jughead nudges my shoulder, telling me that he's going to grab a booth for us. I tell him to go ahead as I type out my response.

Feeling much better. You want to try and get together at some point? Jughead and I may have found a breakthrough with the Reaper article! :)

I would wait to see how V would react, to see if I can get her away from Salem for just an afternoon, or an hour. But my stomach's growling, and I can't leave Jughead waiting. I shove my phone back into the warmth of my coat and head into the diner. Pop greets me with a cheerful hello, astonished that I'm up and moving again. I guess word must have gone around about my seizure at the protests. Well, why am I surprised? I'm the new girl in a small town, where everyone knows everything about each other. Everything but any ties to the supernatural. I thank Pop and join Jughead at one of the booths down towards the end. I glance around, hoping that Ali may have started working again after such a long absence. None of the waitresses' faces match hers. They don't match to Mrs. Jones either. "Day off, apparently." Jughead mutters when I ask. One waitress comes over, takes our orders, and bounces away. Jughead and I pull out our notebooks and begin our work.

Some of what I wrote down is just key phrases Jughead threw into his notebook. The rest is all sigils I doodled to pass the time, mixed with other odd scriptures. I feel embarrassed to show Jughead, so I just nod my head or shake it when he asks if I caught the same details as him. I study the scriptures on my page, tapping on the table with my pen. They're all from my spellbooks Aunties forced me to memorize as a child. None of it made sense to me, no matter how many times I had to scribe them over and over in my grimoire. Back then, I assumed that I would just learn it when I had the chance to attend the Academy of the Unseen Arts. Now….I don't really know if I want to attend that school, regardless if my father studied there.

My fingers follow the lines and shapes throughout the page, wishing that these confusing symbols will lead me in the right direction. A clue Jughead and I are missing. The real reason I saw my parents' ghosts at my Baptism. The unspoken truth of Ali's past. Anything.

"Are you purposefully trying to hypnotize yourself?" Jughead teases. I glance away from my notebook, up to him. Was he watching me? I release my finger from my place on the page. I recoil into the leather seat, muttering for him to shut up. "Here," Jughead shuts my notebook and slides it off to the side of the table, by the napkin holder. He tells me, "we'll look over this stuff again after we eat. I swear you looked like you were gonna pass out."

"You seem to forget I spent half of the week in bed not being able to keep anything down." I throw back at him, earning an impressed smirk from him. By now, our food has arrived. I'm instantly warmed by one bite of a french fry, I let the salty stick melt in my mouth. I could devour this whole plate in one sitting, but I have to remind myself to take my time. One wrong bite, or one wrong thought, could cause this whole meal to come back up.

Jughead wipes away a dribble of greasy burger from the corner of his lips "Okay, so now that I know you're a witch, I've got a few questions I need to ask."

I cock my head sideways. What could he possibly want to learn? I realize that he isn't asking for the sake of asking. He's doing it to keep my mind off Rose and the Reaper. Off of Hal Cooper. I smile. "Fire away."

"Are vampires real?" An easy one, huh? I twirl a french fry in my finger.

"Yes. And NO, they do not sparkle in the sunlight, nor do they use a little knife on their fingertips to slice people's throats open. There are some witches who do interact with nearby clans of vampires, but for the most part, we try to steer clear. If a vampire gets ahold of a witch's blood, it makes them more powerful." It's true, supposedly. Auntie Z told me herself. In her younger years, she had to ward off this vampire named Theodore Finch who wanted to seduce her. She punched him and threatened to hex her if he laid eyes on her again. Ambrose cackles everytime she retells the encounter. Hilda only shakes her head.

"What about werewolves?"

"Same deal. We don't interact with them much, but they do exist. They're quite a pleasant crowd when it's not a full moon." I watch Jughead take another mouthful of his burger. He seems more indulged in that than my answers. I point the french fry at him. "If this is your way of having me go down the list of all the monsters in Hollywood horror films, the joke's on you. I'm not falling for it." His eyes widen, he lowers his burger. I take a triumphant bite of my fry.

"But I'll be nice and let you ask about one more monster." I state once I finish swallowing. "So….choose wisely."

Jughead chuckles and wipes his hands down with a napkin. He sits on the offer for a moment, moving the napkin up and down between his palms. I begin to dive into my platter of chicken tenders while I wait.

"Okay, okay…. I got it." he clears his throat. I take a napkin for myself to remove the grease from my lips. I let the napkin fall into my lap as I let my elbows rest on the table. Jughead gestures with his hands. "Zombies. What's the scoop on them?"

I'm stumped. Okay, I'm not that stumped. Witches kill one another and bring each other back all the time. I've heard stories of Church members experimenting on dead animals from the woods for their rituals. But zombies….that's another touchy subject.

I craft out my answer for him. "Depends on who or what you're trying to resurrect. Animals are the living dead. Rotting fur and skin, groan in their howls, you name it. Humans, on the other hand….if it's a human coming back from the dead, they still hold some form of a conscious. They're still a corpse, though."

"So, they're not on Night of the Living Dead level? Damnit." he snarks, making me laugh. It eases my nervousness, only because the talk of resurrection quietly leaves me unsettled. I've never performed a resurrection spell. I had no need to - I live in a mortuary. But sometimes, the thought of performing one, just to see what it's like, creeps into my brain every once in a while. It did when we all found Midge pinned to the lockers and cut open. It did after Chuck's corpse was unveiled in the woods.

"But in all seriousness…." he starts up, "Let's say, if something were to happen to Hot Dog, and if you used a spell to bring him back….he could be a zombie?" My lips close tight. My ears hum. Without a word, I nod. "And if he bit me…."

"It could cause a zombie outbreak, and….overall doom." I confess with a shrug of my shoulders. My confident streak disappears. I tap on my plate. "That's one of the reasons why the Church doesn't really allow witches to conduct that intense of resurrection spells. Unless you're that desperate and have permission, or…." I huff, "You're asking for the Church to banish you for life."

Jughead goes for another bite then stops. His mouth hangs at the last part. I let out a huge sigh. "But to answer your question, the best case for Hot Dog would be that he ends up like that cat in Pet Semetary. Which is way easier to manage than a zombie dog. But overall….it's just like what the book says."

"Sometimes, dead is better." Jughead finishes my thought with that quote from the book. A small smile forms on my face. I nod, because, unfortunately, it's true. Most times, staying dead is better than having to relive all the pain you endured. It's easier than everyone probing at you, asking what dying felt like, if you would want to go through it again. It resurges too many memories. It causes too much pain. That's another reason why the Church doesn't favor resurrection all that much. They've been more forgiving of the practice for my generation of witches, but that wasn't the case for when Aunties or Ambrose began their craft.

I watch as Jughead rolls his eyes. "Wow, that explanation filled me with such dread, Sabrina. And I just wanted to know if I would get turned into a friggin' zombie by Hot Dog." He cracks a smile, and I do too. We end up cackling to the point where our stomachs hurt. It's a relief to openly talk of my culture and my kind's history with another person, a mortal. It reminds me that I can have a life without the strictness of the Church, without the weight of my family's reputation.

We finish our meals and dive back into the note dissection. We go back and forth between the interview details. Should we directly admit that we interviewed Rose and Joaquin, or should we leave them as "anonymous"? Should we obtain pictures from the recent crime scenes? Should we begin the article with our excursion to the Conway House? Jughead mentions the idea, but I tell him to leave that part out. If any word got out to Ali or his parents that we went to a restricted, abandoned house, we'd all be in trouble. Even V.

By the time it's 3:30, we begin to gather up our materials. We decide that it would be best to check out some books from the library related to the Blossoms, and any newspaper clippings and articles from the 90s. We figure it's the best chance to find Hal Cooper and to understand what really happened to cause Thornhill's destruction. As Jughead is about to slide out of the booth, my phone buzzes. I whip it out to find a new text from V. I open up the message.

Sorry for the late response, girl! Wish I could, but I'm trying to catch up on homework :( How about getting breakfast before school on Monday?

Huh. That's odd. V could simply do her homework with us at the library. What could possibly be holding her back? Salem? Jughead's starting to slide out of the booth, cuing that it's time to leave and pay for our meals. I respond back to V, telling her that would be wonderful. Then, I slip my bag over my shoulder and begin to follow Jughead. We each pay for our separate meals with Pop at the cash register, then we depart for the library.

To our surprise, the library is practically deserted when we arrive. I guess people haven't gone out as much since the murders and all of this unrest. No one really has the guts….well, unless you want to put your lives in the hands of potential danger. Like us. The near-dead vibe gives Jughead and me an advantage. We're able to slip through section by section, taking what we need and what we haven't already poured through. For whatever reason, the books on Riverdale's History in the 50s and 60s are still unavailable. How ironic. This time period is the crucial section of history we need to complete this article, and it's gone. I wonder who else recently found interest in this subject.

It's a little after 4:30, and we now have most of what we can get our hands on. Since the library will close around 5, Jughead suggests that we head back to his trailer to jot down notes. I agree, it might be our best option. I don't want to remain out so late and make Ali panic. Plus….I don't feel like running into Salem at this hour. If I even see him again.

As we're about to greet the librarian at the checkout counter, my phone buzzes. Did V text back? I would ignore it until we got back to the truck, but I stop in my place. My phone is still going, buzzing nonstop. A call?

Jughead raises his brow at me. The librarian gives me a dirty look. Quickly, I stack my portion of the books on top of his. "Meet me by the entrance. I have to take this." I whisper, hoping I don't irritate the librarian further. I know Greendale has its share of cranky, judgemental librarians, including the ones at Baxter. But, geez! This woman makes ours look somewhat pleasant.

I watch Jughead drop the books onto the counter and make small talk with the librarian. At first I don't get it, but then I realize he's giving me a chance to take my call without her judgement. I make a mental note to thank Jughead later. I take no time to bother looking at who's calling, I just answer it right away.

"Hello?"

"Sabrina." The other end responds. It's Ali! "I got your text, sweetheart. Are you doing okay?"

I turn away from Jughead talking with the librarian, plugging one of my ears shut so I can hear Ali better. I begin walking over to the doorway. "Yeah, I'm….I'm okay! Just finishing up at the library with Jughead!"

"Oh, good!" she exclaims all perky. A little too perky, just like me. In the background of her end, I can hear people murmuring. I swear, it almost sounds like Jughead's parents. And Mister Lodge.

I don't get a chance to ask where she is, or why she's with V and Jughead's parents. "Hey, I wanted to ask you," she goes on like nothing is wrong, "Would you like to do take-out for dinner tonight? I'm just not really in the mood to cook…."

"That's good with me!" I interrupt her. "Please, don't worry about making anything! You've done enough for me already, Ali." My response earns me a little giggle and an expression of her gratitude. The expression gets followed by a wince. A sign of pain.

My finger comes out of my ear. My back straightens. "Ali….are you alright?"

I can hear her grit her teeth over the phone. "I'm alright. Just….just injured my leg. That's all." She attempts to come off as passing off the pain, but I hear her grip onto something. She takes a shaky breath. Something's not right.

"How did you-" I go to ask but I'm cut off. In the background, I hear Mister Lodge speaking to Ali. We have to go, he whispers. She turns away from the speaker, telling him I'm almost done. Where are they heading off to? Where would Ali and Mister Lodge be going at this hour?

She redirects her attention to me. "Listen, honey, I have to get going. Send me what you want for dinner and I'll bring it back to the trailer. Okay?" I'm getting confused and irritated, and I'm worried about Ali and her leg. I want her to stay at the trailer park so I can help tend to her wound. I want her to never come across paths with Salem.

I want to ask her about Hal Cooper.

But not here in this library. Not when she's in a hurry and in pain. I push the question into the back of my brain, leaving it on hold for now. Instead, I say, "Okay. Be safe."

"Talk to you later, sweetheart!" The phone dies on the other end. I leave my phone hovering by my ear, despite my arm going numb. My lips quiver. My cheeks get heavy. My throat prevents the last thing I wanted to tell her.

I love you.

Jughead comes up behind me and taps me on the shoulder. He's struggling to keep all the books in his arms, so I slip my phone back into my pocket and relieve him of the load. With my half of the books in my own hold, I sigh. He doesn't ask how the call went, if I heard anything from his parents or his sister. Instead, he uses his back to push the doors open. I follow him out of the library, my mind still on Ali. Fearing for her life. Fearing for Jughead. And for myself.

"So, we can split up the work between tonight and tomorrow, if you want." Jughead plots out our schedule as we walk down the library steps. "I know we did a lot today. I don't want to leave you out of any of the writing process, but I also get if you need a break." It's a nice offer, I appreciate the kind gesture. Frankly, I would love to take a break from all this research, all this stressing. But I also need something to distract me from Salem. I need to get my mind off of home. Maybe I can finally take a break when my world is no longer on the brink of imploding.

"How about we take breaks when we need to, getting this article done?" I lift my brows at him. This way, I'm silently cuing him that I'm in this a hundred percent. No matter what the cost. Jughead gives me a flabbergasted look of approval, followed by laughter.

"Damn, you never quit. Do you, Teenage Witch?"

I shrug my shoulders. "What can I say, Jones? I'm a go-getter!" I practically skip down the last of the steps in pure delight. I keep going until I am merely inches away from the truck.

I stop. My giddy expression falls. The books in my hands almost fall out. Jughead almost collides into me from behind. He asks me what the matter is, at least I think he does. My ears have begun to rung and I can't make out the exact words leaving his mouth. He must have seen where my eyes have glued themselves to, because now he has his eye on his truck. His sudden panic matches mine. "Oh crap."

On the windshield, and on the hood, red streaks are painted. No, it looks as if someone dragged red down this poor truck. But is it paint, or blood? The streaks aren't what leaves us unsettled. Between the streaks of red, a not-so-subtle message awaits us. In blood-colored red, the hood reads STOP DIGGING.

"Well, shit." Jughead gulps back his pride. "Someone does not clearly want us working on the Reaper case." He's gullible if he believes that a random person, whether from the police or from school, demands that we let the Reaper case rest. He probably thinks it could be anyone.

Not me. From the pattern of the streaks, to the words carved with careful fingers onto the hood, I know this can't be a random stalker going after us. Visions of Moose getting ripped open and Midge hanging from the lockers wake me up, not in a good way. The message of striking at people who get in the way causes my heart to beat faster.

There's a reason V took longer than I expected to reply back. Because this message is not from a stalker.

It's from Salem.

XXXXXXXX

ALICE

It's throbbing again. I have to not wriggle around in this stupid bed to irritate it. I would, but I don't want to wake Sabrina up. Something happened to her earlier, she looked so shaken when she came back from her study retreat with Jughead. What happened to her? Okay, I shouldn't judge her for her silence. I haven't told her about the tattoo….

My thigh cramps at the thought. I grit my teeth in the dark. Using some magic, I flick on my side table lamp. I peel back the comforter to get a better look at my leg. A snake-figure outlined in light pink, where ink once sat beneath my skin, comes to life under the wrapping. His handprint tickles my pelvic bone and the creases of my hips. I bless under my breath.

I hover my hand over the wounded area, summoning the spell for Blue and wishing I had Hiram next to me. I better do something, because I need all my strength to get through the seance, and to provide Toni Topaz with any assistance. I'm shocked that she even accepted our offer. She took in every detail when Hiram and I laid out the plan to her. That we need Louis Cooper to confirm if he was influenced or possessed by the one we all fear.

My thigh jitters, I bite my lip. Okay, focus on Blue. Speak the words in his voice. Imagine he's there with you. The fact that I have to baby myself to overcome this pain is quite pathetic. I could heal fine on my own anywhere, so why have my abilities changed here in Riverdale? Because I opened my heart? Because I magically give a rat's ass about humanity now? Ha! Riverdale never cared for me. No….that's what Hal made me believe. There are people who did care, and still do.

"You sure you don't want an ice pack for that thing?" Hermione Gomez gestured at my leg one afternoon, a week before her inevitable possession and car crash. She invited me to her house so I could watch her read off her lines and sing her songs for Pippin. She didn't want to mingle with the other cast members at the time. And she didn't want to be around for the rumors spreading about her split with Fred. And I wanted to be nowhere around Hal, so it was fine with me. I agreed to hang out at her place and provide the necessary constructive criticism. Although, I couldn't move around much, due to Hal almost frying my Serpent tattoo to a crisp.

"It's just a pulled muscle. It'll heal soon." I lied to her. I never revealed to anyone at that school where my tattoo lived on my body, and I wasn't all that trusting of Hermione with those details. So when she noticed me limping around, I told her I pulled my muscle during "a morning run". Like I would ever commit to that level of activity in my life. But Hermione seemed to buy it.

"I swear. I used to get the worst cramps from when I was basing for stunts." she began as I glanced around her living room. I knew her family was Catholic, and with me being a witch, I worried that walking into her house would wither my soul with religious garments everywhere. But what I saw was….simplicity. It was an ordinary home. I envied that. I continued to look around as I half-listened to her rant, "Lot of up and down motion. Getting smacked in the face when the girls forget to keep their arms pinned. I thought my own arms would fall off from catching them. I don't think I've seen Penelope work that hard during practice, or on the field." The last part caught my interest.

"So….how exactly does that make her captain material?" I raised a brow, to which she scoffed.

"It never did." she displayed an angry grin on her face. By that time, I had no clue her rivalry with Penelope Blossom escalated that quickly. But Riverdale was a tiny town, and rumors spread like wildfire. Like uncontained evil. Once one person knew or suspected of your personal hardships, it would take a matter of days before the whole town started asking questions. Penelope snagged her power that way, by holding your life over your head and bending you to her will. In a way, she was no different from Hal.

But I wasn't there to focus on him, or Penelope. I was there to act like a friend. I watched Hermione flop onto her couch and yank out her script from her backpack. "So…." I stood in the middle of that room awkwardly, "Which part do you need help on? Your lines? One of your solos?"

Hermione huffed, flipping through the pages. "My last solo in Act Two. The one where Catherine sings to the audience about her conflicted feelings for Pippin." I limped over to where she left open space on the couch, and I sat down next to her as she pointed out the section to me. "For whatever reason, I can't get the emotions out the way Miss Grundy wants me to do it."

"Well...how is Catherine supposed to feel? Bittersweet about her relationship? Angry?"

"All of the above, I guess." I peered down at the script to get a better understanding. In the scene, Catherine is arguing with the Leading Player over what she can and cannot perform on the stage. And although she hated how simple Pippin was, he made Catherine recognize her shitty situation. Catherine's had enough of the Leading Player and no longer wants to play along with the fake happy life. I had no clue how the rest of the show would turn out, but from this little segment of dialogue and singing….I could relate to her position.

"What kind of emotions do you feel when you sing?"

"That's the issue. I'm trying to tap into her feelings, but I'm getting nothing. It feels fake." she grumbled. I knew it wouldn't be wise for me to bring Hal back into my thoughts, but I could use my own experience to help Hermione connect with Catherine. I could use her experience too.

"How do you view Fred now?" I asked for her input. Hermione just sort of glared up at me for a second, then, seeing where I was taking the conversation, she lost the furiosity. She crumbled the script in her hands, looking mournful.

"I wish I didn't get so hot-headed with him." she confessed. "I broke his damn heart, all because I believed he was gonna slow me down. That I would never leave Riverdale if I stuck with him. But…." she paused, taking in a big breath. I could see mist forming in the corners of her eyes. She turned to me, "He was one of the good ones. I've never met any guy who showed so much loyalty to me….the way Fred did. I mean, he's stubborn as shit, but he's got a good heart. I don't know if I'll find anyone like that again."

She went quiet after that. I could still feel the pain in her silence. I could read her thoughts. She feared of being lonely. She worried that she would never provide what a partner could want. If only I knew then of her infertility, of the length Hiram goes through now to live out Hermione's wish and care for Veronica….

I placed my elbows onto my kneecaps and brought my hands together. I needed to craft out these next words carefully. If anything did go wrong, I would have been prepared to wipe out her memory of this moment all together. But I wasn't in the damn mood to keep my guard up. I didn't want to play the frightful witch. I just wanted to be….Alice Smith.

After letting the silence pass for another second, I spoke up. "Sing it about Fred, then." Hermione went all doe-eyed on me. Before she could protest, I went on. "Your relationship sounds an awful lot like Catherine and Pippin's time together. That's all I'm saying. And….look, I know it's probably not wise to think about him when you gotta focus on getting into college and moving on with life. Trust me, I get it." I had to slow down, I was starting to ramble. I knew damn well that Hermione would be able to leave Riverdale. So would Hiram. So would Sierra, and Tom, and FP, and everyone else. Not me. I was bound to this place, forever wiping the blood off my hands and letting Hal leech off of my soul. There was no salvation for me. I had no freedom. But Hermione did. She needed to hear that.

"But you can still look back on it and learn from the faults." I reasoned with her. "Yeah, he did some things you may not have liked, and you had your opinions. But you are allowed to mourn the good parts. You are allowed to grieve over what you lost. Regardless of what gossipers, and….stupid back-stabbing cheerleaders say." I got a giggle out of that last statement. "All I'm saying is….you're human for a reason. Tap into the uncomfortable emotions. Let that pour out in your voice. That's why you're singing, right?" I ended it there, mostly due to that my conclusion hit me unexpectedly. I would never know what it was like to fully be human. I would still struggle with my emotions and never come head to head with them until my fateful return years later. I may not have believed what came out of my mouth, but I wanted her to believe it. I wanted better for Hermione. For everyone I went to school with. For all of Riverdale. Even if I had my personal vendettas against the town.

Hermione leaned back into the cushions, a smile formed on her face. She no longer looked out of touch with her character. She shot a blissful glance over at me. Then, she was cackling. "Damn. That's deep, Acid Queen Alice."

I froze. Anger washed over me. I was half tempted to hex her right there, or to run out the door in tears, back into his arms, begging for him to make her disappear. My fingers curled in. I forced myself to breathe. She didn't know better. But she knew I hated that name. She knew what the school thought of me. Yet she was trying to be better. She wanted to do better by me. Correct her mistakes. And when she realized her mistake, I was unclenching my fists and glaring down at the ground. "Shit, Alice….I'm sorry."

"It's fine." I muttered. I wanted to shrink myself so small that I could hide in the cushions of the couch. I took another breath, I couldn't take it out on her. Not when she showed me hospitality and kindness. My thigh flared up again, and it took all of my strength to not scratch at it. I shake my head, ignoring the pain. I came up with words to remove her guilt, "Not the worst thing I've been called lately."

"No. It was a dumb mistake. I should know better." Suddenly, she took my hand into hers. My arm tensed up. My eyes bulged. It was hard for me to not flinch or to yank my hand away from hers. But I stayed. I stayed and I heard her out. "You're helping me work on my performance. You….you're like the only person in school not judging me for breaking up with Fred, or falling out with Penelope. You're cool, Alice. I kinda enjoy hanging out with you." My lips were still glued tightly together, but my brain raced. Hermione Gomez thought I was cool? She actually enjoyed my company? Maybe I did spend too much time judging others and not allowing myself to interact with my peers.

"Thanks." I muttered. After that, we went on and I listened to her singing that song over and over until she could convey the emotions just right. We did that more for a couple of days, when she wasn't swamped with rehearsals and when I needed time away from my familiar. We did it until the musical, until we were supposed to attend that after-party, until the crash

The pain rushes up from my leg to my head. I whimper softly, not too loud to wake up Sabrina. Why do my bad memories make my injuries flare up? He bound me to him. He wants me to relive the consequences of my actions. Then why did Sabrina have that seizure? How did Toni know why I was coming to her….

She's seen Hal. She whispered to me, before Hiram and I departed, that she witnessed my attack in the school. That she predicted what could come next, not just for me but for everyone. For Sabrina.

I glance over at the young girl. She's so peaceful in her sleep. She's still blissfully unaware of my trauma. I huff, staring up at the ceiling. I wish I could be in her state right now. Well, I should. I need to get some rest before my mind leads me one another edge of another cliff.

I use some magic to turn off the side lamp. I shut my eyes and keep my attention on my attempt at Blue. It's getting a little easier to perform, but it's still not the way Hiram does it. Maybe tomorrow….but I should be fine for now. I need to calm down and sleep in peace. Because come tomorrow, we'll have answers from Louis Cooper. And I may not like what I hear.

I toss and turn all night. Zelda and Hilda laugh at my failures. Hermione and Penelope stare me down from hidden corners. Hal calls for me, he begs for me to come home, to join him in his seductive nightmare world. I tell him no, and each time he inches closer. And closer. And closer, until I run out of space to flee and I cannot escape from him. By the time it's about 6 or 7, I get out of bed and make myself some cider. I review the notes I compiled with Hiram and the Joneses, preparing myself for the day ahead. The words blend together on the pages. The one page that matches his glares at me. I have to wonder if Louis had any connection to witchcraft, whether through family, or friends. Or if he dove into dark materials that he never should have found.

Half an hour passes. A draft blows through the trailer as I finish lacing up my boots. My heart's running at 100 miles an hour. I make the last loop, tying the bunny ears together, then I smooth down my pant legs. I would have worn a dress, but we're heading out to Pickens Park, and I don't want to draw attention to my leg. It's stinging again. I'll need to reapply some aloe vera when I get back from the seance. Or I could just pop some medication into my system and ride out the numb wave.

Sabrina stirs in the bed behind me. I stand up and remove my notes from the floor, doing my best to not wake her up. I turn around to get a better look. When will she get called back to Greendale? When will her Aunts reach out? Will they? I set my notes down on the bed, and I come over to her side of the bed. My fingers hover just near her forehead. Something's troubling her. A nightmare I guess. I hear whispering, a hushed voice. You've seen him. You know what he has done. A crackling of a fire. A tear in flesh. Why don't you ask….

She bolts up, eyes wide, heart pounding. She gasps for air. I place my hands on her shoulders. "Hey….breathe, sweetheart. Breathe." She takes a moment to take in her surroundings, to notice that it's me comforting her, and not that hushed voice. She exhales in relief and rests her head on my shoulder blade. "You're safe." I mutter, flattening down her hair. "You're safe."

"I'm alright. Mhm….a bad dream." I hear her mumble. She clings to the fabric of my shirt. She's shaking in my arms. What haunted her in her dreams? She rests her cheek against me. "Are you leaving?"

I finally realize that she's spotted the notes on the bed. My heart drops. What do I tell her? I get up from the bed, letting go of Sabrina. I reach for the notes. "I have to meet up with….some people." I keep my answer vague. I'm going to kick myself for that later. But Sabrina shouldn't have to know what I'm doing, it's too dangerous. If I drag her into this now, I'll never hear the end of it from Zelda and Hilda. A pit falls into my stomach when I look at her. She's dazed. She wants the truth. No more secrets, no more lies, the little voice in the back of my head taunts me. I should….I need to…. I can't leave her in the dark. Well….maybe in pieces…..

I huff, flopping down onto the bed, carefully so I don't injure my thigh. "There's another witch in town." I confess to the girl. "We're meeting up this morning so…"

"Who?" She sounds monotone trying to put the puzzle pieces together. It scares me a little. This whole ordeal of me not telling my story to her scares me.

The possibilities run through my mind. Do I just capitulate and tell her everything before it's too late? Do I bring her back to Greendale, to the care of the Spellmans, and then tell her? Do I push on, fight this on my own, and if Hal dies, dragging me down with him, would I leave my written history behind….

I wince. My thigh cramps up. I unclench my fists, which I didn't realize I made. I look down….red crescents form on the flesh of my palms. I bite my tongue and force myself to not break down. Stay strong. Toni needs you. Louis Cooper needs you…. My thigh itches. I glance down at it, hovering one hand nearby, ready to give in.

"What really happened to your leg, Ali?" I hear Sabrina croak. Cold air stings my face. The raw flesh of my thigh cries to be freed from the fabric of my pants. It hurts. I have to take a minute, I have to calm myself down. I can do it. I can talk to her. I just need to inhale, then exhale. My bottom lip falls victim to my top row of teeth. I let it fall back to its natural state. Hal would be pleased to see me this vulnerable.

My voice crumbles when I speak. "I told you about being in the Serpents when I was younger. Right?" Sabrina leans back against the pillows. Her eyes linger around the room, slowly returning to meet my gaze. She says I did tell her, after Veronica's assault. She repeats back what I told her - I had to fulfill my father's legacy because I had no choice.

"Okay, so you know that much." I nod, confirming her memory. I go on, "But….but I didn't tell you that….that I have…." I stop, feeling my thigh sting. It's my brain's little way of telling me that my tattoo no longer exists. All that's left is a scar. I correct my own words, with a heaviness in my heart, "Had. I had a tattoo. Up until yesterday." She takes time to absorb my words. There's little to no color on her face. Her lips are chapped. She glances down at my leg.

"Did it get infected?"

I choke up, unable to speak. Water forms at the crevices of my eyes. My bad leg bounces. My fingers interlace, my nails dig into the flesh between the knuckles. I'm a coward. And a liar. I'm weak. I squeeze my eyes. No, I can't think like this. Muster up the courage and tell her the truth. Sabrina endures so much strength, much more than I had at her age. She could talk to me. And I should talk to her. The voice I heard….Why don't you ask….why did it sound like….

Another wave of pain. A tear rolls down my cheek. Why don't you ask….ask who? Me? About what? I don't pronounce these fearful questions. I don't inquire Sabrina about her dream. She wants to know the tale of my tattoo, and that is what I'll tell her.

"It's been infected for a while." I confess, wiping the tear away with the sleeve of my blouse. "I thought by ignoring it, the problem could fade away. But….it got worse." I keep the answer plain and simple, because I don't think saying I disassociated and saw my demon-ex-boyfriend, and said hallucination broke my tattoo and severely burned it would fly with her. She sits up straighter, watching me in disappointment. I can feel my nose running. I'm too afraid to see if it's blood. I sniffle away any forming fluids before I continue. "I lost all the ink. It bled everywhere. Don't get me wrong, I hated getting the damn thing. But…..but it was part of who I was. It was part of my identity." I end my woeful speech there, not wanting to speak further. More tears form in my eyes. I hate opening up to her about this part of my life, especially this late into our time here in Riverdale. I really am kicking myself for not doing her justice. For not telling her of Hal when I had all those chances to do so.

Sabrina studies me. My failing attempt to hide my agony. My overly emotional state. The pile of notes next to me. She looks back up at me. "The witch…..you're going to the witch to get your tattoo wounds healed?" I sit back on her question. Could I approach Toni about my recent wound? Or would I be demanding too much?

I release my fingers from their grip. They flex out as my palms rest on my pant legs. Traces of Blue enter my conscious. It wouldn't hurt to ask, I suppose. "We'll see." I sigh, smoothing out the fabric of my pants. By now, I'm not crying as much, and my nerves have cooled. I glance out the window. Am I running late? I can't tell from the light outside, it's all grey and the sun isn't out. I agreed that I would drive over to Pickens Park with the Joneses (I was hesitant about including them, but according to Toni, having a blend of magical and non-magical partakers of the seance could help calm the spirits). I shouldn't keep them waiting.

I tuck strands of Sabrina's hair back. "Will you be okay here by yourself?"

"I'm most likely going to study at the library with Jughead, so I'll be fine." I lean back in my place. The next sentence almost slips out of my mouth. Again? How far are you falling behind? But I keep my mouth shut. It's something Zelda would let slip out. But not me. I get up from the bed, scoping the notes into my arms. I smooth down her hair, doing my best to smile.

"Call me if you need anything, sweetheart."

"I will." she beams up at me. I start to walk away, heading for whatever fate awaits me. I'm about to walk out of the bedroom when Sabrina says, "Hope you're able to heal your tattoo, Ali." I stop in my tracks. I turn back around to face her. The smile on her face has softened. Her eyes still hold that troubled….look to them. Something's looming in her mind. She has questions, I know she does.

"Thanks." I mutter, leaving it there. Then, I walk away, shutting the door behind me.

My back leans against the wood. I toss the notes onto the kitchen table. My arms feel numb. My knees bend when I slide down to the floor. My heart splits in two, like it was opened by Pandora herself. My ears ring. My vision fuzzes. My cheeks burn. Who spoke to her in that dream? Who did it want her to talk to? Why can't I just grow up and communicate like an adult? What is wrong with me?

Minutes pass. It takes me a while to recognize that my head has curled into my thighs. My nails clawing at my skull. My eyes raw and puffy. I lift my head and exhale. My phone buzzes, it snaps me back to reality. I shuffle around before I return to a standing position. I pull my phone out, releasing my shoulders. It's Gladys. She's wondering when I'm coming.

There's no point in hiding in my sorrows. I need to go. I grab the papers and leave the trailer. Time to go meet Louis Cooper.

XXXXXXXX

TONI

It feels wrong standing out here in this park. I've passed so many families coming into Pickens Park this morning, playing on the swing sets and teeter totters, reading newspapers on park benches. They don't know the evils of this place. The blood shed. The bodies burned and buried. I'm still wondering why I thought it was a good idea to conduct the seance out here. I would've preferred the comfort and the quiet of Granddad's shop. Hell, I'd take the Jones's trailer too. But this Louis Cooper….he buried a man out here. He stepped foot through these woods, he laughed and smiled on this ground. For Louis, it's a place of familiarity. A good way to lure his spirit to our circle.

The trees provide a good protection from the falling snow. I stand underneath the big one, glancing upward. Somewhere in the perimeters of this tree, the person Rose Blossom's clan believed to have murdered the Conways was buried alive. No gravestone, no funeral. Almost like the man never existed. I grip the coffee cup tighter in my hand, letting my bag fall to the ground. The rest of the party should be here any moment now. I glance around the area, validating my security. Riverdale has gotten turned upside down since the protests. Not like it ever was, but the deep truths of this town are getting unveiled. But I fear that it will not end well for those attempting to fight for justice, to those who go about one day at a time, to those who just want peace. No one in Riverdale has been safe since….that monster made its first kill.

I take a sip from my coffee and begin my work. I lay out my grimoire in front of me, flipping it open to find the appropriate scriptures needed for this ritual. Using a stick I scavenged for earlier, I draw out the symbols, one by one. The snow makes it a little difficult to keep the shape of my drawings, but for now it will have to do. By having Alice and her acquaintance performing the seance with me, it will facilitate the whole process. I tend to conduct these rituals on my own for the clients that come to my shop. I pull them off just fine. But for a connection this….troubled….and sinister, today's ritual could call for more than one source of magic.

Footsteps crunch in the snow nearby. I lean up. Where is that noise coming from? I grip onto the stick, preparing to fire off a defense spell. I turn my head to the source of the noise. "Toni!" a young voice cheers. My shoulders lose the tension. The stick in my hand lowers. A warm grin forms on my face. Not so far away, Jellybean Jones sprints over to me, followed by her parents and Alice. The male witch is nowhere to be found, which makes me a bit concerned. But I'm at least grateful to see Jellybean again.

I drop the stick next to my coffee cup. "Hey, you!" my expression relaxes. Jellybean closes the gap between us and wraps her tiny little arms around me. I giggle and embrace the girl into a bear hug. When did she get so damn big? Would it be a good idea to keep the girl around for this seance?

"Long time, no see." Mister Jones greets me. Gladys hangs under his arm. Alice lingers in the back. I don't pick up on her limp until she's closer to us. Was she limping last night when she came into the shop?

I turn to the Joneses, "The shop's still going if you ever want to stop by. Surprised Jughead hasn't popped his head in. Oh, don't tell me he's finally given up on those conspiracy theories." I laugh through the small talk. Okay, I actually do enjoy talking with FP and Gladys. They really looked out for me and my friends back in high school. Their kids were sweethearts too. I really latched onto Jellybean as if she were my own little sister, and the gang and I welcomed Jughead with open arms for our G-and-G campaign. If anyone deserves to start a brand new life outside of Riverdale, it's those kids.

"You don't mind having Jellybean join us, do you?" Alice finally voices. She has a hand glued by her thigh. Something really is off with her. I'll need to ask her about it when we're done with this. I tell her it's not an issue. Alice mentioned to me last night that the girl has been actively involved in their little hunt, doing research and accompanying on trips throughout Riverdale. How old was I when Granddad took me to my first Uktena ritual? I remember how intimidating it all felt, those people chanting and raising flames high into the sky. The smoke formed into animals, ones I saw in my studies. It took me months before I could muster up the courage to take part in those gatherings without any fear. I commend Jellybean for having that courage now. It makes me envious.

I glance around for any sign of the male witch. "Where's your friend? Did he bail out last minute?" I notice Alice shrugging her shoulders. The Joneses look equally confused. Then, I pick up on a new aura. Well, it's not new, I met it last night. But it's approaching our little congregation. The male witch appears, following the same path as Alice and the Joneses. He's in a rush, he's embarrassed as he tugs at his yellow scarf. The expression lightens when he spots Alice, the way he did last night at the shop. He mumbles an apology for running late, I don't know whether to me or to Alice. She places a hand on his upper arm, a warming gesture. Why do I feel like I'm watching a sappy Hallmark rom-com? Are they aware that they're publicly displaying their affection for one another? Perhaps I'm the only one noticing, maybe not. Gladys studies their interaction too. Not sure if I can stomach another minute, I finally notice the bag hanging over one shoulder, opposite of her touch. I also realize that I don't think I got this witch's name. I think she muttered it while I dug around for supplies in the shop. What was it? Hugo? Henry?

The male witch brings his gaze over to me. "Are you in need of any more supplies, Miss Topaz?"

"Got everything I need, pal." I wave him off. I let go of Jellybean and return to my set-up. I gesture for the group to come join me. I explain the basics, "Mix yourselves between witch and non-witch. We'll create a stronger energy source that way."

Mister Jones cocks his head down at my drawings in the snow. "Hold on. I'm really confused. How does an energy source come from that?" I thought Gladys had said something about her husband not knowing much about witchcraft. Maybe I should assume that she and Alice filled him in on the details not too long ago. Either way, it would be polite of me to provide the details. It's what I do for my clients.

"It shows the spirit that it's come to a….safe space." I cringe at my own description. But it seems to work for him. He and Gladys step into the area, followed by Jellybean. Alice limps slowly. Her companion stays by her side, offering assistance. She hesitates, then she drapes an arm over his shoulders. They move in sync with each other, like they're dancing. While it's sappy, It's quite interesting to watch. They reach the circle. She lets go of him, muttering Thanks, Hiram. Hiram? That's his name? Huh, not what I pictured for him. It sounds more fitting for an aging white-haired man with glasses and a mustache. Not this gentleman across the circle from me.

The two split up, taking their places between the Joneses. I stand in the middle of Gladys and Jellybean, with Alice next to the girl, and Hiram between her parents. I lower down, digging through my bag once more to grab the last of the materials needed for this ritual. I grab a couple of candles and a lighter. I eye the circle…. I should have put the candles down before drawing out the symbols. How could I have forgotten this simple step? I think going through this ritual with a family I know, and with other witches….it's making me nervous. In fact, I don't think I've worked with other witches in a long time. Not since my early days training with the Uktena.

"Here, let me." The new witch, Hiram, extends his arm out towards one of the candles. I hold out for a second, not sure whether his kind gesture as a joke or as something legitimate. I take another look at his face. It's legitimate. I underhand toss him the candle, then another one to Alice. I instruct them both to place the candles in front of them, right by the adjacent symbols.

I turn to Alice. "You got any mementos of the guy?" She gulps in a big breath. Then, she reaches into her coat pocket. She flips open a couple sheets of paper. A vintage photograph is settled in between. She traces her fingers along the material. Her eyes go distant. They look glossy. Dead.

Alice hands the photo to the young girl, who then hands it to me. "He's in the second row. Dirty blonde hair, light eyes." I scan the rows of faces, all nine of them. There's only one woman in this photo, someone with red hair. I spot the face Alice described. Our man. I try to picture what he was, if he spent nights with friends at the bar or found comfort in solitude.

"What other info do we need?"

"He worked at the Register downtown. Wrote columns." Jellybean pipes up. I watch her grab the stack of papers from Alice and handing it to me. Scanned copies of older articles when the town was in the Reaper daze. Surely enough, Louis Cooper exists in these pages. So he was a writer. I flip through the articles, absorbing the stories he told to the public. He's good. Maybe not enough to be remembered.

"Anything else?" I ask the group. It's quiet. They exchange worried glances with each other. Gladys bites her lip. Jellybean twiddles her thumbs and rocks back and forth on her feet. It remains this way for a long minute.

Eventually, Hiram speaks on behalf of the group. "It was all we could find." he begins confidently, then he goes mute. Really? This is all we have? The questions scream out of my eyeballs. I don't mean for it to come off intimidating, but it leaves the man feeling….remorse. He grows gloomy. Remorseful. "I apologize…." He pauses. Was he about to call me Antoinette again? I'm aware Toni is short for Antoinette, I'm not an idiot. But the sound of my given name caught me off guard. Hiram picks back up from where he left off, "Miss Topaz."

My shoulders droop in relief. I'll take that. I wave the papers in my hand. "This will work just fine." I direct my attention to the rest of our circle. "We won't have much time to keep his spirit in our realm. So, we'll need to keep the interrogation short and sweet. He'll be frightened. Unaware of his surroundings. We need him calm and collected at all costs. Got it?" The Joneses face each other, then their daughter. They nod at me. Jellybean does too. And Hiram. Alice exhales, releasing a frozen breath into the air. Her head remains still. She taps gently on her bad leg. Everyone waits for her.

"I'm ready." she finally mutters. So it begins.

I concentrate on the candle below me. With a flick of my hand, a flame comes to life. Alice and Hiram follow in suit. I let the papers fall onto the snow. I hold out my hands, signaling for everyone else to do the same. I take Gladys and Jellybean's hands, Alice grabs for the girl and for Mister Jones. Hiram stands there stubbornly staring at the other man. The uncomfortable moment lasts merely for a second before I raise a brow at both of them. A miniscule gesture indicating, Just do it, assholes. Time is not on our side. They comply. With all of our hands joined, I chant the familiar words. I call for the spirits to help us, the way they always do during these rituals, and all of my work before. I begin this summoning alone, my voice speaking the familiar language of the Uktena. Our coven's rituals stem from the practices of the Native witches, when they fled from their own blood. They sought forgiveness from all that passed, either by disease or execution. They begged the spirits to lead them on the right path, to protect them from harm, to uncover a truth. And today, we need this man to tell us what really happened in Riverdale's dark period.

More voices join my own. The rhythm comes to the witches naturally. The Joneses fumble, but they get the gist. Jellybean is the only one not speaking among us. She's nervous, and I don't blame her. Should I pause to help her out? Or would it mess up everything? I'm about to stop when Alice picks up on the girl's quiet nature. She lowers down slightly to match the girl's height. "Don't focus on how everyone else is talking sweetheart." I hear her whisper. "Follow along as best as you can." Alice looks to me for confirmation, hoping that by pausing her rhythmic chanting it didn't throw off the ritual.

I nod. "Last go around of this chant." I tell them both. Then, I jump back into my trance. Alice joins with ease, Jellybean hums along to our voices. The last words are spoken. I stop. Everyone waits for me to move onto the next step. I lower down, reaching for the papers. Gently, I tip the edge of the papers into the orange and yellow flames. Ash floats into the cold air. History withers away at the dancing flames.

I fling what remains of the papers into the air. They hover over our circle. Below, the symbols glow in coordination with the flames. My eyes shut, bracing for what will come next.

"Louis Cooper," I pronounce, "we ask for you to find us here in Pickens Park. We do not wish to bring harm to your soul. We only seek your presence in this circle. We view you as a friend, a missing part of history yet to be written. Come to us, Louis. Signal us through these candles, find something to cling to. We ask no more than this. Here, we will wait."

My tongue ceases. My lips close. It's almost as if the voice that spoke did not come from me, but from another entity. And yet, my throat dries and crinkles. I open my eyes. The Joneses glance around nervously. Jellybean gives my hand gentle pulses. She's glowing up at me. I can't help but grin at her. I break away to find Alice and Hiram keeping their gaze on one another. It's hopeful yet worrisome.

One minute passes. Nothing happens. The candles are still glowing. The symbols in the snow have lost their color. No indication of Louis or any other inhabitants. Just the six of us standing in a snowy public park while the rest of the world burns.

Another minute. Stillness. Tranquility. Anxiousness. Did I not recite the correct summoning spell? Did my blend of magic and mortal result in a failed ritual? My mind races, my Granddad's ghost looms over my shoulders. If he were here, he'd be disappointed. I can practically hear him within the wind blowing. This isn't the way of the Uktena, Toni, and you know it. I left that group for a reason. Riverdale is a lost cause. Why are you still clinging onto a pipe dream? Reason says honor and dignity. My heart says, Because it's still my world, Granddad. Because even though you gave up and walked away, I still have to live in it.

It's Mister Jones who breaks the prolonged silence. "Would it be bad if I stepped out for a minute, Toni?" He nervously checks his watch, backing away from Hiram and Alice. I shrug my shoulders. I say it's up to him, depending on the reason. He continues to go backwards and replies, "Don't want Keller or anyone in PD to find us, right? 'Cause that means we're all in trouble-"

Wind blows through, killing the flames. Mister Jones falls to his knees in the snow. His back faces us, hunched up like a cat. He hollers. "DADDY!" Jellybean cries. She makes an attempt to rush to her father, but Gladys blocks her path. Alice and I meet eyes, so does Hiram. The smell of burned wicks fills the air.

Louis. He's clung to Mister Jones.

I break through the group with Alice on my trail. I halt behind the man, waiting before I place a hand onto his back. Electricity shocks my fingertips. I wince and pull the hand away, blessing out loud. Alice moves to the other side of him. She holds off on touching him. Then, she comes to face Mister Jones, kneeling down in front of him. She reaches for his shoulders. "FP?" Heavy breathing. Rising limbs. Quiet.

He lifts his head, much slower than usual. "Wh...who are you?" The voice that comes out does not match the voice I know.

I rush over to Alice's side, glancing downward at…. The brown color of Mister Jones's eyes are traded for a color much lighter. A greyish blue. What inhabits this body makes the lips tremble. The body meek. The overall presence of….him, terrified.

"Daddy?" Jellybean mumbles.

"Baby girl," Gladys clings to her daughter. "That's not Daddy."

Alice takes a hold of his face. She realizes, just as Gladys told her Jellybean, that the face she knows is not the one in front of her now.

"Louis?"

The inhabitant in Mister Jones scans his new surroundings. He does not recognize the faces around him. In the past when I've done this ritual, whatever spirits that are summoned tend to stay frigid. Some accept the situation and agree to comply with the questions asked, the comfort needed to those still remaining in the living world. Something tells me that Louis might bail out on us if we don't get him to calm down.

"Louis Cooper? Can you hear me?" He stops his panicked motion. He sees me. I lower down to his level. I speak in a reassuring tone. "Don't be afraid. You're in good company." His mouth gapes open and closed. For a moment, I'm worried a word may exit that mouth. One so heinous and awful that would degrade my existence into nothing.

But he doesn't. Instead, he says, "Is this the afterlife? Did I make it at last?" My eyes sting at his sentence. Did I make it at last? Oh boy, that's not a good sign.

Alice notices that too. "Louis…." she speaks hesitantly, having trouble finding the right words. She forces down the lump in her throat. She ignores the pain from her leg. She picks up where she left off, "you're in Riverdale. In Pickens Park, to be exact. We….we need to ask you some questions." Alice pauses. Her gaze goes distant, not wandering over to the light blue in her friend's face. She's deliberately avoiding them. But I'm too focused on his words. Did I make it at last? Why wouldn't he have passed over? What could he have done to prevent him from….

The Reaper. Alice claimed to have seen the downfall of the Conways through the Reaper's eyes. She's danced with him and almost fell victim to his evil. But Louis? A mortal? What could the Reaper have wanted from him, other than he served as an executor in a group of tyrannical namesakes?

Louis shivers through Mister Jones's body. "It's cold." he mumbles, his voice light and broken. He struggles to get up onto the body's feet, he almost tumbles forward. Alice guides him up. I stay on the sidelines, watching their interaction. She's scared to keep touching him, she's scared to meet his eyes. The inhabitant finds the oak tree behind us. "You...you said we were in Pickens Park?" The eyes go down to the ground, to the roots of the ancient tree. His words come slowly, staggering in between nervous gulps for fresh air. "We buried a body under there. I hated that day. I heard him scream all the way down. He begged for God to come and save him. Our leader….Rose, wanted us to believe that we were in the presence of God. But….but God don't live here in Riverdale. It's been taken over by something else… Something that came for me."

No one speaks. No one breathes. Hang on….did he just confess to….

"That's why you brought me here, isn't it?" I realize that Louis is asking me the question, not Alice or anyone else in the group. "You want to know why it was me?"

My face falls. I think all of our worst fears have been spoken into reality. The Reaper never came for his victims under a guise of an original body. He came through….he came through Louis himself.

"He possessed you. That's how he got away with it. He made you kill..." Hiram voices the unspoken truth. Louis uses Mister Jones to face the other man. With sorrow eyes and trembling lips, he nods. A dread falls in all of us. A realization that we did not want to face until now. Louis Cooper acted as the vessel for the Reaper. And he probably had no clue until it was too late. Hiram runs his palm across his mouth. His eyes water up. He makes eye contact with Alice. In the nothing, I can hear his thoughts. What he wants to say to Alice. We should have known. He was right under our noses.

"When did the Reaper first use you?" I find the courage to ask. The inhabitant blinks at me. I admit, the icy emptiness of that color freaks me out. I get why Alice doesn't want to look into them at every waking moment. But she knew those eyes. She had to escape from those eyes.

The inhabitant folds Mister Jones's arms in so he clings to the elbows. He's trying to find the words, I can see in his expression. What would he want to forget? We're waiting for him to give us an answer, I'm on pins and needles. And through it all, I'm getting a….weird notion. Something itching the back of my brain.

After a long period of nothing, Louis explains his story. "I never felt important in life. I always saw myself as someone ordinary. I thought writing for the Register could help me make a name for myself. Living in Riverdale and befriending the people in that group gave me a reason to live. But….there was deep rooted evil from the beginning. Crooked people. Backwards morals. None of it made sense. I knew there was talk of witchcraft tainting this town. I never wanted to believe it, but each day left me asking if what I believed was a reality. Or if I really was losing my mind. During those days, all I wanted was to pack up and leave. To never return to such a wicked place.

"Then he came. He found me in the shadows as I was closing up the Register one night. He whispered to me, said he could help make me great. That I can make this town better. He asked me to come closer, to glimpse into what we could do together. I thought it was a joke, that it was one of my co-workers from the paper playing tricks. But something about him allured me. In his words, I envisioned myself as someone brave. Someone good. I wanted to believe him. So I reached out to him.

"Everytime we connected, I felt like I had bounced into a dream. Visions blurred and voices sung all around me. I saw faces welcoming me with open arms into a new, beautiful Riverdale. But everytime I woke up, I found myself back in my little home. And I could smell….blood. Metal. I could never pick up the smell of it all.

"Around that time, people began to die. Rose and our group began those witch trials. I never saw myself connected to it. But I wanted those alliances, I needed security. I grew scared, so I joined those hunts. But no matter what we did, more people died. And he kept coming to me. I didn't know why this thing came for me, but I was scared to turn it away. And he continued to come when I felt at my worst. And it would happen over and over again. Dream-state, horrible wake-up. And that blood smell. I never realized where it came from and why I could smell it."

His tale pauses. Tears form in the inhabitant's eyes. Gladys and Jellybean remain in the back, listening carefully for any crucial details. Hiram's heart rises and falls. And Alice….she remains motionless. Lost in a trance. She could break at any moment. Her connection to the Reaper changed her. As it did for Louis. The inhabitant stares down at Mister Jones's hands. Is this the first time he's realized that the body he came to is not his own? Was he expecting to find dirt? Blood?

A tear rolls down his cheek. "It was only after the Conways that I realized what I had done. What he made me do." Questions swarm my brain like hornets. Why them? What about them provoked you….him to make you kill them? Alice lets the man go. Her face goes blank. No...she's horrified. She told me she saw the Conway murders. She heard their screams, their final breaths. The gun-shots. I've been around death, she told me, I've felt its horridness. But not like that. Not like what happened to that family. I watch her teeter backwards. She looks pale. She could fall completely into the snow. Hiram calls out for her. He practically shoves me aside so he can make his way over to her. His hand gingerly goes to cup her cheek. It's tender and loving. He cocoons her in warmth. In some hope that she will not succumb to the darkness the way Louis did.

Gladys moves over to my side. She glances down at the inhabitant inside her husband. She throws out a question. "That kid, Joseph Conway. What happened when you and Blossom interrogated him? Was….was he there?"

Louis straightens Mister Jones's back. The tears don't stop coming. It's heartbreaking to keep watching him fall apart. How long afterwards did he blame himself for the events of the Reaper massacre? That he could fall prey to that monster? Louis brings the unfamiliar hands to the unfamiliar face. He uses the palms to wipe away the wetness on the cheeks.

"That was the last time the Reaper came to me. He told me we needed to protect us. He wanted to protect that boy from harm. He told me to go with that group, to go to that place outside of town, where they held the boy." He doesn't say the name of the place, but I know where he's referring to. The Sisters of Quiet Mercy. It became a nursing home after years of fraudulent practices as an orphanage-slash-mental institution. One of my friends got a job there. Who knew that a nursing home once held the survivor of a horrid massacre?

"When I stepped foot into that place, my skin burned. I could feel him in me. I wanted to tell that boy to run. I know he saw me that night. He saw my eyes. I wanted him to lead a good life. I hoped he could get as far away from me as possible. But when I stepped foot into that room, he took over. I never knew what was said, what the boy did to get us all to leave. By the time we left, we had a man. One I only saw once. We buried him the next day. We buried him….and it should have been me." He does his best to hold back sobs. The hands shake. The lips tremble. He's sniffling. The greyish blue of his eyes show some light. Some chance of hope. But it's fading away. I see it with every spirit that comes to these circles. They grow tired of the questions. They fear the truth of their reasons for dying. They want to leave after that. They always leave right when we get to the meat of it. We just need Louis to hold on for a little bit longer. And I need to figure out where this ache in my head is coming from, and why it won't go away.

"Why the Conways?" I grit my teeth through the ache. "Why did he go after them?" Louis stares at me with wet eyes. I could ask again, much angrier, much more on edge. But I don't. I patiently wait for the answer. Jellybean inches closer to the group. She waits by the person inside her father. She crouches down to her knees. She places her hand one his shoulders. She knows that the man next to her is not her father. But she wants to cling to that hope. That when this all blows over, she can call that man her father once more. She waits there, keeping her hand on that shoulder. The rest of us don't know what to make of it. Especially Gladys.

"Jellybean….what are you doing?" She goes to reclaim her daughter. Hiram tells her to wait. He's picked up on something. And so has Alice. And so have I. Louis turns to the girl as she wipes away stray tears. He takes her free hand into his own. Then, tucking away some hair, he whispers something into her ear. None of us know what, or why. Why does he trust this girl out of all of us? The girl glares down at the snow. She stays unmoved at first….her brows raise. Her little saucer eyes enlarge. She tilts her head towards him. With remorse, he nods.

Alice calls for her, growing more panicked as her voice raises. "What did he say? Louis, what did you just say to her?"

Jellybean rises from the snowy ground. Her hands fall to her sides. She leaves her head hanged for a while. Then, she brings her eyes up to Alice.

She speaks in stumbled terms. "They knew it was him. Mister Conway was going to have him imprisoned. Your demon….he wanted to keep them quiet. To eliminate people who knew the truth. He'd rather take out a random person than let everyone bring him down."

My heart falls to my stomach. I could vomit. Alice looks as if she could faint. Hiram keeps her steady and upright. Gladys pulls her daughter back into her safe embrace. Louis silently sobs. No choking. No wails. Just tears down cheeks without a word. It's haunting. And his eyes….they're glued on Alice. They haven't left her since he had Jellybean relay his message.

He stands up. He moves in baby steps towards her. She's frozen in her place, in Hiram's arms. Louis takes a few more small steps, then halts. He's barely a foot or two away from her. "You know his power." his voice wobbles. Alice teeters away from Hiram, regaining some reassurance in herself. Perplexed, she makes an effort to get closer to Louis, closing their gap. He continues to speak only to her, like the rest of us don't exist. "He's hurt you. The way he hurt me. I'm sorry he did that." She begins to cry. She steps in closer, bringing her thumb to push back a newly formed tear. It's gentle. It's sympathetic. A sign of understanding.

We wait on the sidelines as they converse. "Did he kill you, Louis?"

"No….he never laid another hand on me after that burial. I wouldn't let him."

"Then what happened? Who….who ended your life?" she begs. By now, she has both hands clinging to his face. He uses Mister Jones's hands to place them gingerly on her upper arms. Alice studies the face trapped inside her friend. She takes one long look at his eyes. She brings the forehead to tap her own. I'm taken aback. What propelled her to show this level of kindness? This man acted as the masquerade to a monster. Why is she placing herself in danger? And….and why won't this headache go away? I bring my fingertips to my forehead, squinting my eyes closed. My nostrils dry up at this notion. Like they could bleed.

Louis takes a deep breath. He glares at Alice. "No one. I did."

Alice freezes. Panic paints across her face. She releases her grip on him. She backs away from him, the truth settling in. I could throw up. We all could. He doesn't need to tell us the end of his story, I can see it unfolding for myself in my mind. A river outside of town. A place where no one in Riverdale would want to search for a nobody. A place to disappear. To drown out the voices. I could fall to my knees, I almost lose my balance. Louis went to that river, and he never made it out. He didn't want to get out. The pain in my head increases. My ears ring. The seances before ended somewhat peacefully with the inhabitants wanting to leave, with the willing party ready to send the spirit back. But this spirit does not want to leave. He found a hidden piece of her. One that she has not shared with us. With anyone.

Lous closes their gap again, using Mister Jones's hands to reach for her. They cling to her throat, pinching the skin. "Come with me. You're a kind lady, but you've been hurt. No one will ever hurt you again." Alice gapes like a fish. Gladys pulls Jellybean behind her. I can't move. I can't say anything, only because I can't fathom what he just said. What he offered to do. Louis offered to kill Alice to free her from her misery.

Hiram grips my shoulder, rotating me to face him. Like a wake-up call, he hisses, "Get that man out of FP. NOW."

The desperate voice continues behind me. "We don't need them, miss. YOU don't need them." He pauses, tilting his head up towards me. His eyes bulge. The face contorts. He doesn't say it, but I know it to live on his tongue. One word. It never comes out. He conveys another message, using Mister Jones's index finger, inflicting his tone of speech. "Especially her."

The ringing of my ears drowns out the rest of the world. It's on his brain. What all like him back then had on their brains. One word. My jaw tenses up. My eyes sting. So do my nostrils. Everything hurts. I hate it. I hate him. Get him out. NOW.

I rush over to Louis, my nails digging into Mister Jones's hair. I drag him away from Alice, forcing him onto his knees. I begin the end. "Louis, your time on this Earth has ended. Go back to which you came. Your presence is no longer welcome here." The inhabitant ignores me. He continues to yell at Alice, begging her to join him. He screams it, over and over. I repeat, louder, "Your presence is no longer welcome here."

Louis makes one last attempt to reach Alice. He no longer speaks on behalf of the Reaper, or for Rose Blossom. "Kill him. Kill the Reaper. You're the only one who can."

I can't take this anymore. I grab his head, forcing it down between the knees.

"GET THE FUCK OUT!"

Wind pulses past me and the others. Snow flies into the air. My throat clenches, leaving it hoarse. My heart flies out of my chest. Hot tears leave my eyeballs. It's all silent. I release my grip, going back from the scene. Louis is no longer inside Mister Jones, I can't pick up an aura. The host lifts his head, staring down at his hands. He spots Alice across from him. He doesn't know what happened, not yet at least. All he knows is he did something to her. He hurt his friend.

Mister Jones chokes, "Alice….Alice, I'm sorry." She leans in, pulling him into her arms. She coddles his head against her, stroking his back, telling him it's okay. It's not his fault. Gladys and Jellybean rush over to the two on the ground. Hiram waits by Alice, anticipating the worst to occur again. I'm by myself standing here. No one comforts me. No one sees if I'm okay. I'm the outsider in a group of outsiders.

Alice takes note of my absence. She meets my gaze. "Toni?"

No….no, I can't be here any longer. I won't take part in this nightmare. Not again. I let my Granddad down. I let the Uktena down. All because I did something nice for someone else. They'll never help me. No one will.

I make a run for my bag by the tree. I don't bother to grab the candles left in the snow. I don't listen to the other voices calling for me to come back, to understand what's wrong. I don't want to play the game of the Reaper. I will not become another martyr for a lost cause.

I keep walking away, not looking back.

XXXXXXXX

ALICE

My throat still feels raw. I've been running my fingers along that spot Louis made FP pinch. It wasn't FP's fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. But we lost Toni. After Louis left, she grabbed her things and took off. She panicked, she saw something awful. No, she heard something. What did Louis say to make her that upset? We haven't found out. Gladys tried to get in contact with her all afternoon with no success. I would have gone back to her shop earlier, but my priorities were on FP. The seance shook him. It left him twitching and afraid to let his guard down. How could I blame him? There was a dead man taking over his soul, speaking through his lips, clawing at me….

Kill the Reaper. You're the only one who can. Those last words echo in my memory. None of it makes sense. Why me? Because I survived Hal's wrath? Because I had the courage to come back? Louis saw my pain. He wept at my scars and offered to take them all away. He gave me a chance to leave. I do, I want to escape my past. But not by his methods. Not with a coward's way out. Besides, I can't bring Hal down alone.

That's why as the sun is setting, I'm having Hiram drive me to her shop. I need to talk with Toni. I need to tell her what's really going on, why she may be the best chance we have at stopping Hal. I need her. We all need her.

He pulls the car close to a curb, just a building away from the shop. My eyes remain glued to the dashboard, watching the sky fade from greyish yellow to hazy orange. I feel my neck pulse. I wonder if a bruise will form. Something moves at the corner of my eye. I follow the object….only to find Toni in her shop wiping dust off the shelves. She doesn't know Hiram and I are here. It's not my intention to frighten her in a place of comfort. I hate to bug her this way. But I regret how we left things back at the park. She needs to know that we're here for her. At least I'm here for her.

The car engine comes to a stop. I hear the keys leave their designated place, flopping down into the cupholder. Breeze dances throughout the car. Fingers slip into my hand, intertwining with them. My knuckles are greeted by the tenderness of his thumb.

"Would you like me to come in with you?" the question comes out as a breath. My eyes leave Toni, wandering over to him as he wedges his thumb between my fingers. It's smooth and comforting. I let my fingers enclose over his thumb. "I understand if you think it'd be easiest to…" He stops, biting his lip. I can feel his arm shake. He's cold. Or maybe he's just nervous. His fingertips patter on the steering wheel. He does this for a little while before the hand falls into his lap. He chuckles mid-sentence as he woundfully admits, "Maybe it would be best if you went on your own. I'm afraid I pissed her off."

The negative self-talk hurts, especially coming out of his mouth. So, I decide that I need to lighten the mood of this conversation. "Hey," I tug the combination of our hands onto my lap, covering my other one over his. The initials of our contract tattoos on our wrists glow from the sun setting. I wait for him to make eye contact with me before I speak. "It was a warped seance beyond anyone's control. We couldn't have predicted Louis's behavior." I lean back against the leather seat. I run my thumb across his wrist. "But it's still the right thing to do. To check in on her." Clogged breath builds in my lungs. I huff it all out in one go. "Also…."

"What?"

I lazily turn my head towards Hiram. A giant smirk forms on my face. "Out of the two of us, I'm the only one allowed to piss people off. So….you're gonna need to find yourself a new gig, Manhattan."

Hiram snorts while laughing. I end up giggling too, relieving the pain from both my thigh and my throat. I watch in giddy as he over exaggerates his distress. "WOW. Really? This whole act again, Acid Queen Alice?"

I bat my eyelashes at him. "I've mastered the art of being an utter bitch to people." The corners of my mouth lift. We're both giggling to the point where our stomachs could get sore. I spot a little glimmer in his eyes when he brings his cheerful gaze to me. Whenever he brings a cheerful gaze at any time. I soften my sarcastic nature. "Well, to most people. Not you." It doesn't hit me right away what I just said, but when it does, my lips go into a straight, panicked line. I rotate my head back to the windshield, staring out at it all bug eyed. I wait for him to respond, whether out of ridicule or of….other things. I have to play out the worst case scenarios here.

What I end up getting is a little scoff of amusement. The noise causes me to look at him again. I'm greeted with a coy smirk. "Was that….flirting?" he teases me. I feel exposed. Maybe I am starting to think differently of him, beyond friendship. I ignore the comment and return to my bugged out state of mind. But that doesn't stop him one iota. Hiram tilts into me, his lips close to my ear. "I thought flirting wasn't part of our contract. Unless you have changed your mind…"

That breaks my silence. "I…" I bark, glaring over at him. The smirk proudly stays on his face. His eyes take on a playful….seductive glimmer to them. It's so much like how he attempted to interact with me in high school. And so much of how I have grown flustered by his presence. His kindness. His….feelings for me. If there are feelings for me.

I sigh. One finger lifts into the air. I furrow my eyes at him. "The contract is just a guideline." I defend my actions.

"So, flirting's on the table?" Hiram grows a Cheshire Cat smile. My chin lifts upward. I try to maintain my straight demeanor, but….damn it. Those eyes are breaking apart my rigidness. My demeanor fades away, the corners of my mouth lift, my heart flutters a little.

"For now." I demand, "But don't get your hopes up." I wind up cracking a small grin, feeling my mood lighten. We sit there giggling for a good while. In the background, inside the shop, Toni continues to move about. She picks up on the car outside, stopping her in her path. She wanders towards the window to check it out, then, she frowns. I watch as she turns away.

"I better go talk to her." I break our gleeful moment. His expression transforms from blissful to concerned. Without much thought, I squeeze his hand a little tighter. "You don't have to wait for me to come out. I can make it back to the trailer park on my own."

"Are you sure?"

I scoff. "I spent my childhood here, remember?" His lips form an upward curved line as he nods his head. "I'm serious, Hiram. Go enjoy your night. Spend time with your daughter. Like….take her to a movie, or something father-daughter-ee." I think out loud, to his…. I would describe it as amusement or delight, but it looks more mournful. When was the last time Hiram spent time with Veronica? When did they have time to just be father and daughter?

Hiram rests back in his seat, his hand still gripping onto my own. I wonder if Toni came back to the window to see why we're outside. But there's no sign of her. And I need to keep my focus on Hiram and his family for just one more minute. Because he doesn't look too thrilled at the sound of the idea, and it's making me worried.

My concerns are answers, but not in a way I expect. He responds, "If I could just get her away from that cat…." My heart sinks. Sabrina's cat. I forgot Veronica had graciously offered to cat-sit for us while Sabrina fell ill. I've been so preoccupied on finding Louis and getting into contact with Toni that the fact slipped from my mind. Especially after what Veronica said before Hiram and I went to the Conway House. He'll find his way back to you.

"Every time I go to talk with her, even to bid her good night," Hiram begins to confess, "she's deep in conversation with that thing. I understand if she needs space. I understand that she's stepped up and done something generous for Sabrina. But the presence of that cat just….I don't know what to say, Alice. It's all so odd."

"What do you think I dealt with when the cat was with me and Sabrina?" I admit rather harshly. Don't get me wrong, I think it's good Sabrina found a little comfort at the beginning of her transition here. I'm glad she could project her care onto another living thing. But the cat gives off weird vibes. No….it gives off sinister vibes. It made me vomit. It didn't come to my defense when Hal attacked me in the trailer. It disappeared when those kids in Sabrina's class died….

I shake the bad vibes off. I can't stay focused on a stupid black cat. I need to see Toni before I lose my chance. I let go of Hiram's hand to unbuckle my seat belt. "Promise me you'll at least try, okay?" He hesitates to answer, then after a moment, he mumbles an Okay. I cup his cheek and smile. I spy Toni watching us from the window again. So she did come back. I lock eyes with her for a brief moment. Embarrassed, she scurries off.

"Let me know how it goes." Hiram asks of me in return. I nod, keeping close to him for a little longer. After this, I peel myself away. I hop out of the car, tugging at my coat as the wind picks up momentum. I leave the door hanging open, gripping on the plastic covering as I prepare myself for what will happen next. I turn back to Hiram with my heart ready to pop out through my mouth.

"Okay. Wish me luck." I mutter, then I shut the door. I make my sights on the shop. I don't know how Toni will react. I expect she'll be angry, she'll be frightened. Whatever emotions may come, she has a right to hold them. I commend her perseverance. I need her to recognize that. Daisies and candles, Alice. Listen to her and see how you can both move forward. I head for the shop, leaving Hiram behind.

I get to the door, and as I'm about to yank on the handle, I pause. What if she's already locked up for the day? It's almost five, isn't it? I hover my hand over the door handle, wondering whether it'd be a good idea to test my fate, or to wait until tomorrow morning. Before I can make up my mind, the door clicks open. The motion makes me jump back a little. I look up. Toni lowers her hand from inside the shop, giving me a sympathetic look. I'm ready when you are, it says. I don't want to delay this longer, so I walk in.

It's warm when I enter. The place smells of earthly minerals and cinnamon. I could take off my jacket, but I don't plan on making this trip long. Toni leans against her counter half the floor away from me. She's keeping her distance, and I don't blame her. I would have done the same if I….if I remained so isolated from society. But I'm not like that anymore. And I don't want Toni to fall down the same path that I once did.

She's the one to instigate the conversation. "Take it, they want me to redo the seance?"

I shake my head. "No. I just….I wanted to see how you were holding up. We were all getting worried." I keep my explanation short and simple. I don't want to pound on too many details. I give her an update, trying to sound as optimistic as possible. "FP's not that shaken up anymore."

"Good." she acknowledges this fact. "It might take him a couple of days for him to recover, but it won't be the end of the world. Having a dead spirit roaming in your mind like that doesn't go away overnight." I watch her lips go flat. In her quiet, she wanders over to another part of her shop. She fumbles around with some of the items on a shelf. Does she want me to join her? Does she want me to leave?

"Can I be honest for a moment, Alice?" her voice echoes across the room. "I'm kind of glad you're not asking me to bring that freak back. I'm not in the mood to hear his voice again." The tone of her words takes a dagger to my ribs. It's devastating. Louis did hurt Toni with his words. I never took into consideration what he said, I was so caught up in getting away from his grip. From stopping him from using FP to hurt me. You don't need them, he said to me. But what about those words got to her? He added on something else, I have to dig through my recent memories to pull that part back out. It comes to me. The infliction in his voice. The attitude people like him had regarding people like her back then. Especially her.

My feet take me to where she once stood at the counter. My mouth opens before I plan out my apology. "That's why I'm here, Toni." The younger witch tilts her chin to me. I stumble as I go, "I didn't….I didn't know he would say that. It was cruel, and wrong. If...if I could have prevented him from attacking you-"

"It doesn't matter, Alice." she responds, disappointed yet sympathetically. She rests against the shelf facing me, crossing her arms, shielding herself from the world. She's petrified, but she wants to hide it. She needs to act strong, even when she doesn't feel like it. Like I used to be. "Nobody could have predicted how he would behave. We just have to grin and bear it, even when we don't like what we hear. What we see." Her gaze shifts, heading for the outer world. Her motion causes me to look that way too. Hal…. There's nothing. Just dirty snow next to the pavement and the dim yellow of the street lamps. No indicators of my uglier half wandering the streets for his next victim.

"You're still attached to him, aren't you?" I look at Toni, not understanding her question. At first, I believe she's referring to Hiram, or FP. But no, she's referring to someone new altogether. Someone I thought was waiting for me. "The Reaper?" I force the wad of saliva down my throat and nod. Toni gestures downward, "Is that why your leg's killing you?" I don't respond. I don't know what to give as an answer. How would Toni…. My thigh cramps up at the mentioning of its injury. I hover my hand down by my leg, tempting fate by exposing myself. But this isn't about me. I'm not here to protect my own skin. I'm here to save hers.

"He took a lot away from me." I tell her, wincing through the pain. She eyes my leg for another moment. She looks like she wants to go get something for it, to help me. But I interrupt the process, "I know how dangerous he is, Toni. I had an opportunity to kill him long ago, and I didn't take it. He's getting stronger, and….and I don't want any more blood to be shed because of me." I halt my speech to bite my lip. I think about those kids, Chuck and Midge. I think of Hermione, and Darryl, and Penelope. Sabrina could be next. Toni could be. Her life is more valuable than my own. I grip the edge of the counter to stable myself. I take a deep breath, then I look Toni in the eye.

I speak with honesty. "I won't ask you to put yourself in any more danger. I won't have you become another lamb for him to slaughter. All I ask is….you have a chance for something better, Toni. If you are able to leave, do it. You don't…..you shouldn't have to stay in Riverdale. Not with him around."

I only pause here, to gather more words. But in between this gap of time, something brews in the girl. Sadness. Confusion. Frustration. She breaks her prolonged silence.

"You think I want to stay here? You think I haven't waited for a moment in my life to get out of this dump?" Her voice builds. I made the wrong move. I go to ask, but now it's not my time to talk. "Alice, just listen to me. I'm not belittling or invalidating your trauma for one minute. I know that demon hurt you. He made you hurt those people, and I'm sorry he did that…. But do you realize how lucky you got it? You were able to leave. You got a chance to start your life over. Witches like me don't get that luxury! Do you understand?

"There's a line from Shakespeare, Twelfth Night. You know what part I'm referring to, right? Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. I've been the latter all my life. The weight of the Uktena has been placed on me before I came out of the womb. I didn't choose that. I can't just walk out and pretend like the Uktena doesn't exist. But….but I can't just sit around and watch the Serpents eat each other alive. I have to be the one to bring the Uktena back to what it was. Me!"

She stops midway in a sentence, her heart rising and falling. Her eyes get glossy and red. She pushes herself away from the shelf, staring down at her hands. I hear the shallowness of her breath. And I say nothing of it. I do nothing. Toni brings her gaze back up to me. "I'm tired, Alice. I'm tired of fighting for a chance to breathe. To live. I'm the only one of my family left. Granddad's gone, and my uncle….he kicked me out of his place and fled to who knows where. It's just me, educating people, keeping my peace, playing along and acting like I'm fine…." She makes an attempt to say more, but her voice has given up. Her brain demands for peace. She crumbles onto the floor, curling into a ball against the counter wall. Her sobs echo through the shop.

I'm frozen, I'm heartbroken. Her last part sounded so eerily to what Sabrina has told me time and time again. I'm tired of acting like I'm okay, because I'm not. It derives a feeling of helplessness in me. It makes me realize how ignorant I truly am. How lucky Sabrina and I both are in life.

Toni's right. I got a chance to forge a new path for myself. Toni does not. Sabrina may not have the best family, but she has some stability. Toni does not. Whatever comes out of this war with Hal, Sabrina and I will at least have an opportunity to make it out. To return to our quiet lives in Greendale. To move on. Toni may not, and most likely will not.

The truth is laid out in front of me. No, it smacks me right in the face. It stings, but it's what I need to hear. No matter what I do following this crisis, and no matter where I end up, Toni and the Uktena will be forgotten. Just another footnote in the town's warped history.

My feet guide me to where Toni hides her vulnerable state. I make my way down to the floor next to her, being careful to not make my thigh flare up. I have to blink back my own tears when listening to her weep. She really does remind me of Sabrina. I begin to think of all the danger Toni has undergone in her lifetime, from rowdy biker gang men, to people that claimed to be her friends only to stick to their pride and abandon ship on her, to her grandfather. I went through hell at her age, but out of the two of us, she's had it worse.

It takes a minute for Toni to realize I'm next to her, that I haven't fought back or criticized her words. She lifts her head and sniffles. "Just say it. I'm crying for attention. I was harsh with you."

"No. No, you weren't." I make myself clear. Her head straightens. She uses the side of her thumb to wipe away new tears. I look the girl in the eye. "You're right. I was lucky. Dumb and desperate….but lucky. I haven't walked a mile in your shoes, to see why other witches, and mortals, would judge your way of life. I don't understand why you're the last one of original Uktena blood, besides Gladys, to fight for change." I stare down at my hands gripping onto the tops of my bent kneecaps. I lift the fingers slowly, releasing the tension. My shoulders ease from my ears. My bad leg relaxes. I go to reach for Toni, to take her hand into my own, but I stop. What if she doesn't want me to do that? I let my hand linger in the air for a little while longer, then I bring it down to the floor.

"I don't know if I'll ever understand the world from your eyes." I tell her, my voice beginning to warble. I'm greeted with glossy brown eyes. "I know I can't fight in your place for the Uktena, or to tell you how to pick your battles. It's your fight, and the fight for the Uktena." For a moment, my mind flickers back to the vow Hiram gave me. The elegance of his delivery. The charisma behind his actions. The authenticity of him, and his care for me and Sabrina, and for his daughter. Him….

But now is not about him, or those girls. I channel the energy he gave me when I speak to Toni. "But…..you won't have to go into it alone. Not anymore. I'll do what I can to support you, to help make your voice heard, to live. Whatever it is you need….resources, time to build alliances….whatever it is….I'm with you one hundred percent."

When I finish, I feel the weight of my voice tickling my throat. I let my head realign with my ribs. I rest back against the counter wall. "I at least owe that to everyone that's looked after me." I mutter softly. "But more importantly, I owe it to you." Toni stays quiet as she absorbs my promise. I don't expect her to take it. I'm not asking her to accept any of what came out of my mouth. I'm a stranger, another customer that dragged her into my personal issues. She doesn't owe me a damn thing. But after what happened today, I need to return the favor, even if it is just words of sympathy.

Her fingers find mine. They enclose around the top of my hand, nails grazing the inside of my palm. The small gesture brings my head to rotate back to her. "I can work with that." she says, forming an authentic grin. I can't help but smile too.

"Have you been to any of the protests since they started?" I ask, using my free hand to dry my cheeks.

She huffs, "Believe me, I wanted to. I've been keeping up on social media for details. But….no, I haven't. Someone's got to look over this shop. If I close it, for even just a day, it'll be bad news. No way to keep paying the bills." My smile fades. It's not surprising, but it's still a disappointment. Is the shop really that in dire need for someone to run it in order to survive? Does Toni not have anyone, even Gladys, to help her? I have to remind myself - Gladys is working many other jobs to get food on the table. Toni's friends have all left town and moved on to better things. The other Serpents wouldn't touch this place with a ten foot pole. Besides the legacy of the Uktena, this place is all she has.

A thought comes to me. It's random, but perhaps if I voice it out loud to her, it could make sense. Maybe it could bring her some relief. I begin slowly. "Is there a protest happening tomorrow?"

"Out at Pickens Park, I think. Why?"

"What if….what if I looked after this place tomorrow? So you can go?" Toni stares at me, not quite absorbing the offer. Then it hits her. She blinks at me. She sits up straighter, she grips my hand tighter.

"Wait, you're not joking? You mean it?"

"You have a right to express your opinions, Toni." I explain my point. "You shouldn't be denied the right to go and join in on that protest. Also, you deserve a break from running this shop all on your own." Toni pushes herself off the counter wall, getting back onto her while still holding onto me. I make an effort to get up myself. About halfway, my thigh cramps again. Toni helps me the rest of the way. I take her other hand into mine, giving her the reassurance I've given Sabrina time and time again. "Let me at least watch over the place, just for a few hours while you're out."

"Aren't you working at the diner, though?" She's got a point. I've skipped so much work to look after Sabrina. I can't just bail out on Pop without talking to him first.

"I can rearrange my schedule so I can wait tables later in the day." I wave it off for now. "What matters is that you get the help you need. And making sure this place won't crumble to the ground. You can trust me to take good care of it." She's still weary on this trust, and I expected that. I wouldn't trust anyone else to run my bakery in Greendale. So, I follow up that comment with, "I run a bakery back home. I know how frustrating it is to run a one-person business without much help." The talk of my own business makes me wonder. How is it doing without me there? Do my regular patrons run by and frown at the CLOSED sign at the door? Are my dry ingredients spoiling from not being used? I didn't consider these elements in full detail before I left. And, to be honest, I haven't given my shop much thought since I've been in Riverdale. Maybe because my life didn't mean anything there. The bakery was a place of comfort, but it wasn't home. It didn't take away all the scars Hal gave me.

Toni nods her head in a leisurely manner. Her fingers squeeze mine. The corners of her mouth rise. "The protest's starting around 10:30. Meet me here before that so I can hand over the keys. I don't think it will last the whole day, but either way, I should return before 4 or 5 so I can do the books. Does that sound good?" She glows when she speaks, her confidence is growing. She now realizes that her cause isn't lost. That she's got allies. She will win back what the world owes her. If it boiled down to me and Toni coming out of this war with a happy ending on the other side, I'd choose for Toni to have it over me. The way I'd let Sabrina.

Sabrina….why haven't I heard from her all day? Why haven't I talked to her? The daunting truth crashes over me like a tsunami. It causes my thigh to grow irritated against my jeans. I have to release one of her hands so I can grip onto the counter. So I don't collapse in front of her. Toni raises a brow at me. She's catching on that my leg is not in the state it should be.

"What have you used to heal that thing?" I exhale out another wave of irritation. I attempt to stand up straighter.

"Aloe vera. Ibuprofen." I answer half-correctly. I say half only so I don't tell her about Blue. So I don't admit that I can't perform that spell in accuracy without Hiram. So I can't admit that I need him, or anyone else.

Toni scoffs, followed with laughter. "No wonder - those won't do shit to heal it. You need actual potions. Real herbs. I've got stuff in the back that you can take for that." She glances down at my arm. I suddenly remember the wound on my arm. The first attack Hal made when I thought I was safe. But maybe I've never been safe. If he could attack me in the middle of the night, when I'm hallucinating, how can I ever protect Sabrina? How can I protect anyone?

A dull ache forms in my forehead. My free hand brings my fingertips to the area. By now, the aches are not random occurrences. He's out for the hunt. But who? Who could he go after now? Chuck Clayton got a bad rep from mistreating those girls, including Hiram's daughter. Midge Klump bullied Sabrina and her cheermates. Who is next on the chopping block?

I hear him speaking, it comes out as a whisper. He's conversing with someone. He's asking for a name. Could he be speaking to his new witch? Give me a name, he begs. The presentation of his behavior is all too familiar. He fell on his hands and knees for me to send him off on his next mission, to find his next prey. That all happened towards the end, before he left that imprint on my tattoo, before he got to Hermione. But it wasn't an act of desperation. It was a warning sign. He didn't need me to ground him. He had enough of my magic to fuel him to the end. And when he finished, he would have come for me last.

Maybe that's why Hiram and I couldn't find any logs on previous witches living in this town. Most of them fled before the Reaper Massacre, but before that, none made it long to protect Riverdale. Hal was here from the beginning. He wouldn't want those witches to take any credit for his kills. He lured them out of the shadows for their power, and when he grew tired of them, when he drained enough out of them, the rampaging finale began, ending with a witch. That's why no witches besides me and Hiram stayed. Maybe that's why my mother left me behind all those years ago.

It's a wild theory. It's outlandish, I'll admit. Otherwise, how could Hal have allowed me to get away? Why am I living to sing the songs of the fallen? Why else would my mother abandon me to fend for myself? But it's a possible explanation. If this is Hal speaking to his new witch, if this act of helpfulness is how it sounds…..this could be the beginning of the end. Again.

The imprint on my thigh sizzles. I wince at its cry for mercy. I want to tap into this conversation. I need to know who Hal is hunting for, so I can warn them. So I can prevent one more person from dying. But I need to preserve my power. I need to get my leg healed. I shut out his whispers and return my attention to Toni. "Alright. What have you got?"

XXXXXXXX

SABRINA

Cold air rattles my bones. The heat from my cider does nothing to help warm my body up. I still see the bold red from Jughead's truck.

STOP DIGGING

It left us both petrified, even after I used magic to remove the stains, even after we went through a car wash to get the rest off. Jughead and I both retreated back to the trailer park, muttering a quiet good night before we went our separate ways. Despite a warm shower, my meal with Ali, with the lies I fabricated about my day, the message kept flashing in my mind.

STOP DIGGING

How did Salem know where Jughead and I were? How could V allow him to commit such a thing? I thought she was my friend. She promised me she'd keep him out of trouble. She would have told me if something went wrong. Wouldn't she?

STOP DIGGING

I've been staring off into the distance while Jughead types away at his laptop in my trailer. His parents and younger sister took off earlier this morning, right around the time Ali left. We haven't talked much about the article, I think we both made a silent agreement to not mention it publicly, in case Salem was wandering town nearby. He came over to check in on me, to make small talk, which I was more than fine with. I got ahead on school work, and he pecked away with pointy fingers. The day trickled on, and around noon, the Joneses and Ali came back, but a little worse for wear. Jughead's mom made us stay away due to the state Mister Jones was in. I wanted to ask Ali, or even Jellybean, what happened. If Mister Jones got attacked again. But I never got a chance. Ali, Jellybean, and, to my surprise, Mister Lodge, remained inside the Jones's trailer. So, Jughead and I just wound up in here, alone with unspoken fears for the future of the Blue and Gold. With my anger towards Salem. With my concern for Ali, and for V.

I hear a car starting from outside. I peel back the little curtain covering the window over our couch. The same bright red car that Jughead and I passed only yesterday pulls out of the trailer park. It's the same vehicle V and I took when we saw Chuck. It takes me a minute to register who could be in that car, but the blonde hair of whoever is in that passenger's seat next to Mister Lodge is all too familiar. There goes my chance of getting to ask Ali about….

Jughead taps my shoulder. "Did my dad come back out?"

I shake my head at him with a frown. "Just Ali and Mister Lodge leaving." I sigh and flop back down further into the couch. Perhaps they're heading out to find who left Mister Jones rattled to the bone. Or they could be getting help from Sheriff Keller. Or maybe they decided to attend one of the protests. But what if they run into Salem? Would Ali know….

I glance down at what Jughead has open on his laptop screen. A good amount of the article rests in a word document. The little black line waiting for more words to come flashes. His fingertips hover over the upper letters of his keyboard. Air ripples out of his lips. It takes me a moment to see the doubt in his eyes.

"Maybe I should hold off on posting this article." he chokes up. He sounds broken and lost. I'm getting worried about him. I rotate around and prop my elbow on the top part of the couch as he expresses the anxiety he's feeling. "I mean….could the kids, or some other creep in town, go after Moose, or any of Midge or Chuck's family members if we publish this?"

"They won't." I tell him. "Because if Salem tries anything, I'll place a hex that will shake his little fury body for days."

Jughead chuckles at my comment. "Oh, I know we can handle Salem." I don't say this out loud, but my mind screams, I don't really know if we can. I let him continue, "It's everyone else. People we wouldn't expect to ensue chaos. Hell, if anyone tried to blame this all on the Serpents…."

His voice drops unexpectedly. That's odd. I thought he didn't care about the Serpents, despite his parents' affiliation. From every conversation I've had with him regarding the topic, he hasn't expressed any sympathies for the organization. He knows the ins and outs of what his parents face with their peers. He knows the rumors surrounding where they live. What changed all of that?

I think he's picked up on my curiosity, because he fills in the gaps. "I know what everyone's saying about the Jingle Jangle. They think the Serpents are dealing it."

"V told me about that." I confess. His eyes widen at me, waiting for context to my sudden bluntness. I sigh, "Moose and Midge were taking it in the car right before Salem got to them. I don't know how they were able to get a hold of it. And I don't think they got it from the Serpents."

Jughead swipes his hand down his chin. "Dealers at school, most likely." he states in a quieter tone. I see the hurt in his eyes increasing. He's blaming himself for actions he, his Serpent friends, or his family cannot control. The way I couldn't control the ghosts of my parents telling me to run on the night of my birthday.

"Doesn't matter," he rests his palms firmly against the keyboard, "everyone will find a way to blame the Southside. Or anyone who doesn't fit the views of the Blossoms or their peers. The town is already at war with itself." He takes a moment to let out a long sigh. Then, he gestures to the screen with his fingers flexed out. "And this article could make the war worse. All because we went to a house and found a bloodthirsty demon-cat…."

His voice trails off, but my mind starts grinding its gears. The chaos only began when I pulled Salem's spirit out from the shadows of that house. No one died until he was with me. Until the Reaper showed up. Until this Hal Cooper made a presence.

It hits me. Rose Blossom didn't have that memory of her daughter mentioning the new boy. And Salem wasn't just randomly in that house. Someone must have left him there intentionally.

Ask your Aunt Ali, the stranger over the Blossom girl told me. I do want to ask her, but someone else has what I'm looking for. Something is causing Riverdale to fall apart. And if anyone would know why….it's Salem.

I grip Jughead's arm, my nails digging into the upper portion. "Don't delete the article just yet." I tell him. Jughead looks at me all baffled. A brow raises. His lips are about to ask what I'm doing. I beat him to the questioning. "I think I found a way to keep the article in without the bloodshed. Can you keep an eye on the door for me?"

He hesitates for a moment, then he nods. "Okay." I let go so Jughead can rise up from the couch. He glances out the little window at the top of the door. I quickly slide off from the cushions, resting my back against the couch as I go into a crossed-leg seat. I only have one chance to reach out to Salem without physically placing myself in his destructive path. He could be anywhere for all I know, either with V or on the prowl for his next victim. And if he caught on that something was not right about my appearance….

At home, we call it the Astral Projection Spell. It's a way for a witch to travel outside their physical body to appear in another place, in spiritual form. Normally, you'd use candles, a map, and a precise location. But since I thought of performing this spell last minute, I wouldn't have time to collect what I need. And I'll admit, I am a bit nervous. I've only heard dark stories of what has gone wrong when other witches performed the spell in the past. Ambrose attempted to do it once while on break at the morgue to get coffee with a potential partner. However, the spell didn't last long. These bird-like creatures called psychopomps appeared, causing the astral projection to collapse. Psychopomps exist to carry spirits to the after life. So that means, only the dead can really perform this spell, not living witches. And here I am, about to wing it for the first time. Aunties would be livid if they found out.

"Coast is clear." Jughead whispers to me from across the way. I give him a nod accompanied with a thumbs up. Once I return to a still, motionless state, I close my eyes. I think of the places Salem would normally go. The woods, after he killed Chuck and injured Moose. Riverdale High, after he strung Midge's body up for the world to bare witness. V's residence, the quiet and comfort of Pembrooke.

I inhale, then exhale. My bones jitter under my flesh. But I don't have time to stay afraid. I have to be ready.

So I speak.

Vola anima per aeterna.

I repeat the words over and over, the spell luring my spirit awake. I become lost in the rhythm of this lullaby. The elements of my spirit unlatch themselves from my bones, my organs, my own mouth. One moment, I'm in the living room, chanting away at this spell. Next, I've disconnected, body and soul, looking for my familiar.

My projected spirit ends up in the streets downtown. It takes me a minute to register where I ended up. Then I see the library capturing the glare of the sun beginning to set. Christmas lights twinkle in some of the small businesses along the street. The wind picks up, and yet, I'm not affected by it. From the distance of where my projection stands, I can vaguely make out the one building I wanted to set my sights on. The one floor I know my subject resides. The one room….

A noise emerges from the ground below. I glance down to find a small, black figure moving at the corner of my eye. It disappears into an alley between Pembrooke and the establishment next door. I only now understand that the noise was not from the cars, or the earth itself. It was a meow.

"Salem!"

I chase after the figure, not slowing down to look out for psychopomps. I kick myself mentally for not warning Jughead on the presence of them. How else will I be able to recognize that it's time to go? I really didn't think about this plan all the way through. And I thought Ambrose was more of the risk taker in the family.

But I don't have time to go back and restart this experiment. My projected feet lead me into the alley way. I slow down, not seeing any signs of my familiar. The only light source of this alley are the stringed lights above. I'm tempted to run up to Pembrooke, to find V, to have her help me reason with him. But I can't involve V in this, more than I already have. I'm the reason we went to get revenge on Chuck. I almost risked her place in the Vixens. My fight with Salem is my fight, and my fight alone. I call out his name again, "SALEM!" I'm greeted with empty wind and humming lights. He couldn't have gone that far….

A chuckle ripples through the air. I whip around to hunt down the source. Nothing. My mind must be playing tricks on me. Then I feel his tail glide across my shin. The sensation makes me nauseous. I cover my mouth and glance down. Salem meows.

"I knew you wouldn't stay away forever." he boasts. "You need me. That's why I took the trip downstairs." His attitude radiates cockiness. I have to bite my tongue from hexing him right there. I have to stay in control while getting my point across.

I maintain my cool when I speak. "I'm not here for a reunion, Salem. We need to talk about what you left on Jughead's car."

"Oh, that?" he tries to come off innocent, when I know by now it means nothing. "Come on, Sabrina. You know I would never do anything to lead you into harm. But that boy, however….he's asking to be thrown into jail or wind up in a grave six feet under. He is a liability, Sabrina."

"Is that the reason you killed Midge? And Chuck?" I ask, point blank. He stops pacing the alleyway, glaring up at me. The mentioning of their deaths still bugs me, I brought them on myself. But this meeting can be one step closer to bringing them justice in the after life. With a shaky voice, I pester him further. "Will you just continue to take out anyone that poses as a liability to me and V? Where is she, anyway?"

He begins his pacing again, taking a long time to answer the question. The silence starts to drive me crazy. Why did V take so long to respond back? Why haven't I seen her since the oncoming of my illness? Why is Salem forbidding me from seeing my friend?

Eventually, he responds. "She's resting. Don't worry, I haven't placed her into any harm, Miss Spellman. We do miss you though. I miss the dynamic of the three of us as a team!" I could gag. He's trying to lure me back in with typical emotional tethers. In a way, it sounds like he's trying to gaslight me. Saying that I'm crazy for breaking up the supposed dynamic he claims V and I have with him. And if I'm not with them, I'm against them.

V would never fall for that. She was just as afraid as me the nights of Chuck and Midge. While she believed their ultimate demises were eventually justified, she could not grasp the concept of hurting them. Not the way Salem hurt them. To me, that's not a dynamic. It is no longer a mutual relationship of familiar and familiar. The equal connection disappeared before Salem possessed Midge. It's now a fight over who is the master and who is the servant.

That's what I mention when I speak next. "How exactly is going out for blood independently a strong dynamic? You don't care about my well-being, or V's. You only act out of your own interest. You use our weak points to make us demand for a pound of flesh where you make us believe we were wronged. If you really cared about me Salem, why did you give me that seizure? Why did you threaten Jughead about the Reaper article?"

"We agreed that the boy was trouble. Did. We. Not?" His temper changes suddenly, indicating more of his truer emotions. Yet, I can't trust anything coming out of his mouth. Salem plants his paws into the brick, straightening his front legs. He looks as if he could hiss at me. "And for the record, Sabrina….I do care about your wellbeing. Everything I have done thus far has been to protect you. It's worthless souls like Midge Klump and Jughead Jones that are dampening your potential! You're wasting time chasing ghosts and uncovering truths that must be left alone!"

I wobble backwards a step or two. The last part of his speech startles me. Uncovering truths that must be left alone…. What the heaven does that mean? Does Salem have information on the Reaper, or maybe he had affiliations with the killer? Whatever it is, he doesn't want me or Jughead to release the past onto the world. He doesn't want his own behaviors to be brought to light.

Of course. Why else would he be chastising me? He's acting only for himself, to save his own skin.

As I'm about to raise the manner, I notice how he loosens his stance. The pacing starts again, coming closer and closer to me. "But I could spare you and your Southside friend the trouble. I'll drop my threats….for a fair price, of course." The shift of his tone is unsettling, but why am I acting surprised? He demands blood. Pay up and you get to walk free. It makes me queasy. I glance around the alleyway. No signs of psychopomps, not yet. Maybe I can get away with negotiating for Jughead's article without capturing the interest of the dead.

Without making eye contact, I ask, "What's your boon, Salem?" He delays his response by chuckling. To him, it's amusing for me to fall to his command.

"A name." he says. "One name that you want to have disappear from the face of the earth. Because, you and I both know that you have personal vendettas you seek to enact on more people than just Midge Klump and Chuck Clayton. Give me a name, Sabrina….just one name."

A part of me wants to give in, to have a name slip from my lips. It's frightening, because I know deep down he is right. There's still too many faces I never want to lay eyes on again. Too many of my own peers I can never forgive, or cannot bring myself to forgive for the time being. Aunties. Prudence and the Weird Sisters. Father Blackwood. Satan himself. The whole world, for all I care. The world ripped my parents away from me. The world attempted for me to follow the same unfortunate path as my father. The world forced me to flee here, to Riverdale, where kids are dying, V is sick, and Ali is still depressed. If it were up to me, I could wipe out everyone and start the world over. It could just be me, and Harvey, and Roz, and Suzie, and Ambrose, and V and Jughead, Ali….

I have to stop my train of thought. No…. Ali wouldn't wish for me to fall victim to this anger. She told me something about my emotions. She taught me to honor them and move on. I've let too much negativity guide my recent choice of actions. Fear caused me to flee from the Baptism. Hurt led me to avenge V and go after Chuck. Guilt drove me to grant Salem permission to slaughter Midge. Malice. Remorse. All of these, and then some. I let them all dictate how to live my life. Not anymore. I have to change for the better. I have to avenge the fallen, to raise their voices and bring them justice. I have to expose the real monsters, like Salem, like this Hal Cooper….

Rose's daughter mentioned his name, and the next day, Thornhill fell victim to the flames, only hours apart from the car accident involving V's mother. I saw her, and the red-head girl, and that boy with the glasses. Salem didn't confirm or deny his connection to them, but they were all there. He projected them to appear in my dream. So if he took part in hurting those kids, then he does know about my person of interest.

"Who's Hal Cooper?" I ask. I'm tempted to fire more prompts, but I have no desire to throw words into Salem's mouth. The truth needs to come from him, and no one else. Salem stops pacing at the sound of this name. His head tilts up more to the sky, never breaking eye contact with me. The color of his irises shifts from that ice blue to cloudy grey. Black lines come and go like waves. Shame hides in this silence. Anger brews.

Salem releases a menacing growl. "The name means nothing to me." He pranes back to the back doors of Pembrooke, leaving me standing dumbfounded in the middle of the alleyway. "And not what I'm looking for!" he adds in for good measure. I have a feeling he's avoiding my question, either because Hal Cooper has already died, or….for whatever reason, Salem worked with him. Actually, my internal instincts suspect that this mystery man might be the reason Salem ended up in that house.

I march over closer to where he now rests. "Well, sorry, Salem, but that's the only name I will give you. And instead of avoiding me, maybe you could explain why Hal Cooper is not your desired answer!"

"I told you it means nothing!" he hisses. What is his deal? Why does this one name bother him so much? I want to fight back, my heart wants to unveil this hidden truth, but my head recognizes that it may not be a good time. Besides, Salem is beginning to step out to me, paw by paw, emphasizing his argument with authority. "You will give me a name, Sabrina. A real, living person. I will not ask this of you again, unless you do want to wish that Serpent boy farewell…."

My limbs are tempted to cower back, to shrink myself, to end this projection once and for all. But I have to stand my ground. I need to win this, for Jughead and everyone else. I curl my hands into fists, taking careful breaths as if they were my last. "I'm not playing this game with you, Salem. You're not doing this to help me. You're only doing it for yourself. And you have, from the beginning."

"You foolish girl." he mocks me. "Do you not see the level at which your witchcraft is growing because of me? I make you stronger. I make Miss Lodge stronger!" One thought lingers in my brain, which I'm terrified to voice out loud. You call draining me of my magic to kill Midge strengthening me? I'm sick because of you, not stronger.

And I think I am feeling sick again. Fatigue washes over me. Liquid seeps out of my brain and through my sinuses. My limbs ride with the wind. I start to wonder if Salem is deliberately causing a new wave of sickness in me to bend me to his will. But my presence is only a projection, so he cannot harm me that much. Then I realize these sudden occurrences are not because of Salem.

Birdlike creatures fly in, one by one, to sit on the wires holding up the street lights. Their red and black feathers glow under the yellow light. Their little beady eyes glare at me, their beaks ready to reveal an appetite for another soul.

Psychopomps.

I begin to inch away from Salem, and from these newcomers, without risking my life. "You have no right to claim yourself as the source to my strength. I make my own strength. Me and..." I have to stop myself from mentioning V. For all I know, he could turn around and kill her, just to prove his point. The psychopomps hobble down the wire, closer to me. I have to speed up my process. "I don't need you anymore, Salem. People will find out what we did, what you made me do. And if it means I go forth and publish that article, then so be it!"

One of the psychopomps chirps, releasing a noise that matches a banshee screech. I have to cover my ears to protect my eardrums. Salem looks up to the wires, finally noticing the psychopomps. He returns his gaze to me. "You're making a mistake, Sabrina." he says in a sing-songy tone. He steps towards me, and the psychopomps follow in his path. Like he's leading the pack and giving them his blessing to devour me.

I back away more and more. My controlled state is traded for panic. A wet substance drips out of my nostrils, from my eardrums. Symptoms of an astral projection that has gone on for too long. Forget negotiating. I have to leave before I get dragged to literal Hell.

I glance back and forth between the hungry psychopomps and my diabolical maniac of a familiar. "The only mistake I made was summoning you from that house!" I shout at him. Control of the situation slips from my fingertips. My survival becomes a priority. My words string together, losing meaning in the rambling. "I won't let you dictate who lives and who dies! I'll let them all know what you did to me, and to those kids because they deserve better! This town deserves better! Even Rose Blossom-"

The name falls from my lips before I register what I just did. My hands fly up to my mouth, but I already know it's too late. I gave Salem his name.

A low chuckle emerges between his fangs. His eyes take on that dark color. "See? That wasn't so hard now, was it?" I'm at a loss of words. Rose Blossom is going to die, and I won't be able to save her. Not if these psychopomps drag me to the front doors of Hell. Tears leave my eyes. Blood stains my palms

"Salem…" I plead. "Salem, don't you dare…."

But my time for reasoning with him has ended. Salem begins to morph, his size growing from the small feline shape to…. My size. The size he grew to when he killed Chuck. "You said it yourself, Sabrina. Maybe I am doing this for myself." The nightmarish blue eyes within the shape of nothingness tower over me, blocking the psychopomps from my view. I see a flash of his fangs, a grin. "But I ought to thank you. I haven't had a good meal in days."

With that, the eyes and the fangs disappear. The shape flies to the other end of the alleyway.

"SALEM, NO!"

My screams do nothing to bring Salem back. Instead, they only draw more attention from the psychopomps. The barrier keeping me from them fades. Nothing will keep them from attacking me now. One by one, they fly off the wires, swooping low to my height. I straggle back, tears and blood down my face. Is this how I will say goodbye? With my lifeless body unable to stir in the trailer parks, and my soul ripped to shreds by these birds? At this point, it doesn't matter what I do or how much longer I keep fighting. I will never be free of the Path of Night. And Salem will get away with murder.

The psychopomps fly into my view. I know what will happen, and yet, I still find myself screaming for help. For mercy. But no matter how much I scream, I know the bitter truth. No one will come save the ruined Teenage Witch. Not even Aunt Ali.

Just as I'm about to accept my fate, something grabs at my shoulder from behind. The talons of the psychopomps barely graze the flesh on my face as I'm pulled out of the alleyway, away from the cold, back to….the trailer. Shock runs through me. I blink a few times to register where I am. The warm lights of my trailer bring me familiarity. The twitching of my limbs and my eyeballs reminds me that I'm alive. And the hand….

I look over to find Jughead grabbing onto my shoulders in panic. "What happened? What did he say?"

The first feeling that embraces me is nausea. I free myself from Jughead's hold and rise. I almost collapse to the floor from the instant rush, but whatever wants to come out of me will not wait for me to regain my balance. I feel as if anything I fought to keep in my stomach all day could emerge out of my mouth. Yet, all that comes out is a….a glump of black, blood red, and dark purple swirled in a horrific fashion. I struggle to breathe with the blood coming out of my nose and my ears. I can feel bird feathers tickling me everywhere. I never want to perform an Astral Projection again, and not just because of the fear of getting attacked by demonic birds….

"Hey, you should sit down." Jughead is at my side, guiding me to the little kitchen table. When I finally get off my feet, my emotions take order. I break out into sobs, wrapping my arms around my abdomen. Blood drips onto the table. I can't go back and change it. Rose Blossom will die, and it will be my fault. Everything that's happened since I've shown up is my fault. Out of grief and frustration, I slam my fists on the table and scream. My fingertips go to my hair, digging into my scalp. I stay like this for a minute or two, only until Jughead peels my hands away from my head. He strokes my forearms as he asks me to breathe. I'm tired of fighting and throwing a tantrum, so I just follow his command. When I can breathe normally again, I make myself tell him what went wrong.

"He's going to kill Rose Blossom." I sniffle. Jughead blinks at me, not absorbing my statement. Then, it hits him. I continue to explain, "He tried to make me give him a name, and I refused. Well, I thought I did, then Rose's name slipped out. And now….and now…." I stutter on words for a good amount of time. Eventually, I give up. My sobs seek another release, but I keep these new tears back and focus on my breathing. My grounding.

Jughead mutters something to himself. He stays quiet for a second, then he makes a run for the living room. I watch him dig for something, cursing as he stubs his toe against the couch. I don't understand what he's searching for, then I finally see the phone in his hands. Jughead dials a number and waits for the call to transfer.

"We gotta tell Joaquin. We gotta warn him, and the people at the Sisters. They'll keep her safe." He paces back and forth in the living room, waiting for Joaquin to pick up. A new fear enters my brain. Joaquin. Those nurses. What if Salem attacks them too? Will they fail to act in saving Rose? I suddenly remember the last thing Salem said before he vanished into thin air.

I haven't had a good meal in days.

The message could mean a lot of things. First, V has not let him go out for a kill, which if it's true, I applaud her for. So he would be bloodthirsty and perfectly fine with murdering innocent people if they ended up in his way. Second, he has wandered through town looking for another victim, but none have suited his fancy. Last, with the civil unrest exposing Riverdale for its dark past, Salem cannot kill at random and make a show of it. He craves attention, but on his terms. He will only display the corpses once he finishes playing with his food. And that is what he will do to Rose. And maybe Joaquin. Even….

Jughead slams his phone on the table. I now notice that he is hyperventilating. "He won't pick up. No one at the Sisters will." He slouches into the chair adjacent from me, despair washing over him. Fingertips patter on the table. Insides of cheeks find homes in between teeth. Jughead grabs for his beanie and slides it off his head, leaving it on the table. This is the first time I think I've seen Jughead without his beanie on. Why?

He turns to me and gives me a sorrow grin. "We're out of luck….aren't we, Teenage Witch?" I hate hearing my friend so broken, like he is to blame for the disaster. He's not. I caused this, not Jughead, or V, or anyone else. I break things and create storms. Jughead just relays the message. He is the hermit, telling a lost tale for those willing to hear….

The article. What will come of the article? Is it too late to back out? I wound up nowhere in that argument with Salem. He ignored it and jumped straight to his request for bloodshed. My attempt of asking him about Hal Cooper backfired. Perhaps I am wasting my time running around with Jughead and deriving conspiracy theories. Maybe dead is better after all.

But someone has to know about Hal Cooper. Someone would feel inspired to piece together the truth about the Conways, and the other Reaper victims. Someone can bring justice to the dead kids from Ali's class. And to Chuck and Midge. I might not be able to come my trial, and maybe not Jughead if Salem targets him next. But someone can see the article and finish what we started.

My forearms gently make contact with the table. Blood dries on the little section above my upper lip. I can taste the metallic of the liquid in my saliva. I slowly bring my gaze to Jughead. Without hesitating a moment further, I tell him, "Publish it."

He straightens up in his seat, bewildered. "Wh….what?"

"Publish the article, Jughead. Let all of Riverdale know what I brought out of the Conway House." Jughead has to process my words for a second. He's still confused, and he goes to ask me something, I'm guessing about if Salem still threatens to keep us silent. But I interject, "It doesn't matter! No matter what we do to accommodate for him, or to compromise, he won't stop killing. He never will. The only way we win is if we expose him. He'll have no choice but to own up to what he's done."

Jughead no longer appears confused by my proposal. In fact, he's scheming over how to go about this course of action. He curls one set of his fingers around his beanie, tapping on the table with the other set. He comes to a conclusion. "So, what I'm hearing you say is….. We lure him out of the shadows with this article, and….you kill him?"

I shrug. "Something like that." I confess, I haven't mapped out the whole plan yet, since I just came up with the idea. But now, killing Salem might be the only option I have left to protect everyone in Riverdale, including Ali. But I'll need to act smart. Jughead and I need to get this article out to the public in a timely manner, one where we can throw Salem off his guard. And I need time to get through to V on everything, to see if she can use her condition to help me. I still have to wonder though…..would it be safe to tell Ali now about Salem? Or should I wait until Salem is gone for good and we're back in the comfort of Greendale? If I go back to Greendale….

And what if I don't? The last question lingers in the back of my brain. What if I, or V, or Ali or Mister Lodge, fail to stop Salem? Then Chuck and Midge died for nothing. Then Rose Blossom is another martyr, just like the Conways. That doesn't leave me with many options. I doubt Aunties will have the emotional tether to avenge my death after the stunt I pulled back home. Ambrose can't leave the Mortuary anyways, so he's not a contender. Who does that leave me with…. Jughead. The Joneses. The Serpents. Jughead promised to help me. His parents would be devastated if Ali or I died. I certainly know Jughead's sister would mourn for her. Mister Lodge too. But Jughead…..

Jughead doesn't look like a fighter. His booksmart persona dominates any physical characteristics that could solidify my choice. But Jughead has been at my side since I told him everything. I could ask Archie, or Moose, but they wouldn't get it. They'd never understand. But Jughead does. And right now….I trust him to carry out my dying wish.

"Will you promise me something, Jughead?"

"Depends on what I'm promising to do." he cracks the joke, not getting how serious I am about this. Soon, he picks up on my tone. He recognizes why it's familiar to him. "You were going to ask me a favor back at the Sisters. You asked me something about my demonology books, and if I needed any." I nod my head, confirming his thought process. Now he gets it.

"Alright, Teenage Witch, what do I have to do?"

I sit on my response for a moment, afraid of giving this execution. I never wanted it to come down to me against Salem. We were supposed to be partners, not enemies. But he tricked me into killing my classmates. He's probably tricked other witches before me. It ends now. No other witch will ever bare what I did.

I lift my head high, channeling the courage I mustered against the Church. Against every witch that dared to call me a coward. I tell Jughead, "If I don't make it, and if V can't stop him either…..finish him, Jughead. Do you understand? I want you to kill Salem."

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End of Chapter Three