Chapter 6: Negotiations

"Aw damn," Queenie said as she struggled to watch her step down the long, pitch-black, tunnel-like void. "It's nasty down here."

"Ma cherie," she heard a voice call.

"Legba? I'm here!"

She saw a light, and the same tall, black man with white skull makeup, a top hat, bones and glass beads around his neck, cane topped with a cobra, and black cloak over a suit. His red-orange eyes flashed at her, and he held a very bright lantern up to see it was really her.

"Ah, there you are," the loa said in his booming, African-French accent. "You are not dressed for the occasion."

"I know I'm not," Queenie said, coming near him and eventually under his cloak as they walked down the path. "I am crashing the wedding, not attending. Remember?"

"There is not any time to change now," he said. "We need to get down there… fast. It starts as we speak."

"Shit," Queenie muttered. "Do you have a way to get down there faster?"

"Come under my cloak more," Legba said. "We will glide past the screams of tortured souls."

"And he won't touch me?" Queenie asked to ensure her safety.

"Non, not with me present," Legba promised. "Hang on tight."

Queenie held onto the loa for dear life under his cloak as they started to gain momentum through the tunnel leading to the underworld. The wind blew in her hair like a winter breeze; it was cold for such a dark place. As they went faster, Queenie peered into the ajar doors of each part of hell; there was even the one she had been in, from a time where she was at that fried chicken joint in Detroit. She hated it there and would rather die than return. Then she passed the door to a Sears-like retailer, where she had been with Michael to retrieve Madison's soul. However, she shut her eyes for most of the trip, still hearing the echoes of shrill screams of those suffering in the depths of hell as they descended.

I'm ready, Misty thought to herself under her veil, holding a bouquet of narcissuses assembled by Nan. She took a breath, and the march began. It was not a usual wedding march, and the doors slid open to let her walk down the makeshift aisle leading to the fireplace of the living room. The furniture was moved in such a way it resembled an earthly wedding, for Misty's comfort. Michael stood there with a smile, the fire blazing behind him as his heart fluttered at the sight of his bride. Nan sat on the side, looking up at the bride with awe as she walked toward her husband to-be slowly. The girl got up to gather the flowers for the bride before she continued a bit more briskly to where she would stand in front of Michael, who also acted as the officiant.

"I am pleased to announce that I have found a bride, Miss Misty Day," he said. "Nan, you bear witness to this ceremony so far."

Misty turned her eyes down under her black veil and sighed quietly, as Michael continued.

"I, Michael Langdon, at this point in time in the realms of the underworld, take you," he said, taking out a plain silver ring, "Misty Day, to be my consort, my wife, my counterpart."

As he slid it on her left ring finger, Misty noticed that there was already a ring on Michael's. It was the same type, same style; plain as can be. She struggled to utter the words that confirmed his.

"I… Misty Day… take you, M-Michael Langdon, as… my husband." He could tell by the grave tone in her voice and the stammering that she was not about this. Probably jitters, he thought, brushing it off.

"And now… our first consumption," he said. Misty watched him as he took the same dish as a few days ago, a combination of pomegranate and pumpkin seeds, out and consume one… then two… all the way up to a total amount of six pumpkin seeds in front of her. They were miraculously unspoiled, still fresh as though he just served them.

Don't eat it, her intuition dictated, don't eat it.

Meanwhile, Queenie was getting impatient. Papa Legba was still flying down to that part of the underworld with her, but he could not have possibly gone any faster.

"Can't you get there any faster?" she begged. "Misty could be in the process of it all right now, being married to Satan!"

"Patience is a virtue," he replied. "We are almost there. You can wait just a bit longer. Even I am late. I was invited, too."

"I'm so hungry," Misty muttered.

"What was that, my love?" Michael asked with smiling, piercing eyes.

"I'm hungry… b-but I can't eat," she answered under the veil.

"Don't you trust me?" he asked, taking the bowl up to his nose and sniffing it in a big inhalation, trying to evoke a desperate response from his bride. "Mmm… sweet pomegranate… and the best part, you can eat the seeds. You don't have to spit them out… and the pumpkin seeds… also delicious, a nice, applewood hint to an overall crunchy texture…"

At that moment, she caved, having not eaten anything since she went down with him to the underworld. She took the same amount of seeds out of obligation and ate the entire handful in one gulp, tearing up as she did. She did not know why she shouldn't have taken them, but all she knew, she felt better. No more hunger pangs and grumbling, yet she felt slightly nauseous and even a little different.

"And now…" Michael said with a smile. "The libation."

He pulled out a wide silver jeweled chalice, full of a distinctive red liquid. Misty could smell it – it was a mixture of fermented grapes and the odor of a fresh wound. It nearly made her wretch but watching him take a sip from it first made her feel slightly better. However, she knew he could tolerate it because of his state of being as a demon. Would it make her ill or worse?

He handed her the chalice ceremoniously, and she took it in both of her shaking hands, feeling even sicker to her stomach.

"Drink your part, my love," he encouraged.

"I… I…"

"Don't you trust me?" he asked.

She took a moment and sighed, lifting up her veil slightly, but not enough to uncover her face, and took the chalice closer and closer to her mouth. She was subconsciously stalling not just at the foul feeling in her stomach from eating the seeds, as well as the stench of the beverage, but she had the overwhelming feeling someone was coming.

"Drink," he urged.

Without skipping a beat, she took the rim to her lips and allowed the mystery wine into her mouth. She was not sure how much exactly came into her body when she heard a familiar voice break the song in the room.

"DON'T DRINK THAT!"

Misty's eyes widened under her veil; oh no, she thought, I swallowed some. She began to feel even sicker, more nauseous and even faint at this point. Her hearing began to go fuzzy, and she could only vaguely hear what was going on around her.

"Queenie, what are you doing here?! You weren't invited!" Michael exclaimed.

"She is my guest," a booming African-French accent declared. "Do not lay a hand on her, demon-boy. She is protected, and you will be sorry."

Misty's knees began to get weak, looking at the obese African-American witch interacting heatedly with her now-husband and the loa she came with. She collapsed to the floor, falling deeply unconscious and dropping the chalice, the red liquid spilling on the floor.

"MISTY!" Queenie exclaimed, going over to the unconscious bride. "No…no… please! Wake up!"

"She is my wife," Michael stated. "She belongs to me, now, for all eternity."

Queenie began to sob over Misty's body, pulling the veil and flower crown off her head and seeing her pretty face, pale as death itself. Her heart fell so deep in her chest.

"I failed you," she whispered. "Please… wake up…"

Michael glared at the obese witch, who held the upper body of his bride in her lap to try and revive her. He was not worried about Misty because what they were witnessing was a normal reaction to eating or drinking anything from hell. Nan had joined Queenie in her efforts, trying to shake the unconscious bride awake.

"Nan," Queenie said. "Am I glad to see you."

"We need to get her up," her friend said. "Now."

"I'll try… to revive her," the obese witch said, gathering her composure.

Nan took Misty on her lap and took her now-messy hair out of her face. Queenie took in a deep breath and tried to part Misty's lips, uttering "vitalum vitalis", before blowing her life force into the lifeless body. The two waited for a few minutes, but nothing happened.

"Oh c'mon, Misty," she muttered, crying. "Please."

"There is no sense in trying," Michael said. "She is mine now."

Queenie almost flew off the handle, but remembered that she was in hell, in his domain of existence. If she tried to take a jab at him, let alone use her injury transference power on him, she'd only be damning herself. If anything, he'd make her stay down there as punishment or do much worse not only to her, but perhaps Nan. She looked around to see if Papa Legba was still there, and he was standing behind Michael.

"Legba… please… c-can you help?"

"I cannot," he replied, gesturing to Michael. "This is… his realm."

Queenie shook her head angrily, her hand on Misty's face; "I swear to God, if this was the mortal coil, I would-"

Ngh-blech…

Everyone present gasped as they heard the guttural retching sound. Nan realized it was Misty and turned her on her side away from her very quickly. It were as though she was on the verge of vomiting yet struggling to breathe all at once. Queenie rushed to grab a container of sorts, and found a random bucket sitting just at the base of one of the bookshelves lining a wall. She put it under Misty's mouth, where she vomited straight red fluid into it.

Michael was furious beyond all measure. It took a lot for him to not punish Queenie right then and there for ruining their wedding. She's vomiting up what I gave her, he thought to himself, now she'll never be with me forever. When Misty stopped, she was crying, clutching her stomach in pain.

"Ow," she moaned in agony.

"What the hell did you give her, Michael?" Queenie asked.

"Our libation, which now is null," Michael grunted.

"Michael, you can't make me drink that again! Please! I won't let you! Smells like blood!" Misty cried. "I ain't feelin' so well."

"Did you throw up any seeds?" Nan asked.

Queenie was taken aback – "seeds? What seeds?"

"He… gave her pomegranate and pumpkin seeds to eat," she replied.

"You didn't stop her?!" the black witch scolded.

"I need a friend down here, from up there," Nan said sadly. "Plus, I have no say in this realm."

"Nan, we need her!"

Michael stepped in, peering into the bucket and seeing that she only threw up the mystery wine she was made to drink by him after he took his sip; "both of you, get away from Misty right now."

Queenie did not want to obey this monster, and neither did Nan, but they parted like the Red Sea away from Misty, making a clear path for him to walk toward her. He moved the bucket aside and put his arm around his new wife, who was crying and clutching her stomach.

"My love," he whispered in her ear.

"I want to go home," she said sadly. "Please…"

"You can leave if you wish," Michael said with a slight smirk. "Is that really what you want, Misty?"

"Yes, please… yes," she said frantically. "I promise you, I'll see you again. I promise."

The two looked into each other's eyes. Michael took her chin up a bit and kissed her lips softly; she could taste the bitter mystery wine remnants on his lips, and she couldn't stand it anymore so she broke the kiss subtly.

"You don't need to promise me anything, love," he said suspiciously.

Queenie looked back at Papa Legba and smiled with relief, and as she watched Michael help his new wife to her feet, she noticed him take her arm in his as if he were the one giving her away. He led Misty over to her sister witch and joined their hands together before him, saying as he looked into Misty's eyes: "until we meet again."

Myrtle and Cordelia were still awake near sunrise. Zoe and Madison had fallen asleep on the sofa and on the floor a few hours before. The Supreme began to tear up, seeing the sun start to rise outside; worried for the girl's safety, she went on the floor next to her, prepared to chant the spell to reverse Descensum and bring her soul back to its body.

"Dear," Myrtle said. "Give her a few more minutes."

"But the sunrise-"

"It isn't completely up yet," the older witch corrected.

The two waited a few more minutes, and lo and behold, Queenie jolted up to signify she was back from the underworld. Looking around, Cordelia gave her a huge embrace to signify that she was proud of her witch for going down and attempting. Yet Misty did not manifest until a few minutes later, when a small tornado of black ash turned in a large pile that formed a familiar body. When Zoe and Madison woke up to see the action, they saw Misty, dressed in her black wedding gown, laying on the floor next to Queenie, her eyes still closed. Cordelia gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, tearing up as she went over to her to gently wake her. Misty's eyes opened wearily, and looked up at her Supreme.

"Miss Cordelia?" she asked. "Am I back? Is Michael here?"

"No, he isn't!" Cordelia replied. "You're safe! You're back, again! Here, stand up!"

Myrtle walked over to her Supreme and Misty so she could assist in helping her stand, a difficult task in a very wide dress. Once she was able to stand on two feet, Myrtle gasped at the dress and shook her head.

"Oh dear, you need a bath and to get rid of this nightmare of a gown," she said haughtily. "Madison, Zoe? Make a pit outside so we can burn this monstrosity."

"Are you crazy?" Misty asked. "No. We ain't burnin' it."

Cordelia was not too shocked given what she saw in the crystal ball when trying to watch her; "what? Misty… you were taken against your will and forced to marry him."

"I… want to keep it," she replied. "It's my weddin' dress. Nan gave it to me."

"That girl always had awful taste," Myrtle said, shaking her head.

"She kept me company down there. Michael actually treated me well, like a queen," Misty revealed. "There was a whole side to him none of us even knew, that… I saw."

"What is that glowing on your neck?" Cordelia asked, her attention drawn to the glowing malachite pendant hanging off the chain.

"A gift," Misty said. "Michael gave it to me to help me adjust to bein' down there with him."

"Take it off."

"No." It was not like Misty to be so defiant like this.

"Misty, looking at that is making me… oh god, I don't know how to describe it," Cordelia said with a grunt.

"Have you had anything to eat?" Myrtle asked. "You must be starved."

"Well… the weddin', I threw up the drink he gave me," Misty said.

"What else did you have?"

"I…was given seeds. Pomegranate and pumpkin."

Myrtle looked at Cordelia, shaking her head but not saying anything. The Supreme knew exactly what to expect from something like this. The older witch led her up to her room and got out more comfortable clothing before she drew a bath for her. It was not nearly like the bath she had that Michael drew for her, but it helped her cleanse and feel purified after her abduction and return. She tried to not take too long in the bath, so she got out, dried off, and put on fresh undergarments as well as a new outfit, consisting of a floral tank top dress with a lace-up front. She dried her hair but did not leave it down; instead, she put it up into a ponytail, something she almost never did. She walked into her room and gasped at the sight of Michael sitting on her bed with one of her shawls, inhaling the scent deeply. He looked at her and smiled.

"Misty…" he greeted, standing up to kiss her lips and wrap her in an embrace. "It's been so long, hasn't it?"

"Barely," she said, returning his hug. "But how did you…get in here?"

"You already forget what I'm capable of?" Michael asked. "Where is Cordelia?"

"S-She's…" She stopped herself. "Wait a second, why?"

"Oh, I'll tell you," he said. "She has to negotiate."

"Negotiate?"

"Yes. You only threw up the wine, not the seeds."

"I don't understand."

"Misty," Michael said. "If you eat what I offer you in the underworld, you are bound to it for all eternity. I was sent up by my father to come and do it myself. He would rather not be involved. He already has it out for me because I took you."

Her heart sank – eternity, she asked herself, is he for real?

"Y-You tricked me?" she asked him incredulously.

"Not exactly, but that was the only way the marriage could be official in hell, since you are from this realm here," he explained.

"No wonder it made me sick!" she exclaimed. "What was even in that wine?"

"Wine," he replied simply.

"It smelled like blood."

"And that," he smirked.

"From where?"

"Mine," Michael said.

"I can't believe it…" Misty said, backing away from him slowly. "I-I don't want to go back down with you. Please don't make me."

"But you've drunk from my cup and eaten the seeds," he said. "It is not a choice."

"Can't I just negotiate? It is my life, after all," Misty offered.

Michael thought for a moment and nodded slowly. "I don't see why you can't. After all, you are my wife."

Cordelia was absolutely shocked to learn that Michael made his way into Miss Robicheaux's Academy all by himself. Misty had walked down with him from her room, and it appeared that he took her arm in his. It was almost like he owned her. Cordelia stood up to stand her ground, yet she nearly fainted in his presence. Even Misty looked different next to him; she gave off a very different vibration than usual. She was usually surrounded by the white light of spirit; at that moment, she was not.

"Michael," she said. "W-What are you doing here? Y-You should leave…"

"We need to negotiate," Michael said, "I'm very certain you know why."

"Misty ate seeds and drank a cup from you while in hell," Cordelia said. "You held her hostage. You manipulated her into caving into your sick, twisted desires. I can't imagine what else you did to her, but there is nothing to negotiate."

"H-He never touched me," Misty said softly, defending Michael. "He only gave me that food, but other than that, he never was cruel to me."

"I would never hurt you, Misty," he said to his wife, touching her face and gazing into her eyes. "When you love someone, you should never hurt them. Remember I told you that?"

"This is stupid," Madison said in the background. "He doesn't love you, Misty. He stole you and now you have sympathy for him. Stockholm syndrome, much? It's all bullshit."

Without hesitating, Michael held out his hand and concentrated, and with barely any effort, he sent her flying backward toward the wall, where a loud thud and the shaking of some antiquated portraits of past Supremes could be heard. Madison held the back of her head, feeling it throb as she heard Cordelia reprimand her supposed heir for his action.

"Michael! Stop it!"

"I gave you a third chance at life," he said sternly, looking at Madison as she groaned on the floor from the impact. "If you want to keep it, it would be wise of you to not speak to me or my wife that way." He turned to Cordelia; "now, there is negotiation. Misty got sick and threw up only the wine we shared, not the seeds. She ate six in total, as did I. I was sent here because my father would rather not deal a hand in the situation. He wants me to do more for myself."

He walked over to sit on the sofa next to Queenie, who was still tired from venturing into the underworld to retrieve her sister witch; she shivered just looking at him. Misty followed him like a shadow, standing behind him as he sat down.

"And?"

"Rules are rules," he said. "She is to remain down in the underworld in my realm."

"No!" Cordelia said. "She belongs up here, with us. You abducted her!"

"She is married to me," Michael challenged. "That aside, she consumed food offered to her."

"You took advantage of her," Cordelia said coarsely, "she didn't know about how eating food from the underworld binds you to it. She's a girl, Michael!"

Misty couldn't hear any more of this. How could these two alone decide what happened in her own life? She was a grown woman, able to make decisions for herself. Why did Cordelia act like a mother to her like this? It made her very uncomfortable. Michael's possessive behavior was not acceptable either.

"Stop it!" she exclaimed.

"Misty, you-"

"I what, Miss Cordelia? I'm ain't a girl. I am full grown, I can make choices for myself!" she exclaimed with frustration. Michael smirked up at his wife with pride. Good, he thought to himself, stand up for yourself, love. I just hope whatever you decide, it's in our favor. Though you ate food from my realm. Rules are rules.

Cordelia shook her head and sighed, nearly tearing up; "do you seriously want to stay with him, Misty? After all he's done to you?"

"What about all he's done for me?" Misty asked rhetorically. "I want to stay up here. I do. Yet… I-I am married. Michael is my husband."

"I don't want you down there, Misty. It's dangerous! You can't even attempt Descensum without dying," her Supreme said sadly, tearing up and looking into Misty's eyes as she put her hands on her shoulders. "I won't lose you again."

"Misty," Michael said, "I could teach you. It's like learning how to swim once you become proficient."

"Don't even describe it like that, Michael," Cordelia warned. "You know that's wrong. She lost her life. That is why I had you bring her back!"

Misty frowned and sighed – what a tough decision, she thought, there's gotta be a way I can make both of them happy. I can't just leave Michael.

"What about six months with us, and six months with Michael?" Myrtle suggested, looking at Cordelia from where she was standing in the hallway. She had been eavesdropping a bit, and thought it was finally time to add her two cents.

"How would I do that?" Misty asked with confusion.

"That is a very tempting offer," Michael said, standing up and holding Misty's hand. "I am perfectly content with that." He looked at Myrtle and smiled. "At least someone is reasonably-minded."

"Myrtle," Cordelia said sadly. "I…"

"Let the girl go for six months, and she will return up here for the other half of the year," Myrtle said. "There you have it. It sounds perfectly fair."

"Cordelia," the young man said, taking Misty into his arms as he maintained eye contact with the Supreme, "I don't like being away from Misty for that long either, but six months is better than nothing. I understand I took her, but I am still grateful I get to see her, and she can be with me. She won't starve, she won't be cold. She will be taken very good care of, as I have for her so far."

Misty looked up at her husband, and it was like her faith was restored in him, even though he tricked her by making her consume something from the nether realms. Her heart began to flutter, but then she looked at Myrtle and smiled with a nod of gratitude for her splendid idea.

"I guess we have no choice, now do we?" Cordelia asked. "You go with him one half of the year, and you come back the other half."

"Oh… thank you!" Misty squealed, hugging her Supreme tightly. She reciprocated, before the swamp witch ran over to Myrtle and hugged her tightly as well. The old witch, being prim, gently patted her back and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Yes, little bird," she said, her voice dancing before it became a whisper. "I do not like Michael, but I support you and your decisions."

"W-What days do I come up and then go down with you?" Misty asked Michael.

He promptly responded; "exactly six months is the span between November 1 and May 1. You will be down with me during the fall and winter, and return to this place in spring."

"November 1 is in two weeks," Misty said.

"Yes," Michael said, walking over to his bride. Myrtle walked away but watched them together. He held her close and put her arms around him, sighing. "Two weeks, I will be here to get you, my love."

"You can go to and from whenever you please," Myrtle said. "W-What about me? Will I just be stuck?"

"You will be with me every day," Michael said, "regardless. Not to worry. Your needs will be taken care of. You'll never have to need or want when you are with me. I love you."

Misty couldn't believe this – she was married to the king of hell, and a deal was arranged to satisfy all involved. Yet the others in the room couldn't believe it, either. In the history of witches, there has never been a recorded case of a witch marrying a demon and being kept in the underworld for a set period of time each year, or for all eternity for that matter. Misty was the first, and hopefully the last, witch under this circumstance.

A/N:

So a deal has been made with our Antichrist by our Supreme, as well as Misty herself! Glad it benefits everyone... so it seems.

I will be posting an Epilogue, so stay tuned. If you enjoyed this, Follow, Favorite and be sure to leave a Review!

Thanks to everyone for their support!