"Cordelia? Where's my tablet?"

Clara was beginning classes the following morning at UCLA, the brand new semester that began her junior year. Cordelia had been preparing breakfast in the kitchen, and the sisters had gotten freshened up and ready to face the new day in their new home. For her first day back at school, Clara chose a unique outfit composed of a long black skirt, a black kimono shawl with white floral print in the lightly-woven grain, flat short black booties, and a brimmed hat that looked like it was plucked from Zoe's closet. She had known Zoe, a witch from Miss Robicheaux's Academy and the most recent Supreme, all her life and this outfit was almost directly inspired by her and what her own mother would wear.

"Cordelia?" There had been no answer.

"It's right here, relax" Amy said, prancing toward her with the tablet Clara had been inquiring about. Taking it into her hands, she smiled at her sister.

"Thanks, Amy," she said. "Say, are you alright this morning?"

"Huh, why wouldn't I be?" her younger sister asked.

"Well, your makeup isn't on yet," Clara noticed. Amy hadn't even put on a bit of her foundation let alone her heavy, pigmented eyeshadow; she just shrugged.

"Eh, I wanted to wait," she said, sniffing the air as she walked into the kitchen to see Cordelia standing over a few skillets on the stove. "Ooh! Are those eggs?"

"Scrambled with cheese and butter," their adopted mother said. "Get some plates, please? And…" She paused for a moment. "Oh! I almost forgot! There's an ingredient I need, but it's in the basement."

"What? Why the basement?" Clara asked, cocking an eyebrow up.

"I wanted to add a dash of the good luck potion," Cordelia smiled. "You're going back to school today, and of course, we all could use some luck adjusting to our new life here."

"I can't get it if I'm getting plates," the brunette said.

"Ugh, fine. I'll do it," Amy scoffed, walking out of the kitchen and down the hall to where the basement door was located.

She grabbed a hold of the knob and turned it before carefully stepping down the creaky, old wooden stairs into the dark area below. The door had been kept open when she alighted from the stairs, allowing some light from the hallway to come in and allow Amy to see where she was going. Surrounding her were several stacks of cardboard boxes that had included holiday decorations and unused items, and her eyes looked over to see a container with a label that vaguely read "sundries"—as she walked over to it, she heard a strange sound. She tossed her head to the side to find the source of the noise, but there was no one, let alone nothing, there.

Amy removed the box right on top of the labeled one aside and opened the flaps to expose the tops of corks, the simple covers plugged into the tight openings of the bottles. She took each bottle and lifted them to see their labels and contents; most of them were for most of the same sorts of things such as love, attracting money, beauty, and…luck. Yes. That was the one. It happened to be toward the center of the crowded glass potion bottles, and once Amy got a firm hold of it, she turned around to a horrifying sight—she felt chills run through her body.

"Mommy…?"

In a rocking chair that had been in the basement when they moved there sat a grotesque, short-statured creature that looked like an underdeveloped child. Amy gawked at his features with horror, taking in the gruesome image of his sparsely bald head, black beady eyes, unnatural brow ridge, sickly pale skin that shined with sweat and who knows what else, long fingers much like those of a goblin from hell, and the tattered white christening gown on its body. What frightened her most were its two rows of sharp teeth in a menacing smile, hungry for flesh or blood or a mix of both. It seemed to hiss like a violent viper, and Amy screamed with fright.

"AHHHHHHH!"

Smash…

She had dropped the glass bottle containing the potion; Small shards had gone everywhere, and as Amy looked around for something to defend herself with, the deformed creature outstretched its goblin-like hand toward her.

"CORDELIA!" she screamed. "CLARA! HELP!"

Scratch!

She had tears in her eyes as she felt its long talons scraping into the side of her face—it continued to hiss.

"STOP! You…little…bastard!" To no avail, she tried to push the creature off her. Meanwhile, there was the sound of rapid steps creaking down the stairs and worried gasps. Afraid to move, she screamed out for help as blood trickled slowly from the gashes left in her face.

"HELP! SOMEONE!" Amy screamed, blood covering her face.

"Oh my god! What the hell is that thing?!" Clara's voice screamed. "Amy!"

The black-haired witch held out her hand and concentrated on the monstrous being that had attacked her younger sister. Cordelia also put her palm facing out, and they focused on telekinetically tossing him against the wall of the basement—as he was sent sailing across the room, Amy whined in excruciating pain and crawled over, blood falling from her cut face as Clara leaned down to ensure her sister's safety.

"Oh my god, what happened to you?" she asked with deep concern.

"What the hell does it look like?" Amy sneered, blood smearing on her hands. "I'm far from fine!" Just before Clara could respond, a strange voice had asked a familiar question—had they heard it before?

"What are you doing in my house?"

As the sound of heels clicked against the surfaces of the old, creaky steps leading down to the basement, Amy looked over at the deformed creature and thought of her revenge for him tearing gashes into her face with its claws. As tears continued to fall, she thought of death; many ideas came to her mind—the ability to mentally cause pain on another, the ability to control its very essence, the ability to take a life naturally. She was skeptical, but now it was her chance to try this forbidden power she was sensing deep down within. Cordelia and Clara watched as the grotesque creature struggled to breathe, huffing and puffing like an old woman smoker before a shadow of darkness consumed the grotesque form.

"Amy? What did you—" Clara was suddenly cut off.

"What are you doing in my house?"

The voice came again, and all three turned around to see the image of a woman with a pretty face and dressed somewhat strangely compared to them. Her blonde curls were coifed in a bob with some loose strands hanging down her forehead. Her outfit consisted of a black knee-length sleeveless dress with sequins sewn into the fabric to form the illusion of sparkles. A pair of small pearl earrings was attached to her earlobes and she was wearing a diamond pendant on a string of smaller diamonds set into it. Her shoes were beige heels with a t-strap to keep them in place, and her blue eyes reminded Cordelia of the Tiffany glass used to make the light fixtures when the house was built; they seemed to sparkle like stars with a hint of sadness.

"W-Who are you?" the older witch asked.

"I beg your pardon?" the woman asked.

"Ma'am, please tell us who you are," Clara commanded. "If you're another ghost, tell us please."

"Are you implying that I'm dead?"

"GEEZ, lady! Answer our fucking question!" Amy screeched.

"Amy!" Cordelia exclaimed.

Meanwhile, Clara was ready to press her hand to where her sister's face had been brutally gashed open. Amy's intensely blue eyes looked sideways at her as she sobbed. Using her ability to heal, the raven-haired witch concentrated, projecting her energy into the wounds as they began to patch together seamlessly. Even though some blood got on her hand, Clara paid no mind to it as her powers came into fruition, taking her hand away to see the outcome of her abilities—Amy's face was restored to its flawless splendor, her beauty glowing as though she never had been attacked. Meanwhile, Nora had completely come down the stairs and was watching the witch heal her sister.

"How did you…do that?" the woman asked. Clara just glanced up at her, but Cordelia answered for her.

"She is a healer," the older witch stated. "A child of the earth."

"I'm sorry, but I'm confused," the woman said.

"Bitch!" Amy sneered. "We're witches!"

"Really, Amy?" Clara asked with disbelief.

"What? She's dead! She's not going to tell anyone!" Amy reasoned fiercely.

Cordelia looked back at the woman, seeing tears form in her eyes as she looked over to see the dead creature laying there lifeless on the concrete floor of the basement. Amy had taken his life by the means of her powers, but this woman seemed rather upset. Her starry eyes looked even sadder, which Cordelia felt sympathy towards, and she watched her walk over to the grotesque creature on the ground.

"Miss?" she asked.

"My baby…" the woman cried. "What…did you do?"

"Question is, what did it do to me?" Amy asked. "He ripped half my face off!"

"He's not an it!" the woman shrieked tearfully, walking closer to the dead, pallid, horrific creature. "He's my baby!"

Amy just grimaced and looked at the woman as she leaned down to cry over the disgusting, demon-like creature that had fallen to its death on the ground by the blonde witch's will. Crouching down to get a better look and express her sensitivity to the monster's death more discreetly, the three looked at her each to their own in their feelings toward her. Cordelia was simply confused, whereas Clara felt genuine sympathy for the woman as she sobbed over her loss—I can't imagine her pain, she thought to herself as she sighed gently. However, Amy had a different reaction.

"That's your kid?" she asked rudely. "There's no way that came out of you. You might as well have taken a shit."

"You—"

"Miss, I'm sorry for your loss," Clara said remorsefully. "Very sorry."

"Apologies won't bring my baby back," she wept. "He's been gone for much too long now."

"I know it doesn't seem like my sister is sorry, but she is," Clara added reluctantly. "She hates to show it."

"Bitch," Amy muttered. Nora just glared at the blonde young witch and shook her head at her, her starry eyes emanating floods of tears that streamed down her cheeks.

"And how dare you speak to me like that, miss," the woman said, directing her harsh tone to an apathetic Amy. "As a matter of fact, he didn't come out like this."

"Really? I was beginning to think you fucked a troll," the blonde said.

"Amy!" Cordelia exclaimed. "Stop it. You're upsetting her!"

"No, no," the woman sobbed sadly, hovering her hand close to the pale, sparse hairs on the creature's head. "My husband was a disgrace. How he could call himself a man was beyond me. I came all the way from Philadelphia to marry him and to live in this place in which, sadly, I am trapped forever."

"Who are you?" Cordelia asked.

"My name is Nora Montgomery," the woman said with a cracked voice from her intense sadness. "And I lost my baby…"

1926

"I can't even tell what it is," Charles had said. "What the hell did you do to the baby?"

Thaddeus had been Nora's only child, and Charles was her husband and a prominent celebrity doctor. The baby, once an adorable, cherubic child with platinum wisps on his head and large, colorless eyes that radiated curiosity, turned his head around as he remained silent. Nora had been sitting on the other end of the table dressed in finery, looking at her husband—she had to reprimand him for being five minutes late to dinner. In the meantime, they had been struggling financially despite that they were quite wealthy—yet it was Nora's fault. She would spend it on clothes, jewelry, fine desserts and home decorations.

"You're a disgrace, Charles," she stated coldly as she poured herself more wine from the bottle the maids set for them on the table. "I came all the way from Philadelphia for this? This life? This house?"

"I built you this house just the way you would want it," her husband stated, trying to remain calm as his wife tested him.

"We only have two maids, Charles!" Nora snapped. "I'm expected to do everything else!" Meanwhile, Charles had walked over to her side of the table and snatched the bottle of wine to refill his own cup—his wife just flashed him a dirty look.

"Good, Charles, you drink yourself to oblivion," she sneered. "You're such a waste. Just looking at you is making me sick!"

"Nora, just wait and see," Charles said with a sad sigh—he hated when she belittled him. "I'll have my works published in the Boston Medical Journal."

"HA!"

Now, Nora wasn't just being testy—her cruelty had set in. Charles, fed up with it, tossed his wine glass against the wall and grunted angrily, hearing the baby start to cry as a result of the commotion caused by his parents. Nora smacked her palm into her face before reaching for the brass bell she had kept at dinner to summon one of the maids. Ringing it, one of them came straight away to meet the demands of the mean-hearted heiress.

"Daphne!" Nora shouted, irritated by the situation. "When Thaddeus cries, you come and take him upstairs! I thought I told you!"

"Y-Yes, ma'am," the maid replied. As she took the baby from his high chair, she patted his back and rocked him as they left the room. "Come, little one. Hush."

Charles hung his head in shame and sat back in his seat at the other head of the table, sighing as the sight of pork gone cold and vegetables made him queasy. Hearing his wife's voice, he glanced up and met her eyes with his, their starry quality keeping him from looking away.

"The bill collectors came today," she said. There was no answer from her husband; he dug his fingers over his eyelids, pressing inward as he heard a slam on the table and yelling.

"DAMN IT, CHARLES!" she screeched. "DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

"I'm not deaf!" Charles responded forcefully. "Though I wish I were."

"Listen to me!" Nora exclaimed. "You have a client coming in tomorrow morning with sixty dollars cash. You will support this family whether you like it or not!"

"We were struggling," Nora explained; the three women listened, seeing her still crouched by the dead monster. "My husband was a doctor, so he performed abortions right here in this basement."

"Funny you say that," Amy stated nonchalantly. "I've had two."

"They were illegal back then," the woman described. "I gave them anesthesia and put on the gowns they were made to wear. I had to tell Charles to make sure to take them down quickly so it wouldn't wear off. It helped us pay the bills, but we paid the price."

"How?" Cordelia asked.

"The boyfriend of one of my husband's clients killed my baby," Nora sighed, sniffled. "He was cut into little pieces and put in jars. My husband even tried to bring him back to life by stitching him together and putting him to this…this…contraption. It made him…into this..." She paused, a tear falling on the dead creature's face, "this creature you killed."

Nora paused, and the three listened to her as she continued.

"I tried to love this creature as my own again. I even tried to nurse him, but he bit me and made me bleed," she cried. "Then…I tried to kill him."

"Well, no worries there, I guess," Amy said. "I did it for you. Happy?"

"I was not happy after that, no," Nora stated. "I…killed Charles and shot myself, too."

"Hm, I was wondering where that hole had come from on the back of your head, miss," Clara pointed out. "So you were the first to live here?"

"Yes," Nora said. "I try not to be so sad about my son's demise."

"I can only imagine the pain you must go through everyday and everyday since then," Cordelia sighed, bringing Amy to her feet, her healed face radiant with extreme beauty.

"Life is too short for so much sorrow," the ghost said.

Nora had disappeared into thin air, as did the grotesque creature, which was absorbed by the shadow Amy had summoned to cease all life within him. The blonde bit her lower lip and chuckled, shaking her head as she looked up at Cordelia; her chocolate-colored eyes were dumbfounded before staring down at her younger adopted daughter.

"What the hell?" the young witch asked herself. "That was just weird."

"That poor woman," Cordelia said.

"Crap!" Clara exclaimed. "I've got ten minutes before class! I'm going to be late!" The dark-haired witch promptly ran up the stairs and out the opened door, leaving her adopted mother and blonde sister standing down in the basement near the broken potion bottle, its contents having spilled out on the floor.

"We can make another potion, right?" Amy asked.

"Yes." Cordelia said. "I have my recipe book upstairs."