A/N: This will be my last chapter in some weeks, you guys. I'm very sorry that I have to take a break right in the middle of things, believe me, but the hand injury turned out to be not so minor after all. You'll get this one because I had it almost ready, but it might be three weeks to a month until the next one. I hope you'll bear with me until then. For now, please enjoy :)

Part 2

"And if you don't love me now, you will never love me again."

- The Chain, Fleetwood Mac

The light was faint at basement level, but through dust and spider's web, the occasional stream of sunlight reflected in the many glass jars on her shelves.

Marie walked through the crypt of her house. She had had to move her things down here after Damian had taken her usual room. He could not be moved from there, but jars and potions could. Besides, there was a room at the end with the perfect opportunity for discrete storage.

She took a closer look at her collection of jars. They were small and they all seemed empty at first, but upon closer look, one would notice a strand or two of hair in each jar. At the bottom lay a layer of dust, not the grey, molded kind from lack of cleaning, but fine particles that vaguely reflected in the light. The jars didn't originally bear name tags, in fact once there was only one jar in here and so she didn't have any trouble remembering who it belonged to. Now there was an entire row and mixing them up would be a terrible mistake. And a mess she'd like to avoid.

The jars stood in chronological order, like a little story of their own. First was Delphine Lalaurie, this one many years old. The glass jar had become dull with age and the hair inside as dead as the woman whose head it was once attached to. After hers came a long row of spies, necessary people. Greg the busboy, Keith that one who used to harass her sister. She usually didn't collect from her own people, but this boy was particularly annoying. Later in the row came Emily the nurse. She had been a great help. Sweet girl. The first day Marie met her, a visit regarding her own pregnancy ages ago, she went on and on about how she felt it was her calling to help as many people as she could. She helped now alright.

Last in the row was the newest, cleanest jar. This one was a fine possession, the one she really needed. This would complete her revenge. Inside the little jar was a blonde curly hair, stolen with such ingenious simplicity – she would have to award Emily for her cleverness, even if she had no memory of having done it – and safely kept here until ready for usage. The label read Misty the Goode girl.

And it had been put to use already. She was in Misty's head now. The Goode girl was at Marie's mercy and that she was going to regret.

Marie walked to the storage room at the end. In her hands she held a simple dinner for the guest. She couldn't have her weapon starving to death, before her task was executed. The storage room looked like an old wooden jail cell. It wasn't meant for storing people, but it served it's purpose well. These bars were robust.

She opened the door with the levity of someone who knows she has the upper hand. She had no fear of the girl escaping. When she shifted to the side, the sparse light made its way past her, shone on the guest. Misty looked up from her spot in the corner. She had curled up with her arms around her knees and a look of despair on her face. Her first words were not 'where am I' or 'what am I doing here', but this:

"Why can't I remember anythin'?"

Marie's voice was laced with smug coolness, when she answered: "Because your mind ain't your own no more, honey. Eat up. We have work to do."

She then placed the tray on the floor and shut the door again.

O0O

The last twelve hours of her life was completely gone. Misty had never had a blackout before and the hole in her memory made her an agitated kind of nervous. The more she tried to remember, the closer that nervousness got to panic. Another stab of panic and she was ready to climb the walls, but the walls were greasy and slippery, moist like the atmosphere down here. The only wall that wasn't solid, greasy rock, was lined with thick wooden bars. She was a dog trapped in a cage and she had no strength to get out. She had tried multiple times already. Whenever she rattled her cage, there was a piercing voice, which carved its way into her brain, making her abruptly stop trying to escape. Fighting it made her mind go fuzzy and soon she found herself sitting down in the corner of the room, numb and waiting. For what she didn't know.

Dust. She vaguely recalled inhaling dust. When, where or why she couldn't remember.

Was it Sunday already? Or Monday? She was supposed to heal Fiona every Sunday now, otherwise the sickness in her liver would become too aggressive. If it was Monday already then she had missed it.

And Cordelia… She had promised Cordelia to take a few days to think, but now she found herself encaged in what could only be Laveau's basement and only she knew when Misty would get out and tell Cordelia that she didn't need the alone time that bad anymore. Before she knew it she was up and tearing at the door again.

"Let me out!" She screamed.

Sit.

Misty kept on hammering her fists into the bars until her gaze started to swim, her thoughts felt like they moved in water and she found her body going back to the floor.

"Let me out…" She whined and thought her voice sounded like a dog with its ears hanging after being told off.

"Some witch you are." It was Laveau's voice. The sound of her heels – a sturdier sound than Fiona's heels used to make, but noticeable nonetheless – grew and Laveau appeared down the row of dirty jars. She didn't look smug now. When Misty saw her the first time after she woke up here, she had a look of triumph on her face. Today she just looked hateful. She came all the way up to the bars, put a hand to them and watched Misty with disgust. "You're immune to the biological hells of life, you can sedate my creations, bend wild creatures to your will, but you can't keep me outta your head. Some witch."

"For the last time, I ain't done nothin' to your boy!"

Misty motioned to get up, but Laveau only offered her a sinister smile. Then she pulled something out of her pocket, fidgeted with it for a second and then pain exploded at the back of Misty's neck.

She cried out and grasped desperately for the knife that surely must be carving into her flesh. It felt like sharp metal tearing bone-deep, but she found nothing there. The only thing scratching at her skin was her own nails and the terror of that thought poked right through the pain.

Then, as abruptly as it had begun, it stopped. Misty found herself panting and slouching with sudden exhaustion. She looked up at Laveau, whose sinister smile had disappeared, only to reveal the same cold hate that was there just a minute ago. Laveau held up to item so Misty could see it: A tiny doll made of straw. In the other hand, Laveau held a small razor. It glimmered as she twirled it between her fingers.

"Don't get mouthy with me, witch. And don't you dare lie to me, 'cause I know all about that gator you befriend. I may not control the words outta your filthy mouth, but I control just about everythin' else now, got me? Now get up."

Misty snarled, but did it. Laveau gestured for her to come closer to the bars and Misty refused. Then her brain got fuzzy and she did it anyway.

Laveau smiled, walked away and picked up the jar at the end of the shelf. "This is you in this jar", she said. "And we're gonna need just a little more to speed up the plan. Seems one treatment is not enough for you. But once you're a good loyal girl, I might let you loose again. See how that stirs up that lil' family of yours."

"If you hurt her I will kill you. Her or my son." Misty spoke through her teeth with as much hate as she had ever put into words before. She could feel her hands tremble, and it was because it wasn't only anger. She feared now, understood now, that Laveau was too powerful for empty threats. She didn't look like a woman anymore; she looked like some manic hateful creature. A green monster out of those children's books she sometimes read to Cage. There was no resemblance to the woman Misty had met in the swamp with her boy.

Laveau chuckled, grabbed a small handful of the grainy dust at the bottom of the jar. Then she walked back to the bars, looked Misty in the eye and said: "Oh I won't." Then she blew the dust into Misty's face and the world went dark again. Only the tingle in her brain remained.

O0O

Sunday went by. Then Monday. The waiting wasn't supposed to make the air feel this tight in every room she entered, but it did. It was silly; Misty hadn't given her any exact number of days she needed to herself and two was hardly much compared to the week they had spent apart in agonizing silence before the night they made up.

Still, Cordelia felt uneasy. More than that, she felt like something was wrong. Terribly wrong and she had no evidence for this, only a stir in her chest that wouldn't settle.

Cage kept asking for Misty now that he sensed the changed atmosphere. The world was simple in his mind. They weren't fighting anymore and so his mama should return home. This need for extra time alone to ponder if forgiveness was the right thing was a mystery to him. Cordelia didn't try to explain it to him, because a little boy shouldn't deal with such complicated emotional issues, yet she understood it. It hurt, but she understood. And she couldn't force it, however much she wanted to. She could only be grateful that they've gotten this far so soon.

It didn't help when Fiona came back from Cometh the next day asking Cordelia again, if she had heard from Misty.

She came into the kitchen as Cordelia was making dinner for her and Cage. Cage was in the living room with Zoe, who had been taking care of him during the day.

"Do you have room for an extra plate?" Fiona asked.

"Of course."

"It's just the three of us then?" Cordelia didn't want to look up from the pot, because the underbelly of the question felt like back in the day when Fiona used to enjoy pushing her buttons and knowing which one hurt the most. Only her voice was different, not annoyed or mocking. Just worried.

When Cordelia caved and looked at her face it was indeed worry she found, but something else stole her attention. Fiona's pallor, the feverish gleam at the line of her hair.

"I suppose so, unless Zoe wants to stay. Are you alright?"

Fiona waved her off and sat down. "I'm fine. Have you talked to Misty yet?"

Cordelia had thought that by now the anxiety of waiting for Misty had settled, but Fiona's simple question whirled it all around again with dizzying speed and her chest tightened.

"I haven't. I promised to give her some days."

"It's been three now. She's not that slow of a thinker."

"Mother, don't", she warned. "She has every right to take all the time she needs in peace and you will not rob her of that."

Fiona scoffed, then shot Cordelia a long glance and changed approach. "Shouldn't she at least let you know where she can be found? Disappearing off the face of the earth just to pout seems a little-"

"You didn't." Cordelia had just realized what it was that Fiona was not saying. "Isn't she bad enough without you tormenting her? Why do you continue to act as though everything is your property? Can't you just mind your own damn business?" Her voice raised with every word until she suddenly realized her own yelling. Cordelia silenced again, not used to such harsh words coming out of her own mouth. Even Fiona looked a little taken aback. Cordelia let the pot be and turned all the way around, too consumed with sudden guilt to focus on cooking. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I just wish you wouldn't meddle. She might take even longer if she doesn't get the space she needs."

"She doesn't need space from you and we all know it. And no matter how much I torment her, it would never reflect badly on you. You know that too."

Cordelia sighed. "I know." She dared looking at her mother and the gleam caught her eye again. So did the look of fever in her eyes. It glimmered as if whatever she was fighting was just beneath the thin fabric of her skin. Then it dawned Cordelia. "Mom, are you sick again? You didn't go to Misty for me, did you? Is the cancer coming back?"

Fiona sighed. "No I didn't go there for you. Not the first time at least."

A lump gathered in Cordelia's throat. She fumbled for the chair because now she had to sit down. The room started to spin.

"So you're sick then? But I thought Misty helped?"

"Calm down now, child, I'm fine", Fiona said and waved her off. "She did help me and she got most of it. She's only keeping check on me a few times a month, it's nothing more than that. Don't you worry about me, you hear me?"

Putting an end to worry was never something Cordelia had had any kind of grasp on and Fiona knew it. Cordelia gave her a defeated nod, hoping Fiona wasn't lying, and went to get Cage from the living room. She might be able to not worry about Fiona's health, because she knew Misty helped her, but Misty not being at her swamp gnawed at her. She might just be going for a walk in the wild just then, Cordelia tried to remind herself, but to no use. Because there was that feeling.

Zoe barely looked up, when Cordelia fetched Cage. She ushered him to the kitchen and he waddled away, towards the smell of food. Zoe kept her place on the floor, legs folded and eyes fixed on a strand of hair between her fingers.

Cordelia took a few moments to watch her.

"Zoe, is Kyle okay?" She wanted to ask this question to Zoe herself, but it seemed those two were thoroughly linked. Just like her and Misty. It made her feel horrible for having Zoe throw Kyle out like that. She knew very little of this charming boy, except his relationship with his mother wasn't good, and something had happened that day in the woods with the help of Marie Laveau. Misty explained that he died and Laveau somehow had powers to bring him back – but it was nothing like when Misty had done it. Different forces were at work and none of them understood these forces well enough to explain it. To Misty it was all vibes and bone deep feelings of wrong. Cordelia didn't have that and so she decided to just ask Zoe.

Zoe looked up. There were circles under her eyes and Cordelia's heart suddenly tightened with hurt, because she recognized these circles from the mirror from time to time. It made her sit down beside Zoe and take her hand.

"You can talk to me, if you want."

She received a faint smile from Zoe, before the girl reclaimed her hand and said: "I don't think so. I made him go into the woods. He felt so awful. I just wanted it to end."

Ice ran through Cordelia's veins. "You took him to the swamp?" Vision of mangled boy bodies crashed in on her again and Zoe's nod only made the magnitude increase. Zoe's eyes started to water up and Cordelia pulled her in. She didn't know what to say. She could only focus on the fact that she hadn't even thought to ask where Zoe was taking Kyle, after she picked him up the last time. She had been too consumed by her own troubles to reach out, as she should have.

Just then the phone rang. Zoe jumped at the sound. Fiona called out that she would get it and Cordelia stayed on the floor with Zoe.

"Zoe, is Kyle… you haven't heard from him since?" She couldn't make herself say the word dead, just like she could never finish a sentence that involved the night where Misty almost died. Somehow saying it out loud gave it power and she didn't want Zoe sucked into the hopelessness.

Zoe looked up and those glossy eyes made Cordelia fear that Zoe's was already there.

"He wasn't alive before he went", she said with a thin voice, almost whispered it, as if she obeyed the same rules and fears Cordelia did. "Not all the way at least. I don't know what that woman did to him, but he was in pain. It's better this way." Her voice broke at the end and a lump gathered in Cordelia's throat. Just looking at the lost young girl in front of her made her feel like she couldn't breathe. And she was supposed to be a mentor to Zoe, but she couldn't protect her from something like this. She knew too well that these demons obeyed no outside voice. Instead she pulled Zoe in closer, brushed a hand over her hair and agreed that Kyle must be in a better place, if he had left this one.

Moments later Fiona came into the room holding the phone.

"The police. It's a call for Zoe Benson, I take it that's you?" Her voice was even, indifferent, but Cordelia thought she traced worry. Fiona worried an unusual amount these days.

"Why would they call here?" Cordelia asked, looked from Zoe to the phone.

Fiona shrugged and gestured at Zoe to get up. "They say it's important and they can't reach her at home."

"Well ask them what-"

"It's okay, Cordelia", Zoe interrupted and got up. She drew the hair out of her face, took a breath and received the phone from Fiona. She said hello and then she left the room. It's was the last Cordelia heard of the conversation. When Zoe came back it was with an apologetic smile and the announcement that she was going home. She walked passed them and Fiona went back to the kitchen, indifferent. Cordelia felt torn for a moment and then went after Zoe. She caught her halfway out the door.

"You know you can tell me if you're in trouble, right?" Cordelia asked her.

"Yeah I know. Thanks."

"I know this look, Zoe. You're trying to hold up a façade, because being open to the world is too much. I know that feeling. I've lived it most of my life. I don't want you to end up like me." She gave Zoe's arm a gentle rub and suddenly Zoe flung her arms around Cordelia's neck.

A little 'oh' of surprise escaped her, but she pulled Zoe in for a tight hug. She was only a head shorter than Cordelia, and slimmer, yet she felt unrealistically small in the embrace. She didn't cry, but stayed silent in the hug, as if just gathering some energy. Then she released herself again.

"I'm glad I have you, Cordelia. They don't know how selfless you are at school. They should", she smiled a sad little smile and wiped a crawling tear with her sleeve. "Anyway, I gotta go. Don't worry about me too much, okay?"

"I'll stop, when I need to", Cordelia told her and drew out a smile herself, one that wasn't completely devoid of those facades she spoke of, but it was warmer than it had felt all day.

Zoe nodded, then turned and left. Cordelia watched her disappear behind the bushes and then went in to eat dinner with Cage and Fiona.

O0O

Hank found that there was another nail tying his leash to the city, preventing him from leaving. He didn't like to admit it to himself, not sober at least, but a part of him wanted to see what the Voodoo Queen had up her sleeve. Now that his family was truly broken, he wanted the Queen of the Goode mansion to bow. If she wouldn't bow for him – and he wasn't kidding himself on this, of course she would never – then maybe she would bow to his ally. Another part of him kept gnawing insistently, reminding him of just how sick that was. It was like pulling up at the side of the road, waiting to be the first in line to see the car crash happen. He had an inkling that Marie's revenge wasn't going to be pretty, but he couldn't help circling anyway, drawn to the upcoming fight like eyes to a dog fight. There wasn't much thought behind this; he just wanted to watch the great Fiona Goode's pride implode, wanted to know how Marie planned to tear her down. And on some level, he wanted Fiona to know that he had helped. Just once, he wanted to see the look on her face when he won. She always took such pride in making him lose, but for once he felt like he was on the stronger team. If the rumors really were true.

He hadn't seen Marie Laveau since she sent him out with that Chinwee guy to show him the path to Misty's shack. She had pointed him out to the boy and given him orders to show Chinwee the way. As if he was some boy scout and not a grown man. He had said nothing to it, because Marie had looked upset that day and she had that aura. The aura that said 'if you mess with me, I will eat you and no one will ever know'. So Hank had kept his mouth shut about his bruised ego and lead the way.

Her house wasn't hard to find the second time either. Everyone knew her. And everyone in her neighborhood spoke of her like she was a priestess, a healer, something almost worthy of worship. And they spoke of her tragedy, but they loved her. None of it fitted the dead, deserted atmosphere that surrounded her house today.

It was silent like the grave. His knock on the door almost gave off an echo. The last time there had been people here. Not a lot, but at least enough to make the place look alive.

It took several minutes before he heard steps on the other side of the door. Marie wore heels too, and something about that made Hank think that she and Fiona might not be all that different. They had the same superiority about them, same pride. Same way of making him feel like a kid. Actually Hank was pretty sure he would feel the same way about Marie, if she had been his mother-in-law instead of Fiona. Only she wasn't. She was a younger, stronger version of Fiona and perhaps less cold-blooded.

Finally she opened the door and greeted him with a surprised, slightly annoyed face. Beautiful, he forgot that. She beat Fiona there too. He almost felt guilty for admitting it, but then he remembered that Cordelia had rejected him for the amazon once again and he allowed himself the admission.

"What do you want?" Marie asked him in a voice that clearly stated her lack of patience with him and it snapped him back to reality. He had had words prepared, some kind of speech about being ready to fight, but now he couldn't remember. Those dark eyes pierced him and it made him nervous. Her whole being eluded a sense of danger that he couldn't think through. The paper filter wasn't quite sufficient, he noticed.

"When do we start taking down our common enemy?" He asked instead, trying and failing to sound casual.

Marie chuckled and leaned against the door, which she had only opened half way. "Lil' late for that, Foxx. I've already started."

Without me? He wanted to say, but refrained, because he feared it would make him sound like a pouting five-year-old.

"Well can I help?" He insisted. He did sound like a hopeful, fucking boy scout. Fiona would strike him down with laughter, if she had heard him just now.

"You already did, when you showed Chinwee the path." What more could I possible use you for, was the unspoken part of her answer.

"Yeah, of course. So what… What do you plan to do to her?" Hank asked then, hated that he had to drag it out of her like that, but scared to let it show. And suddenly nervous to hear the answer.

Marie smiled a dark smile and leaned a little closer. "Don't you worry about that. I didn't touch your precious ex-wife. That's all you needa know."

"But…" He trailed off, felt like a kid yet again. The smile scared him. He had wanted to clarify the truth of those rumors when he came here, but looking into her face right now and feeling that aura around her was enough. She had power and while he didn't understand how, he knew that she had brought that boy back just like the drunken gossip said. And he wasn't sure he wanted to understand, because Misty's abilities made his head spin and she never looked as sinister as the woman before him now. There was a small voice within him, whispering that he was way out of his depth and did he really want to be the cause of whatever evil Marie had planned for Misty as well? But the paper filter didn't just drown out most of the outer stimuli. It silenced his reason as well. He only remembered his broken pieces of family and behind that was a white screen of nothing.

"No buts, now go home and let me get to work", she said. "And Hank", she added, when he made the first motion to turn around and get the hell out of there, "I trust you'll stay quiet. Remember that I have eyes everywhere."

Hank could only muster a nod, before she closed the door and released him from the spell. He walked back to his hotel, thinking about the few times Fiona had sent death threats his way. It had never made him feel as frightened as now.