A/N: Sorry for the long wait, you guys. I'm on the last run with my master's thesis, so I have limited time. Thank you for being patient and please enjoy. We don't have much left!

Cordelia had been waiting nervously inside the house while Misty tried communicating with Kyle. She kept her distance – in light of her admission that she had no part in this war – and it made Misty realize her role: She was the rational thinker. She was the only one clear of Marie's ability. She would be their thinker and so Misty told her what Kyle had explained to her.

"I think that a scared Marie Laveau can be both advantageous and extremely dangerous", Cordelia had said and went on to the obvious question: "How do we release everyone from her control? If she has no leash on any one of us, she is no danger and she can mourn her loss in peace. That's in everyone's best interest."

The last piece fell into place, when Hank came knocking on their door again. He told them that he had figured out how Marie's power worked and asked to be let in. It was Cordelia at the door. If it had been Misty, she thought she might have slammed it in his face either way.

She couldn't stand the sight of him, ever since the confessions he had made to her upon his last visit. It gnawed at her insides, it itched in her fist to break his teeth. But she kept her distance and did her best to keep a straight face. Mostly for Cordelia's sake, because if she saw the intensity of Misty's rebirthed hate, she would ask why and the whole point was to keep her out of it. They were finally in a good place again and such knowledge would throw her right back in the dark.

Hank knew all of this – that much was obvious in the glance he stole at her as he walked by to go sit on the couch.

The rest of the family gathered around him. Cordelia sat in the armchair – Misty noticed that she had begun to do this and found that it fit. It felt like an unspoken heirloom and Misty had no wish to touch it. Zoe sat on the other side of the couch at a respectable distance to Hank, who was still a stranger to her. Misty herself stayed by the entrance to the living room, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. That way she wouldn't be so tempted to claw his eyes out.

"Tell us what you found out", Cordelia said to him.

Hank gave a slight nod and said: "Are you all familiar with Papa Legba?"

All three women nodded. Hank looked a little surprised. Papa Legba had always been an expression in the Goode house more than an actual person and Misty figured Hank thought the same. Yet the figure of speech had become real to them in a different way in the past few years.

"Okay", he said. "So apparently Marie Laveau made contact with him long ago and sold her soul to him in exchange for her powers. According to that boy Chinwee, who lives with her, Papa Legba can undo it, if he wants to. So all we have to do is convince him."

Misty snarled at Hank. He looked at her with caution, but Cordelia caught on.

"What is it, Misty?"

"Did you hurt Chinwee?" Misty asked. He wasn't a part of the war either.

To her relief Hank shook his head. "No. He actually gave me all this information with minimum persuasion. I think he wants Laveau's powers gone as much as we do."

Misty scoffed. "Ain't you forgettin' somethin'? How're we gonna talk to the underworld?"

"We are not", Hank said and his eyes shone a shade more serious. "But you are. You've seen him, haven't you? That night. I did some digging and legend says only those who's been approached by him can make contact freely. That's you, Misty."

She hated hearing him say her name. But she knew at the same time that he was right in a way. She would have to do it. Cordelia was looking at her from across the room and they locked gazes. She was nervous, Misty could tell. She was saying that she didn't like it.

"I can do it", Misty said. She said it to Cordelia first and then looked at Hank.

"Do you have any research on how to do it?" She heard Cordelia ask Hank. At this he looked at a loss.

"I guess you just call out", he offered, but Misty paid him no mind. She didn't need guidelines. She was one for calling out to things that the regular person couldn't see or touch. The trance had nothing to do with her powers, it was only a tool to channel them and so she wasn't blocked when she called out this time.

It took a while and the room fell silent in the wait. She hadn't noticed herself moving until she felt the carpet under her feet. When she called for him, the vision of a dead forest came back to her and she knew she had seen it before, once in a fever dream on the brink of death. It was the only thing she associated with him and so it became her gateway.

When she turned around she saw him standing there in the barren meadow and at the same time he stood in the wide doorway with that smile on his face. That sinister, crooked smile she had seen him wear once before. He tipped his hat at her and she recognized his croaky voice when he said: "So we meet again; Misty Day."

Behind her the entire room gasped. She heard Zoe whisper: "I can hear him. Where is he?" No one answered. Misty thought perhaps only she could see him. The air felt cold around her and she didn't know if the others could feel that too, but she thought that the longer he was here the more real he felt and she didn't like that. The darkness behind him seemed too vast, and it came closer, so she wasted no time:

"I gotta ask you somethin'."

"Everybody gotta ask me somethin'", he said. "So ask me."

"Can you take Marie Laveau's powers away?"

He regarded her for a long minute. His big, red eyes lingered on hers and she felt the weight of them. As if he was measuring her by her entire soul. She heard Zoe mumble: "Did he answer her?" and then the sound of Cordelia gently shushing her.

"A soul for a soul", he finally said and the room gasped again. His voice rang with the same cadence Misty remembered from her first encounter and it crept under her skin with an icy chill. "You give me a soul and that soul comes to live with me. Then Marie gets her mortal soul back. Her powers won't go with it."

"Why do I have to die? Marie ain't dead."

"That's my currency for the exchange. And I don't do refunds."

"So I have to go with you?" Misty asked. She felt cold all over.

"I want you, yes. But any soul will do", Papa Legba said.

"Misty…" Cordelia's broken voice brought her out of it and she turned around to find her love's eyes full of tears. Her lip quivered and in her eyes were that little girl, lost in the forest. "Misty, please don't go with him."

The second Misty stopped thinking about Papa Lebga and of Cordelia instead, the cold faded away and the darkness crept back slowly. She realized she was losing the connection. When she spun around to search for the gate to the underworld, she found only a vague silhouette of him, only a hazy imprint of dead trees. Cordelia walked to her and closed a hand around hers. Misty looked at her again, gave her a look that said she meant to stay and then looked back for Papa Legba. He was almost gone.

"Wait, I ain't done yet", she called out. She could still make out his red eyes and his smile.

"Call on me when the choice is made." It sounded like a whisper, a mean wind that spawned from the fading black. When he was gone, Spalding stood where the darkness once was, holding blankets.

O0O

did Marie break the connection? Misty

Marie sat with a sleeping Damian on her lap when she heard the door. Chinwee's steps were slow and hesitant and it gave her a bitter taste in her mouth. She could feel the energy floating into the house with him like a bad omen.

When he came into the room, it was in his face. Marie felt it like a rock jumping onto her heart and she would have rushed from the chair and into his guilty face with a claw if it wasn't for her tranquil son. Her anger made him stir, but she didn't allow it to blossom and he kept sleeping. She would never have thought she could keep it down, if it wasn't for the sadness quenching her emotions.

"I knew you'd leave me too", she said. Her voice sounded hard and cold, but she felt like a bleeding, seething sea on the inside.

"I ain't leavin' you. I'm tryna save you."

"Bullshit", she spat. "You just scared like all the rest!"

Chinwee just shook his head slowly. She could see the hurt in his eyes, but she was too mad to believe it.

"I think they can help you. And I think you're too scared to ask for it, but you want it-"

"They're the enemy, Chinwee! You forget all the nasty things they did to our family? To our friends? That fatass cracker strung our people up like pigs for slaughter and Fiona Goode let it happen! They ain't here to help us, they here to get the last of us and put us in the ground!"

"No that's what you do!" Chinwee's ever-peaceful eyes flashed with sudden anger and his voice rose. "I'm tired, Marie! Just like the rest. And hell yeah, I'm scared! Your sister's right, you playin' with forces ain't meant to be touched. And if I gotta go to the people who let all those horrors happen in their house that's what I'm gonna do!"

"You already did it, didn't you?"

"Yes", he confessed. "Hank Foxx cornered me and I told him where you got your powers from. Maybe that witch you hate so much can save you. I sure as hell can't."

"You lyin', schemin'-" She didn't get further because Damian woke with a frightened whine and began his wheezing screeches. "See what you did?" She snapped, knowing well enough that it was the boiling anger in her own chest that had woken her son. She waved Chinwee away, lost for words to say to him when she couldn't scream for fear of upsetting Damian.

It took hours to calm him down again, another to lull him back into sleep. She mixed some of the same sleeping potion she had given Cage Goode and gave her son half. The rest she saved. Her head hummed with exhaustion, but she couldn't stop now. She was exposed, vulnerable with that kind of crucial knowledge out there for her foes to grasp. She needed to secure herself, cut the witch off as she had before. Only it was too difficult to speak to her now. She had gotten too strong. Marie's grasp was slipping, her leash was weakening by her own sorrow and the unearthly strength that lingered in the Goode girl.

She would have to try another way.

Marie went to the cellars and took down the jar with Misty's name on. She had to scrape the bottom for dust now and she did so carefully. Just a few gravel was all she needed. She gathered the pile on the floor, licked her fingers and started chanting. Her voice came out foreign to her own ears, her tongue shaping around the words of the ancient language Papa Legba had granted her. And she told the gravel what she needed. Sweat broke on her forehead, but she wasn't done. She needed another potion and thankfully she had plenty of material. Chinwee's hair was everywhere, his blood was under Damian's fingernails and his breath in the very air. It would be child's play to create his dust. She needed him. If he wouldn't follow her on his own she would persuade him the only way she knew how.

The only way she had any power anymore.

Inside the chaos of her frantic potion making, Marie found a moment of serenity. This was her way now, this was what her soul was bound to do and so it found peace in creating this twisted magic. She could barely remember what life had been like before that. She had not had these powers for long in reality, but they felt so tethered to her soul that life before them felt like living done by someone else. It was someone else's smiling face she saw reflected in her memories. It was okay, she found, that she was not that person anymore. She was stronger now, more capable. She had been on Papa Legba's waiting list for years, trying to get into his good graces, never knowing how one pleases the lord of the underworld. Now she thought this gatekeeper of hell surely hated her. She had cheated his promise. He had taken her boy, told her she could keep nothing but the body, yet she had brought half of him back. Once she had dealt with this witch and her wretched family, she would be powerful enough to take on the demon in the top hat, himself. She would be strong enough to bend him to her will, make him give her son's soul back. Then he would be her boy again. And she would have a playmate ready for him.

When she was done at last, she put her braids back into the know they had loosened from and gathered her things from the table.

She found Chinwee in his own room, packing shirts and shoes into an old suitcase. Her steps inside the room made him turn and she did not give him time to react, before she blew the dust in his face. She watched his eyes flicker blindly and then lose their clarity as she entered his head.

The connection was so fresh now that she could see through his eyes. She could guide him with her will alone; no language needed. She held out the small dust bags for him and he took them. She saw him take it with her own eyes and through his as well, in her mind's eye. She was both in that moment, just as she had been herself and Misty at one point. She didn't have access to as many thoughts then, but she already knew Chinwee so well that navigating his mind would be like walking across a meadow on a sunny day. But she refrained; she had no need to search his thoughts, and she didn't want to intrude that way. She only needed his strong arms, his quick feet and his ability to leave the house.

She watched him make his way to the Goode mansion. Everything looked so different through his young eyes. Hers were tired from age and grief, but his were sharp and alert.

Marie moved back to her cellar, ready to assist if need be, as Chinwee moved around back and into the back yard of Fiona Goode's house. He peeked through windows to check for signs of movement, just as she had ordered him to. He was the sneaky one and she had ordered him to do this the way he knew how. There was no resistance. He moved to the porch with a smoothness Marie could never have matched and she watched it happen from the backseat of Chinwee's mind.

Inside the living room was only the witch and her son. Cage sat on the floor with his gaze fixed on a book and Misty sat beside him with her back turned to them.

Marie gripped the edge of the table as Chinwee moved in closer and reached into the little bag hanging around his neck. It happened fast then. Cage looked up at the same time the witch seemed to feel something was out of place. Chinwee bested her reflexes yet again, unfolded his hand and blew the rest of the dust into Misty's eyes. The Cajun witch snarled and her arms flailed about. Marie felt her presence again, the both of them there in that room and inside her head, but Chinwee was still far the stronger connection. She couldn't see through Misty's eyes as she had once, when the connection had just been made. There was too little powder left.

Cage crept into the corner, away from the scene and Misty moved to get in front of him.

Move back, Marie shouted at her. She felt her stir and through Chinwee's eyes she could see Misty flinch and freeze, but not for long. As soon as Chinwee put a hand around the little boy, Misty's eyes flashed with madness and with a furious roar, she broke out of the hold. She slammed into Chinwee and shoved him against the nearest wall. His vision blurred and disappeared shortly as the back of Chinwee's head collided with the wall.

"Fight it!" Misty screamed into Chinwee's face while his vision returned. "Fight her!"

Marie felt the pain from Chinwee's head, saw the fear in both their eyes. She felt the combined emotions of all three of them and her hands started to shake. She needed to intervene before the rush of adrenaline from three people overtook her heart. The flow of emotion threatened to make her head explode and she fumbled with frantic hands after the doll. She punctured the skin of her own fingers before she could direct them, but finally the hold on Chinwee released as Misty collapsed in screams.

She had to move fast now. If anyone else were in the house, they would come. She had not anticipated that Misty would break the connection that fast. She should not be able to. The amount of dust spent on her was enough to hum any same man into absolute madness, enough to weigh them down as though their muscles were solid rock. Yet the witch still had it in her to fight the needle and grasp Chinwee's foot. He kicked her off, snatched Cage up from the floor and fed him the sleeping potion with forgetful root from the other bag. The boy fell asleep as they made their way out of the house. Marie didn't dare stop until she registered the forest in the field of Chinwee's vision.

O0O

The sound of Papa Legba's last whisper still swooshed in her ears. The cold still stuck to her skin like a thin film of feverish sweat. And the dread, the all-consuming fear that Misty would go with him in that moment – this above all haunted her through the night and far into the following day. She had made it to work, just for half a day, if for nothing else then to keep up the pretense with her colleagues. Misty had stayed home, promised her she wasn't about to disappear into the underworld, not until they had talked. As if this was a discussion they could have, Cordelia thought to herself with incredulity. As though there was any way to decide someone's death like that. And Misty's at that. The mere thought… Cordelia shook it off and went through her pile of essays a little faster. It was not humanly possible to decide a thing like that and she would not dwell too much on it, because it made her sick. And her fourth graders really needed to know she wasn't giving up on them. Such a fragile age, those kids.

Her mind drifted again, but to the early afternoon of yesterday, when she and Misty had finally made up for good. It felt like it was for good, the way Misty had pulled her close, as if she needed Cordelia more than air. Cordelia knew such was the case for herself. Her sanity needed Misty like her body needed air. No amount of catastrophe could change that. When she closed her eyes, she could still feel Misty's warm hands on her skin and she relished in it the way she used to do it, back when they first fell in love as adults. Cordelia found that she was feeling particularly nostalgic these past few days. Or perhaps only since yesterday, when she could allow herself to remember how they used to be without pain.

The pile of done papers grew while the pile of papers yet to be graded shrunk, as Cordelia drifted into a more pleasant mindset. She worked well to the thought of Misty and her smile. Too much thought of her touches was terribly distracting, but her smile did wonders for Cordelia's productivity. As soon as she finished the essays she stashed them away, ready for handout tomorrow and made her way home. She thought she would cook tonight. Perhaps even make that carrot stew that Spalding enjoyed so much. He never ate with them, but whenever she made that he would be eager to take out their plates. Perhaps she would ever consider letting him join the table. He wasn't a butler out of contract anymore. It was more of a habit and, Cordelia thought, because he preferred the shadows. But perhaps it was only because no one had ever asked him. Except for Misty once or twice in their childhood.

She stopped at that thought, chuckled at the thought. Here she was, contemplating inviting a man she had despised all her childhood to dinner. At the moment she couldn't recall why she had disliked him so much. He never harmed her. She supposed his muteness made her uneasy, his intense gaze as well. These could be reasons enough to terrify a child, but she was a grown woman now. And Spalding had proved her friend on more than one occasion.

Cordelia pulled up into the driveway still preoccupied with these thoughts. For the same reason it took her a while longer to notice the taste in the air, something Misty would have caught at once. It wasn't until she turned the door handle on the front door and pushed it open that she felt it. A quiet house was rare with Misty and Cage living in it, but it wasn't just the quiet that set her off. It was the feeling of intrusion. Something uninvited had been here. Misty would say that she could smell it in the atmosphere, but to Cordelia it was a sense of cold in her chest.

"Misty?" She called out, hoping it was just her mind playing it usual mean tricks, but the lack of response rapidly convinced her otherwise. "Cage? Baby?"

The cold grew in her chest and the calm went out of her. She let go of her bag, barely heard the loud thump as it collided with the floor, and marched down to the living room.

"Misty!" All thoughts went out of her head, when she saw Misty lying unconscious on the floor in the middle of a mess of toys. She lay amidst the broken game like a fallen giant and Cordelia threw herself down on her knees next to her. Only when Cordelia shook her shoulders did Misty start to twitch.

"Delia, is that you?" She mumbled. Her voice was dazed, her eyes droopy as she fought herself back to consciousness. A blind hand grasped and Cordelia took it, felt the fear in Misty through the crushing grip on her fingers.

"I'm here, what happened?" Cordelia drew the hair out of Misty's face, touched her cheeks and forehead to feel for sickness – Misty had only ever felt feverish after Marie tried to take her over – all the while fighting to keep herself calm. "Talk to me, love."

"There was… I…" Misty started and then she stopped. And Cordelia watched as her eyes widened in horror and felt it as kin when Misty began to shake. Her eyes watered up and goosebumps rose on her skin. Cordelia wasn't truly scared until the moment she saw the naked fear pour out of Misty's body through every possible canal.

"She took him", Misty whispered with a quivering voice and Cordelia went cold to the core. Misty looked to her with eyes full of terror and shame. "She used Chinwee and she took him. I almost had him, but she used the needles and I- I think I passed out. I'm so sorry, Delia, I couldn't protect him." Misty started sobbing and Cordelia pulled her in.

"It's not your fault, love", she said. There was a time where she might have found it fitting to blame Misty, but she knew Misty would die to protect him, had she not been so thoroughly controlled. It wasn't even fitting to blame Marie, not the sane part of her anyway. It was the psychotic shadow of a grieving mother that had taken her son and she would see an end to it now. This was one step too far.

Cordelia shushed Misty gently and pulled her up sitting.

"She won't hurt him", Misty said. She didn't say this to excuse her losing him, Cordelia thought, but because she knew it was so. In truth so did Cordelia, but that wasn't the problem. "She won't hurt him-"

"But her son might. By accident or not."

Misty nodded wordlessly and dried her eyes. Cordelia stood up and took a deep breath. The cold in her chest transformed as she rose, evolved into something useful. She felt only cold determination to end the war that had started with her mother. Fiona Goode was buried now and so her troubles should be put to rest in the ground with her.

"I'm so sorry, Delia", Misty said again and Cordelia bend down to her again. Repeated her words. She ran a hand through Misty's hair and suddenly there was red in her blonde curls.

"You're hurt", Cordelia said, surprising herself with the calm of her own voice. The cold took another twisting surge in the pit of her stomach, but on the outside she remained calm and she felt remarkably clearheaded.

Misty followed her hand, but her fingers came away dry. It had seemingly healed some already. "Must be from when I fell. I hit my head on the tracks I think. It's fine, it'll heal."

"Are you sure?"

Misty nodded. At that moment the front door opened and light, hasty steps made themselves heard. Seconds later, Spalding came in with an urgent look on his face.

"Where were you?" Cordelia asked, knowing he couldn't possibly answer that, but she didn't have enough mental resources to fight the old habit now. Spalding cast a quick, apologetic glance at her and then turned to Misty. He had been cold towards her ever since the death of Fiona, but he also knew, Cordelia thought, that Misty understood him better.

"You went after him, didn't you?" Misty asked, confirming Cordelia's assumption. Spalding nodded. "Did she take him back to her house?" Spalding nodded again. "Where?"

Cordelia thought he would be at a loss here; at least he would have been if she had asked, but he and Misty used to play guessing games all the time when she was a kid – after he stopped being frightened by her that was.

Now, Spalding kneeled and put his hand on the floor, palm down. He looked at Misty and then he flipped his hand around.

"She's in her basement." Spalding nodded a third time and Cordelia silently thanked their childhood pastimes for providing this understanding between the two feral people in the room with her.

"Did she use a jar on him? The dust? Did you see?" Spalding shook his head first and then nodded. Cordelia had to admire Spalding for thinking quick on his feet. It occurred to her that she had perhaps always underestimated him, simply because he was withdrawn and mute. She regretted that mistake now.

Then Spalding did something that snapped her out of her thoughts. He pointed straight at her, his eyes wide with terror.

"What is it?" She asked, another useless question.

Spalding formed a something with his hands.

"She has a jar of Cordelia?" To Cordelia's dread, Spalding nodded again.

"But she never… She never controlled me. Misty, she didn't." The last she said directly to Misty, as if she could somehow make Cordelia's confused mind clearer.

"I never saw a jar, when I was there. Was it empty?" Spalding gave another nod. "Then she must have used it. But for-" Misty abruptly stopped talking, stared into space for a few seconds, before looking at Cordelia. "Delia, your dreams." Cold ran down Cordelia's spine now. She knew Misty was right. Suddenly she felt invaded, violated and exposed. Within a heartbeat she tasted just an ounce of the horror Misty must feel to have that presence in her thoughts, something powerful enough to steer her body, control her mind, to alter dreams.

Cordelia couldn't speak. The only thing she could think to do was to put her hands on Misty's cheeks.

"Darlin' it's okay. She's got no more. You're safe." Misty misunderstood for once. The sudden miserable look on Cordelia's face, the urge in her touch, it wasn't for herself. But she didn't have words to say it. She would some other time. Now the anger came rushing back, the fury spawned from all the pain this insane woman had caused them. She rose to her feet again, pulled Misty with her. The soft expression on Misty's face changed as well.

"This has to stop now", Cordelia said and Misty nodded. Behind the gleam of the remaining tears, Cordelia saw the same cold determination in her. They both knew what had to be done now. Only Misty couldn't pull the weight for them both any longer. Cordelia took the lead.

"Misty, go wake up Kyle, and I'll call Zoe. Spalding, will you come with us or would you rather stay?"

Spalding straightened his old suit and pointed at the door. Cordelia nodded.

"Let's go get our son back."