Escaping from the group of hunters, Marie was determined to find Fiona and confront her. But when she looked around at the small group of people left behind her, she felt upset and decided to leave instead.
Before she went, her gaze snagged on a witch hunter who was somehow still breathing. She crouched, palms pressing his chest. As she chanted, blood-red sigils branded themselves into his skin and then sank from sight.
"A little present for you vermin," she said, swaying as she rose, a thin, cold smile on her face.
"I'll help it along."
Fiona stepped over, eyeing the hunter's terrified face. "Can't have him ruining the surprise." She flicked a finger; his tongue knotted itself into a useless lump. Only muffled "mmf" noises now.
That last bit of teamwork done, the two queens locked eyes and parted without another word.
Five minutes later, David, the field commander, arrived to survey a killing floor of his own people. His face curdled. "They slipped us."
"At least we killed plenty of witches," his adjutant offered. "That's a win."
David shook his head. "The two biggest fish got away."
"Andrew's alive!" someone shouted.
David sprinted over. Ignoring everything else, he bent close to the still-conscious man. "Andrew, where did they run?"
"Mm…mm…" Andrew strained to speak; too faint, too garbled.
David dipped lower, ear almost to his lips.
The blood-tattoos flared up across Andrew's skin.
Boom.
The blast tore from inside him. David and four or five others nearest were gone in an instant.
The operation's top man died after the fight, taken by a booby-trapped breath.
—
At the academy, Delphine and Spalding were mid-tidy when Rai's crew burst in, smoke-streaked, dust-grey, blood-spattered.
"Good Lord! Was that a war?" Delphine's jowls wobbled.
"Close enough," Fiona said, flat. She swept the dining table clean with one arm and laid Queenie and Nan side by side.
"What happened to them?" Delphine's voice dropped. The sight told its own story. For all their bickering, she and Queenie had thawed some.
Fiona didn't answer her. She checked Nan first, face unreadable. "Dead." The word fell like stone. Madison and Zoe went pale. Fiona moved to Queenie, listened, and exhaled. "Still a thread."
"Zoe, garden. Cordelia's… no, bring every jar she's got. Madison, help. Run."
"Okay!" Zoe was already moving. Madison cut one last glance at Queenie and pelted after her.
Rai watched Fiona brace on the table with both hands, fatigue seeping through the seams of her poise. His eyes narrowed.
Bang.
The front door slammed. Cordelia staggered in, caked with dirt, hardly cleaner than the rest.
"God, Cordelia, why are you back?" Fiona rushed to catch her.
Relief flickered across Cordelia's face. "You're…" Fiona clasped her hand.
A flood of memory crashed through Cordelia's mind.
"You don't seem worried. I've thrown the little Salem girls into the flesh-maze to be hunted. A whole generation about to be cut off, and you aren't anxious?"
"…"
"Want me to kill your potential Supremes for you? Very like you, Fiona."
"…"
"Want to know how I live forever?"
"…"
"Great being? God? Devil? Whatever, just tell me its name!"
"…"
"Name the fiend you bargained with and gave you life, and we end this now!"
"…"
"…"
Cordelia tore free of the vision, gulping air. Fiona guided her to a chair. "What is it? Are you in pain?"
After a long beat, Cordelia shook her head, voice rough. "No."
She lifted her chin. "Hank is a witch hunter. He told me the hunters were moving tonight. I tried to warn you, but I couldn't get through. Looks like… I'm late."
"Very," Fiona said, laughing. "Now it all adds up." Her voice climbed. "I told you every word out of Hank's mouth is a lie. You wouldn't listen. And the knife came back around!"
Cordelia pressed her lips thin. Fiona had warned her. She hadn't listened. Some of this was hers to wear.
"Ahem." Rai cut in before the family drama went nuclear, nodding toward Zoe and Madison hustling in with armfuls of jars. "Clock's ticking."
Mother and daughter left it there. With Cordelia's hands guiding, Fiona tweezed silver from Queenie's wounds and poured the right tinctures down her throat and into the holes.
Queenie's brow creased. The still chest began to lift and fall again.
"Dragged her back from the death," Fiona said, dusting her palms. "She needs rest."
Cordelia nodded, then turned her blank eyes to Nan, empty as a snuffed candle.
"She's gone," Fiona said, following Cordelia's gaze. Whatever hint of a smile she'd had was already erased; her tone was flat as slate.
"I know." Cordelia's fingers brushed Nan's bloodless cheek. She lifted those white eyes toward Fiona. "But you can bring her back. The Supreme who has passed the Seven Wonders life and death are yours to command."
Silence. Fiona lit a cigarette, drew deep, and said, "Resurrection costs life force. I don't have much left. Until the next Supreme stands up and takes my place, I can't fall."
Cordelia's mouth ticked, bitter. "Didn't think you were such a conscientious Supreme."
Fiona pretended not to hear. She watched the end of her cigarette. "Marie is not dead, and she is angry. The hunters are still very strong. I need to be here. Leave the guard on this house, and the wolves outside will not wait. They will come in and eat everyone alive."
"Of course, you could name the next Supreme early," she went on, eyes sliding over Zoe, the unconscious Queenie even Cordelia. "Then I'd rest easy."
Rai's eyes tightened. Cordelia's grip on her cane did too. "It's too soon," she said quickly. "These girls don't even control their gifts yet, much less pass the Seven Wonders. That's marching them to die."
Fiona shook her head. "Then it stands. And even if one of you could work resurrection, Nan won't answer it. She was killed by silver laid with a hunter's curse. Witchcraft won't take on her."
"Get some sleep. In the morning, we'll pick a good grave."
She waved them off and climbed the stairs, tired to the bone.
When she was gone, Madison stepped up to the table, looking between Queenie and Nan. "Didn't think body fat came with perks. Lucky Queenie." She tipped her head at Nan. "Poor kid. Wonder if the nice church-boy next door'll cry."
"Not now, Madison," Zoe glared, raw.
Madison shrugged. It was just her way. She felt the tint of regret, nothing like Zoe's open grief. In that, she and Fiona were kin.
"Cordelia, any salves for healing and scarring? I could use some." Madison eyed her blood-soaked sleeve and the limp arm beneath.
Cordelia sniffed through the jars and handed a pair over. "These."
"Really, no scars?"
"Have a little faith in magic."
"I've got you." Rai took the bottles when Madison struggled one-handed, snipped away the ruined sleeve, revealing a slim arm marred by an ugly gash, and smoothed the salve on with careful fingers.
Madison's mouth twitched into a small, genuine warmth.
Zoe wasn't watching. A surge rose inside her. She remembered lines in a book about calling back the dead. "I want to try," she said.
"Try what?" Madison asked without looking.
"Resurrection," Cordelia answered for her.
Rai frowned. "Even if you can work it, Fiona's right: hunter-cursed silver makes Nan almost unreachable. Also…"
He glanced around, then changed tack. "Outside. It's… stuffy in here."
"What…" Zoe started, and Madison tugged her through the door, hissing in her ear, "Walls have ears, sweetheart."
Rai steadied Cordelia and led her out into the back garden. When the four of them were alone, he said, "Nan can be saved."
"What?" Cordelia's face sharpened. Zoe brightened. "Rai, you have a plan?"
She trusted the man who kept surprising her more than her own half-formed impulse.
"Remember the girl we met in the swamp? Misty?" Rai said.
Madison wrinkled her nose. "That weirdo?"
"I get it!" Zoe lit up. "Misty Day was born with resurrection. She brought herself back. If anyone can pull Nan out, it's her."
Rai nodded. "Same trick, hers goes deeper. A normal witch can't touch this. Misty can."
"Who are you talking about?" Cordelia asked. "Swamp witch Misty, Misty Day? She's dead."
There weren't many witches left; hearing that name and "resurrection" together, she could only think of the girl burned by zealots not long ago.
Zoe laid it out quickly.
Cordelia listened and smiled for the first time that night. "Good. If you know where she lives, bring her at first light. No, wait…"
Her face went very serious. Sightless or not, she turned as if to look each of them in the eye. "My mother does not want to step down."
Rai nodded. Zoe and Madison, already wise to it, didn't flinch. Madison snorted. "Duh. Power, money, worship, who wants to die? Even billionaires can't buy it; why would Fiona go gentle? Anyone would claw for life."
"No. Not everyone." Cordelia's answer was firm. "Every Supreme before her passed their mantle for the coven's survival. They were worthy of respect."
She gripped the cane. "If Misty can bring Nan back, we save her. And then we make sure the next Supreme rises the right way."
"They did make noble choices. But Fiona won't, will she?" Madison lifted her hands in a helpless shrug.
"That's right." Cordelia nodded, heavy-voiced. "Which is why right now the leader, the sitting Supreme, has become the coven's greatest risk."
"To protect all of you and to protect Misty and Nan, the resurrection cannot be allowed to reach Fiona's ears. She has to be removed from here. We notify the Council immediately, and then…"
Having seen her mother's intent through the Sight, Cordelia, so unlike Fiona, had made up her mind. Now she laid it out, plainly, for Rai, Zoe, and Madison.
Rai listened in silence, thinking it through.
—
Upstairs, in her bedroom.
Fiona had collapsed onto the bed the moment she came in and hadn't moved for a long while.
She really was exhausted. Not only from age, but from the steady siphoning of power within her. Tonight she had felt it most clearly: something young, bright, vigorous was greedily swallowing what had once been hers, mouthful by mouthful.
If not for that, would the ever-dimming Voodoo Queen have been so hard to finish? Would Fiona Hargrove have been chased across the dark by witch hunters?
If only she were still at her peak, if only her body still ran on health and fire…
She raked a hand through her hair. A brittle fistful of dry strands came away between her fingers. Fiona clenched her hand.
Clatter.
A sound snapped from across the room.
She ignored it.
A louder thump followed.
Fiona finally lifted her head. A chair that had been standing properly lay tipped on the floor. Even as she watched, the edge of the desk split with a sharp crack, as if an invisible blade had chopped into it.
She sniffed the air and smirked at herself. "What now, an evil spirit thinks it can tease me?"
No answer.
The door creaked open by itself.
"All right then. Let's see who's so brave."
Fiona's laugh was thin and cold. She pushed herself up and drifted out. The unseen presence led her to Cordelia's room, once Fiona's own schoolroom, where she pushed the door in.
The place was bare but for furniture.
Fiona thought a moment, then pressed her palms over her eyes, murmured a quick, secret charm, and opened them again.
A middle-aged man in a suit stood smiling at her.
"Caught between the world and Hell, an earthbound ghost?" Fiona tipped her head, curious. "How did I never notice you before?"
His voice was rasped, as if from long disuse. "Because a power like yours only sees us clearly when it's dying. You're closer now. So you can see more."
"Thanks for the reminder, I'm dying." Fiona chuckled. "Want me to set you free first?"
"Not yet." The man's gaze turned tender, absurdly so, on her. "More than leaving this room that binds me, I want to spend what time I can beside you."
"Oh?"
Surprise and something like pleasure touched Fiona's face. In the years since age had settled in, few men had dared speak of desire to her.
"Who are you? Why here?"
"Out there," he said, "they call me the Axeman. You can call me Danny. And I'm here because your foremothers saw to it."
"The Axeman of New Orleans? The Jazz fiend?"
"Yes. Though I prefer a person to a song now. You, Fiona."
The Axeman told her his story, how he had never left this room, how he had watched the girl who lived and studied here grow into the woman before him. Years had made his fascination into a fever. Even seeing her old, it hadn't cooled.
Fiona hadn't expected such undimmed adoration.
"Good," she said at last, a smile hooking the corner of her mouth as she looked him over.
—
Morning.
Fiona came downstairs radiant, like she'd shed ten years. Cordelia, Rai, Zoe, and Madison were already gathered.
"Up early, are we?" she said brightly, then called toward the kitchen, "Delphine, double my breakfast. I'm ravenous."
No answer.
Fiona frowned. "Delphine?"
"No need to call," Cordelia said, rising on her cane. "This is a critical day for the coven. She and Spalding aren't fit to be here."
"Critical how?" Fiona's brow knitted.
Before the words had cooled, power stirred the air.
Three uninvited guests stood behind her.
Fiona turned, and her gaze hardened. "Well. What rare birds."
"Long time, Fiona," said the leader, Myrtle Snow, in that tight smile Zoe and Rai both knew too well.
Fiona's eyes flashed and then went cool as glass. "Myrtle Snow, look at you. More fashionable every year. Pity no one's watching."
Leaving Myrtle to swallow that, Fiona tilted her chin at the short man in a suit and bowler on Myrtle's left and grinned. "Quentin, you wicked old queen."
"Fiona, you crazy woman," he shot back, but they still exchanged cheek-kisses.
At last, Fiona looked to the severe woman on Myrtle's right. Her face cooled. "Pembroke."
She snorted, swung into a sofa seat, crossed one leg over the other, and asked, "So, venerable elders, what pearls of guidance bring the Witchcraft Council to my door?"
Pembroke's mouth was a straight line. "The Council convenes only when matters are grave."
Myrtle took over. "We received a formal charge from a witch against you, Fiona."
"All this fanfare… for me alone?" Fiona's chuckle was all teeth. "And which witch filed it?"
"I did."
Cordelia stepped forward, voice steady.
Fiona's expression snagged, disbelief written plain. "Why?"
"For launching a war on the Voodoo Queen without Council sanction," Cordelia said evenly. "For causing one student's death and another's grievous injury. For shattering decades of peace."
"That was Marie's doing!" Fiona flared. "She attacked the academy. She scarred your face. She blinded you. I answered for you and for the coven."
Cordelia shook her head. "It began when you brought Marie's mortal enemy, Delphine, into this house without consent. And even vengeance, when the stakes are this high, must go through the Council. You made yourself the only authority."
"I'm the Supreme," Fiona hissed through her teeth.
"The Supreme protects the coven," Cordelia shot back, gaze fixed on her Sightless eyes that somehow made Fiona look away first. "It does not endanger it. Why bring the students? They haven't graduated. They never should've seen that fight. If you needed revenge, you alone were enough. You're the Supreme."
Fiona let a few seconds pass. "Flowers grown under glass never harden. In times like these, girls must toughen fast. I brought them to temper them."
"So you tempered them into one dead, one broken?" Myrtle cut in, voice like winter. "From what I hear, if not for Rai's work, casualties would have been worse, perhaps everyone, you included."
"That was… unforeseen. I didn't expect hunters," Fiona said low.
"Also dereliction," Myrtle replied. "Start a war, you plan for everything. Or one might think you meant to throw a generation of Salem girls into the grinder." Her look was pointed. "As the last Supreme vanished so conveniently. And who benefited then?"
Fiona's eye twitched hard. She drew breath and smiled without warmth. "Rumours bloom in jealous mouths. You never forgave that I took the crown you wanted, Myrtle. So you slander, to balm that ugly little soul."
"I do what I do for the coven," Myrtle said, unblinking. "You've done what you please for yourself. That's the difference."
"And you won't be Supreme much longer."
"What?" Fiona straightened, alarm cracking through her polish.
Pembroke spoke. "By vote of the Witchcraft Council: Fiona, Supreme or not in power, did instigate war with the Voodoo witches without Council consent; and did bring academy students into battle, resulting in the death of Nan and the grievous wounding of Queenie. Both counts stand."
Myrtle pronounced it. "We find Fiona, by unilateral action, broke the peace and drew the coven back under war's shadow. Severe negligence. By full vote, we temporarily strip you of the title of Supreme."
Quentin softened it a hair. "Temporarily. Make it right, Fiona, and the mantle is yours again."
Pembroke: "End the threat of the Voodoo witches or the witch hunters. That is how you make it right."
Myrtle: "Until then, the Council assumes administration of this academy. You will leave."
Quentin: "Chin up. I expect you'll claw your way back."
Pembroke: "If not, we're prepared to await the next Supreme."
Myrtle: "It's time to go, Fiona."
Sentence delivered clean, overlapping, inescapable.
Fiona stood like a statue. At length, in a voice scraped thin, she said, "I am the Supreme. You can't change that."
"In raw power, yes," Myrtle said. "In name, you are not. The title isn't a gift. It is weight. If the coven will not wear you, what is your power worth?"
Fiona's hands curled. Rage surged, hot and endless. For a breath, she wanted to burn the room and everyone in it.
She didn't.
Not because she feared a break with the coven, though she did. But because she was tired. Younger, she'd killed for the crown. Now…
Now she would not be the first Supreme in history formally torn from the throne. She would take the blow, live, and find a way.
"Myrtle, congratulations. After decades of a pitiful life, you finally 'won' a round. Go preen in private till that twisted little heart of yours feels soothed."
Fiona drew herself up, gave Cordelia a look layered and unreadable, and went upstairs to pack.
Moments later, she walked out, face blank, under every eye.
The house exhaled.
Myrtle gathered herself, spoke briefly with Cordelia, then crossed to Rai, surprise and pleasure both in her smile. "Mr Rai, it seems my first judgment was right. You were always one of us. Thank you for last night on behalf of the coven."
"Just did what I should," Rai said. Looking at Myrtle, he couldn't help a private pang of irony. If she hadn't dragged him here, he wouldn't have seen so much in so short a time, wouldn't have advanced so far, balancing reward and danger.
If she hadn't, he'd still be sweating the countdown clock, scrambling after weak little haunts to feed the Grimoire, praying he wouldn't be "contained" himself.
Now? Counting last night's harvest from the Voodoo witches, he could coast for two or three months and never once worry about quotas.
For a woman he'd met only once, the Voodoo Queen had handed him a rich gift.
Maybe fortune had a few more like that in store.