Let It Slip

Part II

Staring down at the dice in her palm, Zelda moved to slowly perch on the edge of her bed, smoking in contemplation. The last time she'd seen the Gede Loa was several nights before Sabrina's death when he took the Returned back to their graves. The hundred plus days and nights that had followed since had eased the sting of his betrayal and she had come to conclude that he'd presented himself as Mambo Marie to ensure his welcome into the nearly all-female coven in order to help them. It was true that had she known of his true identity, she would never have allowed him to set foot in the Academy, the Mortuary, or her heart. Yet she struggled with accepting that she was so easily deceived and that haunted her, feeling like an Achilles Heel in her otherwise solid armour.

Taking one of the dice out, she rolled it in her palm, feeling the smooth surfaces glide easily against her skin as Mambo Marie's spice-laden scent wafted into the air. Closing her eyes, Zelda felt the glide of Marie's hands on her arm, lips against the back of her hand, against the curve of her neck, to end softly on her mouth. With a shudder, she took an aggressive pull of her cigarette as her brow furrowed. There had been many times over the years where she'd considered shaking the dice and calling the Baron forth but the idea of having to see him instead of Marie was what stayed her hand. She wasn't confident in her reaction to seeing him again when she'd never been given the chance to truly process what had happened between them.

A knock on the door forced her hand into a fist and she turned to see Hilda's head peek around the corner, "Dr. C and I are heading to The Archives. Do you need anything before we go? It will be a long night, we've just received a large shipment from The North that needs archiving."

"I'm perfectly capable of helping myself." Zelda snapped back without thought, feeling a twinge of remorse at Hilda's pained expression. She took a breath and softened her tone, "Thank you, Hilda."

Hilda nodded and closed the door quietly. Zelda sighed heavily and added the rogue dice to its box, leaning back against the pillows and reflecting on her sister's loyalty. Hilda and Dr. Cerberus lived a comfortable and relatively simple life to anyone looking from the outside in; as physical books became obsolete over the last century with the increased prevalence of technology, Dr. C realized that history was being rewritten to suit the writer. Dangerous and oppressive ideation was written with a nationalist twist to support political propaganda being pedalled as fact while the truth was being buried under overwhelming amounts of psychological warfare, indoctrinating the population to a very specific set of beliefs. When Zelda invested in MemoryTech and Hilda saw that there were companies wanting to capitalize on the storage, creation, and presentation of actual memories she began to worry that the erasure of lived experiences would reach even the depths of a person's own brain. If people were relying on an implant to view their memories, those memories could be altered to suit whomever created the implant. Shortly after MemoryTech imploded, Hilda and Dr. C began The Archives in the basement of Cerberus Books as active resistance against the loss of truth.

Over the last several decades, The Archives had become an underground railroad for information. Hilda's magical connections along with Dr. C's former succubus connections had created a worldwide network of magical beings dedicated to observing human life on earth and recording it. Thousands of records arrived weekly, both electronically and physically, and were catalogued into a cyber-secure online system. From this information, The Archives then published zines, disguising the information as conspiracy theorist fodder created by anarchist youth, ensuring that it would never become suspect. The zines were then distributed worldwide, keeping the Truth alive and available to those who sought it while keeping it hidden from those who sought to destroy it.

Wincing in pain, Zelda shifted her sore hips against the mattress and crushed her cigarette into the ashtray. The work her sister was doing was important and Zelda was holding her back. Pulling a shawl over her shoulders, the witch closed her eyes and touched the space behind her ear, opting to distract herself with happy memories instead. Being the first of the memory technology, the MemoryTech implant was not sophisticated enough to modify any memories Zelda had; it's purpose was to bring those memories to life as if Zelda were watching them from a few feet away as an outside observer. Any memories that had faded with time were retrieved from the depths of her brain and fully restored with every detail before being projected for her to watch.

Every night, Zelda would fall asleep to a memory and many nights that led to nightmares as she relived the horror of watching Sabrina die slowly. This night was no exception as the memory of the Wailing Woman appearing during the void ritual woke Zelda up, sobbing, several hours after falling asleep with the bedside lamp still on. With the knowledge that no one was home to hear her, Zelda lost the tight control she usually held over herself and gave in to her sobs. Curling into a ball on her bed, she rocked back and forth, wailing into her pillow and screaming at the injustice. The banshee had been a warning, Zelda and Hilda had both known that her presence meant a death in the family and still, Zelda had not stopped the ritual. At that point, she would have been able to restore Sabrina's life force and save her from death and she chose not to.

"I did NOTHING. I watched. her. die. " Zelda grabbed at her cane and swung it in a sharp curve in front of her, sweeping the lamp, her ashtray, a pile of books, a glass of water, and a family portrait onto the ground in a heap of shattered glass and ash-covered mess.

Watching the water stain the hardwood floor and force the ashes deeper into her favourite Persian rug, Zelda immediately regretted her impulsive show of emotion. Grumbling, she forced her body to obey her will and got out of bed, determined to clean up her mess before Hilda returned home. Plucking at the broken bits and pieces, she tossed the garbage away and rescued the books, placing them back where they belonged. The family portrait was stained and ripped, causing a wave of shame to wash over her followed closely by nausea - it was all too much, she felt like she was losing control of herself. Leaving her room behind, Zelda made way to the kitchen to search for something that would clear the ash from her rug.

Taking one step at a time down the regal staircase, Zelda failed to notice a wrinkle in the runner and tripped, the jarring action propelling her forward in such a way that her broken body couldn't catch her. She tumbled violently down the stairs and landed in a heap before the front door. Struggling to catch her breath, Zelda slowly tried to move her limbs and flatten them out against the floor. Every inch of movement brought pain and shame along with it; the constant reminder that her body was failing her coupled with the fear of being found by her sister, who would then discover the extent of her weakness, was the final straw.

Closing her eyes, unable to reach behind her ear, the witch relied on her own memory to bring up the images she wanted to see. There were moments of happiness in the last century, it wasn't until the MemoryTech implant began poisoning her that Zelda truly gave into her misery and suffering. Prior to that she felt joy when Ambrose stepped in to fill her shoes at the Academy of Unseen Arts where he excelled at equitable leadership and mentorship, supporting hundreds of witches through their education and ushering them out into the world. She had confidently handed over the reigns of High Priestess of the Order of Hecate to Prudence and felt a quiet pride at how the young witch had flourished, creating an inclusive coven that welcomed outside practitioners and their varied arts into the Order. Zelda had presided over the rite and ritual for Hilda and Dr. C when they decided to renew their vows and had been an active member of The Archives for several years before she became too sick to participate.

The grief had always been present and the elder Spellman eventually found herself on the rocking chair on the porch staring into the cemetery no matter how much joy the day had held. The constant absence of Sabrina's presence wore away at the witch until, coupled with her physical frailty, Zelda found it easier to give into the pain and torment and push everyone away. Isolating herself was far easier than painting a face on to mask the pain and join in. But Zelda Spellman would not leave this world as a frail and broken version of herself, her last moment on Earth would be of her choosing and lying at the base of the staircase, Zelda knew the time was now. She imagined her room and saw within her mind's eye exactly where Baron Samedi's dice were on the nightstand. Mustering the last of her energy, she managed to conjure them into her open palm. Desperate to be rid of this -mortal coil- Zelda Spellman flicked her wrist and deliberately rolled the dice, calling Baron Samedi home.

Thick smoke filled the entryway to the Spellman Mortuary and Zelda strained her eyes, looking for the telltale top hat and thick, long dreadlocks heralding the Baron's presence. When Mambo Marie stepped out of the fog, Zelda gasped, wanting to recoil but unable to move as she realized she'd spent years preparing herself to see Baron Samedi and never once had considered that Marie would show instead.

Slowly Marie's legs bent, her lithe frame folding into itself as she crouched near Zelda and reached out to caress her cheek tenderly, "Ma cherie, how I have missed you."