Season of the Witch

Chapter 9: Head

Cordelia reached for the frying pan to cook herself an omelet. Then she felt her way to the fridge, found the egg carton, and carried it over to the counter by the sink. Myrtle watched while she opened the cabinets and reached for a bowl, knocking the carton of eggs off the counter in the process. Cordelia huffed in frustration and started feeling around for the towel that should have been hanging from the front of the sink. It wasn't there. "Goddamn it! Could people please not move things!?" she yelled. "Some of us are blind!"

"Here it is, Delia. Let me help you," Myrtle said, coming over to grab the towel from the back of the sink, where someone else had left it.

"Let me do it! It's my mess!" Cordelia said as she ripped it from her hands, irritated by her own clumsiness.

Myrtle sighed. "Delia, there's a... I need to say something, or I'll simply explode." Cordelia looked up when she heard how upset she sounded. "I need to know for certain that you don't think I did this to you." Cordelia stood up to face her. "I remember the first day Fiona dropped you off here. You were like a baby bird, pushed too soon from the nest. Do you remember what you asked?" Cordelia remembered. She had asked Myrtle if she would be her new mother, and in response, Myrtle had held her hand out to her. "I've always loved you like a daughter." Once again, Myrtle took Cordelia's hands in her own. "Wrap your arms around me, dear girl. Use your power of sight, and you'll see that I could not have done this terrible thing," she pleaded.

"No. I won't. I don't need magic to tell me what I already know," Cordelia said. "I know you would never hurt me. Melanie knows it, too. We never doubted you for a second, and I told my mother that. My mother set you up. My blindness gave me real vision, but it's of no use to me now. Not when there are witch hunters right outside our door." She felt so useless. She was so frustrated with herself that she was on the verge of tears.

"Darling... if I could pluck my own eyes out of my head and gift them to you, I would," Myrtle said, squeezing her hands.

Cordelia smiled. "I know."

Meanwhile, in Atlanta, Georgia, Hank had gone to the headquarters of Delphi Trust to answer his father's summons. He had been sitting in the reception area for a while now. He turned his head to look at the receptionist, about to ask her how much longer it would be, when someone called his name. "Hank."

Hank looked back at the man standing in front of him and stood up to greet him. "David."

"Good to see you," David greeted him.

"I thought you were in Europe," Hank said, shaking his hand.

"We had a flare-up with the Cromwell Coven in North Hampton," David said. "Nothing a few silver bullets couldn't take care of."

"Oh. Corporation keeps you busy, now that he's made you the official right hand," Hank said, feeling envious. He wished his father was capable of placing that much trust in him.

"I know you were hoping to be named, but your father has other plans for you, Hank," David said.

"Right. Am I still in the will?" Hank asked jokingly.

"You'll always be his son," David answered, giving him a pat on the back. "Come on. He's ready for you." Hank followed David into his father's private office. He watched as his father stood up and walked around his desk to greet them. His father gestured for him to have a seat.

"Coffee?" Harrison asked.

"No, thanks. Never acquired a taste for it," Hank said. Not since that first hunting trip. It only brought back memories of his failure.

"Well, I'll get right to it," Harrison said, pouring himself a cup. "We're not happy with your progress in New Orleans. David tells me you're no longer living at the academy."