Lady, You Don't Need to See

There's No Fire Burning

Through the window of the living room, a light illuminated the curtains. Misty sucked on her lower lip at the sight, glancing over to Cordelia in the other seat. Their shoes were dirty. Cordelia's pants were torn where she had fallen. "Myrtle's awake," Cordelia said. How do you know? Misty wondered, and though she didn't ask and Cordelia wasn't touching her, Cordelia answered, "She has a bat's hearing. She probably heard us pull out when we left."

Queenie parked the vehicle in the driveway. "So you'll distract her while I sneak in through the back? Great, thanks." She hopped out with the keys and headed around the back of the house without a word, her filthy shoes crunching along over the pavement. In the moonlight, she hunched over with defeat. Misty's insides stabbed with guilt. Why hadn't she been able to revive Nan? It seemed so simple. It always was so easy. There was the strand, and she grabbed it, and like a lighthouse on the ocean, she guided her ships back to shore. Nan's body was still in good condition. What had happened?

The scent of the cool, crisp night air stimulated Misty's nose. Cordelia stood outside the car. "Are you coming, Misty?" Misty brightened at the summoning and slid after her across the seat. Cordelia took her arm. "Are you alright? You're quiet."

"I'm just tired." I don't know what's wrong with me. Misty followed the cracked sidewalk up to the porch. Cordelia's cane led her up the stairs, and Misty didn't rush her through the front door.

If Cordelia doubted her words, she didn't say it. Cordelia was touching her—she knew. But Misty appreciated her silence. She hadn't yet worked through things herself.

Myrtle waited on the sofa for them with her legs crossed. "Where on earth have the two of you been?" Misty gulped and glanced sideways at Cordelia, waiting for her to answer. "You're both filthy. This is no time to be foraying out in the woods! Surely you must realize it's dangerous out there. We have no Supreme to protect us." Curling her toes in her shoes, Misty wondered if she could escape, leave Cordelia to handle the brunt of it like Queenie had done, but Cordelia squeezed her arm a little tighter. "Especially, Delia, in your frail state." Misty flinched.

"I'm blind, not immunocompromised."

"Where have you been?"

"Graverobbing!" Misty said all too brightly. "The cemetery groundskeeper caught us, so we enchanted him and came home. Better luck next time, right, Miss Cordelia?" She tried to make a break for it, but Cordelia didn't budge. She planted her heels hard and refused to move her weight off of them.

Myrtle's deadpan expression didn't shift. "Is that the case?"

"We were looking for Nan," Cordelia explained.

Pausing, Myrtle looked back at Cordelia. "Then where is she?"

I don't know. Sucking her lower lip, Misty averted her eyes, almost hoping Cordelia would explain for her. She knew Cordelia wouldn't. It was her duty and hers alone to explain what had happened, why her magic wasn't working. "Her soul was gone. I couldn't bring her back... Somebody ripped her away from her body. Like taking a snail out of its shell." Myrtle tilted her head thoughtfully. "I'm sorry. I wanted to help. We weren't in any danger." I'd actually kill someone before I let them hurt Cordelia. "I don't know what happened to Nan, but—it's not something that I can fix. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Myrtle hesitated. "It isn't your fault, Misty." In the dim lamplight, Myrtle's hair was almost auburn, like lava burbled up from the earth. "Fiona and Marie Laveau were collaborating on some projects... Dark magic."

"What were they seeking?" Cordelia asked. "I never thought Fiona would..." She trailed off. She had no good end to that sentence. Every time she had established a limit to Fiona's possible horror, Fiona somehow exceeded it. There was no bar for Fiona.