Chapter Text
“Come on, Misty, give me something”, Cordelia pleaded as she ghosted her hands over some of Misty’s things. Misty Day had been missing for a total of three days now and Cordelia was getting worried. As the headmistress of Mrs. Robicheaux’s Academy, it was her responsibility to look after and protect these girls, yet in the past few days, one of them had died and now poor Misty was missing.
Since Misty’s disappearance, Cordelia hadn’t been able to sleep, and when she did, she had nightmares. They were horrible dreams of Misty afraid and dying, crying out for Cordelia to help her. Each time she woke from those dreams, she was covered in a layer of sweat, heart aching and tears running down her cheeks. As a result, Cordelia hadn’t slept for more than an hour a night and it was beginning to show in the dark circles forming around her eyes. Tonight, she had decided to give up on trying to sleep, instead she would continue her efforts in her search for the swamp witch.
Cordelia had been trying desperately to find her. She had even sliced her own eyes in an attempt to regain her gift of sight, so that she might be able to see where the girl was, or if she was even still alive. The other girls of the Academy didn’t seem as worried, saying she probably went back to her house in the swamp, but there was a part of Cordelia that knew that that wasn’t true. Her dreams were telling her otherwise and Misty wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye, especially to her.
Since Misty had arrived at the academy, they had been good friends. Misty was eager to learn all that Cordelia knew about botany, which was something none of the other girls had ever taken interest in. The wild blonde, however, would meet her down in the green house and they’d spend hours talking and working together, Cordelia slipping in tips and bits of knowledge as they went along. The interest that the swamp witch showed in her special ability made Cordelia feel like she had a purpose, like she was meant for something and that she belonged here at the Academy. She felt like she had something important to give. She felt needed, and most importantly, wanted.
Their time together in the greenhouse had become her favourite part of each day and she found herself looking at the clock constantly, eagerly waiting for the afternoon to come along so she could go down to the plant paradise and meet the other witch.
Misty made Cordelia happy, more so than any other person ever had. There was something about her, maybe it was her smile, or maybe her laugh? Maybe it wasn’t just one thing, maybe it was many things; like the way she smiled that sent warmth throughout Cordelia’s body, or her ocean blue eyes that held such joy and love that Cordelia felt these things each time Misty’s gaze was trained on her. Most of all, Misty’s laugh. It was such a beautiful noise and Cordelia wished more than anything that she could hear it now, bellowing up the stairs and winding around her. Cordelia smiled at the thought, but was brought back to the present when her hand brushed the top of what Cordelia assumed was Misty’s shoe. The headmistress picked it up and held it tight, but saw nothing, not even a fragment of a vision.
“Please, Misty”, she whispered with a frown. She missed the girl dearly, she was the only ray of true sunshine she had felt for a very long time and now that it was gone, she felt empty. Cordelia held the shoe closer, pressing it to her cheek. When no vision appeared, she set the item down and continued ghosting her hands over some of Misty’s other belongings.
Cordelia’s hands ceased when a buzzing sensation pulsed though the veins of her outstretched extremities. It was weak, barely detectable, but she felt it. It was as if her blood cells were bouncing off the walls of her veins. It pulled her towards the object, like tiny magnets pulsing towards metal, wanting to complete the connection. The buzzing became more apparent as she lowered her hands to touch the object beneath them.
As her fingers came into contact with the soft fabric that lay in a scrunched pile on the floor, a whispered song rose around her like smoke from a fire. She was engulfed in the minor keys of a sad melody, caressing her skin before seeping into it. Cordelia gasped at the familiarity of the voice. It was her. It was Misty. It had to be.
As she listened to Misty sing, the emptiness that ached within her became a little more bearable, even if the voice was laced with hopelessness and fear. Cordelia remained still to let the voice further soothe her spirits and after a few moments, she smiled. It was as if Misty was in the room with her and Cordelia wanted nothing more than to reach forwards and wrap the girl tightly in her arms, but it was a simple illusion and she knew that she was alone.
“But where are you?”, the headmistress sighed. Misty’s voice wasn’t going to help her figure out where the Cajun witch was, she needed a picture.
Cordelia picked up the pile of fabric that she assumed was Misty’s shawl and pressed it to her cheek. Within seconds of contact, Cordelia gasped as she was thrown into a vision consisting of a couple images. They disappeared as quickly as they came, but it was enough for her to gain an idea of the swamp witch’s location.
The images she saw were dark in colours. The ground was grassy and there were few trees and flowers. What gave the location was the fenced area containing multiple groups of old stone, carved together into statues or small hut-like structures. The second image that flashed was of her poor friend Misty, trapped in a silk lined box, singing to comfort herself.
Her heart spilt into two knowing that Misty had most likely been locked in that box for 3 days, alone and afraid. She was probably starving and chilled to the bone. Her pulse quickened as the urgency of the situation rose. Cordelia quickly stood and left the room holding the soft shawl.
Using her hands, she navigated the house. Judging by the temperature and the long hours she felt she had been awake, she assumed it was already very late in the night. The silence that engulfed the halls of the large house meant that it was probably, indeed, very late in the evening and that its occupants had already gone to sleep.
Her hands ran lightly over the wooden walls of the home as she walked down hall. She had lived in this house long enough to know it’s layout by heart and she could still picture every door knob and picture frame in her head, so she used her hands for balance more than anything. Living with young girls, especially young witches, meant that things were sometimes moved. She had been noticing this more and more lately, now that she had lost her sight and couldn’t predict the arrangement of the furniture or placement of things. Even just today, she had bumped into a table, a lamp and a cabinet that had all been moved from their usual placement, leaving their marks upon her body. Since loosing her sight, her body, especially her hands, had gained a few bruises and cuts.
Cordelia slowed as her hand whispered over what felt like a door. Keeping as quiet as possible, not to wake her other students, she turned the knob and called to the girl who slept inside.
“Queenie”, she called softly, but received no answer. “Queenie, wake up”, she tried a little louder this time. The sound of bed springs groaning reached the blind woman’s ears as the sleeping girl rolled over in her bed. Cordelia lifted her hand and slowed her breathing as she reached out with her magic and turned on the bedside lamp that her memory told her was there.
“What”, the tired girl groaned.
“Queenie, I need your help. Get up”, Cordelia explained.
“Do you know what time it is? I guess you can’t tell the difference since you’re blind”, the girl snapped rudely. “It’s 3 in the god damn morning”, she complained.
“Yes, I know it’s late but I need your help”, the urgency in the headmistress’s voice was apparent, and so Queenie threw back her covers and sat up in her bed. Cordelia knew she had been granted the girl’s attention when she heard her sigh, followed by the squeaking of the bed springs.
“Need help finding your toothbrush?”, she girl spat half under her breath, followed by snickering.
“No”, Cordelia furrowed her brows, but let Queenie’s mean comment slide. A brief silence hung in the air as the student waited for an explanation. “I found Misty”, Cordelia let out the air in her lungs that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as the corners of her lips drooped down into a frown. “She’s trapped and I need your help to rescue her”, she finished.
“Why should I help her?”, Queenie retorted as she crossed her arms in protest.
“Because I need a powerful witch to do it and from what I’ve seen, you’re the most talented witch here”, Cordelia lied. If she was going to get Queenie’s help, she would have to persuade her. There was no way the girl would help anyone of her own good graces or if there was no reward, Cordelia knew that flattery or bribery were the only options she had. Since she had nothing the bribe the girl with, she resorted to flattery. “I’m not sure the other girls would be able to handle such a difficult task”, she continued.
“Well, it would be nice to have someone other than Hollywood and Clueless to talk to”, the girl reasoned aloud. Cordelia knew she was referring to her other two students, Madison (a famous movie star with a wicked attitude problem) and Zoe (a sweet, smart, naïve girl who reminded Cordelia a little of herself). Silence took the room captive as Queenie weighed her options. “Alright. This had better be quick though”, Queenie warned.
“Of course”, Cordelia nodded and closed the bedroom door so that the girl could change out of her pyjamas. As she waited, thoughts of the upcoming challenges consumed her. Yes, Misty was in the graveyard, but she hadn’t a clue as to which grave she was in. Cordelia shuddered as the word clouded her mind. They needed to hurry, there was no telling what state Misty was in. Cordelia wrapped her arms around Misty’s shawl, holding it to her chest. The soft fabric and the familiar smell of rain brought her comfort. Cordelia took a deep breath and leaned back against the cold wall, feeling the ache in her heart each time it contracted.
What was taking Queenie so long? Cordelia craned her neck around, “Queenie, please hurry”, she urged, her voice almost a whisper, but filled to the brim with anxious worry.
“Chill, I’m ready”, Cordelia heard Queenie’s voice, followed by the sound of the door opening. “So, where is she?”
“I’ll tell you in the car, but first, I need my walking stick, I left it in my room”, Cordelia instructed. She felt a hand grab hers as Queenie placed it on her arm. Cordelia grabbed a light hold and followed where Queenie lead her. They went back to her room to fetch her walking stick and then out into the yard towards the car. Cordelia sat down in the passenger seat, still holding Misty’s shawl in her arms, cradling it with the utmost care, protecting it from the world.
“Now will you tell me where we’re going? Cause I kinda need to know if you want me to drive you there”, Queenie asked. She sounded less annoyed than she had been when Cordelia first woke her.
“To the graveyard. In town”, Cordelia revealed, her voice low.
“Shit”, Queenie muttered under her breath, raising her eyebrows as she put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb.
The further they drove, the more Cordelia’s heart sank. She felt as though a darkness was misting over her, consuming her in sadness and heart ache. What if Misty is dead? What if she’s been rotting away in that coffin? The more the darkness surrounded her, the darker her thoughts became. What if she never got to see Misty again? So full of life, with her bright eyes and her infectious laughter. What if Misty had been suffering alone in that coffin and it was all her fault?
“Cordelia”, Queenie’s voice shook her from her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. She silently gasped when she felt a water droplet hit the top of her hand. It was then that she realized she’d let a few tears loose while lost in her dark thoughts. How long had she been crying? Cordelia quickly wiped her face free of the few salty streaks and took a deep breath. She then ran her fingers over the soft fabric of Misty’s shawl, temporarily easing a bit of the pain in her heart.
“Yes?”, she replied, her voice hoarse. Cordelia’s grip tightened around the shawl as she felt the car pull to a stop.
“We’re here”