Chapter Text
But I've got a body here to bury
And if truth be told, it's scary
'Cause my shoulders are heavy already
The sight of Edward’s office should have brought Zelda comfort, but her and Hilda’s sudden and jarring teleportation there gave her little to no consolation. Especially not with a still crying Sabrina in Hilda’s arms.
The alarmed feeling that was coursing its way through Zelda’s veins only heightened when she saw Faustus sitting in Edward’s chair. She had half a mind to scold him for the audacity (she knew he was acting High Priest while Edward was away, but that gave him no right to take his place), but the look on Faustus’ face silenced any reprimand Zelda had thought to say to him.
Hilda was fussing with the babe, who was still screeching incessantly despite any and all tricks she and Hilda had tried. It had only been perhaps a half an hour since the girl had mysteriously turned up in the foyer of the mortuary, first setting off Zelda’s alarm for her brother and his wife, and now… now being teleported here only confirmed it.
His silence was maddening.
“Faustus…”
His name was familiar on her tongue, even if it had been a few centuries. She’d spent the better part of her life ignoring him once he got married to Constance, burying herself in her travels, and in her work when Edward had become High Priest after their Father had passed.
She could read him better than anyone, and the look that he was trying to hide in his eyes made her want to scream.
“Sister Zelda… sister Hilda…”
“Where’s Edward?” She paused. “And Diana? And why in Satan’s name has Sabrina been teleported to the mortuary of all places?”
She had a thousand questions, and she knew that Faustus had the answer to all of them.
Sabrina finally settled down in Hilda’s arms, and Zelda loathed each second of silence that passed. She kept her gaze towards Faustus. Unwilling and unable to exchange glances with her sister, for they each knew the other’s fear even if neither of them wanted to voice it out loud.
“I- I’m afraid I have some grave news.” The coward, his gaze seemed to land in between them, his eyes looking at neither Zelda or Hilda, just the space between them.
Zelda took a sharp intake of breath through her nose whilst Hilda shifted next to her, keeping Sabrina calm.
“What- what sort of news?”
Zelda could tell from the wavering tone of her voice that Hilda was close to tears, but Zelda refused to let her emotions show that easily.
Faustus’ brow creased.
“I have received word that Flight 2331 went down overseas en route to Italy, and that there were no survivors.”
It didn’t need to be said that Edward and Diana were on that flight. They knew. For Satan’s sake, Zelda and Hilda had seen all three of them off at the gate, Edward, Diana, and little Sabrina.
And then… hours later, for Sabrina to show up at the mortuary out of the blue?
“That’s not possible,” Zelda ground out through clenched teeth. She heard sniffles to her left.
“I’m sorry to say that it is, Sister Zelda.” He met her gaze then, and in spite of herself, she let out a small gasp, her chin quivering ever so slightly. The lace embroidered around the collar of her dress felt restricting, tight.
He wouldn’t lie to her. Not even after all of the years, and all of the distance between them.
But that made everything so much worse, for that meant that her brother really was dead.
“Our Dark Lord Satan has called them both home.”
Zelda felt her throat spasm, but she refused to let her grief come pouring out of her right then, not now. Not here.
“But what about Sabrina?”
Zelda buried whatever grief she had deep down, her attention and thoughts now solely focused on her Night Daughter, Sabrina.
“Up until this moment, we had been under the assumption that she had perished in the crash as well. I had no idea the child ended up on your doorstep.” The surprise that had settled on his face was genuine, although that brought little comfort to Zelda.
“How long ago was this?” he asked.
“An hour, at the most. Maybe less,” Zelda replied, keeping her voice low. It was easier to hide the tremors in her voice when it was at a lower pitch.
“Just the child?” Faustus looked as puzzled as the sisters.
Zelda and Hilda nodded.
“With her little basket, and her blanket,” added Hilda in a wavering voice as she rocked Sabrina quietly, adjusting her grip and her disgusting mustard yellow cardigan at the same time.
“And bawling,” Zelda included, pausing for a moment, “She hadn’t stopped till just now.”
Faustus looked between the pair of them. He leaned forward.
“Sisters, this is most unusual. According to our brethren coven in Italy, there was no detection of magic being used in the area where their plane went down. No trace of it all.”
“Then how in Satan’s name did Sabrina end up at the mortuary?”
He brought a hand to his chin, “Satan, indeed... Perhaps our Dark Lord decided to spare little Sabrina’s life.”
“Edward must have used a spell or something, perhaps our brethren coven is wrong.” The last word came out more forceful than she intended, more hateful, more angry, but Zelda’s patience and steady disposition were wearing thin. Everything seemed to be getting worse and worse by the second.
Faustus chose not to respond to her outburst, rather changing the subject entirely.
“Diana’s family has in fact been contacted and notified of the tragedy, and-”
“Out of the question.” snapped Zelda, her eyes flashing as she thought she knew where that sentence was going. “We’ll keep the child, raise her… guide her. I will not leave my half-witch niece to a bunch of witless mortals.”
She heard some noise of confusion from Hilda, but she did not outright reject the idea, so Zelda took that as confirmation.
A half smile nearly overtook Faustus’ face then, and she wanted nothing more than to slap him for it.
“As I already said, Sister Zelda, we were unaware of Sabrina’s miraculous appearance at the mortuary.” The smile slipped from his face, “I’m afraid I already informed Diana’s family that there were no survivors in the crash, including Sabrina.”
“And you have no plans to change that, present information included?” Zelda asked after a moment, her mind trying to grasp what he was saying.
“I see no reason to,” he shrugged. “Like you said, a half-witch has no business amongst mortals.”
“But they are her family,” Zelda found herself saying, against all odds.
Perhaps this was grief. Or madness. Or familial loyalty.
“Mortal family, yes.” Faustus paused to regard her in the dying embers of the fireplace behind them. “Sister Zelda you said so yourself that leaving your-”
“I’m not talking about them raising her, I’m talking about them knowing her existence. Knowing that she’s alive,” her voice grew louder, “They at least deserve that, to know that she’s alive, that their daughter’s child still lives.”
Sabrina started crying again, and Hilda swayed with her near the window while Zelda moved towards Faustus, still angry, still fighting for Diana’s family although she didn’t really know why.
He responded after a moment, Sabrina still bawling in the background, his voice low.
“Telling them would only cause problems, Sister Zelda, you know that as well as I do.”
“Faustus, at least tell them that she lives,” Zelda pleaded.
“If they know that she lives, they’ll fight for custody. And you’re likely to lose. It’s better this way.”
“It’s cruel,” she replied.
“Zelda!” He snapped, a hand coming down to slam at the table. Zelda didn’t flinch at the sound, but Hilda did, and subsequently Sabrina’s cries got louder.
“What’s done is done. End of discussion. As far as the mortals know, the girl is dead along with her parents, and that’s how it will stay. I will personally make sure of it.”
Zelda clamped her lips shut, straightening.
“Is there anything else, Your Excellency, or are we free to go?” Zelda ground out after a moment, her eyes piercing through his. With Sabrina in distress, and Zelda’s blood pressure rising, it would be best if they left the Academy as soon as possible before disaster struck.
Faustus moved his gaze away from her face before speaking.
“The Council will be conducting an independent inquiry come the morning light. Any findings that come of it, I will let you know as soon as I can.”
Hilda answered for both of them, a quiet “thank you,” sniffled out amidst Sabrina’s cries. Zelda kept her mouth shut, knowing that her next words would likely be angry screams if pushed too far.
She placed a hand against the skirt of her dress, fingers clenching the blue fabric as if that was enough to keep her civil right now. With each moment that passed, the truth settled into her being, and for Satan’s sake, it hurt .
Her brother, dead. His wife too.
It was impossible.
It was wrong.
“If you need anything, Sisters, please don’t hesitate to call upon me, or other members of the coven. In the face of such a terrible tragedy, our coven must come to face this together in our collective strength.”
Zelda let out a scoff, giving Faustus a darkened look that spoke volumes even though she kept quiet.
Zelda knew very well the reputation that her brother held within the coven. The reputation that extended to all of the Spellmans by association, the renown that had originally belonged to their name had slowly rusted over the years, mostly by Edward’s radical ideas.
Faustus knew that too. He had been an adamant voice of opposition to Edward’s ideas in this office and at the mortuary.
She wondered how he had taken the news of her brother’s death, wondered if he had felt elated at the reality of becoming the coven’s High Priest at last, or if -
No. No . She had no time to think about these things, no time to dwell on them. Sabrina’s cries seemed to grow louder as the seconds passed.
“I’d be more than happy to teleport you all back to the mortuary-” Faustus started but Zelda had already started striding towards her sister.
“No need,” she snapped, placing a hand on Hilda’s shoulder, refusing to face Faustus, “We Spellmans take care of ourselves. We’re more than capable of getting home without your help.”
She felt his eyes on her back, the things he didn’t say falling into the air. Hilda glanced up at her for a moment before Zelda teleported them all back to the mortuary without a second thought, leaving Faustus in the office.
They should have walked. They could have walked, and definitely should have. The toll the teleportation of three people took more out of Zelda than she cared to admit. Upon their arrival into the kitchen, Zelda wanted nothing more than to have a nightcap and sleep off this terrible tragedy, hoping that it was some horrible cruel nightmare.
She reached out and steadied herself against the counter, desperately wanting a cigarette more than anything, but she wasn’t about to endanger the child that she had just taken responsibility for, no matter her own needs.
Hilda glanced at her worriedly.
“Shall I put on a pot of tea?”
“Something stronger if you wouldn’t mind, sister,” Zelda murmured as she sighed heavily. She then reached out her arms. “I’ll take the babe for a moment.”
When Sabrina had first arrived at the mortuary, Zelda had held her first. It was she who had taken the crying baby into her arms, she who tried to calm her, only to pass her off to Hilda when none of her usual tactics worked.
Then they had all ended up at the Academy.
Hilda regarded her for a moment, before passing the swaddled baby into Zelda’s awaiting arms. Something about holding Sabrina felt comforting to Zelda, made her feel more grounded, secure. Perhaps it was the actual weight of holding her in her arms, or something else.
Nevertheless, Sabrina calmed down once she was placed in Zelda’s arms. Grateful for the silence, and yet wary of it, Zelda stood near the counter as Hilda bustled about, wiping tears that Zelda pretended not to see out of her eyes as she did so.
“I just don’t understand it,” Hilda sniffled as she turned the burner on. “They were alive this morning! And then Sabrina teleporting here! Of all places! It doesn’t make sense!”
Zelda remained silent. It was her coping mechanism. Silence, nicotine, and gin usually did the trick. If not, then she’d be prone to terrible bouts of anger and uncontrollable magic, and she couldn’t risk that with Sabrina now in the house.
Even still, Zelda noticed the scattered silverware and plates shaking ever so slightly as the reality of it all engulfed her, the grief swallowing her whole.
“Zelda?”
Hilda pushed a filled tea cup her way gently, and then shut off the burner.
“What is this?” Zelda questioned as she shifted Sabrina to rest on her left arm. She took the cup with one hand, raising it to her lips.
“Chamomile tea with a bit of your vodka in it.”
Zelda nodded, satisfied. “That’ll work.”
She drank it all in one graceful swallow, setting the cup down gently so as to not arouse Sabrina.
“Zelds?”
She let a moment of silence pass before she turned to look at Hilda, her strength slowly returning to her after the teleportation spell wore off. The vodka that Hilda had slipped in her tea burned her throat, the taste lingering in her mouth as she waited for her sister to speak.
“Are you sure about this?” Hilda’s eyes darted between Zelda and Sabrina.
“Of course I am,” Zelda replied almost immediately, no hesitation in her voice. There was no going back now. Even if the task ahead was rather daunting.
Zelda had spent her life bringing children into the world, and had been there for their first few moments of life, but never stayed too long. And now here she was, agreeing to raise her niece until she became an adult.
A gnawing feeling started in her stomach, but Zelda ignored it.
“You should run to the store, I’ll stay here with Sabrina.”
Edward and Diana had left precious little at the mortuary that would keep Sabrina occupied, nevertheless fed and clothed.
Besides, Zelda knew her sister. Hilda kept moving no matter what tragedy she faced, whereas Zelda seemed to freeze in time, stationary until she snapped herself out of her trance. She admired that in her sister, her ability to keep going, literally and figuratively. She knew if she let Hilda idle for too long she’d dissipate into tears.
“The store?” Hilda blinked before registering what Zelda was asking. “Oh, oh right. Oh goodness, we’re going to need a lot of things…” she muttered, a list already forming in her head.
“Start with the absolute essentials for tonight, I don’t want you gone too long,” Zelda said as she glanced down at Sabrina, whose eyes fluttered, fighting her impending slumber.
“Right, right…” Hilda moved about for a bit before pausing and nearly stopping in her tracks to turn to look at Zelda.
“Sister?” Zelda was forced to ask when Hilda said nothing for a moment.
“I just… it’s just.. I know that look on your face, Zels.” Hilda moved towards her, “You have to promise me you’re not going to do anything impulsive while I’m gone.”
Zelda scoffed her concern away, “And leave the babe alone? Please, Hilda, we’ll be fine.”
Hilda still didn’t move, her head tilted. Likely she was trying to use her clairvoyance to figure out what Zelda was planning, but Zelda had learned long ago how to shut Hilda out of her head.
Finally giving up with a sigh, Hilda grabbed a coat, and kissed the top of Sabrina’s head goodbye before leaving out the front door to go buy supplies.
The mortuary was deathly still with her gone.
Zelda glanced down at Sabrina, who had fallen asleep and was now breathing lightly, and frankly she didn’t know what to do.
She felt the grief that she had initially experienced in Edward’s office slowly make its way back into her subconscious. That numbing and yet still painful feeling wrapped itself around her bones tighter and tighter until Zelda felt as if she couldn’t breathe.
The silverware once again started to levitate, as well as the furniture in the kitchen as well. Only a few inches off the ground but Zelda knew if she let her emotions get the better of her that they could crash through the ceiling. It had happened before.
Once, she had willed all of the knives in the kitchen to the ceiling in a fit of anger.
Blinking away tears, Zelda focused on Sabrina. She paced around the kitchen with soft steps, keeping an even keel so as to not wake her up. Sabrina felt lighter than before, but Zelda still felt the weight of her in her arms and that was enough to keep her stable. The furniture and silverware slowly returned to their stationary places on their respective surfaces.
By the time Hilda came back from the store, supplies in hand, Zelda felt as if she had worn a groove in the tile from where she had paced.
If she had, Hilda said nothing about it. She simply took out the baby items one by one, putting them on the table for Zelda to see.
They were simple things. Diapers, some clothes, food, nothing extravagant. The essentials.
Zelda nodded approvingly as she came to a stop in front of the table.
“Should I take her upstairs for a wash and get her changed?” Hilda asked, grabbing one of the new outfits she had bought.
Zelda flinched at the thought of having Sabrina being taken away from her, even if it was only by her sister. Something in Zelda didn’t want to let her go, didn’t want to lose the weight of her in her arms, for if that weight left the all encompassing grief might take its place and consume her.
Hilda sensed the hesitation in her. Taking a step back, she paused in her movements, allowing Zelda a moment to reflect.
Sighing, Zelda allowed Hilda to take the babe from her arms after a moment; after all she couldn’t hold Sabrina forever.
Immediately, Zelda felt the rush of sorrow encompass her entire being. After Hilda went upstairs with Sabrina, she made a mad dash for the liquor cabinet, pouring herself a glass of whiskey, and magicking her cigarette holder with an unlit cigarette held in its grasp to her free hand.
The glass in one hand, the cigarette in the other, she found herself walking into the cold January air, and settling into a chair on the porch. Alternating between sips of her drinks and drags after she had lit the cigarette, Zelda sat in an empty silence. Normally, the woods were rustling with some sort of noise; the breeze running through the trees, animals scurrying around, but tonight it was as silent as the grave.
The air smelled of an impending snow fall, and Zelda rejected the prophesied weather by taking in a much deeper inhale of nicotine. Her body, however, shivered against the cold. Or had it shivered against her grief? In the silence, the news of her brother’s death was all-consuming.
Unbidden, her mind was brought back to the woods that fateful night; the night that Edward had signed Sabrina’s name in the Book of the Beast and Zelda had been made to witness, although every fiber of her being protested.
Perhaps Edward had reached too far and this had been his ultimate punishment. He tried to have the best of it all, merge the mortal and witch world alike, and it had killed him. Sunk him to the bottom of the ocean.
She closed her eyes at that, taking in a deep breath of nicotine to calm her. She had always suspected that Edward had gotten himself into something far too deep ever since she saw him with the mortal woman, and now, his death simply confirmed it.
Zelda went to finish off her glass, but found it empty. Her fingers tightened around it, nearly threatening to splinter it into pieces.
She heard footsteps descending down the stairs through the front door, the stairs were old and had always creaked, and for a moment, for a brief moment, she let herself foolishly hope that maybe it would be Edward that would greet the cold air to come get her, begrudgingly bringing her inside for a nightcap.
She couldn’t say that Hilda’s shadowed face was a disappointment, no, but it only cemented the harsh reality that she had been trying to ignore for the past few hours.
“Zelds?” Hilda’s voice wavered from just outside the front door. Not too far to expose Sabrina to the cold night air, but enough that Zelda could see her.
“Yes, Hilda?” Zelda breathed out a cloud of smoke.
“Sabrina and I are all set for bed. I didn’t know if you wanted to go wash up…”
Zelda considered her options. Truth be told, all she wanted to do was sit out in the cold until she froze, till her bones turned to ice, till her heart turned frozen so nothing more could shatter it into pieces.
But Hilda wouldn’t let that happen. And Zelda couldn’t leave Sabrina.
She smudged her cigarette out against a tray without a word, letting the smoke billow up from between her fingers disappearing into the night air.
“I’m going to bring Sabrina back inside.” Hilda stated when Zelda didn’t move.
Her cigarette was smoldering. She left it and the empty glass on the tray as she stood up to leave, the smoke following her for a bit as she entered the mortuary.
Zelda expected a sort of warmth to embrace her as she walked in, but the mortuary was unfortunately much like the night air she had just escaped from; cold and empty.
She made her way up the stairs, automatically walking towards her old room when she stopped in the middle of the hall, seeing that Hilda had made up a guest bedroom, the door ajar revealing an old crib from some long gone relative, and two beds.
Glancing at her old room at the end of the hall, the moon shining in through the circled window above her bed, Zelda sighed. It did make sense for herself and Hilda to be in the same room as Sabrina, running about in the middle of the night if she woke up crying would be disastrous for all of them. But Zelda would miss the comfort of her room.
She could hear Hilda bustling about downstairs, obviously giving her some privacy. Good. Good that would give her time to think. Zelda already had half of an idea formed in her head ever since they had been teleported to Edward’s office at the Academy, but she’d never be able to pull it off with Hilda watching her every move like a hawk.
She’d admit that she didn’t have the best history when it came to dealing with grief. Depending on the deceased, the sorrow would either swallow her whole or she’d become numb. It was either or.
But Zelda wasn’t about to force herself to believe that her brother was really dead, not just yet. Her mind replayed Fautus’ words. No magic had been detected. None at all. But somehow, against all odds, Sabrina had ended up at the mortuary.
And a plane crash? Of all of the things that could have been the cause of her brother’s demise, Zelda had never expected something so… well, she wasn’t sure what she’d call it. Shocking wasn’t the right word, but neither was mundane. Tragic was the word she finally settled on.
Never had she expected her brother to die in something so tragic? It was a sad end for a man she had considered to be so brilliant, when he wasn’t being so obstinate.
Perhaps it was his hubris that had been his undoing. His increasing erratic behavior ever since courting the Sawyer girl had brought more trouble to Edward than good.
Nonetheless, Zelda didn’t trust it, didn’t trust the possibility that her brother could actually be dead.
She made her way to her old room by habit, grabbing candles and her grimoire as she walked into the adjoining bathroom that held her clawfoot tub. She turned on the water, grateful for some noise amidst the dizzying silence. The noise would help her concentrate, and it kept up the appearance that she was washing up to Hilda downstairs.
She shed her blue dress, stockings, and shoes, leaving them in a pile on the cold tile. They would only weigh her down anyways, it was better to have them off. She did, however, wrap one of her robes around her smallclothes, a light kimono from Japan that she had always cherished. She set her rings down on a vanity that she kept by the tub, taking off her pearls as well. She forgot her earrings as she realized the tub was nearly full and went to shut off the water.
Grabbing her grimoire, Zelda flipped through the pages methodically until she found the spell she had been thinking of. It was a complex one that she had found in one of the footnotes of a book in the Academy’s library, and she had copied it down in her own book for posterity’s sake, never thinking that she’d ever have to use it. She originally had found it fascinating, the ability to turn a simple tub of water into the ocean. An advanced spell for someone her age when she had found it, but now as a well tested witch, Zelda found it rather simple. Dangerous to be sure, but simple enough magic.
She lit her candles one by one and placed them in a circle around the tub as she murmured the incantation.
She knew she only had a matter of time before Hilda would sense that she was using magic and suspect something, and Zelda wanted to be underneath the water far before then. She focused her energy on location, on picturing the plane that she had seen that morning, the number etched into the plane’s side, 2331, and she circled the water in the tub with a finger before the warm bath water suddenly turned into the cold waters of the Mediterranean. It was an unmistakable change from the bath water, the blue and green hues of the sea flickering in Zelda’s reflection.
She got lost in it for a second too long. Pondered the horrible possibility that she could be wrong, and that her brother was really dead, and that she’d be coming face to face with his corpse.
She missed her chance to escape without Hilda noticing.
“Zelda Phiona Spellman, what in Satan’s name do you think you’re doing?!” Hilda exclaimed in a hushed but alarmed tone as she rushed in, nearly blowing out the candles surrounding the tub, with Sabrina in her arms. Zelda looked over, one leg submerged in the water. Luckily, Sabrina seemed to be asleep against Hilda’s chest.
“You promised me!” Hilda whispered angrily, “You promised you wouldn't do anything rash.”
Zelda’s mouth opened to speak but no words came out. What could she say? That dutiful, devout, faithful Zelda Spellman didn’t trust that Satan had called her brother home? That she had doubts?
“I’ll be quick,” was all she offered Hilda as she glanced down at the water.
Flustered and furious, Hilda struggled to calm herself with a sleeping babe in her arms. “And what am I to do while you engage in your suicide mission?”
“Stay with the babe, obviously.” Zelda put her other leg into the cold waters. She couldn’t quite see below her but she felt the vast expanse of the ocean as she lowered herself into the tub. She involuntarily shivered as she stopped just as she reached her waist, hands gripping the tub tightly.
“ Zelda …”
Zelda’s throat tensed. She knew that tone. That wasn’t Hilda begging Zelda to stop flying off the handle, that was her little sister scared for her. Scared of what was to happen. Scared that something could happen to Zelda.
“You can’t save them, Zelds. There’s nothing to gain in risking your life like this.” Hilda’s voice wavered. “I can’t lose you too.”
“You’re not going to lose me that easily. After all, I’ll be the death of you, and you, sweet sister, shall be the death of me.”
Zelda reluctantly looked up pointedly, but the action softened as soon as she saw Hilda holding back tears.
“Hilly…” she sighed, her grip tightening on the edges of the porcelain tub. “I’ll be fine.” She paused, nonchalantly adding, “And if I’m not back in three minutes, you have full permission to drag me out by my hair.”
“ Three minutes -!” Hilda balked, “Of all the- you could be dead at the bottom of the ocean floor in three minutes time, you could-, Zelds no, please, don’t do this.”
Zelda avoided her sister’s pleading gaze, and without another word, dove into the depths.
Her eyes stung almost immediately, and she had a hard time gaining a sense of where she was as she swam deeper into the water. She had at least been correct in her assumption that her robe was light enough that it was easy for her to swim in it.
The assumption that she had located the exact spot where her brother’s plane had gone down was less clear. Zelda could tell she was definitely in the Mediterranean, the water had a different feel to it than the cold waves of the Atlantic ocean.
Her lungs began to ache as she swam down further and further, the murky depths clouding her vision and making it nearly impossible for her to tell which way was up or which way was down.
She spotted a flash of something by her left, and swam towards it. It was a piece of the plane wreckage lodged in a rock, a part of the wing, with the number 2331 painted on the metal.
She nearly screamed, letting what precious little air was left out of her lungs but she stopped herself.
Something was pinned between the rock and the wing, it fluttered with the waves of the water, and Zelda reached for it. It needed a good pull to dislodge, and with it, the wing of the plane came loose from the rock and tumbled silently into the vast darkness below that Zelda knew she couldn’t reach.
As it was her lungs were burning, heart pounding. The confirmation of it all was nearly too much for her, and she nearly forgot about what she had displaced from between the wreckage until she felt the object between her fingers and brought it close to her face.
She recognized it immediately. It was a photograph of Edward and Diana on their wedding day, embracing, with Diana’s bouquet in one hand, the other wrapped around Edward’s waist. Edward always carried that picture with him.
Her vision spun then, a near dizzying blackness encompassing her, and she knew she had no time left to see what remained amidst the wreckage.
She swam in the direction that she thought was upwards, straining to figure out which way was correct in the deep water. She reached out her hand that held the photograph, hoping that she was going in the right direction, arm stretching above her head.
If her lungs had been burning before, they were completely aflame now. A tense heat and pain enveloped her as her body suffered from the lack of air. Against her own will, her lips nearly parted to allow the sea water to fill her lungs, her chest enduring painful spasms, and she felt the uncontrollable need to open her mouth, but she felt her fingers break the surface of the water, feeling the cold air of Greendale.
Before unconsciousness took her completely, Zelda felt a strong hand grasp her wrist and pull her upwards.
Hilda’s voice was dulled amidst the ringing in Zelda’s ears, and couldn't be deciphered between Zelda’s gasps and coughs, but Zelda knew she was concerned. Or angry. Probably both.
Zelda sputtered up sea water on the tile, her chest heaving painfully as she forced air into her starved lungs.
She found herself on the floor, a blanket around her at some point, with no memory of how she got there between the coughing and gasping for breath. Some of the water had splashed over the tub and onto the floor, and Zelda couldn't tell what she had coughed up and what had spilled over.
Hilda’s hand still remained wrapped around her right wrist, firmly but not crushing. It felt comforting, for them both, and Zelda felt no need to shrug her off.
When Zelda finally did look at her sister, she found that Hilda’s face was tear-stained.
“Don’t you ever do that to me again, Zelda Spellman,” she got out in a sob. Her grip tightened on Zelda’s wrist but then Hilda crumbled and embraced Zelda fully.
Still dazed, but at least no longer coughing up water, Zelda took in her surroundings. Some of the candles had gone out from the splashes of water, half of the floor looked to be covered as well.
“Where’s- where’s Sabrina?” Zelda asked between slight coughs, anxiety flooding her once more.
“In the doorway,” Hilda released her, “Asleep in the crib. I just kept her there in case I had to-”
Zelda followed her sister’s gaze towards the photograph she held in her hand.
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
“Sweet Satan,” Hilda’s voice wobbled, “so it’s true?”
Zelda avoided Hilda’s eyes as she nodded slowly. What else was there to say? Her lungs still ached painfully, each breath more painful than the last as her body adjusted to having oxygen once more, and Zelda leaned her head back against the edge of the tub, and took several deep breaths.
“What do we do now, Zelds?” Hilda’s voice was barely audible.
“ I don’t know …” Zelda let the uncertainty slip past her lips as she regained control of her breathing. Immediately, upon seeing Hilda’s face, she regretted it and vowed never, never ever to show such weakness again.
“But I’ll figure it out,” she was quick to respond, and with that, she attempted to stand, but Hilda stopped her.
“Sweet Lucifer, Zelda, will you just stop for one moment?” Hilda grabbed both of her arms steadily.
“I asked what we’ll do now? Not just you. You're not alone in this. And we will figure it out,” Hilda smiled half-heartedly.
Zelda offered a nod in return.
“Now,” Hilda started, “You are going to sit here while I clean up and get some fresh jammies for you, and you’re not to move until I come back.”
Zelda didn’t have the strength to argue, she simply nodded, and pulled the blanket closer around her body. Hilda left in a hurry down the stairs to the kitchen.
Zelda needed a drink to help her drift off into oblivion. She raised a hand to her face, nearly forgetting that she still held the water-logged photograph in her grasp. Looking at her brother’s visage hurt, bringing fresh tears to her eyes, and as if on cue, or as if she knew her Aunt was hurting, Sabrina started crying.
Staggering to her feet, Zelda made her way over to the crib, and without a second thought picked up Sabrina to comfort her even though she was still dripping wet. She moved her hair so that droplets didn’t fall on Sabrina, and rocked her gently.
When Hilda came back up the stairs with a pot of tea, a set of Zelda’s pyjamas, and towels to clean up the water, she merely gave Zelda a half disapproving look when she saw her with Sabrina.
“Someone has their Auntie Zee already wrapped around their tiny little finger…” Hilda murmured as she set the pot of tea down, moved the crib over, and began to clean up the mess while Zelda perched herself in her chair at the vanity, with Sabrina in her arms.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Zelda remarked with a roll of her eyes, “and she is certainly not calling me Auntie Zee .”
“Zelda’s a hard name for a child to pronounce, you know.”
“If I had to pronounce my own name at a young age, so can Sabrina.”
“Back to your usual snipes I see,” Hilda commented, but instead of frowning like she usually did, she held a small smile on her face.
A brief smile overtook Zelda’s face for a moment, before she masked it by tending to Sabrina, whose eyes had opened at the sound of their voices.
“Hello there, little one. Did we wake you?” Zelda kept her voice lithe. She ran a finger down the soft skin of Sabrina’s cheek to soothe her, and that seemed to do the trick. Her little mouth yawned and she soon closed her eyes again, falling asleep in Zelda’s arms.
“I’ll take her for a moment, drink some tea and warm up.”
It wasn’t a negotiation. Hilda held her arms out for Sabrina and Zelda gave her up begrudgingly. Hilda took Sabrina and the crib back to the guest room she had set up, closing the door behind her.
In the silence, Zelda sat still for a moment before she grabbed the cup of tea and drank from it slowly. Laced with foxglove and vodka, she could taste both, it felt comforting to her. She finished the cup, and then took off her kimono and smallclothes, exchanging them for the nightgown and underclothes that Hilda had gotten out of her closet. Another one of her kimonos had been placed on the hook against the back of the door. She grabbed it gratefully, and tied it around herself.
Glancing at herself in the mirror, Zelda did not recognize the woman looking back at her. Her red locks were darkened from the water, her face pale, her eyes misty. She felt and looked smaller than she had ever felt like before. As if the weight of the world was collapsing on her shoulders and hers alone. Which she knew wasn’t true, but it certainly felt like it.
She ran her fingers through her hair once, then again, hoping to shake off this waif of a woman that had appeared to her in the mirror. For Satan’s sake, she was a Spellman after all.
Straightening her posture, and running both hands through her tresses, Zelda suddenly realized that she no longer had the photograph in her grasp. It was gone.
A sense of panic shot through her then, and she scoured the floor to see if she had dropped it.
No sign of it.
She hurried out into the hallway, pushing through her body’s exhaustion and weariness. She didn’t spot the image in the hallway either. She walked the hallway, down the stairs, encountering Hilda on the steps.
“Zelds, what are you doing up and about?!” Hilda scolded lightly, carrying a basket of laundry.
“That photograph, of Edward and Diana, I seem to have misplaced it. Could you check and see if it’s with the items you took from the bathroom?”
“Course, Zelds.” Hilda put the basket down and went into the laundry room.
“I can’t find it, perhaps it’s on the vanity.” Hilda said as she returned.
“I checked, no sign of it there either.” Zelda bit her lip.
If this was to portend her future of taking care of Sabrina, it didn’t bode well.
“Well, it can’t have gone that far. I’ll check upstairs again with you in a moment.” Ever the optimist, sometimes Hilda’s cheeriness grated on Zelda, but right now she was grateful for it.
They climbed back up the stairs, and Zelda went to check on Sabrina while Hilda looked over the bathroom.
The bedroom hadn’t been used in a long time. Zelda forgot who had once called it their room, some relative that she had met once or twice. When Zelda was younger, she had used this room to store the books that no longer fit on her shelves in her own room, a sort of storage room for her academy days.
Now it held her niece, her Night Daughter, Sabrina. Of course, she’d get a different room once she got older, this was only temporary so that Zelda or Hilda could attend to her when they needed to, but it would do for now.
Zelda approached the crib and saw Sabrina sleeping peacefully wrapped in a pink blanket, one arm outstretched. Zelda leaned in and gently moved her arm back towards her body, but the movement woke Sabrina. Instead of screaming, Sabrina’s tiny fist wrapped around Zelda’s fingers, or tried to.
Chuckling, Zelda rubbed her thumb across Sabrina’s fingers. She paused when something caught her eye in Sabrina’s crib.
Tucked in the corner, perched as if someone had placed it there, was the photograph of Edward and Diana.
“Hilda! I found it,” Zelda kept her voice quiet. Her sister came into the room, bustling about as always.
“Oh good, where was it?”
“With Sabrina, in the crib.”
“How in the Heaven did it get there?” Hilda peered over Zelda’s shoulder to see the photograph, and voiced a noise of confusion.
“You didn’t place it there?”
“Swear on Satan’s claw,” swore Hilda with her hand, expression serious.
Zelda swallowed.
“Perhaps I still had it in my hand when I picked up Sabrina when she started crying, and she grabbed it.”
“Smart girl, just like her parents,” remarked Hilda. She tickled Sabrina’s nose affectionately, causing a squeal of glee, and then moved to ready herself for bed.
“Zelds.”
Zelda hadn’t moved from the crib, her fingers still being held by the steady grip of baby Sabrina.
“Hm?”
“You should try and sleep.”
A heavy sigh filled the air as her response.
“I promise you that Sabrina and I will still be here when you wake up.”
“I’ll try,” she replied, her voice gravelly.
Sabrina loosened her grip, allowing Zelda to slip her hand away. She leaned over and gave the babe a kiss to her forehead before she reached for the photograph and placed it in wedge at the crib’s corner.
She hoped Sabrina’s future would be brighter than her present, that her life would be better than her father’s, or Zelda’s or Hilda’s, that she’d grow into a brilliant witch, that the sorrows that now plagued her would cease.
Zelda had never anticipated being a mother, never really considered herself to be a mother figure, but she’d try like Heaven to do her best by Sabrina, no matter the cost.