I was stood outside the Miss Robichaux's Academy, my bag in hand, watching the gate open by itself. All this magic, witches stuff still amazes me. The thought of me even being a witch blows my mind. As I walked up the few stairs, to get to the front door, I realise the door is slightly open. So I gently open it to walk inside. The door slamming shut behind me which makes me quickly turn around to stare at the door.
"Hello?" I say.
A few sounds come from various of places but I can't figure out where. I place my bag on the floor and begin to walk through some of the rooms until I see two people in masks and cloaks on walking down from the grand staircase in front of me. I go to turn around but I see another one of these strange people with masks and cloaks. I scream until I felt a sack go over my head and all I could see is pure darkness. They pin me to a table and I try to get out of the grasp but they are much stronger than me. Suddenly, they pull the sack off my head and I'm met with the person with the dark red mask on but this time she has a knife
"Secure the sacrifice!" One of the people said.
The hood is pulled off my head. The room is lit with candles. I'm pinned to the table by the two beefiest masked girls. The third girl looms over her with a butcher knife.
"O dark father, we offer this flesh up to you, blood, life, and all!"
She's about to plunge the knife downward towards me before I said, "Get the hell off me!"
The girls move away and one of them takes off their masks. One was Madison Montgomery, a famous movie star.
"Jesus! Relax, Sabrina! We were just messing with you." Madison said.
"Holy shit...are you..?" I said to her.
"Yes. Madison Montgomery. Movie star."
Another girl takes off their mask and says, "Movie star? Shit. When's the last time you made a movie, girl?"
"When's the last time you said no to a pork chop?" Madison replied.
"Bitch, only reason you're still famous is because you keep flashing that crotch on TMZ."
The last mask comes off and the girl says, "We're not really going to kill you. I'm Nan. Hi."
"Katerina," I replied.
"Queenie"
"So bored now," Madison announces to us.
"So is this...everyone?" I ask them
Then a woman, maybe in her thirties appears in the doorway and says, "Cordelia Foxx. Head Mistress," She then looks at the three witches and says, "All right, girls. There's a van full of groceries in the driveway that needs unloading. I'll show Katerina to her room, then we meet for Mid- Day Gathering. Let's go."
As the girls shuffle out past Cordelia
"Miss Robichaux's Academy For Exceptional Young Ladies was established as a premiere girls' finishing school in 1790."
Me, Cordelia and a man, which seemed like a butler, were walking up the stairs as Cordelia showed me around the school. The man followed behind us carry my bags.
"During the Civil War, it was converted into a military hospital. Afterwards, it came under new management. Our management. In 1868, Marianne Wharton, a prominent East Coast society matron, early suffragette, author of several popular children's books...A daguerreotype of Marianne Wharton, circa 1860's...and, as it happened, the reigning Supreme of that time -- purchased this facility, retaining the name as a cover, establishing a safe haven where young witches could gather to learn," Cordelia informs me.
Cordelia shows me to my room; immaculate, delicate, sunny, big closets, tiled bathroom, kind of great. A Victorian era photo of Marianne Wharton with a class of some thirty young women of the time. Like a class photo.
"In its heyday, the Academy was home to as many as sixty girls...," Cordelia continued,"...over the years, those numbers dwindled."
- Time skip -
We were all sat in a group, the fireplace flickers in the background.
"Why?" I ask Cordelia.
"We're a dying breed, Katerina. Many of the families who knew they carried the bloodline made a choice not to reproduce. They feared having children," Cordelia tells me.
"Or maybe they feared the children they would have."
Cordelia looks at me, "Maybe.."
"So what's a Supreme?" I ask.
"An average witch is born with a few natural gifts. Other skills, spells, she can learn. But in each generation there is one woman who embodies countless gifts. Some say all of them. She is the Supreme."
"So she's like the Witch Pope?"
"Hardly that."
"Are you the Supreme?" I comment.
"No. I'm like you. Just a witch. And a teacher. I'm here to help you identify your gifts and teach you how to control them."
"How to suppress them, she means," Queenie informs.
"Not suppression. Control," Cordelia sternly tells Queenie.
Madison speaks up, "She thinks it's still the 1600's."
"No. Back then, our kind understood the dangers. Today, so many families know nothing of their ancestry. Too many girls aren't lucky enough to have found us. Or weren't identified in time for us to have found them. Like that poor Cajun girl just outside Lafayette a few months back..."
"Misty Day. She wasn't much older than any of you -- and she had a gift. The power of resurgence. Misty sees the body of a TINY BIRD lies on the ground. Quivering, near death. Misty kneels down and gathers it into her hands. Misty seems to be going into a trance..." Cordelia takes a breath before continuing, "Misty could reach into that place between life and death and draw a soul back from the precipice, back to this side. Back to life."
"To some, this appeared to be the God touched power of resurrection. Church members gather over the fallen girl. The sunlight behind them makes them ominous silhouettes... To others, necromancy..." Cordelia states.
"So what happened to her?" I ask.
"The same thing that's happened to women like us throughout the centuries..."
"Jesus," Madison breaths out.
"We're under siege, ladies. Our lives, our very existence is always at risk. Know this -- or face extinction," Cordelia finishes.
Me, Madison, Nan and Queenie are seated in a formal dining room, table set with china, silver and cloth napkins. Spalding, the mute butler, serves steaming bowls of soup. Madison eyes hers with disgust.
"Hey Jeeves. Can I get some iceberg lettuce with a side of Blue Cheese?" Madison speaks.
"Girl, be nice to Spalding. Poor bastard has no tongue." Queenie says to Madison.
"Is that true, Jeeves? Did you use that tongue for something wicked? Or maybe you suck at going down."
Spalding glares at her and slams a bowl of soup in front of me. As he heads for the kitchen, Madison can't resist, "Aw come on, Jeeves. Show me your stub! Maybe we can put it to use!"
