Black Water Hattie (9 of I'm not even going to hazard a guess.)

[duwinter]

Title: Black Water Hattie (Chapter 9)
Author: duwinter
Fandom: DWP
Pairings: Miranda/Andy, Emily/Serena
Rating: PG-13

Dedication: This story is dedicated to two members of our community, the Raven a.k.a. unfortunateggs who has repeatedly asked for a sequel to my story No Swimmin. (Sorry, It started out to be, but this ain't it.) and Mxrolkr, whose wonderful story Cerulean Blue (even though it's not finished, if you haven't read it go do so now) midwifed the concept of this story. The other thing responsible for this story is the random occurrence of three songs that I happened hear back-to-back on my iPod one morning while walking my two dogs in the local dog park. The Charlie Daniel's Band's The Legend of Wooly Swamp Jim Stafford's The Last Chant and Swamp Witch

Setting: AU. This takes place around the time of the film, but as AU's go this one is a bit out there.

Summary: A film Miranda and an AU Andy.

Disclaimer: The Devil Wears Prada and it's characters do not belong to me. No profit being made here. I'm just playing with the characters for a short while and I promise to put them away neatly when I'm through.

Trigger Warnings: Rape. This installment contains a scene of graphic violence and attempted rape. If such things might be triggering or uncomfortable to you as a reader, I would strongly suggest you forgo reading this installment.

Comment: Comments feed the muse and the Muse is always hungry. Remember, a fat muse is a happy and productive muse. Comments and constructive criticism eagerly encouraged.

Historical Song & Dance:The Varsity Drag

Credit where credit is due: I am blessed with an amazing beta: Jazwriter. She is simply above and beyond. I am thankful for our association each and every day. My best wishes to her and my lasting gratitude. Without you, this and any other story of mine you have touched would be much poorer.

Previous Installments Here:
Black Water Hattie, Chapter 1
Black Water Hattie, Chapter 2
Black Water Hattie, Chapter 3
Black Water Hattie, Chapter 4
Black Water Hattie, Chapter 5
Black Water Hattie, Chapter 6
Black Water Hattie, Chapter 7
Black Water Hattie, Chapter 8
Miranda felt a feather light movement and awoke in the early light of dawn to see Andrea standing at the side of the bed, pulling on her simple cotton shift. Miranda was pleasantly sore and fatigued from hours and hours of lovemaking. Andrea had been an innocent when she had come to Miranda's bed last night. She had proved an apt and willing pupil, learning quickly, showing an inventive, imaginative, and uninhibited nature. Last night Andrea had taught Miranda something she had never thought possible. How to laugh joyfully while making love. Miranda could picture many such nights in the arms of her beautiful young lover. She reached out to pull Andrea back into the bed.

“Et,” Andy hissed quietly and playfully slapped the reaching hand away. She smiled as she quickly turned her body and stepped just out of reach. “I promised ya I'd be back in m' room afore yer lil' birds stirred from their beds. I have ta go now 'r we're like ta be answerin' questions ya ain't ready ta answer yet.” The fey woman almost danced to the door of Miranda's room. She turned back toward the bed and smiled again. “Girl's 'll be goin' back ta that fancy school tamarraw night. There'll be a week o' nights where we c'n spark and a week o' mornin's where we c'n wake in each others' arms.” She stopped for a moment and looked a bit sheepish. “Iffin that's what ya wants, that is.” she offered uncertainly, anxiety flashing in her eyes.

“I can't think of anything I'd like better, Andrea,” Miranda answered softly. She offered the young woman a rare smile as the girl silently ghosted out the door. Stretching, the older woman rose from her bed and moved into her bathroom to shower and start her day. She had intended to go into the office for the morning and then spend the afternoon and evening with her daughters and Andrea, but in this moment, she wondered if she could let go of her professional life for a weekend and simply spend it with her family. She decided she could.

*****

Cassidy awoke from a very strange but pleasant dream. In the dream she had been here, in her room, listening to an ancient record player, playing an old timey song. The melody remained in her head, and she could hear the chorus sung by a man.

"Here is the drag
See how it goes
Down on your heels
Up on your toes
That’s the way to do the varsity drag!"

"It's hotter than hot!"

"Newer than new!
Meaner than mean!
Bluer than blue!
Gets as much applause as waving the flag!"

Her guest had taught her to do a fun dance called The Varsity Drag, which was very different from the dances the girls at school taught each other. She had laughed with the girl that had been teaching her, and they had comfortably talked about anything and everything. It was almost as if she had been talking with her sister, Caroline. The girl in the dream, however, was not her other-self, and now as the dream faded into the light of the morning sun spilling into her room from behind the curtains, she found that she couldn't recall the face of her companion. One thing she did remember laughing about with her dream friend was that Andy and her Mom believed that Cassidy and her faceless friend didn't know that the two older women had spent the night in each others' arms. The day was just beginning, but Cassidy knew without question that it was going to be a good one.

*****

Serena had repeatedly tried to come up for air, but Emily was insatiable. The whole of the day had slipped away as they made love on the desk, in the desk chair, on the floor, up against the glass office door, and on the credenza that sat behind the desk. Emily was a demanding lover. She demanded Serena's pleasure over and over and over again.

Serena's thigh muscles trembled with fatigue. “Emily,” she gasped. “No more. The day has fled, and we should think about getting something to eat and going home.”

Emily raised up on her knees from where she had once again, catlike, been stalking her lover. “You want to leave me?” the English woman asked, her tone hurt.

Serena looked into the eyes of the woman she loved, and she smiled as she shook her head. “I meant either your home or my home. We can grab something for dinner on the way, and then we can fall into bed and sleep.”

Emily licked her lips and glanced around the office. “I suppose that we've made love on everything we could have made love on in here,” she commented. “And it will be nice to have you in a proper bed. Do you have larger than a double? Mine's only a double, and we're going to need some room to maneuver.”

Serena saw that the fire and the naked hunger in the Brit's eyes had not diminished one iota from this morning, even with the constant slaking of their shared sexual thirst. She shivered. “I have a queen-sized bed at the moment, but perhaps tomorrow we could go shopping for a king-sized one."

Emily squealed, the sound amazingly reminiscent of a little girl full of laughter and joy. It was a sound that Serena had never heard the woman make before, and as she found her arms once again full of the English woman and Emily's lips glued to hers, she vowed to herself it was a sound she was going to find a way to hear often. Tomorrow was for thinking about the future and which apartment they would chose to inhabit as a couple. Tonight was for some decadent takeout food and cuddling under the blankets of their newly-shared bed.

*****

Days and then weeks flowed by. It was a golden time in her home life in Miranda's mind. Each weekend the twins begged to come home to the townhouse to be with their mother and Andy, even to the point of resisting the time they were supposed to spend with their father. The time that Miranda managed to spend at home on those precious weekends was as close as she had ever come to the feeling of family. She, Andrea, and the girls interacted and played together, forming a strong bond.

Each night that the girls were away at school, she would come home from work in the late evening to find the fey girl from the Florida swamps in her bed, waiting for her. Many nights Miranda found herself too exhausted to make love, but her young lover seemed to instinctively know what she needed before she could ever voice her needs. On those nights Andy would cuddle her and soothe away the stress of the day at Runway.

Conversely, Runway became increasingly stressful each and every day. While her home life was better than she could ever remember it being, she was under constant siege in the workplace. Within weeks of Oliver Trumbleson's death, Irv managed to schedule a discussion on a board meeting's agenda about how the nationwide downturn in the economy was likely to affect the corporation's bottom line and urge proactive planing to limit any loss of market-share. It was evident to Miranda's allies on the board during this discussion that the new temporary member who had replaced Oliver was in over his head.

In his defense, he told the Board that he was voting the way he believed Oliver would have voted. Unfortunately for Runway, this meant he had sided with Irv's faction. He explained that, after considering the information Irv had supplied about how other corporations were struggling, he believed that frugality was a prudent policy for the greater good of Elias-Clarke as a whole. The single vote majority decreed cuts to the operating budgets of all Elias-Clarke publications. With Runway having the largest budget of any of the corporation's enterprises, the board decided that the magazine must be slated for the biggest hit. The fact that Runway was the only one of Elias-Clarke's magazines that was consistently profitable month after month apparently didn't enter into the equation during the decision-making process.

Oliver's replacement's pattern of conservative thinking and lack of understanding of Runway's preeminence as Elias-Clarke's flagship publication continued month after month. With Irv courting the man and praising his wisdom as each board decision went against Miranda's interests, her ability to run the magazine she had raised up from near ruin continued to erode. Each day that passed required Miranda spend just a little more time at the office trying to hold off the onslaught and maintain her place as the reigning fashion icon.

In her few spare moments at the office, Miranda would sometimes muse about her assistant, Emily. The girl had quite simply lost her mind. The first assistant had continued to do her job adequately over the last several months, but it was a very near thing. Should the silly girl even get a glimpse of Serena, she acted moon-eyed and became absolutely useless for hours, if she didn't disappear for said hours all together. Early on, Andrea had tried to explain that there had been a few unexpected additions to the potion she and Serena had created for Emily, which caused it to be far more potent than originally planned, consequently causing Miss Emily to be caught up in the throws of passions she couldn't control. Miranda had listened politely and then promptly dismissed the effects of any potion ingested by the Brit. She was of the considered opinion that Serena finally had managed to break through Emily staid English exterior, seducing the woman, and now the young Brit could simply not get enough of her Brazilian lover. Miranda herself was acutely aware of how suddenly having feast where before had been famine, as far as bedroom games were concerned, could be distracting, so she tolerated Emily's plight for the moment with some mild amusement.

*****

Andy's perception of this time living with Miranda and her daughters was somewhat different from Miranda's. Although happier that she had ever been, she was far more aware of the storm clouds gathering on the distant horizon and the possibilities of what coming events were likely to eventually portend for her relationship with Miranda. The days and nights in the here and now, however, were very different than her past had been. She was no longer alone, and she was intent on enjoying their relationship for as long as it lasted.

On weekends she would spend time with Miranda and her children, She and the twin girls forming an increasingly strong bond. She became a person Caroline could come to and discuss her budding sexuality without fear of censure or judgment.

Andy spent weekends teaching Cassidy about the world and those unseen powers that flowed through it. The young girl's education into becoming a wise-woman began with long walks through the city and learning plants and herbs by sight, feel, smell and taste. Andy had promised that once Cassidy could identify them reliably, she would teach her apprentice the basics of potion making and which combination of herbs or plants would provide whatever effect was desired.

Andy watched with some sadness as Miranda spent less and less time with her daugher and her lover. Miranda increasingly felt it necessary that she return to her office in the evening and on the weekends. Andy understood that Miranda was fighting to retain all she had built, but Andy also knew what the outcome of that struggle was going to be. She mourned silently for Miranda's pain and did all she could to mitigate it, knowing the battle already lost.

Left to her own devises at the townhouse during the week while Miranda worked at Runway, Andy's days were not empty. After Margaret Taylor had visited Andy she'd phoned a friend. That friend had visited Andy within days of that phone call. After their visit, she too had called a friend who, in turn, had visited Andy and then called a friend. Within a few short weeks Andy had people arriving on the townhouse doorstep several times each day, seeking her counsel.

*****

Each supplicant who showed up at the townhouse brought questions, doubts, and fears, along with their wallets. Each expected their new psychic, witch, wise-woman, gypsy, or whatever they considered the young woman who opened the door when they rang the doorbell on East 73rd Street, to demand tribute in the form of a cash payment. Each was surprised when the fey woman read their cards, advised them on their concerns, and then refused to take any money. Since Hattie read Miranda's housekeeper, Mrs. Weigman's cards on a daily basis, helping the woman navigate a difficult time in her home life, the housekeeper kept her silence to her employer, causing Miranda to be none the wiser to the daily stream of visitors to her home.

Three months to the day of Margaret Taylor's first visit to Miss Hattie, Portia Ravitz, the CEO of Elias-Clarke's second and much younger wife, rang the bell, seeking to speak to the psychic that all of her social circle were raving about. She, as a rule, didn't believe in the paranormal, but since her friends were adamant about the woman and her prognostic abilities. Portia Ravitz had a question she wanted the answer to, so she suspended her disbelief and made the trip.

The witch, Hattie, opened the door and looked down on the bleached blonde woman. “I cain't helps ya, Mizz Ravitz,” the dark haired woman said softly. “Ye already knows th' answer ta what ya come ta ask. He'll cheat on ya sure as he cheated with ya on his last wife. Ya ain't stupid, no matter what he says. Time will come when ya know more then he wants ya ta. On that day ye'll be a place where ya c'n makes a choice. Ye'll be able ta bring him down an' let him go, er ye'll choose ta stay cause o' the things he gives ya. Choose wisely when that day comes, 'cause it will mark th' path ye'll walk for the rest o' yer life.” With that, the witch closed the door.

Portia Ravitz had her answer.

And so it went, day after day, month after month.

*****

For Caroline and Cassidy the weekends went all too quickly and the weekdays all too slowly. School was, as it had been since they had first arrived, something to be endured. They had been confused and angry when their parents and their therapist had decreed that this school for troubled girls was necessary for their well-being. In their hearts they knew that their mother wasn't happy with this solution. But with their barely tolerable step-father Stephen's exit from their lives, they had reacted to the press frenzy surrounding the divorce. As young girls on the cusp of adolescence, they had already had quite enough drama in their lives. With the renewed paparazzi deluge and the ludicrous tabloid stories, mostly condemning their mother, they had coped with their anger by acting out. They had given their parents a number of scares and even worried their usually unflappable therapist.

After completing their first semester and starting their second, they were now fixtures at the school. They, like most girls of their age, had a number of friends, a number of acquaintances, and a handful of rivals. Students involved in rivalries often played nasty tricks on each other as a way of increasing their status and social standing among the other girls. It didn't make things any easier that both the twins, as well as the rest of the student body, knew that they were on the Head Mistress's watch list. Any infraction of the school's rules that either of the twin's made was brought directly to Mrs. Swineford's attention. Consequently, Cassidy and Caroline had made an agreement that they wouldn't involve themselves in any pranking because they didn't want to get into any more trouble.

The odd thing was that over the last several weeks, any time a prank was aimed against either of the twins, it somehow went disastrously wrong for the person trying to prank them. And, much to Mrs. Swineford's frustration, anytime anything happened to one of Cassidy's or Caroline's rivals, which was becoming increasingly frequent, both of the twins had air-tight alibis and neither they, nor any of their regular circle of friends, had been anywhere near where the pranks had befallen the victims. Cassidy and her dream friend would spend a good deal of time laughing about this.

At the beginning of the twin's second semester, a new transfer student from Brazil was introduced into several of Caroline's classes. The poor little rich girl, Paola by name, was lost in many of her classes because of a very dysfunctional home life. Her parents, mired in their own problems, had ignored her academic difficulties for years. Caroline took to helping her in class, and a tenuous friendship started to grow between them. When it became obvious to the teaching staff that the new student was going to need more help than could be handled in the classroom, school staff decided that tutors were desirable. Caroline was immediately the first choice for language arts, social studies, and art appreciation. Caroline and Paola began to meet several times a week. As the weeks passed, it wasn't long before their friendship began to grow into something more.

Cassidy was pleased to see her sister experiencing her first romance. Paloa seemed nice, and there were no overtones of any kind of cruel mind games that many of the spoiled girls of the student body played on one another.

First loves are often all-consuming. Caroline spending virtually all of her free time with Paola left Cassidy to her own devices more of the time than she was used to. She found herself surprised that she didn't feel alone and abandoned. She even found that she didn't need the company of other friends or acquaintances. She had always loved to read. She could be quite content scouring the library for new reading material and then visiting and caring for the grave where she had gathered the dirt used in the love potion.

She found the lonely plot of ground in the cemetery a restful place and began to spend a good deal of her free time there. She would sit with her back against the gravestone and somehow the lonely place evoked the desire to read aloud. After several visits, she become aware of fleeting shadows and blurred images just at the edge of her peripheral vision. They would seemingly gather around her as she read, but when she would turn her head to look, nothing would be there.

After increasing incidences of these phantom images, she feared it was a problem with her eyesight. She decided to talk to her mother about it when she went home for the next weekend.

*****

Excited at once again finding Andy waiting for their arrival on the train platform, although Andy had not missed a single arrival since that first one, Cassidy didn't think to mention her concern about her eyesight. Miranda, of course, upon hearing of what her daughter was experiencing, immediately called Emily and demanded that she book the first available appointment with the girls' ophthalmologist.

Saturday morning at breakfast Andy was privy to Miranda and Cassidy discussing plans to take the girl to the doctor. When Miranda excused herself to get dressed to leave, Andy spoke up. “What kind o' doctor?” the young woman from the swamp asked.

“One for my eyes. I've been seeing things.” Cassidy said as she dug into the cereal in her bowl.

“What kind o' things?” Andy inquired.

“Like shadows at the edge of my vision. But when I turn my head, there's nothing there,” the beautiful young girl replied around a mouthful of cereal and milk.

Andy rose from her place at the table and moved up beside where the girl sat. Putting a hand over Cassidy's face, covering her eyes, the swamp witch closed her own eyes and slowly exhaled. Opening her eyes and taking her hand away from Cassidy's face, she smiled. “Ya-all go on ta that doctor with your mama. He ain't gonna find nothin' wrong with yer eyes, an' knowin' that'll make your mama feel lots better. When ya-all gets back, you and I'll talk 'bout what's really goin' on."

“You know?” Cassidy asked breathlessly.

“Yep,” the woman from rural Florida answered frankly. “Yer seein' spooks.”

“Spooks!?” Cassidy swallowed hard, breakfast suddenly forgotten.

“Spooks.” Andy asserted with a curt nod.

*****

Miranda was relieved that the eye doctor, one of the top rated in the country, had run every test he could think of, twice, and had found her precious daughter's eyes to be in tip-top health. Twenty-twenty vision and no indication of any kind of organic problem, he had assured Miranda. He mentioned that the symptomatology of dark shadows at the periphery of vision smacked of cataracts. Cataracts, however, were easily detectable, and Cassidy showed absolutely no signs of that particular problem. He did not have an answer as to why Miranda's daughter was experiencing what she reported, but he assured Miranda that whatever it was, it wasn't the girl's eyes.

Comforted that her daughter's eyes were all right, Miranda turned her mind to discovering what was causing her daughter to see things.

*****

Andy looked at Cassidy where she sat in the Priestly family room. Caroline was downstairs talking to Paola on the telephone. Miranda was enjoying a bubble-bath with candles and wine that Andy had prepared for her. It left Cassidy and Andy with half an hour during which they would not be interrupted.

Tell me everythin' ya seen an' done since ya noticed yer seein' these shadows,” Andy urged, sitting down next to the young girl on the sofa.

Cassidy thought hard for a minute and then nodded. “At first it was just one shadow. I saw it in my room sometimes when I'd been lying there reading. But when I turned to look at it, it was gone. When I go to the graveyard there are lots of shadows at the edges of my vision.”

“Graveyard?” Andy asked. “Is this th' place you done got the graveyard earth?”

Cassidy nodded. “Something happened there when I got the dirt. Something I haven't told anybody about.”

Andy nodded, her eyes on the girl before her. She was silent, waiting for Cassidy to tell the story in her own time.

“I got to the graveyard about midnight,” the young girl said. “I found the gate chained shut and locked, but I was determined that I wasn't going to let any obstacle stand in my way. Walking around the graveyard's perimeter, I found a tree close to the wall. I climbed up it and jumped from it to the wall and from the wall to the ground on the other side. I was so excited about doing something I might impress you with. About doing something to convince you to help me become a wise woman that I didn't think it through, and it wasn't until I was in trouble I realized that I hadn't figured out how I was going to get out of the cemetery. I got the dirt, and I quickly realized that I was trapped. I was already scared. I was out after curfew, and I knew that Mrs. Swineford was gunning for Caroline and me. Just about then a flashlight beam swept through the graveyard. I looked toward the gate and saw the silhouette of a police car. I heard them rattling the chain that held the gate padlocked shut, and a man yelled for me to stay where I was. I didn't want to get suspended again. I turned, and I ran full speed for the for the wall where I'd come in.” Here the girl hesitated for a moment, and then she continued. “I jumped as hard as I could, but there just wasn't any chance. I knew as soon as I left the ground that I was going to hit the wall rather than catch the top edge of it. Just when I thought there was no hope, something got a hold of me and picked me up. It threw me into the tree. There I was, suddenly on the right side of the wall and with an easy way to the ground. I jumped down and realized that in my flight I had dropped the bag of graveyard earth. I was about to cry, and then that bag of dirt that I'd dropped as I ran just flew over the wall, all on its own, and landed at my feet."

Andy nodded solemnly. “Tain't th' whole of th' tale, is it?” she asked. "Tell me 'bout th' rest.”

Cassidy looked confused. She thought for a moment and shook her head. “That's it,” she asserted. “I ran like crazy to get back to campus. I snuck in, and I went to bed.”

The woman from rural Florida swamp arched an eyebrow. “Ya didn't do or say nothin' else?” she inquired gently.

Cassidy thought for another few seconds. Then her eyes lit up. “On the way back to the dorm, I said I'd take flowers to the grave. I promised I'd take flowers to the grave.”

“An' did ya?“ Andy asked.

Cassidy nodded. “The following Friday. I went to town between classes and bought some flowers. I went back to the cemetery and put them on the grave.”

'Tell me 'bout th' grave,” Andy said, something in her tone, urgent.

“The grave?” Cassidy asked, confused. “It was just awful Andy,” she said, her voice filled with emotion. “She'd been forgotten there. She was just my age when she had died, and the grave hadn't had anyone to look after it in forever. It was so moss and grime-coated you couldn't even read her name...”

Andy nodded and waited for the girl to continue.

“I used a little stick and cleaned out the engraving. Then I promised that the next time I went I'd take stuff to clean up the space properly. I did too. Now it looks better now than most of the graves in that cemetery. I go there when I don't have class. It's a nice quiet place to read. The funny thing is when I'm there I read aloud for some reason.”

Andy reached out and lifted the copper locket that Cassidy now never seemed to be without.
“Ya found this, didn't ya?” She said, obviously already knowing the answer.

Cassidy nodded, looking at Andy and wondering what this all meant.

“At th' grave,” Andy continued and Cassidy nodded again, her eyes a bit frightened now. “Are ya dreamin' anythin' unusual?” Andy asked, her hand still holding the locket that was around Cassidy's neck.

Cassidy laughed. “Just about a friend that doesn't exist. It's almost like I have an imaginary playmate.”

Andy let go of the locket. “She ain't imaginary,” she asserted. “And she's like ta scare ya some, real soon. Ya know her name, so's ye'll be able ta talk with her when she shows herself. Likes ta be at night. Likes ta be somewheres shadowy th' first time.”

Cassidy shook her head. “I don't understand, Andy,” she whispered.

Andy nodded and smiled. “We knows what yer gift is now. Yer like me. Ya c'n see the dead. That's what them shadows 'ur at th' edge o' what ya see. Them that ain't gone on. Told ya, always lots o' spooks in a boneyard. They come ta listen ta ya read. As ya grow more inta yer gift, ye'll likely be able ta hear 'em as well as see 'em. But her, she's chosen ya. Ya promised, an ye kept yer word. She liked that after bein' alone and forgot fer so long. She's like ta be with ya from now till the day ya die.”

“Are you telling me that the girl I'm seeing in my dreams is a ghost!?” Cassidy squeaked.

Andy nodded. “She's been comin' ta ya in yer dreams ta sip at yer life energy. Little sips that won't hurt ya none. It's makin' her stronger. One day soon, she'll appear ta ya outside yer dreams. It's like ta shock ya near ta death. Ye'll likely be able ta see right through her like a pane o' glass. Ye'll be the only one who can see an' hear her, lessen someone else there has th' gift."

Cassidy nodded. “What should I do?” she asked quietly.

“Couldn't hurt iffin you could learn all you c'n 'bout her. Know who she was, how she died. Anythin' you c'n find out,” Andy answered.

Cassidy nodded, her mind turning on how one would go about finding out about a girl not old enough to have done anything notable and who had died more than eighty years ago.

*****

Later that evening Andy slipped into Miranda's study where Miranda was on her computer doing research online, trying to determine what might be causing the shadows at the edges of her daughter's vision. Andy approached the desk. “ 'Randa,” she offered softly, “ain't no doctor gonna fix what's ailing Cassidy's eyes. Can't be fixed, cause ain't nothin' wrong with her.”

Miranda looked up from the computer screen and over the top of her reading glasses. She spoke in that oh-so-quiet voice that terrified her employees. “Andrea, my daughter is seeing shadows at the edges of her vision. The idiot doctor from today says that there is nothing wrong with her eyes. But if she is seeing something, there must be some cause for it. It is my duty as her mother to find out what is causing it and what can be done to correct it so that I know my little girl is healthy and safe.”

Andy shook her head and reached out, resting her hand on her lover's shoulder. “She's like me 'Randa, She's got th' gift, and it's comin' inta flower. She's seein' things others cain't 'cause they ain't got the sight. Cain't see what she sees.”

“So what are you telling me, Andrea?” Miranda demanded. “That my little girl is seeing angels or demons?” The older woman shook her head. “Nonsense!” she asserted. “This is the twenty-first century. No such things exist.”

Andy shook her head sadly. She turned away from the cold voice, feeling tears brimming behind her eyes. “I'm tellin' ya th' 'cause o' what she's seein'. And it don't need fixin'. She has th' gift, just as I has it. She's asked me ta' teach her th' old ways. Ta help her down th' road ta' bein' a wise-woman.”

Miranda sighed. “I knew I should have restricted her reading of those ridiculous books on the occult. She has been fascinated with that nonsense since she was a little girl.”

Andy got her back up and stamped one bare foot on the carpet. “Taint nonsense, Mizz high-an'-mighty 'Randa Priestly," she answered, asserting herself. “There's things in heaven an' earth that you ain't even dared dream o'. Them that ain't gone on 'ur near about everywheres. Your daughter sees um. Iffin her gift is near as strong as I'm think'n it might be, she's gonna be able ta hear em an' talk to em too.” Andy shook her head. “Ya saw fer yerself what a spook that can manifest feels like. An Ol' Lucius weren't even exertin' himself. Ye don't have the gift, yet it reached out from beyond an' touched ya. Made you know he was there and was powerful. Made you afraid.”

Miranda shook her head in negation, “I was hypnotized by the place and by the company. You wanted me to believe it happened, and I allowed myself to be swayed. It was a fantasy, a dream best forgotten.”

“Yer a fool “Randa,” Andy snapped. “Ye know it tweren't no dream. Ye know it in yer heart an' yer soul. Ol' Lucius is a vengeful sort o' spook. Iffin ya continue ta deny he reached out an' touched ya, ya can expect ta see him in yer dreams.”

Miranda placed her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. “Andrea,” she said, her tone tinged with ice. “I don't want you to encourage Cassidy's fantasies. I forbid you to teach her witchcraft.”

Andy shook her head violently, ”'Randa, yer daughter is seein' spooks,” she almost begged. “They ain't goin' ta go away. Those that have stayed behind have somethin' they need ta do or say. They'll recognize her gift, an' they'll seek her out, tryin' ta satisfy what it is they needs ta do. If she don't get taught how ta deal with 'em, it'll make her life hard. Cause she's gonna be seein' folks other folks cain't see!”

Miranda shook her head and smiled. “Andrea,” she said softly. “You've left that uneducated, superstitious, rural life behind. You are in the most modern city in the world. Science creates new miracles here every day. My girls are children of this century, not of the eighteenth-century.”

Andy stubbornly turned away. “I thought that th' fates had brought ya ta me,” she said softly. “That ya'd stay wit' me at the flower pool an' we'd be happy,” she offered bitterly. “Then ya asked I come wit' ya. Come ta this here place. Now yer girl needs me. Needs what I c'n teach her.” Andy glared at Miranda. Teachin' her is what th' fates want. It's why I was brought here. So's I c'n show her how ta live wit' her gift. And ye say ya forbid it!” She shook her head. “Yer her Mama, iffin you say I cain't, then I won't. Th' decision is yourn. But hear me 'Randa Priestly. You do this thing, an' you'll be makin' one o' the biggest mistakes o' yer life, and yer lil' bird is the one gonna pay th' piper.”

Miranda looked at the girl before her, standing straight and proud, beautiful in her anger and defiance. She felt her heart melt, but this decision was about her daughter's welfare. “You will not teach Cassidy any more of this ridiculous nonsense,” she commanded imperiously, as if she were standing behind her desk at Runway and issuing orders to her minions.

Andy flinched as if struck by the coldness in Miranda's voice. She nodded her understanding of Miranda's words and turned on her heal, leaving Miranda's study.

*****

Miranda watched the girl go, wondering how the conversation had seemed to have gone so wrong. That was when she heard the front door slam shut. Andrea, her Andrea, had left the house and gone out into the late night of New York City, a place she was ill-prepared to handle. She rushed from her study to the front door of the townhouse. Throwing it open, she frantically looked up and down the street. The brash and imprudent girl was nowhere to be seen. Miranda silently cursed herself for a fool. She had long wanted a lover with Andrea's capacity for understanding and tolerance of Miranda's acerbic nature. Now she'd picked a fight on truly foolish grounds. If Andrea was to stay with her, would she not need to contribute to the raising of the twins? Be, in fact, a second mother to them? And did that not mean teaching what she knew? Miranda rushed back to her study and called Roy. “Roy, I need you here immediately,” she demanded the moment the call was answered. “That's all.”

*****

Barefoot, Andy strode quickly down the sidewalk, moving from one pool of street light to the next, not really paying attention to her surroundings. She muttered angrily to herself as she went. “Mizz high an' mighty 'Randa Priestly. Know-it-all. Thinks she knows what's best fer her lil' bird...”

She had been hurrying along for some time and had covered a fair distance. Her surroundings were unfamiliar. It was a surprise when the two men stepped out of a darkened doorway, one of them brandishing a knife. “Give up your money, bitch, and you won't get hurt!” the knife wielder demanded in a harsh voice.

Andy took a step backward, her eyes darting this way and that, looking for an avenue of escape. “Ain't gots no money,” she answered softly. “Don't wants no trouble.”

The man with the knife laughed, a dark and nasty sound. The other man licked his lips. “Well, everybody that comes across our turf has to pay a toll. You ain't got money, so how you going to pay?” He said, looking at Andy's body, clad in her thin sundress, up and down. “I know; we'll just take it out of your ass.”

Andy moved to bolt back the way she had come, but the knife wielder was too quick and had a hold of her upper arm before she could get away. Andy tried to scream, but the other man clamped his hand over her mouth before the two dragged her into the darkened doorway. One of them grabbed the collar of her sundress and ripped it. “I'll be damned,” he said excitedly. “No bra! Look at them titties!”

Andy growled like an animal from behind the hand clamped over her mouth, and tried to calm herself enough to call on her gift. That was when the second man punched her in the stomach. “You're going to be the sorriest and the sorest bitch in town in the morning,” he laughed. “Now do as we say, or we'll really fuck you up!”

The wind knocked out of her and her vision blurred with pain, Andy closed her eyes and let her mind scream out her desperation.

*****

Cassidy was in the middle of one of the wonderful dreams she had nightly now. She was with her friend in her bedroom. They had just listened to another old-timey song on that ancient portable record player. Her friend was laughing about something that Cassidy had said when her face became serious. She looked away and then looked back at Cassidy sadly. “I'm sorry," she whispered urgently. “I'd never mean to hurt you, and you'll thank me later!” she said before plunging both her hands into Cassidy's chest.

Cold fire ran along Cassidy's nerves and permeated every muscle. For a moment she couldn't breathe. Then her friend pulled her hands back.

“I have to go!” the girl exclaimed. She moved, flowed, like a mist moved by a blast of air. For one brief second her visage changed into something truly terrifying, before, wailing, she was gone through a solid wall.

Cassidy awoke in her bed with a start, her breathing shallow and rapid, her entire body covered in sweat but chilled so badly that her teeth chattered. The places on her chest that her friend had touched felt burned. She rose on unsteady feet and quickly discovered that she couldn’t support her own weight. She fell back across her bed, frantic to call for help. Call for her mother, call for Andy. Her eyes too heavy to stay open, she was unconscious in seconds.

*****

Roy had been cruising the surrounding neighborhoods for three-quarters of an hour as Miranda sat in the back of the town car, staring out the window. They had started with the block immediately around Miranda's townhouse before Miranda had directed what was obviously a systematically enlarged search area. Roy's first thought was that they were looking for the twins, but Miranda's was not frantic enough. One of the side effects of having been employed by the Devil in Prada as long as he has been was that he'd developed a certain ability to read her. Roy chuckled internally at the though, because those that were not intimately aware of Miranda Priestly's moods would never think of the woman as capable of ever becoming frantic. Roy knew otherwise. The few occasions where Miranda had had to take one of the twins to the hospital emergency room after typical childhood injuries had shown him that Miranda. Roy knew that Miranda loved and worried about her children, and that she was as protective of them as a momma lioness. If one or both of the twins were on the street in New York City after dark, Miranda would be showing myriad, almost undetectable small signs of the stress it was causing her. Using process of elimination, Roy deduced that all that was left was Miranda's house guest, Miss Hattie. As he turned down another neighborhood street, he allowed his mind to wonder as to the events that had brought them to this situation.

*****

It was dark, dirty, and it smelled of urine and worse. The alleyway was littered with debris as the two men dragged Andy further into the secluded space, tearing the remaining rags of her sundress from her body. “Damn!” one of the men shouted. “No panties either! This is one hot bitch!” he mocked, his hands running rudely over her exposed breasts.

The knife wielder closed the folding weapon and stuck it in his pocket. He slapped Andy full across the face. “Should have carried some money, girly,” he said excitedly. “If you'd just given up some money, we would've let you skate. But as I told you, nobody crosses our turf without paying the toll.” He reached down and roughly touched Andy were only Miranda's hands were allowed to be.

The other man's hand, clamped across her mouth, loosened for a split second, and getting purchase, she bit down till she tasted blood. He screeched and loosened his hold around her middle as he tried to retrieve his hand from tearing teeth. She shifted her weight and rolled away. Suddenly free, she turned and tried to run, but her other attacker blocked her avenue of escape. Raising his fist, he struck her brutally to the ground.

The temperature in the immediate vicinity dropped suddenly. A whirlwind of a luminescent pale blue mist erupted out of the ground between Andy's prone form and where her attackers stood over her. It swirled violently, whipping trash up from the alley's floor in a miniature cyclone. It shifted, roiled, and gained size. Taking form, it pushed the man who had wielded the knife backward, though whether from some physical force imparted by this phantasm or from the sheer terror the vision before him must have instilled, no one would know. It was a luminescent, pale blue nightmare form. Indistinct, never still, its smoky mass flowed like a sheet caught in the wind. Its upper body gave a skeletal impression, its arms and the fingers on its clawed hands impossibly long and reminiscent of the bare, bleached branches of dead trees. Its base rising up from the ground underneath it was less distinct, resembling a column of illuminated blue fog. Its head was the most defined part of this spectral apparition, skull-like with a mouth full of sharp pointed teeth and a pair of points of blue lights, burning cold at the centers of the dark hollow sockets of its eyes. It shrieked, the sound otherworldly and full of rage. Raising its arms it charged the now off-balance figure of the knife wielder, who was struggling to get his weapon back out of the pocket of his jean. The specter moved as if blown before a hurricane-driven wind. This seemingly incorporeal thing scooped him up as if he weighed nothing at all and flung him with force into one of the alley's brick walls. The sound of the impact was sickening and wet.

The other man, being no fool, was scrambling to get away from the nightmare vision that suddenly turned and rushed him. It was on him in a heartbeat and, screaming, he was driven to the ground. He writhed as it roiled and swirled around him cutting him a hundred times.

When the man on the ground ceased struggling, the phantasm turned and flowed over to where Andy crouched on the ground. Where before it was cold, now it warmed the air around the woman from Slippery Bottom. It drew the rags that were once the young woman's sundress up, covering her nakedness. Andy closed her eyes and let what she knew was a ghost do what it was going to do. She did not know the origin of this spirit or what it might want of her, but she could feel that it meant her no harm and had, in fact, come to her rescue.

*****

Miranda was thrown violently forward against her seat belt and then slumped back into the rear seat of the town car as Roy brought the car to a screeching and unexpected stop in the middle of the road. He was out of the car before she could even think of berating him. She untangled herself from the confining belts and opened the car door, stepped out. She glanced around to see Roy down on the ground looking under the car. “Roy,” she said, her tone marking her at her most aggravated, “what on earth...”

Roy looked up from where he held himself just off the pavement of the road. “I'm sorry, Miranda,” he said, his tone frantic. "There was suddenly a little girl on the road! Right in front of the car! I hit the brakes, but there is no way I didn't hit her. She was just too close!” He again looked under the car. Not seeing anything, he stood and looked around frantically. “I don't see her, but she has to be here!”

Miranda looked around the street. “Roy, we weren't going very fast. If a girl was here, she'd have to be very close by." At that moment she looked up and, for a split second, thought she saw a girl of about her daughter's age beckoning from the mouth of an alley. The odd thing was the young girl was dressed in vintage fashion instead of something that was presently in style. It wasn't Halloween, and Miranda could not imagine why a girl that age would be dressed in a knee-length straight dress with a drop-waist and beaded overdress. She even wore a cloche hat with a feather adornment. Such clothing hadn't been in fashion since the flappers from the 1920's. The girl turned and disappeared down the alley, and Miranda pointed. "There, Roy,” she urged. “I just saw a young girl go down that alley.”

Roy was immediately on his feet, and he and Miranda gave chase across the street and down the alleyway. The alley ran though to the next street, but it also had an access road running between buildings that fronted on the two parallel streets. Roy glanced each way while hurriedly crossing the access road, and apparently not seeing anything resembling their quarry, continued on toward the next street. Something caused Miranda to pause a moment, and looking to her left, she saw Andrea holding the rags of her dress about herself and slowly hobbling across the dirty cement and asphalt littered with broken glass and other detritus. A quiet, anguished sound came to Miranda's ears, and she suddenly realized that she herself was its source. She rushed forward to Andrea's aide. The two's eyes met. Miranda's hands came up, and she was suddenly fiercely embracing the woman from the swamp to her, not caring who might be watching or what might be said.

Andrea trembled in her arms. “People here 'bouts are no better than them no account Kagle boys back home,” she whispered, her tone trembling and angry.

Miranda was horrified. It was clearly evident from the torn rags her young lover was holding together to cover herself and the bruise forming on the side of the woman's face near her eye that Andrea had been assaulted. Miranda felt like she couldn't breathe, couldn't speak coherently. Almost immediately Roy was once again beside her. Seeing his usually so in control employer seemingly uncertain of what to do, he took charge. Doffing his dress jacket, he placed it across Andrea's shoulders and gently guided her toward where the car sat in the middle of the street. “Do you need to go to the hospital, Miss?” he asked courteously. “Are you injured?”

Andy shook her head. “I'm all right," she said, nodding farther up the alley. "Them others tweren't so lucky. Thinkin' maybe they're goin' ta need a sawbones.”

Hearing a groan, Roy glanced up the alley, seeing a pair of legs sticking out from behind a dumpster. He moved quickly to where one of the downed men lay. In his early sixties, as a young man, he had served in the military and seen some of the fiercest fighting in the war in Vietnam. Only those long ago days of comrades fallen in combat had prepared him for the injuries he saw. He looked up at Andy. “How did this...what the hell did this?!” he exclaimed.

The woman who often called herself Hattie shook her head. “Somethin' came ta protect me,” she whispered, glancing around. Then she looked toward Miranda. “At first I thought it was Ol' Lucius, but it tweren't him."

Miranda moved up beside Roy and paled at the carnage spread before her.

Roy had his cell phone out of his pocket, ready to call the police when Andy reached out and took it from him. “You go on an' take 'Randa home, now, Mr. Roy,” she said, her voice country courteous and calmer than it had been. She shrugged off the coat Roy had given her and handed it back to him. “Them folk's that writes all the bad stuff about 'Randa 'll be busier 'n a one armed monkey with two peckers iffin they hear that she was near this. You take her on home now, an' I'll deal with the sheriff. I'll tell 'em what they wants ta hear.” She then turned to Miranda, and reaching out she smiled sadly. “I'll take care o' this and then come ta your house.”

“She's right, Ms. Priestly,” Roy said formally, gently guiding the icon away from the horror in the back of that alleyway. “Page Six would have a field day with you being here. Best they never find out you were anywhere close to this mess.”

Miranda nodded, obviously shaken and not at all displaying her usual self-assured demeanor. She allowed herself to be guided back to the car. Roy glanced back to the lithesome woman standing in the ally. “You just dial the numbers nine-one-one, Miss Hattie,” he offered, opening the rear door of the town car for Miranda to enter.

The woman many knew as Hattie nodded her understanding. She offered Miranda a sad smile and spoke. ”Randa, you look in on yer lil' birds when ya gets home. It'll make ya feel loads better.”

*****

In a moment Roy was behind the wheel, and the town car disappeared up the street. Andy struggled for a moment with the unfamiliar device in her hand and then looked at the strange symbols on the buttons. She first glanced down at the unconscious man and then at the whimpering, groaning injured man on the ground. Squatting down beside him she showed him the cell phone in her hand. “Ya-all shows me which o' these is a nine and which is a one, an' I'll get ya-all some help,” she offered courteously.

*****

Miranda had looked in on Caroline, comforting herself that her oldest by minutes daughter was all right. Caroline was perched under her covers, reading before she turned out the light. She shared a hug with her mother, and Miranda moved on to see her younger child.

Entering Cassidy's room she saw her daughter in obvious distress. She was laying on top of her bedding, her body failing, her body soaked in sweat. She moaned in her troubled sleep. Her mother was quickly by her side and, knelling down, Miranda gently shook her by the shoulder. “Cassidy...Bobbsey, wake up. You're having a bad dream,” she said softly in order to not further traumatize her child.

Cassidy startled awake, grabbing onto her mother's arms. “Oh Mom! It was horrible,” she wept. “What a horrible dream!”

“Oh my poor Bobbsey!” Miranda exclaimed pulling the trembling girl into a firm hug. She noted that the girl was deathly pale, and her body was cold to the touch. “Do you want to tell me about it?” she asked carefully.

Cassidy nodded and spoke quietly into her mother's throat. “I was in a dirty alley somewhere in the city. Two men were there. They had dragged a woman into the alley. I couldn't see her face, but I knew her. I knew they were going to hurt her, going to....” she swallowed hard, “you know. I had to stop them! I showed myself, and the two men were suddenly afraid. I reached out, and picked one of them up, and threw him like he weighed nothing at all. I threw him into a brick wall, and I heard his bones break when he hit it. Then suddenly my fingers were like knives, and I was on the other man, and I cut him again and again!” She dissolved into tears.

Miranda sat on Cassidy's bed with her arms wrapped tightly around her daughter until the girl had cried herself to sleep. She tried hard to focus on her daughter's needs, but the horror of what she'd seen in that filthy alley, coupled with Cassidy's describing the imagined events leading up to that carnage in stunning detail with no possible way that her daughter could have known what had happened there, frightened Miranda terribly. Andrea and her strange and inexplicable powers were the only explanation. Those men had accosted the woman from the swamp, and she had somehow used those otherworldly powers to defend herself. Now the problem had become that Cassidy's near idolization of the woman from rural Florida had created some kind of connection that had seemingly so linked her daughter to Andrea that Cassidy was being negatively affected. Miranda frowned. This could not be allowed. She would speak with Andrea as soon as the young woman returned to the house. There would be no more occult nonsense under her roof, and that was simply that.

*****

After many hours with the police, Andrea had returned to the townhouse. She tiredly informed Miranda that she had told the authorities that she was visiting from her home in Florida and that those two men had accosted her, had struck her, dragged her into the alley, and intended to rape her. She told them she had then passed out and when she awoke, the men had been in the condition the first officers on the scene and the ambulance crew had found them in. The fact that her clothing was torn to shreds, that she was bruised, and that not a speck of blood was on her anywhere had supported her story that she had had nothing to do with their injuries. “Wouldn't o' believed th' truth no-how,” was all she would say about her experience in dealing with the people at the police station.

The next morning, Miranda had made it quite clear to Andrea that there would be no more potions, spells, or talk of magic. No talk of ghosts, or spirits, or anything else that smacked of the occult. She decreed, without exception, that such subjects were off-limits in regard to either of her daughters, but especially with Cassidy.

“She's your child, “Randa. You're her Mama, and you gots th' right ta say how she's ta be raised," Andy conceded. “But yer makin' a bad, bad, mistake. One your girl, Cassidy, is goin' ta pay fer, an' one yer goin' ta regret right down ta yer bones.”

Miranda ignored the warning. As far as she was concerned, the matter was closed.

*****

The following weeks Miranda found herself pressed even harder at Runway than she had been before. Her days at the office became longer and longer as she fought to hold on to all she had built. Saturday and Sunday became just other work days. She saw little of her family; even her Andrea was often asleep when she came home. Granted each time it occurred, the girl was on top of the bed covers dressed in her simple cotton shift, having obviously tried to wait up for Miranda's return.

It was at another meaningless Runway function among the sycophants, supplicants, and toadies that Miranda learned an unpleasant truth. She had been cornered by Amelia Torvin, an extremely wealthy member of the terminally-bored leisure class.

“Dearest Miranda, how fortunate you are,” offered Amelia exuberantly, going through with the traditional ritual of air kisses close to Miranda's cheeks. “Imagine, having your own psychic living with you right there in your house!”

Miranda returned the insipid gesture, and sipping from the glass of inferior champagne she had been served, glanced across the crowded room to where a clique made up of Irv's cronies on the Elias-Clarke board surreptitiously watched her. She turned her attention back to the woman speaking to her. “What on earth are you talking about, my dear?” she asked, although she was not truly interested in the subject under discussion.

“Why Miss Hattie, of course!" The woman virtually gushed. “Half my social circle seeks her advice on....well, on just about everything!”

“Miss Hattie?!” Miranda exclaimed, surprised that this woman even knew the name of her houseguest. “Amelia, my dear, I have no idea what you're talking about,” she continued, feeling her heart sink.

“Oh, aren't you the cagey one,” Amelia smiled wickedly. “You have the golden goose living right there with you. If it were me, I'd be having my cards read morning and night! What is your arrangement with Miss Hattie, anyway? I heard that Carol McWilliams offered her a brownstone of her own if she'd allow Carol to become her patron, and Miss Hattie turned her down cold.”

Miranda stiffened. “Miss Hattie,” she said tightly, “is a guest, staying in my home. A friend of the family.”

“Well just everyone is going by your place for Miss Hattie to advise them. I myself was planning on stopping by tomorrow. Where on earth did you meet her, Miranda?” Amelia continued as Miranda, shocked by the implications of the conversation and the probability that her privacy and the sanctity of her home may have been violated, tuned the woman out.

*****

“ANDREA!” Miranda called out angrily as soon as she entered the townhouse and locked the door.

In a moment Andrea was at the top of the stairs. “Yes 'Randa,” she asked, smiling down at the woman.

“Have you been using my house as a...a...fortunetelling establishment?!” she demanded of the young woman from the rural South. “Are you running a business out of my home?!”

Andrea started down the stairs towards Miranda but stopped about halfway down, apparently realizing Miranda's mood. “Tain't no business, 'Randa. Folks come, and I helps 'em with their worries. Don't takes no money fer what I do.”

“You have had strangers into my home...MY HOME!” Miranda asserted quietly, using the quiet terrible tone that she often used on her employees at Runway. “There will be no more of it! No more fortunetelling! No more spells or occult nonesense."

The woman sometimes known as Hattie looked at the white-haired icon before her and shook her head sadly. “I'm a wise-woman, 'Randa. Cain't not be one. God or the Devil done give me these powers, an' I've gots ta use em fer good best I can." A tear ran down the fey woman's cheek. “Ye don't wants me here no more,” she said, turning back up the stairs. “Ya don't wants me ta be me. I embarrasses ya, and ya knows I don't belong. Ya keeps me here in this house, hidden away like a caged bird, ashamed o' what's twixt us. Yer so focused on keepin' that which is passin' out o' yer life that ye cain't see all yer 'bouts ta lose.” She ran up the stair and stopped in front of the guest room she had kept her things in since her arrival at the townhouse. “Ya have made yer choices, Miranda Priestly. I fear they'll bring ya no happiness, but ye've made 'em clear,” she said, entering the room and slamming the door behind her.

Miranda went to the door, upset with herself for upsetting Andrea, whom she realized that she loved, but also still angry with the young woman for taking such liberties with the hospitality she had given.

Trying the door knob to the guest room, Miranda found it locked. She decided to try and deescalate the situation. Once she and Andrea had calmed down, she was certain that they could come to some equitable and reasoned settlement. Andrea was right, Miranda suspected, that she had been keeping the young woman hidden away. The girl was a precious innocent and as recent events had clearly demonstrated, New York City was no place for an innocent. “We'll speak again in the morning,” Miranda offered through the closed door. There was no reply. Already missing the girl's easy smile, Miranda went to a lonely and troubled bed.

*****

The next morning Miranda found the door to the room Andrea had taken refuge in open. Entering, she hoped to find the girl and make a promise that they would talk when she returned from work that evening. After the restless night she had spent, she wanted to tell Andrea that they would work out some sort of compromise. Looking about the room she found the clothing she had provided Andrea neatly folded and sitting on the end of the bed. A quick look in the closet and the dresser made her blood run cold. The few things that Andrea had brought with her were nowhere in evidence. A search of the house revealed that neither was the young woman from Slippery Bottom.

Andrea was gone.

Miranda sighed and steeled her emotions. This was the way of things. People left her. She drove them away. During the various divorce proceedings, all three of her ex-husbands had accused her of being both work-obsessed and emotionally unavailable. In those instances she hadn't understood. They had known who and what she was when they had married her. They had known that she was the icon who ruled her magazine empire with an iron hand in a silk glove. The last two had, in fact, counted on her being so. They had wanted to tame the infamous dragon lady and display to the world the fashion goddess on their arm. Miranda had never aided them in fostering any such illusion. She remained herself and consequently, the marriages quickly declined, becoming more sham than reality.

Andrea had been different. She had followed Miranda back to New York from her home in the swamp. The young woman had struggled with the strange new world she had found herself in and found it impossible to fit in. Miranda remembered all the times that Andrea had told her that their time together was limited unless Miranda could bring herself to believe in Andrea's powers. She had seen evidence of them repeatedly, yet she had comforted herself that she was a woman of the twenty-first century and not subject to the whims of being scared of the dark in her rational and explainable world.

Miranda realized that she was to blame for her lover's departure and that cut her the deepest of all. Andrea had warned her that their time was running out, and Miranda had not listened. Andrea had warned her that her struggles trying to hold on to her position at Runwaywould come to naught and all her efforts would result only in greater heartbreak. The fey girl had begged that Miranda open her mind and reach out to her children, but Miranda had gone so far as to forbid Andrea from teaching Cassidy what she had to teach. She had even forbidden Andrea to continue having those silly women who came to have their cards read, back . It was the one time Andrea had become angry and fought back rather than simply accepting Miranda's will. She could remember a hundred promise she'd made and broken to the young woman. She wouldn't work so late tomorrow night, she'd be home for dinner, she'd....It didn't matter now. The girl was gone, and that was that.

Tomorrow was Friday. Her girls would return from school, and she would have to tell them that Andrea was gone. She was not looking forward to it.

On to Chapter 10