Chapter Text
The monotonous tone of the clock taunted her, each tick stirring the air of resentment as her role of glorified babysitter stretched before her. A deep sigh fell from parted lips as her fingers scraped along the nape of her neck. Only a few hours lingered before she could return to the cottage, greeted by the temptation of wine and warmth. Lilith ached for a challenge; the drivel of mortal affairs left her with so little in the way of entertainment.
The sharp click of heels against tile brought an abrupt end to the repetitive clock tone tormenting the Greendale hall. Lilith shifted in her seat, sitting back to observe the woman who had commanded the room with such indifference. She let out a low whistle, a wolfish grin spreading as her gaze followed the redhead’s path.
Deep navy silk clung to her hips, the fabric shifting with her movement as she strode purposefully across the hall. Delicate ruffles kissed the expanse of her neckline, accentuating the swell of her chest which strained against the form fitting cut. Lilith hummed appreciatively, captivated by copper curls framing porcelain skin. As she drew closer to the seat opposite, she studied the soft lines around her eyes. They were the mark of laughter and joy, a stark contrast to the solemn gaze the woman held. Lilith wasn’t sure she’d ever cared to notice such delicate features amongst mortals before, or perhaps none had ever been so striking.
Manicured fingers wrapped firmly around a brass cigarette holder and as the woman took a slow drawl, Lilith appraised her with a predatory stare. ‘Spellman- Zelda Spellman. And you must be Sabrina’s infamous Miss Wardwell, no?’. She spoke with a deep timbre, and though both measured and firm, there was an unexpected warmth to her tone. A low chuckle escaped Lilith, reverberating across the hall. She delighted in the slight shiver that ran through the redhead, despite her efforts to hide it. ‘No need for formalities given the events of Sabrina’s last term, call me Mary dear’.
A brief grimace marred seraphic features as Zelda recalled Sabrina’s altercation with Father Michaels and his forsaken Pagans. ‘My niece has a habit of brewing trouble, and as I hear, you played quite a hand in it yourself.’
Lilith began to speak, attempting a rebuttal in favour of her actions. Before a word could be uttered, Zelda held a firm palm up to silence her. ‘Contrary to popular belief, my niece does in fact inform me of these things. I am well aware that you are no mere mortal teacher. And although I understand why you concealed your abilities, I have my doubts about the authenticity of your alleged support. While Sabrina assures me your intentions are genuine, make no mistake that there is no hell or heaven-sent individual who could survive my wrath should they wish to hurt her. Do you understand, witch?’
Amused, a smile quirked at Lilith’s lips. ‘Well Miss Spellman, Sabrina has spoken of your strength and kindness often, but she failed to attest to your formidability. I see now where her ferocity to protect derives from’.
Zelda stiffened, her demeanour sharpening to a cold, aloof front. ‘You must have me confused with her Aunt Hilda, she provides the warmth and I merely mould discipline’.
And while she laid the tone of conviction well, her smile faltered as she finished. Lilith observed the change quietly, noticing as Zelda’s gaze dropped to where her hands idly fidgeted with the cigarette holder. Leaning further across the table, Lilith lowered her voice as if sharing a well-kept secret. ‘I can assure you, I’m a woman not easily mistaken. She spoke of your kindness, Miss Spellman, not your sister’s’.
There was finality to her tone, and not even Zelda dared attest otherwise. She pushed her chin higher, no longer hiding under Lilith’s stare but allowing green eyes to meet brown. A brightness reappeared, from a steeled olive to the rich green of a Hemlock leaf. A warm blush rose through Zelda, settling a splatter of pink across her chest. Pleased with her effect, Lilith rested back in the chair shamelessly appraising the flushed witch in front of her.
With a steadying breath, Zelda went on. ‘To return to my original point, we are well aware of your history. From experience, excommunicated witches are rarely cast out for rationale reasons. Most have defied and withstood the half-witted orders of a man. Our young witches would benefit from a few more teachers that work to amplify the worth of a woman. I’d like to extend an offer on behalf of the Church of Night.’
With a raised brow, Lilith simply nodded as she waited for the offer in question. ‘You may join our coven, and the protection it offers, if you are willing to accept a teaching position within the academy.’ Lilith allowed a silence to settle over them, lifting her hand to rest splayed fingers across her jaw. She surveyed the witch for a moment, the tilt of her head suggesting her intrigue at such an offer.
‘I accept’. She paused, shifting to a husked murmur, ‘-Directrix Spellman’.
Instinctively, Zelda’s thighs pressed together at the use of her title. The slow, seductive tone wreaked havoc on her body and the once dissipating blush reignited across her chest. Her hand reached back to rest at her nape, feeling the flush creep along her neck. Averting her gaze from Lilith’s scrutiny, she smoothed down the skirt of her dress and stood from the chair to offer her hand. ‘Thank you Mary, further details of your contract will arrive in due course. I look forward to working with you’.
As her hand clasped the eldest Spellman’s, Lilith felt the lick of hellfire curling between their palms. Interesting. Her control of hellfire was absolute, yet she had not summoned the engulfing flame that kissed at Zelda’s delicate fingers.
Before she could further question it, the redhead spun on her heel and strode toward the door. Much like her entrance, both mortal men and women alike shifted to watch her walk across the hall. Lilith’s eyes were amongst the mortals watching, freely admiring the swell of the redhead’s hips as she considered Zelda’s visceral reaction to her words. A mirthful glint gave way to her mischievous thoughts; she was finally going to have some fun.
As Zelda drove home, she contemplated her meeting with Mary. It had been Faustus’ idea to invite her to the academy, closer quarters to discern her intentions with Sabrina. However, there had been truth to Zelda’s words. There was little room within the Academy for female empowerment. She wished for the young witches to learn of the value in desire, and in power. Of which both attributes have been historically awarded to men, with no seat at the table yet marked for a woman to join. She sensed Mary had never been one to wait for a seat. If her actions with Sabrina were much to go by, she preferred to burn it down in her image. And Hell knows, she loved a woman who could play with fire.
Having escaped the tedium of Greendale’s hallowed halls, Lilith revelled in the comfort of Mary’s dim lit cottage. Slipping off her heels, she padded to the kitchen in search of her long awaited glass of wine. As the glass stem filled with garnet red, she let out a mocking sneer that permeated the hushed cottage. Ridiculous, nauseating even. She was truly the poster woman for mortal domesticity, Satan forbid.
Her head tilted back, the swill of Merlot warming her throat. A drop fell from soft lips, and she raised her finger to catch the bead as it stained a reddened path along her jaw. Pressing the finger to her lips, Lilith took a languid lick and savoured the final remnants of the Bordeaux blend. She thought back on her interaction with the eldest Spellman, a wicked grin spreading across her sharpened features. For once, she could appreciate the value of divine intervention.
What a delicious challenge Zelda Spellman would be.