Mirror of Echoes

2. Bitch-Fight

♦︎Aurora Vaire♦︎

The Emperor. Reversed.

Everything within me led me to jump on her at once. Hands wrapped around her throat, pressing the taller woman against the shelves, I was momentarily distracted when my precious belongings shook with the force.

"You've built yourself an adorable little shrine. So many runes and spells." I squeezed tighter, reaching for the dagger I use to carve my pottery. "How did your ordeal with leaving all magic behind go, flower?" Mocking me only infuriated me so much that the dagger pointed right at the lowest point of her v-cut blouse, drawing a nick of blood.

A gasp fell from her lips—a sound I had not come close to in centuries and yet I had to regain my focus.

The small moment of shift in my focus was—unfortunately, admittedly—well used. Agatha reversed the positions, disarming me with a quick twist of my wrist. Left barehanded, my breath grew labored with fury.

"I hate you." My statement sought to be cold and hit true. Against my very intentions, my own voice wavered and shook, strength nowhere near the message.

Nothing about our position—pressed against shelves stacked with witchy enough items—was helpful in terms of regaining my strength. Not that I owned much lately. Thanks to her.

It seems the reminder of such was all I needed. My power was charged by the stones carefully placed around us. Crystals positioned on the shelves, the windowsill and the ground began to glow in their assigned colors. The tickling of power entering my veins was as strange as it had been all these years ago.

"Say it like you mean it," she cooed and glared down on me with those haunting eyes.

Shooting stars would be jealous of the speed my power had upon exiting my body, blasting Agatha off of me and right into my shelves, breaking wood and pottery alike.

At the sound of my priced possessions shattering, my heart took a dagger to it—more like the one she had embedded there centuries ago was beginning to trouble me again.

"Let me show you," I groaned, my back straining with discomfort. I could still feel the hard wood digging into my tender skin.

"I've always been more of a visual learner," she exclaimed in her playful ways and I couldn't possibly imagine growing any angrier than a second ago. Yet here I was, taking the fight right on. "Bring it on, flower."

"How dare you cast a spell on me?" I seethed through my teeth, pushing the memories of us in the woods so far away it let my head throb. It was so much more than the images of us exchanging... whatever. It was vivid and bone-crushing agonizing pain I could feel even now. "Killing my Familiar and covering it up with a damn sigil? You're pathetic, Agatha."

"Not a sigil, flower." She shook her head, panting a little after we've been going on and on about blasting power and physically either attempting to injure the other or prevent it from happening. Her finger traced the side of my face. Too drained of power and energy, I couldn't move my pinky if I tried. Therefore, having her touch me and being unable to put a stop to it put me into an even more exhausted state. "I bound you. Your mind has always been dear to me. I wouldn't dare risk a sigil on it. We wouldn't want you to go kooky, yeah?" She smiled widely. I didn't miss it one bit.

She bound me from what was and still is rightfully mine!

"Don't," I warned when noticing her hand going behind my head. Grabbing me by the hair, I expected to be thrown right into my remaining shelves. It never came. The blow was withheld. Instead, the tension around my skull faded as my hair cradled over my shoulders, hugged my breasts and covered my back at last. A glimmering golden flower I was well acquainted with was held between her thumb and index.

"How could you bind me from this?" I frowned and reached for the dagger, only to throw it in her direction, hoping it would hurt her the way she hurt me. The blade never even hit her. Not once. It barely made it into the air. "You knowingly took my memories! You changed them! You've invaded my mind, casting spells and manipulating me to play your clueless puppy?"

Against my better judgment, I thought to find her frowning at me. No, Agatha Harkness didn't feel remorse for the things she'd done.

"I protected you." I scoffed at her pathetic words.

"Lies. All lies!" I screamed with the last bit of power I held. Lungs stinging and throat as dry as the desert.

"Flower," she began, having me hissing at her from underneath. "Whether you like it or not, you have to hear me out."

"Death will be the only thing inevitable. Listing to you is a choice—one I am not willing to make!" Roughly grabbed by my chin, Agatha took my face into her grasp, well aware of how hard I fought her touch. Wiggling and... and heating under her fucking touch.

My body betrayed me. It exposed the truth whenever I spoke a lie; it always has. Today was no different. Pinned under the body weight of the woman I swore to... swore to... whatever. I couldn't think with the way her thighs pressed against my hips, immobilizing my lower body, while her arm pressed down onto my collarbones and she forced me to look at her.

"In all these years I haven't been close to you," she tutted, examining my face inch by inch. Not helpful in my situation. "I could devour you whole... and according to your flushed face, you could too. Want me to check?"

"Fantasizing about all the ways I could kill you in just the past hour was enough to take the edge off." I huffed and squealed in disapproval when she leaned even closer, her tender lips brushing the shell of my ear.

"Are you sure?" She whispered and the smug smirk returned to her lips.

I couldn't bear this a minute longer. Her touch, her lips... Mother, help me.

"I hate you," I cried. The entirety of centuries worth of hurt came clashing down on me. Whole mountains of grief I was not granted to endure because she selfishly had taken it all from me.

"And I need you." She bobbed my nose.

How could she even attempt to spin lies? Now? After I knew who she was? After I learned of what she did to me? "You don't need me. You want something. You want my power. Something you've been craving ever since we crossed paths on that cursed day ages ago."

"We both know that isn't true. Not even remotely." Withdrawal of the weight put onto my hips gave the impression I was flying for a split second.

Did we, though? Because I didn't trust a word leaving her mouth. Heart clenching painfully, I closed my eyes, the water stilling as memories of joyful times flooded me. Our laughter—her beautifully wicked and absurd laugh mused around me. Her haunting eyes pierced into me even from the distance. Her lips stretched into a sincere smile and not the smirk she currently offered. I was calming my nervous system.

It was a success, at least until she said, "How did leaving behind magic go for you?" Agatha turned, arms angled and hands motioning for the destruction, scattered across the floor and walls—that once was my pride and joy. "Look around. Even bound from the memory of power flowing through your very veins, magic pours from your fingers!" The pads of her fingers pointed towards mine, highlighting the meaning.

"So," I scoffed, beginning to understand where all of this was headed. "You returned to use me. Like in the old days?" Nodding my head, I fell into a dark laughter.

Why would she even amuse the idea of me wanting to be anywhere near her? After everything?

"The part where a witch is after not only human kind but witch kind alike is missing in your accusation."

That bit got my attention.

"A witch is after you?" I chuckled. "Old news, Harkness. Tell me something new, because you making an enemy out of everyone you come across is literally the most ordinary thing I've heard like ever."

Her next move was less calculated, as it had me disliking her more—if it was possible at this point. She took a hold of my wrist, resulting in my gaze snapping up. "Don't touch me. You've lost that privilege the day you used your magic against me."

Ignorant to my seething reaction, Agatha proceeded, "This is not about me alone." I could only roll my eyes in annoyance. Because it was about her. Always. "Selene is after The Mirror of Echoes and last time I checked, you and I both made sure she wasn't walking away with any remaining power."

We had taken everything that was left.

"I only—" I stuttered but was cut short anyway.

"—helped Agatha to steal a witch's powers. Doesn't sound good for either of us." She shrugged and smirked. She got us into this mess!

A blush, hotter than the damn oven I use for firing my pottery, spread over my head. Face, ears and neck. Pink as a pig.

"Selene was banished by the Salem Seven—she shouldn't even know about witchcraft!" Anger bubbled alive all over. Agatha did the same to me.

"Well, she does and with the relict, she'll be able to do more damage than any of us can handle." More than she wants to handle.

"Did I mention how deeply I regret ever meeting you?"

A glance at her wristwatch left her to find my gaze. "Not in the last thirty seconds," the brunette brushed a strand behind her ear. "We're making progress." She had the audacity to joke. Coat thrown behind herself with enough drama to amuse a whole theater, she glanced over her shoulder. "Dust off your broomstick. Time to join a bitch-fight."