Mirror of Echoes

4. Goons

♦︎Aurora Vaire♦︎

(TW: blood, wounds)
♦︎ ♦︎ ♦︎

Releasing imprisoned breaths on numerous occasions for the past hour, I finally had the opportunity to rest my tense muscles in a rather shabby motel room—one I had to share with the one person I couldn't possibly be near. For a variety of reasons, I couldn't be anywhere near her and still here we were, forced into proximity. I hated faith—more so believing in it, which admittedly came as a given being a divination witch.

Agatha got comfy on the bed further by the windows, coat draped over the foot of the bed. Baffled that she actually took it off, I forced my gaze away from her relaxed position. Away from the lazy pose, her legs crossed over the other yet stretched out, hands resting behind her head. Away from her soft but aged features. The wrinkles I hadn't seen on her the last time. A tightness formed around my heart, clenching the muscle tighter with every shallow breath I took.

The whole fucking air reeked of her. Of that awfully lovely lavender—which I seemed to have used for all this time as a scent to linen around my home—and jasmine. How could she do this? The smell of two gorgeous plants.

And her eyes... soft, calculating sky-blue. Eyes that were staring into mine. Averting my eyes with the speed of light, I gulped the blush, daring to betray me as per usual.

Jaw set, I grabbed the keys and turned on my heels. "Be right back," I informed her and was out the door.

Not even a moment later she was back in my personal space, her scent swirling around me as magic usually did when attracted to its sister magic.

Teeth grounding painfully, I huffed.

She spoke before I had a chance to leave a snarky comment. "You've got heavy books, flower."

"Do not call me that."

At the car, I rummaged through the trunk, thighs pressing against the cool vehicle as I grabbed my bag. With a groan, the bag was slung around my shoulder and cut into the soft skin, until at least half the weight was taken from me and a smirking Agatha walked up to be beside me. Hips swaying more than necessary, she moved as if trying to get me hot. Not that it was working. Still, I tugged at the neck of my top, pulling it upward.

Settled into the melancholy surroundings of the motel room, books splayed across the mattress of the bed closest to the door, I got started on looking for our relict.

The only issue at hand: I knew too little. What I knew: she wasn't being honest with me.

Battling whether to speak up or not, I finally did so after an hour of finding different spells and rituals indicating a sense of a possibility for channeling magic and making it more powerful.

Closing the book in my lap, I straightened my back, my spine cracking here and there. I found her glaring at me.

This cunt had my brain on pause. Fucking cunt. Unclenching my aching jaw, my tongue loosened. "What do you know of the Mirror of Echoes?"

A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips and she let it grow smugly. She was just waiting for it. Leaving out vital information was on purpose. She wanted me to ask. She fucking withheld it just to have me be my curious self and ask. Blood boiling, power surging through my veins, the familiar tingle waiting to be released.

Taking a large bite out of my granola bar, she munched and spoke. "First mentions of it were documented around 1200 in Salem."

Fighting my inner, stubborn demons, I brought myself to ask. "And last seen?"

Smirking in victory, she finished my food and sat up, hands folded in her lap, legs spread. "There are different opinions. Descriptions of a change of continent. But some say it never left Salem."

"What do we believe?" The simple phrasing I used, indicating that there was a 'we' existing in this timeline, held my throat tight.

Shrugging once, Agatha's eyes averted for a second longer. "A relict of such power chooses where it remains."

My chin dipped with understanding. "Salem."

"I've always been fond of your mind." Malicious words are coming from her mouth. She killed witches like flies. Wherever she went, a path of death followed like her shadow.

Cutting the conversation short, I buried myself in my beloved books, the paper smell being perfectly calming. And Agatha Harkness? She was far out of my mind, cramped into a different corner occupied with dust at best.

Books, I reminded myself.

Tension hit my neck as my body spasmed the second before falling asleep in my position. Warmth pressed against my back and stomach as I lowered to the softness below. Blowing out a deeper breath, my mind slipped down the right road. Leaning into the embrace of warmth and lavender, I inhaled more sleep.

Strokes of gentleness found my face, freeing it of tickling hair. "You've always been most adorable when asleep."

Was I? Smiling to myself, drowsiness finding me, I granted the ginger touches along my cheek and nose.

"Forever the curious case I couldn't let go off..." The voice, constant comfort, remained as I inhaled the words. "Forever wondering why it was you, until I understood. It was always you, my flower."

Cloudy images and phrases made up the strangest short films. Gentle memories combined with tender experiences of the day.

Out of the pink clouds grew a snake's head as black as the night sky on a winter day. Its jaw opened with cracking sounds until my panting form was swallowed whole. Drowned in a world of freezing darkness, I gasped for air until I finally surfaced. Swimming to the edge of a foggy lake, the mumbled voices returned. Tone different, my heart clenched. Closer to the shore, I could make out vague shapes of two people. Hits, grunts and screams reverberated across the echoey lake I was crossing.

Nasty clicking sounded around the woods. Footsteps unsteady and slow.

Agatha lay on the ground, at another woman's mercy. Hair pitch black as the night, hands grey and fingertips matching her hair. Blood coated the brunette's face, a light dimming in her eyes as the creature on top of her took the last blow.

In hasty movements, the two wound around the other, power flying left and right, hitting nature. A constellation of dry wood blew up in an explosion so powerful, it made Agatha's head turn. Attention shifted, the dark figure jumped to action, wrapping their hands around Agatha's throat and lifting her off the ground.

"Agatha!" My voice didn't reach either of them. The opponent turned rags for clothes—pieces I had once worn as well, as did many of my kind before me. Thin, dirty cotton pieces.

Orange, glowing eyes snapped back at me. Dread shot through my body at once. Selene. The once powerless, clueless witch didn't look one bit of it anymore. Power radiated off of her body, whispers of it reaching my ears. A song of magic. A symphony of power.

There needn't be words for what she intended to say, for her eyes did it all on their own. I know you, they said. I know what you did and you'll suffer.

Falling to my knees, the steps not faltering at my back, my hands shook.

"Agatha!" I called for the numb body at my feet. Tears slipped free from my eyes as my hands found her shoulders. All the fear and burning pain latched onto me—feelings I'll experience not in the present but some day in the future.

A cold hand clutched to my upper arm and I found a hue of orange tint in death's eyes. Another pair appeared and another after that. "Protect Agatha!" I yelled, the pain of it hitting every nerve in my throat, before I shot up in the cozy air of a motel room, concerned eyes right in front of my face and loving hands keeping my face close. Jasmin hit my nose. "Protect Agatha..." I mumbled, labored breaths slipping past my dry lips.

"What did you see?" She asked, urgency slipping through.

Though time was of essence and we both found out the hard way, once clicking sounds and heavy footsteps barged down the corridor. Pounding at our door had me jump, Agatha's touch fading as she too realized we had to start running. Vibrations intensified, and the number of people after us crystal clear.

Everything happened faster than I could comprehend. I blinked and suddenly found myself in my car, racing down the road, away from the goons heading after us. In the rearview mirror, their bodies still struggling to function at a pace to keep up, the motel staff headed after us.

Glass had shattered; a chair flew through the window. Hands punched through the wooden door and orange eyes stared back at us. My heart leapt a beat; the coldness of a lonely future loomed in front of me. Heaving me up and through the window, Agatha demanded I get in the vehicle with a hiss.

"My books!" I had protested with wobbly knees.

Jaw clenched, she stared back. The receptionist's eyes were glowing with wrath. "I'll deal with it; now get in the car!" And I did, to all our surprise.

My foot wouldn't lift from the gas; speed limits are no longer an issue I found of concern. Muscles tight with tension, I feared my hands would not allow me to fold them around the steering wheel once I withdraw to stretch them. So, I kept them in place.

"I didn't miss this one bit," I brought through a jittering jaw. Body overwhelmed with pain; coldness set in soon. I kept our path straight forward down the road. Bumps in the concrete and all.

At the next chance I saw, I turned down a forest path. Off the road, away from humans—therefore, away from possible enemies—I dared to stop another hour into the drive. Did I know where we were or where we were headed with the current path? Absolutely not. But did I care, as for now we were safer off the original road? Not one bit.

Releasing the engine from its hard work, I turned it off and exited the vehicle. My entire body ached with tension. An annoying reminder of what took place.

Cramps came and went in waves. Dragging my exhausted feet across the sandy ground, I stared into the trunk. A trunk where I couldn't find my belongings for the most part.

Agitated, I stepped closer, roaming through the other bags and begging The Mother to make them appear.

"Where are my books?" I finally brought out, staring at Agatha, who was less impressed with my choice of tone.

Crossing her arms, her coat tightening around herself, she scoffed. "There were kind of a lot of bloodthirsty mind zombies after us. Pardon me if I didn't grab them all!"

Without thinking much, I stomped closer and stared at her before my hands pressed against her shoulders. Agatha fell into the muddy pond behind herself; the expected splash was more of a slapping gulp as her body hit the surface and sank in partially.

"You didn't grab a single one!" I hissed after her, taking in the surprise painted across her face.

Fists bawled, cramps fading but not gone, I grabbed the few bags we had left and headed to set up camp. It didn't take long to find a suitable place close to the pond and far enough away from the path to put up a tent.

Sitting by the fire, logs and sticks cracking in the heat, my body dared to fall into utter exhaustion. Nothing new after an episode like the one we just had back there.

Steps reached me. Once she climbed out of the pond again, drained by the horrid smell of the water, Agatha grunted. Wiping off some of the algae without success, she stared at me. "Do you feel better now that you've had your little tantrum?"

"I'd feel better if I had my books. The ones that, by the way, were supposed to help us win against Selene!" My jaw clenched and soon enough unclenched as the motion grew too energy-consuming. I hadn't had a vision this strong in centuries.

Dropping down beside me, her coat taken off for once, she glared ahead. A strand had come free of her bun, dangling over her lower arm.

"No book in this world would be able to help us." A chuckle to fill the silent tension. Her lips stretched into a line of disappointment.

Not even the Darkhold, hence its existence was reduced to other realities as far as my knowledge went.

Upon lifting her chin, my eyes fell to her hands entirely, catching the trail of blood sliding down her fingers and dripping below.

Grasping for her arm, she laughed tightly as I touched her lower arm. Frowning, I turned it, having her inner wrist face me. The fabric of her blouse was ripped and stained with blood and dirt.

When did she hurt herself? Did one of these goons catch up to her?

"The window." Was all she said for a long while, letting me undo the ruined sleeve of her blouse and laying her skin bare to me. Sleeve ripped in two, the access granted, I took the water bottle from the bag closest to me. Finding her eyes felt taunting in a way. She still looked at me as if I were the same person back in our days. As if no time could stop her from it. For me, it was as if we parted ways yesterday, but for her? "I'd rather it was me than you."

It was the thought behind the action holding me by the throat. In one move, I distanced myself from her, now kneeling by the bag, my back to her.

"How does the pain feel?" I asked, the bottle still remaining in my hand, as I fiddled with some items.

"It tickles," she mused.

Grabbing the entire bag, I finally made up my mind and mustered up the courage to clean the wound. My touch was gentle at best; glimpsing into the flesh of someone was never going to come easier to me. I've always hated it. Blood pooled in the depths of the gash, left behind by the glass shard. It must've nicked an artery. I hated it. She could've died.

"Keep it there," I ordered Agatha to not move the sterile bandage. Pressure was what we needed for now. At least as long as I was looking for a needle to fix this mess. I never enjoyed being anxious and needing to be prepared for every scenario, but on days as today, I couldn't be more relieved to have an emergency bag filled with otherwise useless shit. Today, I did need a needle and yarn. "It'll hurt, just..." I cringed, unsure of what to say. Should I try to soothe her? She definitely wasn't worthy of it. With a little more thinking, I got started.

Pausing momentarily, when the sight and feeling of sewing flesh together became too real, Agatha's hisses too loud, I looked around us. Nature was a calming force. It always has been.

Cutting the thread, I released a breath so deep it could've been me who got sown back together. Just as I thought the hardest part was over, I came to understand that wrapping up her arm was too intimate for my heart. I had to look anywhere but at the very thing I was doing, in hopes of steering my mind away from what was happening.

My gaze rose and I came face to face with her. She'd been glaring at me all this time. My cheeks heated. Fire danced in her eyes, the contrast a beautifully painful reminder of what we once were.

"If we want this to work semismoothly, I need you to give me space. Or so help me, The Mother, I'll make you the next sacrifice." The last part earned me a malicious smirk.

"Space?" She hummed, her eyes gesturing between us. Although there needn't be a reminder of what I was doing. I was touching her in the very moment as I wrapped her wound in a secure bandage.

I patted her arm a little harder than necessary. "Done."

"Hm," she hummed and inspected the work. As if she could've done it any better. "You said there was an us?"

"What? I never said that." My chest puffed, my jaw clenched as I recalled my words.

"Wording my darling flower," she pointed her slander finger at me. "Now, how about we catch some sleep? You still got the chills. Your fingers were as unsteady as the day we met."

I had a panic attack that day. A full-blown meltdown too.

Meeting her honeyed gaze, wrinkles appearing just in the right spots to make the kind smile seem real, I mustered her some more. Leaning in, her fingertips brushing my jaw by the weight of a breath, I snapped out of it.
I had to remind myself that she wasn't the woman I thought she was. Apparently, she never was.

"I cannot trust you."

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A/N:
In honor of the season finale of Agatha All Along, another chapter seemed most suitable. Something rather sooting than what we got in reality. Because wtf was this? I'm heartbroken fr. I'll write my own happy ending with his story.

Stay healthy and kind <3