SCRATCH

Part 5 - Act 2

2008

BANG!

The concrete wall vibrated violently, cracking under the pressure as the warlock's body connected with it. He could feel the vibrations as the wall shook, rattling every bone in his body. The man ricocheted off the wall, landing on the dusty factory floor heavily, pain shooting up his legs and back when he met the ground. Blood streamed down his face profusely, splattering beneath him in dark red splotches. Panting desperately, he tried to get up, but a hand suddenly wrapped around his neck, thrusting him back and pinning him to the wall, right where he had been seconds before. Flakes of concrete fell on him, peppering his short-cropped, grey hair. The dust scratched his eyes while also clinging to his light-violet skin.

"Gack!" The man spluttered, saliva mixed with blood oozing out both sides of his mouth.

"Had enough?" Her voice pierced his ears, cold and striking. He clawed at the soft skin attached to the wrist that had him pinned to the wall with little effect. His vision was obscured by a red tinge from the blood in his eyes. "Just tell me where she is," she spoke in his ear, hot breath tickling the sensitive skin around it. Fear and anger churned in his stomach. Pushing the feelings aside, he tried to focus, tensing every muscle. In a moment, he could feel his skin start to change. It shimmered, turning a deeper shade of lilac, and he began to vibrate, attempting to become intangible. Yes! He thought. Just a bit more, and I can slip out from under her. But it wasn't to last. It had been a taxing fight, leaving him with very little energy to spare. Fatigue hit him like a wave, loosening every muscle, and his skin returned to its normal shade. He let out a defeated whimper.

"Oh, Vakume, you're not actually trying to phase, are you?" The woman's condescending tone was more than he could take, and he groaned. The hand around his neck loosened, and she released him. Immediately, he slumped to the floor. Vakume blinked, trying to get the blood out of his eyes, one almost going completely blind. When his vision became a little clearer, he looked up to see the witch he'd been battling standing above him. Such contempt he had felt for her over the years. Now, all he could feel was fear. Not simply of dying but of how she would kill him. If seeing the bodies of his siblings taught him anything, his last moments were almost certainly going to be in agony. He, like the rest of his coven, disrespected her, underestimating just how desperate and ruthless Agatha Harkness could be. And she punished them for it immensely.

Agatha leaned over him, dressed all in black, her hair a mangle of wild curls hanging over her face. What frightened him the most was her eyes; her eyes which were cold and dark. From what he could see, there wasn't a hint of compassion or humanity in them. "You forgot I took that away from you now, didn't you?" She chuckled sweetly and knelt, her eyes locking with his. His skin crawled. I'm fucked, he thought.

"The Seven," he breathed, "The Seven will end you." Agatha let out a cruel, deep-chested laugh that echoed through the warehouse.

"Who?" She feigned confusion. "Oh! Salem's Seven. You mean what's left of them? Who is left, by the way? Hmm." Agatha raised a hand to count with her fingers. "There's you, and well you're like this." She gestured at him. "And then Vertigo, who is dead. So is Brutucus, Gazelle, and Thornn. That leaves two more to go." Vakume coughed, hacking up more blood. She is right, he thought. Despite everything the Seven had been through, all the training and preparation, this witch had picked them off one by one. They had failed to kill her and now time had just about run out.

His mind wandered back to his childhood, back to the day he had been abandoned in the Salem woodland by his father shortly after he'd watched his mother die at the old man's hand. Finding his siblings soon after that, each abandoned like he had been. How the townsfolk feared them, especially as their powers manifested and grew.