February 18th, 2019, Salem, Massachusetts US
Victor Faust POV
"Your grandmother was my aunt. I'm Agatha Harkness."
Victor was completely frozen. Everything, yes, even his grief, seemed to stop for a second. No pain, no sadness—even the sounds and smells of the forest were gone. Surely, this was some sick joke?
"So, your mother...?"
"Was a witch named Evanora. She spoke about her sister from time to time. Ida escaped the United States when the witch trials were starting." Agatha's voice was strong, yet the blood on her face disappeared. Her eyes were solely fixated on him.
"Would that make you." Agatha scowled when he started to count on his fingers. He couldn't help but smirk. "Like over 300 years old?" She kicked his shin and smiled, hearing his girly whine.
"Call me old again, and I will turn you into a fly!" She straightened her velvet jacket. "I'm 343 years old, if you must know."
"This makes us... what?"
"I suppose we are just cousins?"
"Christ on a stick, I have a family." He breathed.
"Wait, I have a family now. Oh my God, I have family now..."
"It's as surreal to you as it is to me, I assure you." She said this, frantically moving her hands through her raven hair.
"Is anyone from our family still alive?" Despite his better judgment, a spark of hope ignited within him. Agatha, his cousin! Continued to walk forward.
"No. At least not from my side. It was either them or me, you see."
This time, it was Victor's turn to stop.
"What?" Agatha turned abruptly. Her long skirt billowed around her. Her eyes glowed purple as the surrounding air started to thicken.
"You heard me. My darling mother tried to kill me and took away my magic! All the witches of the coven tried that. All I did was defending myself." She was panting hard. Her raven hair was losing its previous silky order. Now it was turning into a wild black storm. Victor had to take a step back. The magical aura of hers was making his weakened mind dizzy.
"For what reason? Why did they try to kill you?" His voice was gentle. He just couldn't bring himself to be either angry or scared. Not after his father.
"They felt threatened by my power, my skill, and my knowledge."
"Is that all, cousin?" She took a step back, as if burned. The madness in her eyes evaporated. Her hair fell as her aura retracted.
"You don't understand. Being a woman and a witch at that time... I was in danger by simply breathing, and my coven restricted me at every step. What was the point of being a witch if I couldn't defend myself? Why was I the one hiding? Biting my nails and praying they won't burn me?"
"So, you wanted to get stronger." Victor was staring to connect the dots. And oh boy, what dots those were...
"Indeed. What other choice did I had?" Agatha took a few calming breaths and fixed her hair. "I've explored all branches of magic: transfiguration, conjuration, necromancy, blood magic, and many more. Most of them were deemed dark or unethical by my coven. They ambushed me with my mother in the front. They tied me to a stake! The same way humans burned our kind! They tried to lock my powers away and take them for themselves, and they dared to call it mercy, cousin. What was I supposed to do?"
"And then you killed them."
"My magic defended me." She sighed and kept on walking through the forest. "I don't expect you to understand, cousin."
The way she said the word 'cousin', it felt both foreign and familiar, sweet, and sour. Victor was growing more and more certain that they really needed this. Family. On the other hand, he already had a family composed of some of the most ridiculous and over-the-top people on the planet.
"What's worth family when you've lost your heart?"
"I've killed my father. With my bare hands."
"Why?" Agatha stopped and looked at him, not with shock or pity but with genuine curiosity.
"He tried to devour my soul in hopes of bringing my mother back to life."
"That's a preposterous idea." She snorted.
"You don't say? But you try to reason with a mad man."
"Haven't he tried necromancy?"
"I suppose he wanted a real woman, you know, with a soul and not a rotting body."
"That's fair, although some people are into that." Agatha rubbed her hands. "Do you regret it?"
"I regret I had to do it, but I had to protect myself and-" Victor stopped.
"God, I'm pathetic. I can't speak her name."
His answer must have stirred something in Agatha, as she hesitantly put her slender hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze.
"I suppose we both have some parent issues, huh?" Her voice was genuinely warm now.
"Come, cousin. My home is close."
As they walked, her hand was still on his shoulder. With every second, Victor was getting more conflicted. His body might be tired, but his mind was exhausted. He never thought we would have anyone he would consider a family, yet here she is, this old, slightly cracked-in-the-head witch, looking so like him. Still, his only goal is to perfect Sylvia and finally put this all to an end. So, he followed her, and soon they reached a small, simple cottage still within the forest. The area was surrounded by creeping ivy and moss-covered stones, which radiated rune magic.
"An old witch that lives alone in the forest. I'm glad I'm not a child, or you might eat me, Baba Yaga."
"I actually did bite a kid once." Agatha mused dryly and then elbowed him hard. "Call me old again, and I might put you into my cauldron.
They moved through a small cobblestone path and entered inside. And what an inside it was.
The interior was filled with wooden and dark furniture. The windows were draped in rich, velvety curtains embroidered with esoteric symbols that he didn't recognize. The floor was lined with purple and fluffy carpet. Agatha snapped her fingers, and a posh chandelier lit up, with purple fire, illuminating the entire room. On the left side, there was a living room with an elaborate, black sofa, a large wooden table with several opened tomes, and a crystal ball. A crackling fireplace, adorned with talismans and charms, cast dancing shadows across the room. The antique wooden bookshelves, laden with ancient grimoires and spellbooks, lined every wall.
"It's not much, but I was never a fan of modern architecture anyway." Agatha patted his shoulder. "Have a seat on the couch, dear cousin. I will make us some tea, and we will discuss our plans."
Victor did as she asked, still marveling at the interior. The air smelled of herbs and paper. With a gentle smile, he took a seat on the sofa and reached out to the crystal ball. He poured a tiny bit of magic and soon saw Natasha and Steve talking lively in the Avengers compound. They looked like shit, but they were far better than him. Good.
"That's my ball. Get your own." The snark echoed behind him, and Victor stopped.
"Sorry. I always wanted one."
Agatha placed two cups of deliciously smelling black teas and a tray of biscuits. As soon as Victor felt the warm liquid in his throat, he felt good. Too good.
"What did you add to this?"
"Don't get your panties in a twist, cousin. Just a simple herbal mix to pick you up. You can't do crap with being so hungover." Agatha's posture was once again perfect. Her shoulders and arms were straight. Her chin was high. Even she was holding her cup like a queen. Victor shifted in his seat and tried to sit better.
"So, how do you see this?"
"Well, the easiest way to beat the Voerman paradox is to just overpower your mind. However, to achieve that, you need to get into better shape, cousin." She sipped her tea and pursed her lips. "I can put you on some diet and potions, and you should get better in a few months."
"Months?!"
"Hey, I'm not a miracle worker! Besides, you still need to share your knowledge. Take it or leave it cousin."
"Fine, I will wait." Victor finished his cup and placed it back on the table.
"As for the missing soul piece, there isn't much one can do but replace it."
"Agatha no."
"It's just a piece!" There was an icy silence in the room. "It's not like I'm telling you to kill a child. You just need to suck some soul from someone or something."
"Agatha no. I can deal with pain, and in a few months, I won't need the new soul piece."
Agatha rolled her eyes and murmured something that sounded like men and conscience.
"Fine. Just don't scream during the night; I need my beauty sleep."
"But what about my broken connection to the Avlee? Is this connected to the missing soul piece."
"I don't think so." She bit on a biscuit. "Have you tried to use any sort of dark magic?"
"Well... I used one necromantic spell from my father's personal studies during the battle with Thanos. Thereafter, I got sick. Really sick."
"Well, there you have it. Some people aren't made for such dark spells. Their powers are great, cousin, but they lead many to ruin."
"And yet, you are quite functional for a dark witch." Agatha had to hide her snort with a hand, hearing that.
"Anyway, to resolve this issue, we would need to cleanse you. Such an exercise is normally quite complicated and difficult to perform, so I would give it a rest. With enough power, you will achieve your goal with an incomplete herb."
"This is all so surreal."
"You tell me, I don't remember the last time I had a man here for so long, and he was both dressed up and alive."
June 22nd, Agatha's home
Agatha Harkness POV
"What the hell are you doing, Agatha?! Have you gone completely mad?!"
Agatha couldn't count how many times she had asked that question herself. She had it all figured out. Her path was always so clear. It was dark, but clear. Her plans and ambitions were literally within her grasp, but she just had to stumble upon Victor freaking Faust.
Her heels were clicking on the cold stone floor of her dimly lit basement. The room was small and compact. The walls were marked with scars from her countless rituals and experiments. The air had this permanent musky mist that made those with weaker minds afraid.
"I should just kill him, take his magic away, and focus on my plans! That's what I do..."
"Then why can't I hurt him? Why am I helping the poor soul?" Agatha wondered out loud and groaned. "Now I'm calling him poor... I'm getting soft." She heard herself laugh. Not in her usual sarcastic or disgusted way. It was a pure and gentle sound, one she was using more and more often since her cousin lived with her. Perhaps this whole family thing is for her after all.
But then, as soon as those traitorous thoughts appeared, they called to her. The nexus, the dark sun, hovered on the stone pedestal in the middle of the basement. The Darkhold or the book of the damned, was hers. She went through literal hell to get it; she searched for so long, and now that it's in her possession, she ignores it. The malevolent aura and the sweet, tantalizing whispers, were calling to her, demanding that she finally take the power that was rightfully hers. She could finally be safe.
She bites her lips as her slender fingers twitched. What sort of cruel joke has fate brought on her? The second she got the book, the second she was on her way to finally study it she just met Victor. Time was passing through her eyes, and yet, she wasn't bothered by it at all.
"Hey Agatha! Are you coming or what, cousin?" Faust's voice came from upstairs. Agatha immediately shook her head and left the basement. There he stood with his cheeks now full, the skin having a healthier but still pale color. Victor cracked his knuckles. "Ready for another round?"
"This is only temporary, right? He will die soon, and I will have the Darkhold all to myself. So, maybe I can just enjoy it? While it lasts."
"With pleasure, cousin."
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