Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In life, there are paths we decline ourselves. And there are paths fate declines for us. If Agatha learned one lesson in life, it was that fate hated her from birth.

Now, do not pity her. Agatha’s battle against fate is currently tied. Fate weaved her a horrible childhood? Agatha ran from home and rebuilt her own path. Fate set the inescapable mourning of her stillborn son? Agatha bargained with death.

But because fate declines paths by simply not presenting them to us, deep inside her soul, Agatha knew that, in its greater web of life and destiny, fate probably won more than it had lost. However, since one cannot mourn what one didn’t know one could have, seven years ago, Agatha sentenced a tie.

And fate hadn’t bothered her ever since.

“What we seem to be forgetting nowadays is how the 17th-century political and socioeconomic context influenced the motivation behind those accusations. When we remember this, the Salem Trials become more clearly a backdrop for the powerful to seek more power,” Agatha lectures to her dozens of students as thunder rumbles outside. “While people in Salem Town kept living their best lives by the standards of that time, those living their already harsh lives in Salem Village faced a popular division. One that not only favored witch hunts by actively instigating accusations, but also by creating public mayhem and panic that pitted even lovers against their lovers, mothers against their children.”

Leaning back against her oak desk, Agatha silently judges her students' Halloween costumes. Considering her annual class was entitled ‘Introduction to Political Background of Salem Witch Trials’, Agatha expected them to be respectful by abandoning the torches and pitchforks.

“And let’s keep in mind that Salem Village was a rural community with clashing ideologies since it was founded. What the dispute over whether to accept or deny the town's influence did was merely reignite that spark that led to the political and religious madness that prematurely ended the lives of the nineteen innocent women sentenced to death by hanging.”

From a distance, Agatha witnesses two brats dressed as pilgrims giggling and whispering to each other. The classroom becomes even quieter as both are too distracted laughing to notice Agatha silently stopping by their desk.

The sound of Agatha defiantly putting her hands on the desk echoes through the room. “Hello, boys,” she gives them a threatening smile. “Care to share with the class how the death of nineteen women consists in an amusement for either of you this morning?”

They exchange a fearful look. The blond clears his throat. “It doesn’t, Professor Harkness.”

“Come on, dude,” the ginger laughs, bumping his friend’s shoulder. “Ask her your question.”

“Oh, a question?” Agatha teases. “I love questions, Mr…?”

“Stark.”

The other seeks his friend's support before looking at her. “Bishop,” he pauses. “With all due respect, Professor Harkness. I don’t understand this fuss over Salem. ‘Cause it was nineteen women, right? Out of two hundred accusations. Doesn’t Europe have a bigger death count?”

“Yeah. Europe had maaaany more deaths because of witchcraft accusations, and we don’t discuss that nearly as much,” his friend adds. “People who believe in witchcraft are dumb.”

That loud silence burst into hushed whispers. She grins at them one more time before returning to her desk, waiting for the class to become quiet again.

“Thank you, Mr. Bishop, for the ‘due respect’ your disrespectful question carried. I’m afraid you’re both right. European countries executed around sixty thousand people over 300 years. But do any of you know how long it took for a single rural village to execute nineteen women?”

Looking down, Stark shakes his head.

“A year and a half,” Agatha responds. “Now, I recommend that you genius calculate how many people would have been killed in 300 years in Salem, if there had been no intervention. “And we’re not even discussing the ongoing witch hunts outside Salem. Who knows what would have happened if the same mayhem found in Salem had spread across New England.”

Reaching her main goal, Agatha witnesses Mr. Bishop getting overwhelmed by his own embarrassment. Agatha takes a sip from her green mug.

“The Salem Witch Trials are a cautionary tale of how abuse of power leads to lethal mass hysteria. What happened there isn’t different from what we see nowadays,” Agatha continues. “And people in power reinforcing that kind of behavior still have the nerve to put themselves as the witches being hunted.”

And finally, Mr. Stark’s face matches his hair.

“Now, does anyone have an actual question regarding today’s lecture?”

As the storm continues outside, Agatha patiently answers every question, taking proper care to make sure her students understand her explanations and don't have follow-up questions. 

As time passes, Agatha looks at her watch. "I can answer two more questions;" She scans the room and points to a pink-haired student.

“Professor, are you concerned with the Salem Seven rising?”

As expected, the students start side-talking. Agatha glances at the exit door opening. A stranger walks in, silently sitting on the few remaining chairs at the back. Even though Agatha is too far away to see their face, the stranger obviously contrasts with her 20-something students.

Especially nowadays, it’s not unusual for curious guests to lurk into her classes without enrolling. When the conversations stop, Agatha clears her throat. “Well, I’m always concerned with the rise of ancient institutions with archaic belief systems,” she says as the class bursts into laughter.

“Which one is your favorite, Professor Harkness?”

Agatha smiles. “Oh, definitely the one which sexual self-restriction can enhance, and therefore prove, the existence of magic,” she makes a theatrical magic gesture. “I hope whatever goddess you pray to at night helps us to stop them in time. Otherwise, I might be out of a job soon.”

Another set of laughs mix with whines and cries at the idea. Despite knowing there is always a small chance the Salem Seven achieve political power, the chance of Agatha leaving the university bearing her own last name is even smaller.

“Alright, last question,” Agatha announces, clapping her hands. “Make it a good one.”

Half a dozen hands are raised, but Agatha's attention is drawn to the seventh raised hand in the back. Agatha points to the stranger. 

They stand as the students turn to face them. “Giving your former field experience, Dr. Harkness,” they say in a heavy foreign accent. “Could the Salem Seven find the Witches’ Road after all those centuries?”

This time, there is no laughter. Nor whispers. The whole class fell into silence as if everyone there was merely a character in a paused film. Agatha tries swallowing down the anger that instantly takes over her body. Everyone is staring at her, waiting.

“Class dismissed,” Agatha declares, gathering her things and kicking her office door open.

Slamming the door shut, Agatha feels tears falling. For many reasons, Agatha hates crying. It made her literally sick. Headaches due to dehydration. Stress hormones are released into her bloodstream and trigger her body to tense up and remain sore afterwards. Agatha wipes her tears and sits on her chair, easing her breath.

When it came to Agatha Harkness, the unspoken rule was no questions about the Road. Ever. It didn’t matter if it fit the subject of discussion or not. Agatha never answers questions about the Witches’ Road.

There is a knock on the door, and Agatha wipes one last stubborn tear. “Come in.”

“Forgive me, Dr. Harkness. It wasn’t my intention to upset you,” the stranger says. “I’m Dr. Vidal. Do you have a minute for us to talk?”

Now Agatha can see their brown eyes matching their dark hair. They are beautiful. But it wasn’t their beauty that caught Agatha’s attention. 

Looking at them was like seeing a stranger on the street who you're sure you know but can't quite remember from where. Agatha breaths. “No.”

Dr. Vidal takes a step back. “Oh, I can schedule an appointment if that’s-”

“I have an educated guess about what you want to talk about. It doesn’t matter if you have an appointment or not. It’s not about time.”

Clearly sent by fate, Dr. Vidal sits in front of her. “Professor, I have no idea what happened that made you give up your research, but your work has inspired me to…”

But whatever words Dr. Vidal is saying, Agatha is too busy staring at their eyes, lips, hair. Their whole face feels strangely familiar as if she had spent countless hours staring at them. And then Agatha’s eyes drop to the black teardrop-shaped stone on their necklace.

“Have we met?” Agatha interrupts.

“No,” Vidal replies, tucking the necklace under their shirt.

“Are you sure?”

“I would remember meeting you before. I’ve read your research more times than I feel comfortable admitting out loud,” they smile, nervous. “Can I ask you something?”

“Look, Dr. Vidal. I already know what it is. What you are asking for is impossible. The Witches’ Road is a myth,” Agatha explains. “Nothing more than a historical heist. A centuries-old con to shortcut taming people into submission.”

“What a shame you think that,” they say in a heavier accent. “I’ve been expecting your experience would show me the way to the Dark Road.”

“The Darkhold?” Agatha frowns. “Dr. Vidal, you must be confusing me with my wife. Doctor Maximoff is the one searching for-”

“Not the Darkhold,” they point at their lips. “The Dark Road.”

Agatha can only stare in plain confusion.

“Forgive me, Professor Harkness. Have you never heard about the Dark Road before?” they ask, waiting for a response that doesn’t come. “That’s the Land of the Dead beneath the Witches’ Road.”

“The land of what?”

“The Dead. I’m a thanatology researcher. I’ve studying death my whole life. In my research I explore the cultural implications of magic beliefs in the processes of dying and griefing. And while analysing its psychological effects on my subjects, I’ve noticed they quite frequently dream of a place I named ‘Land of the Dead’.”

Agatha’s phone rings, she looks at the caller ID. “What did you say your major was?”

“I haven't said yet.” Vidal moves in their seat. “I’m a Philosophy student.”

Unable to help herself, Agatha snorts. “Forgive me, Dr. Vidal. You walk unauthorized into my classroom seeking for help to find a place you allegedly discovered by hearing your subjects talk about their dreams?” she mocks. “If you want to search the Witches’ Road, be my guest. I’m not standing in your way. Now, if you excuse me, I'll have to take this.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Not even ten minutes later, Agatha is knocking at the door of the Head of the Social Sciences Department. “No! No, no, turn around and leave,” Morgan warns. “Agatha, no!”

“You didn’t even hear what I have to say!”

“You’ll say you have to leave early and need to cancel your afternoon classes.”

Agatha scoffs. “No.”

“Go on, then.”

“I have to leave early, and I want you to give my afternoon classes,” Agatha tries, sitting in front of her. “Please, Morgan?”

“Agatha, it’s the fifth time this month.”

“Tommy got into a fight at school.”

“Again?” Morgan asks. “Goddess, Agatha, you have to put a leash on that kid!”

“It’s almost over. Wanda is returning in a week and-”

“Oh, where have I heard that before?” Morgan pretends to think before snapping her fingers. “Last month! When Wanda promised you she would be returning in a week. And almost every month before that for the past year.”

“This time is different, Morgan. That was before my mother...” Agatha cuts herself off. “She knows I’m barely holding on.”

Morgan’s expression softens. “Fine, Agatha. Your students won’t be happy, but I’ll tap in for you-”

“Thank you, thank you,” Agatha says, standing. “I could fucking kiss you right now!”

“We swore not to do that anymore,” Morgan teases. “Also, you didn’t let me finish. I’ll give your afternoon classes if you give our guest a tour on Monday. They are-”

“Deal. Text me the details,” Agatha agrees, already holding the doorknob. 

“Let me finish, woman!” Morgan says. “It’s a Salem Seven representative.”

“Oh, fuck! Are you throwing me to the beasts?”

Morgan chuckles. “You’ll be fine, Agatha. They just want a quick department tour,” she says. “Besides, there is no one with more experience with their shit than you.”

Parking at the twins’ middle school, Agatha walks into the principal's office. Tommy is sitting beside a kid with a purple eye. Whatever happened, Agatha knew Tommy would not be leaving unpunished this time.

“Mrs. Harkness, we-” Mr. Bohner starts. 

“Doctor,” Agatha corrects him.

“Dr. Harkness, we requested your immediate presence here because Tommy assaulted another student. Again. He stood up in class and walked towards his classmate and simply punched him! He refuses to tell us what happened.”

Agatha sighs. “I know it always seems I’m telling you this, but it won’t happen again.”

“I’m sorry, doctor. Tommy has been showing persistent signs of conduct disorder. He doesn't follow rules, and his behavior has been increasingly more aggressive both verbally and physically in the past months,” Mr. Bohner says. “It gives me no pleasure doing this, but we’ll have to give him a two-month suspension, at least.”

“Two months?! Look, his mom- My wife, who is his biological mom, is returning next week. I do believe his behavior is nothing more than a reflection of a child missing their other parent. Don’t you agree?”

“That’s a possibility, Doctor Harkness. Unfortunately, it doesn’t change the fact that Tommy has been a danger to himself and his fellow classmates. We’ve been postponing a more severe disciplinary action for months now, precisely because we’re aware of his situation.”

“Can’t the suspension wait until Wanda returns home?”

Mr. Bohner gives her an empathetic smile. “I’m afraid not, doctor.”

“Alright. Since I’m already here, can I take Billy home, too?”

Waiting for Billy in the car, Agatha and Tommy stay in a complete awkward silence. Agatha looks at him through the rearview mirror. The boy looks out the window with an angry expression as he anxiously shakes his feet, accidentally hitting the passenger seat.

“Tommy, what happened?” Agatha asks patiently, turning to look at him. He just keeps staring outside, not even acknowledging her question. “Honey, I know things haven’t been normal the past years, but I promise you everything is going to be fine. I’m really worried about you and-”

“Stop pretending you’re my mom!” he looks at her with tearful eyes.

Agatha nods and returns to look at the school gates. By the time she and Wanda married, the twins were eight and had already spent almost a whole decade accustomed to having a happily married mom and dad. And that was suddenly taken away from them.

Despite her best efforts to care for Tommy, Agatha knew the boy missed his father. But, unlike Billy, Tommy never seemed to welcome or even want Agatha’s affection. With time, Agatha stopped trying to win him over. Which only made things worse when Wanda went away for work and started postponing her return.

“Hi, honey,” Agatha greets as Billy opens the car. “How was school today?”

“It was cool! We’re casting for The Wizard of Oz,” Billy says. Agatha feels her heart swell with pride, remembering how he repeatedly asked her to read that book for him at bedtime years ago. “Elijah said I have the best shots auditioning for the Scarecrow, but I want to audition for Dorothy.”

Tommy scoffs. “You have a better chance as the monkey.”

“Hey, don’t talk to your brother like that!” Agatha scolds. She starts the car and looks at Billy through the rearview mirror. “Billy, if you want to audition for Dorothy, you go ahead.”

“Like that’s gonna help his situation.”

“Tommy, don’t,” Billy pleads.

“What situation?” Agatha asks, frowning at them. “Boys, what situation?”

Neither of them speaks or looks at her again the whole way to Agatha’s second stop. Since she was already in the neighborhood, it didn’t really make sense to go home only to return in three hours. 

Agatha gets out of the car, “This conversation isn't over, boys.”

Entering the elementary school building, Agatha notices some strangely new flyers. Mostly campaign advertising after school activities, but she stops in front of one:

SALEM SEVEN’S COMMANDMENTS:
WHAT YOU SHOULD KNOW FOR THE NEXT YEARS

She rips the paper off the wall, crumpling it up and throwing it in the trash before walking to the reception desk, “I’m here to pick up my son, Nicholas Harkness.”

The unfamiliar blonde receptionist types something on her computer. “Just a second, Mrs. Harkness.”

A minute later, Nicky’s school principal shows up.

“Dr. Harkness, there must have been a minor miscommunication. Nicky was feeling unwell this morning. We’ve tried to contact you, but your phone was out of service.”

“Shit! I forgot to give the school my new number,” Agatha says, handing Mrs. Dawson her card. “Where is Nicky?”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Harkness. We asked him for a family member's number,” she pauses. “His grandma picked him up an hour ago.”

At that, Agatha runs back to the car and drives home, trying to remind herself that there are still two children with her in that car. Connecting her phone with the car, Agatha unsuccessfully tries calling home before dialing her mother’s number. No answer. The twenty-minute drive home felt like hours.

After (kind of) parking in the garage at home, Agatha kicks the front door open, ready to call her son. But the first thing she hears is Nicky's laughter. With a tight lump in her throat, Agatha runs to the living room with the twins right behind her.

“Mama!” Nicky comes out of his fort built with sheets in their living room.

“Nicky,” Agatha picks him up, holding tight as she finally looks at the woman sitting on the couch with one of Agatha’s books in hand.

“Grandma!” Billy and Tommy shout in unison.

“The school called me,” Natalya says, standing to hug her grandsons. “I tried calling you, but you changed your number.”

Agatha fights back the tears for a third time that day. “Boys, why don’t you play while grandma and I talk?”

Without needing to be told twice, Tommy is already turning on the PlayStation 5 that Agatha had given the twins as their birthday present. Natalya and Agatha enter the kitchen, and she notices the woman must have been making Nicky’s favorite sandwich for him.

There, Agatha can’t fight her crying anymore. She feels Natalya kindly holding her. “Darling, it’s alright,” she says, rubbing Agatha's back for comfort. “Nicky is alright. He seems so much better than the last time I saw him. He only said he was feeling unwell because he didn’t study for his math test.”

Agatha tries laughing. “When they said his grandma picked him up, I thought it was…”

“I know, darling. I’ll brag for the rest of my life that Nicky thinks of me as his grandma,” Natalya smiles proudly. “But I should have guessed you would assume it was her, not me.”

“Nicky loves you,” Agatha admits, pulling out of the hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you.”

Nataylia shakes her head, cupping Agatha’s face. “You have nothing to apologize for. You needed time and space. I know things with my daughter aren't always easy, but I need you to remember that you and Nicky are my family too, Agatha.”

“Thank you. For picking up Nicky today and,” she gestures to the mess in her kitchen, “making his favorite sandwich.”

“That’s what grandmothers are for, dear. Why don't you take a shower while I take care of the boys?” Natalya opens the fridge to pick up peanut butter. “The weather report says the storm will pass soon. Are you planning on taking them trick-or-treating later?”

“I’ve promised them,” Agatha says, remembering the unfinished costumes. “Shit. I have to finish Tommy’s costume and-”

“No, darling. What you need is resting,” Natalya playfully sniffs the air. “And a shower, Agatha. You smell like you ran a marathon. I’ll finish Tommy’s costume. I can even take them tonight, if you would rather rest.”

Agatha nods. “You really don’t mind?”

Natalya gives her a kiss on the cheek. “Again: that’s what grandmothers are for, darling.”

While going upstairs, Agatha picks up the mail and instantly recognizes the hospital bills, tossing them inside a drawer with the rest.

As Agatha takes a long bath, she tries to believe in Natalya’s words. But the truth is that Agatha has no idea what’s the role of a grandmother. Or of a mother, if you want honesty. Being Nicky’s mother and the twins' stepmother has been an emotional rollercoaster since her pregnancy.

At first, Evanora didn’t have a direct part in Agatha’s journey to motherhood. She only learned about Nicky’s existence when he was four years old. Since then, Evanora's not-so-subtle attempts to win over her estranged daughter and grandson left Agatha fearing for their safety. The first three times Evanora tried contacting her, Agatha just changed numbers, hoping it would deliver a clear message. Then, Evanora discovered their address.

When Natalya came into her life, Agatha stared with nothing but suspicion at her relationship with Wanda. Mothers and daughters not only needing, but wanting to spend time together, was a strange concept to her. So Agatha was clueless about the roles of grandmothers and mothers. And more so of how those two roles could complement each other.

Five years later, Agatha had grown accustomed to Natalya’s comforting presence in their lives. From Tommy’s racing competitions and Billy’s school plays to Nicky’s hospital admissions. Natalya had been there for it all without a single complaint. She never held it against Agatha, never scolded her for crying or removed her affection when Agatha didn’t know how to show her own feelings.

After dinner, the storm passed. Nataylia took the kids out for trick-or-treating as Agatha waited for her wife’s call. “Hold on, I’ll send you a picture,” she says, hitting send at the image of three boys at the front porch in their matching Halloween costumes. “Tommy is a T-rex that plays softball for some reason, Nicky is a regular Dracorex. Wanna guess which costume Billy chose?”

“A wizard, obviously,” Wanda asks.

Agatha laughs. “They are growing up so fast, Wanda. I can’t believe Nicky is turning seven,” she says before lying in bed to stare at her wife through the screen.

“Are you still taking them to that museum tomorrow?”

“Like Nicky would settle for anything less than a dinosaur exhibition for his birthday,” Agatha jokes before her expression turns soft. “I wish you were here.”

“I know, baby. I miss you too.” Despite Wanda’s flickering image from the bad connection, Agatha can picture her smiling just from her voice, “And where is your Halloween costume?”

“Hmm, I’ve chosen something different this year,” Agatha says, taking off her robe and revealing her naked body to her wife. She hears Wanda’s gasp. “Do you like it?”

“Fuck, don’t do this to me,” Wanda begs. “I’ve missed your body so fucking much, Agatha.”

“Don’t worry, love. We will ask your mother to spend a whole weekend with the boys here and get ourselves a hotel room so I can fuck you how much I missed you.”

 “Agatha, please…” Wanda moans, then sighs. “Don’t get mad at me.”

“Why would I get mad at you?” Agatha tilts her head. Wanda remains quiet, so she repeats. “Wanda, why would I get mad at you?”

“Baby, we are so close to finishing the first-ever transcription of the Darkhold,” Wanda says, making Agatha immediately close her robe. “We just need a few more weeks and then-”

“How many weeks, Wanda?”

“Four or six weeks, but listen, honey-”

“Fuck! Wanda, you promised!” Agatha shouts, waddling through the room. “You fucking promised last time that it would be the last time. You can’t do this to me again!”

“I’m not doing anything to you!” Wanda fights back, trying to keep her voice down. Because of the time zone difference, her assistant was probably asleep. “I’m not here climbing the Wundergore mountains; this is my life’s work, Agatha. Can you be at least a little happy with what I’m accomplishing here?!”

“Wanda, I didn’t marry you to be your children’s unpaid nanny!” Agatha sits in bed to look at the image of Wanda. “Billy and Nicky miss you so much. And it’s fucking hard keeping things from falling apart, Wanda! Tommy hates me.”

“Agatha, Tommy doesn't even know what hate is,” Wanda tries to comfort her. “He is ten years old.”

Agatha frowns. “Thirteen, Wanda. Tommy and Billy are thirteen now,“ she says, seeing how Wanda tries to hide her own surprise at hearing that. “Do you even understand what’s going on? Billy cries himself to sleep every night because he misses you. Tommy has been suspended from school because he keeps picking fights, hoping his mom comes home. And Nicky-” Agatha pauses as she feels the tears forming.  “The hospital sent the rest of the bills this morning, Wanda.”

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Wanda pauses. “Don’t you think it’s time for you to ask for money to-”

“Don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence!”

Ignoring Wanda’s mumbling, Agatha goes to the bathroom and washes her face. “... I’m not saying this hasn’t been hard on you, baby. I appreciate everything you have been doing for us. But we are so close, Agatha. You know how many people this can help?”

Standing in front of the notebook screen, Agatha nods. “I hope it is worth ruining your own family to help a bunch of strangers.”

"You don’t mean that,” Wanda says in a crying voice. 

Agatha is ready to argue that she does, in fact, mean that when she hears a quiet sob coming from outside her bedroom. She looks at the doorway and sees Billy holding a Jack-o'-lantern filled with candy. And with tears already falling down his face.

And he runs away. 

“Shit.” Agatha interrupts Wanda’s pleas. “Wanda, I don’t have time for this right now.”

Without waiting for a goodbye, Agatha shuts the notebook and runs to the twins’ bedroom. She gently knocks on the door to announce her presence, but when Billy doesn’t reply, Agatha enters the bedroom. No sign of Billy.

“Oh my Goddess! I think Billy’s spells worked. He vanished in thin air,” Agatha theatrically says, opening the wardrobe, knowing he wouldn’t be there, and hears him giggling. “Where could he be? Maybe under the bed?”

After playfully lifting the sheets to look for Billy under the bed,  Agatha smirks at the Halloween candy left in his bed. “Well, since he's gone to another dimension, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I ate all of his candy, right?”

“No!” Billy shouts from the bedroom ceiling.

“What?! Where is his voice coming from?” Agatha gasps.

“I’m still in this dimension, silly.”

“No way! Where are you?” Agatha asks, knowing exactly where he was.

Billy laughs. “It’s my secret spot!”

“Not so secret now I know about it,” Agatha unwrapped a cherry dice lollipop and put it in her mouth. “Wanna come down and talk?”

Agatha sits in his bed and closes her eyes, hearing footsteps in the attic. A minute later, Billy shows up sniffing and clearing his nose in his wizard costume. He gives a loud sigh before sitting beside her in bed.

Billy puts his hand in the candy basket and takes out a salty caramel chocolate bar. His favorite and, tragically to the welfare of the household, also hers. He sadly smiles at her, offering the candy. She wraps her arms around him. “But that’s yours, Billy.”

He nods. “I want you to have it.”

“What if we share?” Agatha suggests. He unwraps the chocolate and carefully splits it in half, handing Agatha her share. She takes a bite, waiting for the right moment. “You heard me and Mom fighting, didn’t you?”

Billy sniffs. “If you and Mom get a divorce, I won’t see you ever again.”

Agatha’s heart completely shatters. “Oh, Billy,” she kisses the top of his head. “Mom and I aren’t getting divorced.”

“But if you do, then I won’t get to live with you and Nicky anymore,” He starts crying harder, and Agatha kneels to be at his eye level, gently squeezing his knee.

“Billy, even if mom and I divorce, you and I are going to see each other all the time,” Agatha says, holding her own tears to not to freak him out more. “I love you so much, honey. You know that there is nothing in this world that can keep me away from you, right?”

“You… Do you promise?” he asks, offering his pinky.

Agatha puts her pinky on his. “I promise.”

Billy smiles playfully between sobs. “You know that pinky promises mean I can cut your finger if you break your promise?”

Agatha snorts because Billy has a way to make even his threats sound terribly sweet. Billy had Wanda’s softness, but that weirdness beneath it? That was Agatha’s.

“I won’t break my promise to you, Billy,” Agatha plants kisses on his face until he releases a ‘ugh’ sound like a thirteen-year-old boy. “And yes, you can get the cleaver from the kitchen and chop my pinky if that happens. That’s how sure I am that I won’t ever ever leave you.”

When Billy seems more calm, Agatha asks him to shower before bed and goes to Nicky's bedroom. Despite not being blood-related, Billy and Nicky were so much alike. Just like his brother, Nicky was the sweetest boy, but Agatha’s weirdness hadn’t reached him yet.

She sits on his bed, tucking his hair. “Did you have fun trick-or-treating tonight?”

Nicky nods, rubbing his sleepy eyes. “Tommy bet I couldn’t eat five Kit Kats in a row,” he proudly says. “I won.”

“Five in a roll?” Agatha gasps. “That’s awesome, but isn't your tummy hurting?”

“No, mama. It’s not like last year,” he complains. “I’m a grown-up now.”

Agatha laughs. “Yes, you are. Seven years, huh? Are you excited for tomorrow?”

Nicky yawns, already more tired than not. “I hope I get to see a real Dracorex.”

“Nicky, what you did today: telling adults you were feeling unwell just to skip a test. That wasn’t okay. I don’t want you to ever lie about something like that again, alright?”

He nods, his eyes already closing. “I’m sorry, Mama. It was just a really hard test.”

Kissing her son’s forehead, Agatha tucks him in and turns on the ceiling light, leaving only his nightstand lamp on. “Goodnight, Nicky. I love you.”

After kissing Billy goodnight, Agatha goes downstairs and releases Natalya from her grandma duties. They agree to meet for Nicky’s birthday lunch before the exhibition. 

Agatha hears loud noises coming from the living room and finds Tommy, his hand sticky from all the chocolate and sugar he has already eaten, playing a dinosaur video game.

Taking a deep breath to prepare herself, Agatha removes the TV from the socket.

“Hey! I was playing!”

“Not anymore, Tommy,” she scolds, taking off his candy basket and placing it on top of a tall cabinet before sitting on the coffee table. “What happened today?”

“Nothing happened!” he screams at her.

“Really? I guess you will be grounded for two months for nothing then,” Agatha says. “No Halloween candy. No video games. No museum tomorrow. No running practice. No game next month. Is that what you want?”

Tommy shrugs, pouting and crossing his arms. “Whatever, Agatha.”

“Tommy, this is serious. You punched another kid. Whether you like it or not, I know you. And I know you would never do that out of nothing. So I’ll ask you again: what happened?”

Agatha sees Tommy's lips trembling, but she knows he won’t ever cry in front of her.

“Loki called Billy a faggot,” he confesses. “He said he and his friends would pull down his pants at recess to see if he was a girl. When I told him not to, he laughed. So I punched him.”

Oh, well.

Releasing a loud sigh,“Did you punch him really hard?”

Tommy nods and Agatha hands him the candy basket back.

“You can play for half an hour, deal?” Agatha says, waiting for him to agree while plugging the TV again. “Want me to tuck you in later?” she teases.

Tommy scoffs. “I’m not a baby, Agatha.”

Agatha smiles before messing up his blond hair. She sees him rolling his eyes, but hears him giggling after she leaves and enters the kitchen. When Tommy went to bed, Agatha waited enough time for him to fall asleep before tucking him in. She checked on Billy and Nicky too, both already fast asleep and went to bed.

She wakes up in the middle of the night to Tommy yelling and shaking her awake. 

“Agatha, please wake up. Please!” he cries. 

“Tommy? What-”

“It’s Nicky! I can’t wake him up,” he says, already running to Nicky’s bedroom.

The fast kid he was, Tommy gets there before Agatha can even stand. She finds both Tommy and Billy trying to wake up her son. “Nicky?” she holds him, checking his pulse.” Nicky, baby? Please, I need you to wake up.”

Despite still having a strong pulse, Nicky doesn’t wake up. They rush to the nearest hospital and after Nicky is admitted, Agatha sits in the waiting room with Tommy and Billy. Soon, Natalya arrives, and Wanda books an emergency flight. The next few hours feel like an out-of-body experience. The doctors come and go, giving them updates about Nicky. 

And then, someone wearing a black suit arrives. “Dr. Harkness?”

“Dr. Vidal? What are you doing here?”

Rio gives her a sad smile. “Can we talk privately?”

Agatha allows Rio to guide her to one of the many hospital empty rooms. After denying a glass of water, Agatha sits in the armchair on the corner. “Dr. Harkness, I’m afraid I have bad news.”

“Bad news? Do you even work here?”

They ignored her. “Nicky's condition is getting worse by the hour,” Rio explains in a mechanical tone. “His brain function stopped half an hour ago. Doctors are trying everything they can, but-”

“Where is Nicky?”

Rio tilts their head. “Nicky is dying.”

“You’re lying,” Agatha says, shaking her head. “Take me to see my son!”

“Okay, Agatha. Just remember you’re the one who asked for this.” They stand and open the hospital curtain, revealing Nicky in that hospital bed. There were wires connecting him to a big machine on the corner. Rio twists the plug between their fingers. “I do have to unplug his machine now, but you understand that, right?”

Desperate, Agatha cries. “I’m calling security.”

“He is an abomination,” Rio spits that last word. “I have no choice.”

“You do this and I’ll hate you forever!”

“Then it wouldn’t make much of a difference, would it?” Rio teases, smirking and moving to grab Agatha’s arm, digging their long nails into her skin, drawing blood. “Agatha, I need you to know that Nicky’s death… is your fault.”

“What are…” Agatha looks at her. “What the hell did you just say?”

“That it’s your fault. Nicky is dying because of you,” they lick the blood out of the tip of their fingers like a demon. “Have you ever thought that maybe if you believed more, prayed more, had a little bit more faith, your son would have been born healthy?”

Agatha tries to escape from their hands. “I don’t want you here.”

“But you’re the one who invited me, remember?”

“I told you to stop pursuing me!” Agatha’s voice echoes through the hospital room. “What are you still doing here? Leave!”

Rio nods, fixing their suit. “Okay, Agatha.”

They slam the door shut on their way out. Natalya walks in, and Agatha throws herself into her mother-in-law’s arms. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“They said Nicky is dying.” Agatha feels her eyes burn with each tear. “They’ve said it’s my fault he is sick. I’ll fucking sue them and this entire hospital!”

“Oh, you can’t do that, dear. Because deep inside your soul…” Natalya digs her nails into Agatha’s back, making her hiss at the pain, “you know they are right.”

“What did you say?”

“I said they’re right, Agatha.” 

This time it wasn’t Natalya’s voice. Agatha pulls away from the embrace and sees brown, sharp eyes staring at her. “Mother?”

“You’ve always been such a disappointment, Agatha. You are supposed to carry my legacy. And you couldn’t do anything right your entire life.”

Evanora walks towards Nicky’s bed, and Agatha instinctively puts herself between them, blocking her reach.

“You couldn’t even give me a healthy grandson. How embarrassing of you. Even the Goddess knows you would be a horrible mother. She even tried sparing him from the suffering of having you as his mother, but you, selfish like you are, wouldn’t let her.”

“Shut up!” Agatha screams at her and goes to hold Nicky. “Baby, please, wake up. Nicky!”

He opens his eyes, and Agatha smiles between sobs.

“Hi, baby. You’re feeling better, right? I’ll get a doctor so we can go home...”

Nicky’s eyes start rolling to the back of his head, and a beeping starts echoing.

“No, no, no, no.” 

Agatha goes to call a doctor, but Evanora is standing in front of the door.

“Get out of my way!” Agatha tries pulling her away, but Evanora holds her wrists.

“Nicholas is where he needs to be,” Evanora says as a threat, gently tucking Agatha’s hair. “You need to let him go, Agatha. He is in a much better place than under your care.”

Agatha’s eyes start getting foggy from the tears. When she looks at Nicky, he isn’t there anymore. Instead, there is a little girl. Agatha blinks, and the entire room changes to an even more painful and familiar room. “This is a dream.”

But the girl doesn’t acknowledge her presence and keeps playing with her stuffed rabbit. Evanora passes through her, as if Agatha were a ghost trapped in her own nightmare. “Did you pray?” Evanora asks the girl, not older than five.

“No, mother. Do I really have to?” Young Agatha asks.

“If you want to be a good girl, you have to pray, Agatha.” Evanora tucks Agatha in bed before kissing her forehead. “You want your father to come home, don’t you?”

Young Agatha nods, picking up a children’s book from the nightstand. “He wrote he’ll be back on November 23,” she reads with difficulty. “That’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”

Evanora smiles at her. “Yes. Now, make sure to pray before you sleep, alright? We don’t want the Goddess punishing our family.” The girl nods. Evanora turns off the light. “Sweet dreams, Agatha.”

“This isn’t a dream,” Agatha concludes, seeing her younger self sneaking out of bed to turn on the nightstand rabbit lamp to keep reading her book. 

Remembering what happens next, Agatha starts fighting the tears. She goes to the child’s bed and starts talking with her. “No, don’t get distracted. Close that book and start praying. Please. She’ll punish you if you don’t. You’ll blame yourself forever if you don’t.”

But there is no use. Her younger version isn't real. Nothing there is real. Only the guilt and the fear inside her chest. This is a memory playing over and over again. No possibility of change.

Gasping and sweating cold, Agatha wakes up. She looks at the clock on her nightstand. Not even half an hour had passed. She tries to remind herself that it was only a nightmare. Nicky was fine, just sleeping. Agatha tries to close her eyes, but soon gives up.

She tiptoes inside Nicky’s bedroom. Fighting the urge to wake him up, Agatha checks his pulse and breath, waiting for him to move. When he does, she picks up her childhood stuffed rabbit that Nicky claimed as his own and sits on the armchair in the corner of his room, hoping he will wake up in the morning.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

In the middle of the night, Agatha must have accidentally fallen asleep because she wakes up and Nicky’s bed is empty. With her heart beating fast, Agatha rushes downstairs and goes to the kitchen. “Mama!” Nicky whines. “Tommy won’t let me flip the pancakes.”

“That’s because you're a baby,” Tommy defends himself.

“You weren’t supposed to tell her about the surprise!” Billy complains.

“I’m not a baby, I’m seven!” Nicky argues, showing seven fingers to Tommy.

The boys start to discuss, their voices overlapping and making Agatha’s head explode. Tommy starts playfully hitting Billy. Nicky starts jumping excitedly around them, cheering for Billy to win their contest that Agatha had no idea what was about.

“Boys!” She tries, but they don’t hear her over their own screams. 

As a university professor, Agatha was used to calling her students' attention in sophisticated ways. So she puts two fingers in her mouth and whistles loudly. Three small heads turn to look at her. “Alright. This is too much boy energy in this house!”

“We are boys, Agatha!” Tommy complains.

Billy gasps, pointing at her. “You want to have daughters?!”

Agatha snorts. “Can you imagine me with three smaller versions of myself around this house?” she playfully widens her eyes. “I would go insane in a week. I’m very happy with my boys.” She kisses the top of each of the boys' heads. “Who are apparently… destroying the kitchen?”

“It’s Nicky’s birthday breakfast,” Tommy answers, flipping a burnt pancake on the stove.

“Why didn’t you wake me up so I could help you out?” Agatha asks. 

“We wanted to surprise you,” Billy explains, staring at her with those big, kind eyes of his.

“But it’s Nicky’s birthday,” Agatha gasps, picking up Nicky and planting small kisses all across his face as she says, “Happy birthday, Nicky! I love you so so much.”

“Thanks, mama,” he says, giggling and wiping the kisses with his sleeve. “Can we go to the museum now?”

Agatha looks at the clock. “The dinosaur exhibition isn’t until 1 p.m. Remember?” 

Nicky pouts. “When the clock is like this?” He gestures his fingers, showing the hour.

Agatha puts Nicky on the ground, her back starting to feel the effects of her son’s growth as much as her heart. “That’s right, Nicky.”

Nicky counts his fingers. “Four hours?!! That’s tooo long, mama. Can we go play?”

“What about the mess you three made in the kitchen?” Agatha teases. “I thought the breakfast was my surprise.”

Nicky giggles. “Can you finish the breakfast, mama?”

After pretending to be seriously mad for a second, Agatha smiles. “Go.”

Nicky and Billy run to the living room, already arguing about which video game they would choose. The classic Jurassic World Evolution vs. World of Warcraft dispute. Tommy stays. “Aren’t you going with them, Tommy?”

The boy shakes his head, starting to make another pancake. Agatha frowns, removing a lock of blond hair from his face.

“Why not?”

“I already beat Billy’s score last night,” he pauses, looking at her sideways. “Agatha, can I ask you something?”

“Always, Tommy.”

“Are you mad at me ‘cause I hit Loki?”

Agatha sighs, kneeling to look at him at eye level. “Honestly? Tommy, I didn’t like you hitting a classmate. I wish you had come to me first so I could have handled the situation. I wished you would talk to me about your feelings. But...” she says, then gives him an accomplice smile. “Just between us? I’m proud of you for defending your brother.”

Tommy gives a shy smile. “Are they kicking me out? ‘Cause, Agatha, I hate school,” his eyes filled with tears again, “But please don’t send me away just because of that.”

“Hold on, Tommy. What are you talking about?”

“That’s what Loki said when I hit him. That the school was going to throw me away and send me away to a bad place where they sent bad kids.”

Agatha’s eyes open wide at that. “Oh, that’s not… I would never send you away, Tommy.”

“It’s okay, Agatha. You don’t have to lie. I know you don’t like having me here.”

“Tommy, I love having you here,” Agatha says with painful honesty. Despite their relationship never being the best, Tommy was a good kid. “Who else would watch horror movies with me without closing their eyes at the scary scenes?! Nicky and Billy can’t handle that. Tommy, I would never send you away. And especially when you were only stepping up when someone threatened your brother.”

He pauses for a moment, thinking. “You promise?”

Agatha nods. “I promise, Tommy. Now, what do you say we finish those pancakes and eat in the living room, watching them try, and fail, beating up your score?”

Tommy smiles, putting another pancake on the pan.

After they're done with breakfast, Nicky and Billy fulfill Agatah’s prophecy and fail to beat Tommy’s score. Agatha even gives Tommy a playful wink and makes the boy laugh. Around lunchtime, they meet Natalya at her house. As the boys play in the backyard, the adults talk in the kitchen.

“I can always take a loan to pay for a nanny,” Agatha suggests.

“Nonsense, Agatha. I’ll take a family leave and stay with Tommy on the days you have classes.” Natalya offers. “At least until Wanda returns.”

Agatha dry laughs. “Not until another month, apparently.”

“Are you serious?” Natalya sighs. “She’ll miss Luna’s birth? Pietro won’t like that.”

“Wanda is missing a lot of things lately,” Agatha complains, then remembers who she is talking to. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for her. Finding and studying the Darkhold has always been her goal, but…”

Natalya pauses, putting the dishcloth aside. “Have you ever had second thoughts?”

“About Wanda?” Agatha asks. “No.”

“About your career, dear. I know you were some brilliant fancy researcher, too.”

Agatha smiles. “I wouldn’t say brilliant.”

“Modesty doesn’t suit you, honey. Never has and never will. You are brilliant, Agatha,” Natalya praises, making Agatha blush as the phrase rekindles her mommy issues. “So… Have you?”

Agatha shakes her head. “I mean, of course. Sometimes I think about what would have happened if I hadn’t given up, but it doesn’t matter. Does it? Nicky, the twins, and Wanda make me happy. We can’t have it all, can we?”

Natalya smiles kindly. “No, dear. We can’t.”

The museum exhibition was fun. Nicky’s face was sore after smiling with each and every dinosaur he saw, giving the family a full lecture and private guided tour. Well, semi-private as some strangers gather around the seven-year-old to listen to his monologue over why the Utahraptor would be considered scarier than Velociraptor if the Jurassic Park movies - which were completely inaccurate in its deception of dinosaurs according to him- had never been released.

They had ice cream and went to the movies for a new superhero movie that Agatha paid little attention to. On their way back home, Tommy and Nicky kept arguing over which dinosaurs would pull the best fights in a Battleground, a new simulator game that Agatha had bought as Nicky’s birthday gift.

“Today was so fun, Mama. I wish I had a birthday everyday,” Agatha giggles, kissing his forehead and turning on the nightlamp. “Wait, Mama. Which dinosaurs would you put in the battleground first? Like, if it was real?”

Okay, this is not a drill.

“Hmm, the T-Rex and Carcharodontosaurus?”

“Mama, they didn’t even exist at the same time!”

“Oh, my bad. Can I think of a better answer?”

He nods. “You can. But you can’t ask for Tommy’s help. You can ask Billy ‘cause he doesn’t know anything about dinos.”

“I’ll do my own research, Nicky. Sweet dreams, baby.”

“I’m seven!”

“Sorry, sorry. Sweet dreams, old man,” she laughs, closing his door. 

On Monday morning, Agatha drove to the university in time to meet the Salem Seven representative. She had very little to work with since Morgan forgot to mention their name. She sat at one of the library’s tables where they should meet, and googled dinosaur fights on Battleground, starting with a YouTube ranking video of the best carnivores.

“Didn’t know you were a fellow Battleground player,” a familiar voice says behind her. “Have you seen the new dinosaurs they just released in last week’s update?”

Agatha takes her headphones off. “What are you doing here?”

Vidal smirks. “It's nice seeing you, too.”

“Haven’t I been clear enough, Dr. Vidal? I have no interest on the Witches’ Road or the Deep Road-”

“Dark Road.”

“It doesn’t matter. Now, excuse me. I have an important meeting that’s more worth my time than discussing this nonsense with you.”

Vidal takes the seat in front of Agatha.

“What are you doing?”

“Starting your important meeting, Dr. Harkness.”

Agatha frowns. “Are you the Salem Seven’s representative?”

“You could know that already if you hadn’t kicked me out of your office on Friday,” Vidal says. “But don’t worry. I don’t hold grudges.”

Cursing the day she was born, Agatha guides Vidal through the department, explaining each research and professor's resume, skipping parts she’s aware the Salem Seven don’t endorse. Vidal asked some questions, but seemed uninterested in general. Like they were only fulfilling a boring part of their duty. They finish the tour in front of the Library building.

“I hope this tour ends any doubts you and the Seven might have,” Agatha says. “Now, if you excuse me, I have a class in ten minutes.”

“Why didn’t Dr. LeFay give me the tour?”

Agatha swallows. “Dr. LeFay woke up feeling unwell this morning.”

“Does she practice the divination arts? Because Dr. LeFay emailed me on Friday telling about the change of plans,” they give a very annoying smirk. “She also mentioned you offered to give me the tour. Why?”

Fucking Morgan.

“As I’m sure you know, I’m familiar with the Salem Seven’s… quirks, if we can call it that.”

Vidal laughs. “Dr. Harkness, do you believe in Fate?”

Agatha frowns, forcing a grin. “No.”

“Well, I do,” they get closer, smelling like a rainstorm. “And I do believe that whatever forced Dr. LeFay into handing this meeting to you was Fate intervening so we could talk again.”

Agatha laughs. “See, that’s what I hate about people like you. That belief that everything in this world is connected and the universe has some bigger, brighter and magical plan for each of us. What are you implying? My son was suspended from school, so we could meet here today?” Agatha mocks. “Tell me, doctor. What do you have to say that is so important?”

“I have an offer.” They tilt their head, evaluating her reaction. “A job offer.”

“I have a job, Dr. Vidal. Besides, there is not enough money in the world to make me help with your research.”

“Oh, I don’t want your help anymore. If you’re not interested, I can’t force my interest on you. The offer has nothing to do with the Dark Road.”

“What is then?”

“A consultant job. The world seems to be in a dark place right now. Cops calling priestess when they should be calling lawyers. Families searching for chapels when they should seek hospitals. I don’t agree with everything the Salem Seven preach, Dr. Harkness,” they explain. “I’m gathering a team to help people discern that kind of stuff. We’re affectionately calling ourselves the Coven,” they smile proudly at the name, Agatha resists the urge to roll her eyes at its predictability. “I’ve already been contacted by dozens of people needing assistance to solve their, well, not-so-usual problems.”

“What kind of problems?”

“Witchcraft, Dr. Harkness. What else?”

Agatha laughs. “Out of curiosity, why would you want me to be a consultant?”

“Because I need someone like you, Agatha.”

“Are we on a first name basis, Rio?”

They giggle. “Someone has been googling me.”

She hasn’t.

“I did not!”

“How do you know my first name?”

“You told me!”

"I haven’t. That’s okay, Dr. Harkness. I need you because we need someone who doesn’t believe in witchcraft, but has enough experience to easily recognize when something cannot be explained by logic and science.” their eyes start to shine.

“You want me as the devil’s advocate, is that it?”

Vidal nods, smiling bright. “Are you interested?”

“No, Dr. Vidal. I’m not interested in your offer. Aren’t you supposed to be aligned with the Salem Seven initiatives? I doubt they are looking upon your project with good eyes.”

Vidal’s smile doesn’t break, but they give Agatha a quick wink. “What the Seven don’t know won’t hurt them. I’ll keep your spot empty. Good luck, Dr. Harkness.” Vidal offers their hand and Agatha accepts, feeling their strong grip. “By the way, the Ankylosaurus and the Euoplocephalus are an unbelievable fighting match. Not carnivorous. But both are armored, both are tailed. You can’t go wrong with those guys.”

As Agatha watches Vidal leave with their confidence intact, there is a second of curiosity as she stares at the card they sneaked into her hand. Followed by the realization they don’t have a clue of what they are talking about. After a whole day of classes, grading papers and meetings, Agatha tests her theory at the dinner table as Tommy and Nicky keep arguing over which dinosaurs to put next on the battleground.

“What about the Ankylosaurus and the Euoplocephalus fighting each other?”

The expectation is that the discussion returns to carnivorous dinosaurs, but the two boys exchange a look and run to the living room. Later, Agatha angrily tosses their leftovers in the trash before putting the plates in the dishwasher. 

When the three kids are sleeping, Agatha pours herself a glass of wine and opens her notebook. Agatha stares at pictures of Rio Vidal. Mostly formal or giving lectures, then she clicks on the video section. Giving a deep breath, she clicks in the first video entitled How to Walk Down the Dark Road. The one hour video being from two years ago, Agatha watches a younger Vidal talking about their research:

“When facing death, most people believe their loved ones are forever gone. That kind of mentality produces neurological impacts that can damage people’s lives in irreparable ways. I rather think there is a place we go when we die,” they look down at their paper, and then straight at the camera. “I’ll be defending tonight a place I’ve been calling the Dark Road…”

Unable to hear another word, Agatha shuts down her computer and goes to bed. The next few days are more of the same. School. Work. Home. Rinse and repeat, thank you very much. On Thursday, Agatha wakes up with a text from Morgan.

“Agatha, I tried everything to talk the dean out of it.”

“You can’t be serious, Morgan. They were dressed as pilgrims and laughing about the deaths that happened in Salem! Did you want me to be respectful and polite with their mockery?”

“I never expect politeness and respect from you, Agatha. That’s what I always loved about you. But their parents are major investors in this university. You know how spoiled those kids are.”

“They complained about me to their daddies, and then you go and just fire me?”

“I’m not firing you, Agatha. That’s what Edvard advised me to do. I’m giving you an unpaid suspension. Your job will still be here for you in six months.” Morgan pauses. “Hopefully. As long as all of our jobs will be here in six months.”

“And what am I supposed to do until then?” Agatha asks. “Sit home and play Candy Crush? Feel my brain shrinking from watching sitcoms? Pay the bills with the kids Monopoly money, Morgan?”

“What you will do with your time is up to you, Agatha. The only requirement is that you respect your exclusivity contract with us,” Morgan explains, waiting for Agatha to calm herself down. “I’m sorry, Agatha. I really didn’t have a choice on this.”

Morgan had always been a good friend and mentor since they met during Agatha’s first year of college. It was a tough year, being recently homeless, Morgan had helped her get back on her feet. 

“I know you have my back, Morgan.” Agatha notices Morgan gives a familiar look that Agatha has seen many times in their twelve years of friendship. “There is something you’re not telling me,” she whispers.

Morgan makes a hush gesture. She turns on the TV and raises the volume to the maximum. “Things are getting bad, Agatha. Have you watched the news lately?”

Agatha laughs. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re buying the Salem Seven rising? I thought you were better than that, Morgan. You’ve been to Avalon!”

“What did you think about their representative?” Morgan asks, clearly concerned.

“Their… Alright. Definitely not on our side, but not one of those fanatics that you can barely argue with,” Agatha thinks. “I think we’ll be fine. They were just snooping around, more interested in their own matters, if you need to know.”

“But why would they send someone only three months away from the election? They should have done that months ago.”

“You think they are after us?” Agatha mocks.

“I think they are after everyone who dares disagree with them and are perceived as a future political threat. So, yes, Agatha. Forgive me if I’m being paranoid,” Morgan replies, anxiously snapping her fingers. “Do you have any news about your mother?”

Agatha swallows dry. “No, I would like to keep it like that for as long as I can. Why?”

“It’s been months, Agatha. I just think it's weird she didn’t strike back, don’t you? It doesn't sound like Evanora.”

“Maybe that bitch finally gave up.”

Morgan gives her a disbelief smile. “Has a Harkness ever given up on anything?”

It wasn’t a direct attack, Agatha knew. Sometimes, it was harder for her to remember what she had given up herself, too. Morgan’s face instantly drops as she realizes her mistake. “Shit, Agatha. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“That's alright, Morgan. What does Victor think of all of this?”

“He has his usual confidence, but last night I came home and he was acting all… nervous? It’s weird seeing my husband nervous. I think he’s starting to get scared that the Salem Seven will formally endorse Strange. If that happens, then… We don’t stand a chance, Agatha.”

“We can always open that bar in Avalon if everything goes wrong.”

“If everything goes wrong, our heads will be on a spike by the end of Strange’s first year,” Morgan replies with a tease.

Agatha snorts, standing and taking Morgan’s hand for a gentle kiss. “Then it will be an honor to share the gallows with you, my dear.” Morgan rolls her eyes and playfully snaps Agatha’s hand away. “Guess I’ll see you in six months?”

“I’ll miss you, freak.” Morgan pouts. “Don’t become a stranger!”

Gathering her personal belongings from her office, Agatha made a mental list of the things she could do for six months without getting insane. There wasn’t much on that list. She couldn’t teach on the side, but she could do research and write. The only problem was that nothing was that interesting anymore.

Not wanting to break the news to Natalya or Tommy too soon, Agatha goes to a small coffee shop close to the university and opens her notebook. She types sorcerer supreme 2026 and reads the headlines.

Strange vs. Doom: 2026 Election Will Set a Voting Record
Secret Doom: What Victor von Doom Doesn't Want You to Know
That (isn’t) Strange: It Won’t Be the Season of the Witch Anymore

Agatha could spend six months rotting her brain with sensationalist news and bad TV shows, surviving on her emergency fund. Or with something that, despite not being as good as having her normal job, was something to keep her entertained for a while. She opens her purse and picks up a card, “Dr. Vidal? Yes, this is Agatha Harkness. Is your job offer still standing?”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The next morning, Agatha takes her time. A longer shower. Longer breakfast. Slow drive to the address Vidal had texted her yesterday. She parks her car and immediately hears someone knocking at her window. “Hi!” Vidal signs for her to roll down the driver’s window. “Good morning, Dr. Harkness. I brought you coffee.”

Agatha gets out of the car and takes the coffee. “Look, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page here. I’ll be a consultant for whatever matters you have. But I won’t be accessing in any cases directly related to the Witches’ Road. And I’ll not answer any questions you might have either.”

Vidal nods with that same hopeful smile on their face. “I understood that the third time you said, Dr. Harkness. Now, are you ready to meet our Coven?”

They enter the building and comically exit on the 13th floor. The office was small, but somehow cozier than Agatha expected. There was a woman with grey hair fighting with a coffee maker. And a woman in a pink dress is talking with someone over the phone inside the meeting room. Agatha gasps. “Oh, fuck.”

Jen turns around and they lock eyes. She instantly hangs up and walks to them, shaking her head in clear mockery. “How far have you fallen, witchkiller?” Jen asks, contempt dripping in her voice.

“Witchkiller?” Rio asks with that cute little curiosity tone.

“It’s nothing important. Just a stupid nickname,” Agatha dismisses, hoping the questions won’t come up again. “Have you been enjoying being a doctor without a board certification, Kale?”

“I see you know each other.”

Jen grabs Agatha’s forearm and drags her to the meeting room. “Don’t you fucking dare talk to me like that. Ever. Again. Or I’ll fucking slit your throat, Harkness.”

“Come on, Jen. Don’t pretend you’re not happy to see me. You always loved having someone around so you don’t have to get your hands dirty.”

“You’re still as pathetic as I remembered you, Agatha,” Jen says. “What are you doing here? Did you get suspended after sleeping with another student?”

Agatha’s face drops. “I never slept with her, Jen. And you know that.”

“Wait, you didn’t deny! You were suspended from your own university?” Jen claps her hands, laughing. “Oh, karma is a witch, isn’t it?”

“At least, I’ll be back in six months. They refused your appeal to get your certification back, didn’t they?” Agatha strikes back. “Guess that’s what happens when you lead research without an ethics committee approval, right?”

Before Jen can answer, even though her face says enough, Vidal enters the room, followed by the coffee machine lady. “Hi, sorry to interrupt… Alice called. She’ll arrive late.”

“Again?” Jen asks. “That girl is always late! I take punctuality very personally.”

Agatha snorts, winning a side eye from Jen. “Can we start?”

“Hi, I’m Dr. Lilia Calderu. You’re a Harkness, aren't you?”

“Any problem with that?”

“When Rio said a Harkness was joining us, I honestly had my concerns. But seeing it’s you… I now have bigger concerns. So yes, Harkness.”

“It’s Dr. Harkness to you.”

“Okay.” Rio interrupts, taking a seat at the end of the table and opening a folder. “Since it's Dr. Harkness's first day with us, I think we should all introduce ourselves? I’m Rio Vidal, I’m a Pisces who is-”

“Dr. Vidal. This isn’t Tinder. I couldn’t care less about what your astrological signs are. And you already introduced yourself to me, remember? Unfortunately, I already know Jen…nifer. It’s just Lilia and that Alice girl who requires an introduction.”

Rio swallows. “Uh, sure? Lilia, would you like to introduce yourself to Agatha?”

“First, I’m Dr. Calderu to you, not Lilia. I’m a cancer sign,” Lilia says, looking straight at Agatha defiantly. “And I'm a quantum mechanics physicist, a specialist in fourth-dimensional beings and the potential ground study of time variations and their multiversal impacts on the Dark Dimension.”

Agatha can’t contain a sigh. From all the places she had walked into, this was one she wouldn't go with a gun pointed at her head. What the hell was she thinking? Playing Candy Crush was definitely a more respectful way to spend her time and use her neurons.

“What about Alice?” Agatha asks, cutting Lilia off.

“I can introduce her. Alice Gulliver is our safety engineer and risk adviser. Best of her class, good kid.” Vidal sighs, looking nervous as much as hopeful. “Look, I’ve carefully chosen you all for a reason. I hope we can do our best to put our political differences aside and… Help people? That’s what I want out of this at the end of the day,” they say, reopening the folder. “Our first assessment is investigating a client who is currently in prison waiting for trial and claims to have been possessed while committing the crimes.”

“Like a demonic possession?” Lilia asks, writing down in a beaten notepad.

“Possessed by what?” Agatha locks eyes with Vidal.

They give her that annoying smile again.

“Have you ever heard of Jack the Ripper?”

Chapter Text

‘“I’m no historian, but whoever Jack the Ripper was, I’m sure they are pretty dead by now,” Agatha mocks, eyes still locked with Vidal. “Dead people can’t commit murders.”

Lilia reads from her notepad. “The Whitechapel murders were committed between 1888 and 1891 by Tom Malverne and, after him, there have been four confirmed Rippers.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a physicist?” Agatha points a finger. “Please, don’t tell me you are one of those Ripperologist freaks who believe in ritualistic murder conspiracy theories.”

“Zaniacs are demons from the Dark Dimension, Dr. Harkness. That makes Ripperology directly associated with my field of work."

"What the hell is Zaniac?" Jen asks.

"They are practically indestructible parasitic entities that can infect people with a bite," Vidal explains. "Demons, if you prefer calling that."

"Ugh. I do not prefer calling them that. Besides, don't we all learn in school that the five women Jack killed were possessed by Iceni spirits?"

“Literally never heard of them, Jen,” Lilia says. “Who is that?”

But both Jen and Vidal turn their attention to Agatha, who was currently trying not to have a stroke from their nonsense. Taking a deep breath, Agatha begins her lecture. 

“It’s an ancient legend. A legion of Celtic warrior witches who, trying to avoid being persecuted by the Roman Empire, sacrificed themselves in a blood ritual to bind their spirits to London and protect the town from the Dark Dimension. Unless ancient spirits learned to take planes, I doubt your client was possessed by them.”

“How does someone put their spirits in a town?” Lilia mocks

Agatha blinks at her. “They don’t. That’s why it's a legend!”

“Our client is British, but hasn’t been to England since she was five,” Vidal reads. “If it’s the Zaniac, we have a bigger problem. Their host kills five people before committing suicide. And then the infection moves to the next person, whoever is closer.”

“Which is comforting when we remember our client is currently in a mental institution with hundreds of already dangerous people,” Jen says. “A hallucinatory pathogen could cause psychological dissociation. That could explain the feeling of being possessed. Maybe we can request a blood exam to check if there are any residual infection signs?”

“It’s not that simple, Jen. Zaniacs and their residues dissolve completely after the bite. The main symptom left is a bloodlust that gradually overrides the host’s personality, turning them into aggressive and sadistic beings.”

“How convenient for the killer. Don’t you agree, Lilia?”

“Nothing from the Dark Dimension is convenient to anyone ever! Do you have any idea how many events have been distorted by History? The Ripper is merely one master of evil entities among the hundreds of threats that slipped into our dimension.”

“And all those masters of evil happen to be historic serial killers?” Agatha asks Lilia. “People kill people. Not demons. Not spirits. If your client is having a moral crisis after murdering people, I’d advise him to see a therapist.”

“But our client came to see us, not a therapist, Dr. Harkness.” Vidal raises their voice enough to make Agatha look in their direction. “The least we can do is our job. We investigate the claims and give the benefit of the doubt that the police may have arrested another innocent person.”

Staring into their brown eyes, Agatha tries to temper her anger. Not even Morgan ever had the nerve to speak with her in that authoritarian tone. Her chair scratches the floorboards as she stands. “I’m taking a smoking break.”

“You started smoking again?” Jen disguises her concern as an attack.

“I have not.”

Sitting on a bench outside, Agatha watches children playing in the playground across the street as a brunette with a red dyed strand parks her motorcycle and approaches her.

“Are you Agatha Harkness?”

“It depends on who’s asking.”

“Hi! I’m Alice Gulliver.” Agatha’s body tenses as Alice pulls her in for an unsolicited hug. “We’re in the Coven together. How cool is that? Rio wouldn’t shut up about you, so I got curious and stalked your socials. They were so happy announcing you were joining us.” Then her eyes widened. “Shit. Did I miss the whole meeting?”

“No. They are probably still arguing over demons and ancient spirits.”

Alice snorts, sitting beside her. “That’s gonna take a while then.”

“Shouldn’t you join them?”

“Fuck, no. Rio and I went out last night. They already filled me in on the case. And I’ve heard enough of them arguing on that shit to know what’s happening. Lilia is being intense. Jen is being sarcastic. And Rio is being, you know, Rio.”

Agatha frowns. “What does that mean?”

Alice plays with the moon pendant on her bracelet. “They are always trying to not disrupt some sacred balance. If Lilia says it’s possession and Jen says it’s psychosomatic, Rio will argue it’s both and none at the same time. It’s kind of sweet of them to try.”

“And where do you fit in that discussion?”

“Me? Oh, no. I don’t… I’m here to keep you guys safe. My job is to warn you when it becomes too dangerous to start or continue an assessment.”

“But do you believe in witchcraft?”

Alice looks at her as if she were the first person to ever ask that question.

“No. I believe in Rio. They are trying to do something good with the Coven. Last week, we helped a mother regain custody of her son. We proved his father was a complete asshole who was accusing her of witchcraft to get full custody ‘cause he thought it would save him a hundred bucks a month.”

Following Alice’s eyes, Agatha looks across the street as a mother hugs her daughter.

“I think people do bad things sometimes and then have a hard time admitting it to themselves. That doesn’t make them bad. It just means the real world is more complicated than those science versus magic debates make it sound.”

Agatha nods, giving her a sincere smile. “How old are you, Alice?”

“Twenty-six next month. Why?”

“Fuck. If I had that mentality when I was your age, it would have spared me a lot of trouble.”

“Why? What were you doing at 26?”

“Probably smoking pot and writing about how the Pendle Trials culminated in the Victorian era’s obsession with ghosts and spirits.”

Alice smiles. “That sounds fun. Kind of. Why did you stop?”

“When you get older, weed starts giving you worse hangovers than alcohol. Trust me. Enjoy it while you can, Alice.”

Alice just laughs. Even though both knew it wasn’t what she asked. Alice was sweet enough to pretend and play along rather than put Agatha through that terrible discomfort that most people in her life often seemed to forget to spare her.

Wearing a long black coat, Vidal walks outside. “We’ve decided to divide and conquer. Jen and Lilia will try talking with our client,” they hand Alice a key. “Alice, would you mind checking the apartment for signs of infestation? Don’t forget to take pictures this time, please. And, Agatha? Wanna come with me to the library? I want to check if they have any records on Zaniacs in the 19th century that we could use.”

“That doesn’t sound like a two-person job, does it?” Without waiting, Agatha follows Alice. “I’ll help Alice not to forget the pictures.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Since Agatha didn’t trust Alice enough to get in the back of her motorcycle, they took Agatha’s car. At some point, Alice asked to put on her playlist as if they were best friends. And as they talked over their favorite 70s rock bands, not mentioning demons or magic even once, Agatha decided that they were something close to friends.

“By the way, I’m ordering matching T-shirts.”

“Of what?”

“I’ve drawn a Coven logo. Wanna see?”

The logo representing the Triple Goddess as moon phases was beautiful. Not that Agatha minded or even thought a t-shirt would look nice. Whatever, she thought. She remained the rest of the ride promising to text Alice her shirt size later.

When they arrived at the address that Vidal had texted Alice, the doorman allowed them in without many questions, just requesting that they clean out the front door. And when they reached the penthouse floor, Agatha learned why.

“Are you sure we can just walk in?” she asks, staring at the yellow police tape.

“Yeah. The police cleared this place, but since Davenport doesn’t have any friends or family in town, no one has walked in ever since.”

Entering the penthouse, Agatha concluded that their client didn’t have children. Keeping a house clean with three boys would be the living proof of magic. That’s why her house never spent more than two hours clean.

The interior could easily be the cover of an architectural magazine. Light-painted walls. Natural lightning. Custom furniture. Expensive decoration. But that seemingly immaculate interior was contracted with a huge blood stain on the white carpet in the living room. Even if it was not her first murder scene, Agatha shivered. And almost puked as a terrible odor spread across every corner of the penthouse.

“Here, put this under your nose,” Alice holds out a balm with a strong mint scent. “This should help, but if you’re gonna throw up, please do it outside. We can’t risk tampering with evidence.”

Agatha glances at something yellowish coming from under the couch. “Tamper with evidence? But you said the police cleared this place.”

“They did. But that doesn’t mean they will be happy knowing we have been here.”

Before Agatha could pick up said something, Alice tapped her shoulder and handed her a pair of surgical gloves, a mask, and safety goggles. Which seemed an exaggeration until Agatha reached out and felt a slimy thing coating her finger.

“What do you think it is?”

Agatha hands her a plastic bag. “We’ll test at the lab later.”

“Lab? You have a lab?”

“Rio has a cool improvised lab in their place. It’s pretty cool, actually.”

Agatha swallows the question of what kind of psychopath has an improvised lab in their house. After zipping the bag with the yellow slime, Agatha sees Alice pointing a purple light at the walls.

“What exactly are you looking for?”

“Anything that indicates an infestation. This UV light can detect all sorts of things. Drugs. Minerals. Bodily fluids. With the Zaniac, Rio told me to look for signs that rats or insects have been nesting here. You know that bad odor we’ve been smelling since we got here? That can be a sign. Unless we find the source.”

“What will it mean then?”

Alice smiles. “That this place needs an emergency cleaning.”

With her long unused curiosity, Agatha snooped around while Alice checked the walls. She went to the bookshelf and picked up a portrait of a young blonde woman with a charming smile, embracing a man in front of a Christmas tree. “Is this the man we’re helping get away with murder?”

“Man?” Alice walks over, looking at the portrait. “Oh, no. We’re assessing her. Jacqueline Davenport is our client. That’s Fred Myers, her fiance and one of the victims.”

Agatha frowns. “Isn’t a historically accurate Ripper supposed to be a man?”

“That’s the main reason the cops think she is faking it. Not that they are supposed to believe in possession, but since that’s the state of the world right now…”

Looking at the portrait again, Davenport and her fiance seemed happy. A couple that Agatha would definitely roll her eyes at. Constant public displays of affection. Excessive use of made-up pet names. Unrealistic plans for the future.

“If she were a man, the cops would have just bought her story, right?”

“Without a second thought,” she says before walking into the hallway.

Agatha puts the portrait back on the bookshelf and goes to the kitchen. The room was clean enough to perform a surgery without risking infection. Opening the door that connected the kitchen and the laundry room, Agatha tried turning on the ceiling light, but there was no lamp. Using the phone flashlight, Agatha doesn’t see much. Only a big flower vase in the corner. Agatha checked the fridge, the upper and lower cabinets, and the appliances. Nothing. Not even a single thing was giving away the source of that awful odor that Agatha could smell even through the mask.

“Agatha?” Alice calls from afar. “Can you come to the master bedroom for a sec?”

Agatha finds Alice in the dark, standing on the bed and pointing the UV light at the wall. Agatha immediately covers her nose, looking at a drawing made with what, considering how it reacted to the light, could be blood. “What the hell…”

“It’s probably blood. The UV light detected something, so I sprayed luminol,” Alice says, then looks at Agatha. “Do you have any idea of what that symbol is?”

Agatha nods, trying not to throw up. “That is a sigil.”

“Like a witch’s sigil?”

“Not restricted to witches. Sigils are a language related to magic.”

“What kind of magic?”

Agatha swallows. “Chaos magic.”

“That’s right! Aren’t sigils the things influencers try to make people use to manifest things? Like ‘You want a brand new car? Draw a sigil and tuck it under your pillow for thirteen nights’ kind of crap, right?”

Even though she doesn’t completely agree, Agatha nods.

“How long ago did Davenport kill her fiance?”

“Three days. Why?”

“That’s not enough time for the blood to rot and smell this bad.”

“Maybe it’s not blood.” Alice opens her bag, taking a cotton swab.

Agatha holds her wrist. “Take the photos first, Alice.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Back at the office, Jen wandered around the meeting room. “She is clearly faking it, Lilia! That psycho murdered her own patients. Do you really believe a dagger kept magically appearing in her hand until she was killed?”

“At least that would explain why they never found the murder weapon! And it wasn’t a dagger, Jen. It was a knife,” Lilia reads from her notepad.

“Is there any difference?” Agatha circles her temples.

“Daggers are thinner and sharper and can cause more damage because they are quicker to penetrate skin,” Vidal explains without missing a beat.

“I’m sorry. Is there any difference that is actually relevant for the case?”

Vidal turns their attention to Alice. “Did you find anything in the apartment?”

“Agatha found something under the couch. We can test tomorrow before game night, Rio. And there was a drawing in the bedroom that Agatha identified as a sigil. Right, Agatha?”

Agatha opens her mouth, but Vidal speaks over her. “Chaos magic?”

“Chaos magic goes beyond my area of expertise, Dr. Vidal.”

“Weren’t you LeFey’s research assistant while she worked on the Necronomicon, Harkness?" Jen provokes with a grin. “How busy were you two back then that you didn’t learn anything about sigils?”

Agatha ignores. “I’ve seen enough of my wife’s work to recognize a sigil, but not enough to translate it probably,” Agatha explains, tapping her fingers on the table.

“What did the sigil look like?”

“Oh, Agatha reminded me to take the photos,” Alice clicks the camera’s buttons and hands it over to Vidal. “Shit. I forgot to take pictures of the blood stain on the carpet.”

“Nice work, Dr. Harkness,” Vidal says in a condescending tone while looking at the photos. They tilt their head. “Oh.”

Vidal types something in their notebook. Lilia, who had been taking notes like a maniac, finally lifts her head. “What is it, Rio?”

It takes them a moment. “I had no luck with the library files. But I remembered that the Seven’s archives had documents collected over the centuries by the Salemites.” Agatha tries to remain unexpressive as Jen gives her a side eye. “I’ve seen that same sigil before. It appeared first in the original five crime scenes in the 19th century. And in each of the four canonical Rippers since then.”

“Wait. I’ve been studying the Zaniac for decades. Why haven’t I heard about sigils before?”

Agatha absently answers. “Because they never release everything to the public.”

“That would explain why the cops attempted to clean the sigil, but left the rest of the crime scene intact,” Jen comments.

“The Salemites normally withhold information to preserve the integrity of the police’s investigations,” Alice explains. “But why would they do that with a case that has been closed for two hundred years?”

At that, Agatha feels four pairs of eyes staring at her with expectations she could never meet.

“What has your family been hiding in the closet, Harkness?” Lilia asks.

Agatha swallows dry. “I don’t know.”

Lilia snorts. “Please. You’re a Harkness! Do you honestly expect us to believe you haven’t been trained since you were born to be a Salemites’ leader?”

Agatha feels a tight knot forming in her throat. She tries answering, but Jen is faster. “Leave her alone, Lilia.”

“Why? Do you suddenly trust her now?”

Jen and Agatha exchange a look. And Agatha starts reading the file Vidal had been holding to avoid participating in that discussion. “When it comes to this, yes. If Agatha is saying she doesn’t know, then she doesn’t know.”

“You two said Davenport didn’t speak, just smirked at you. But did anyone tell you anything relevant to the case?” Alice asks Jen.

“Yes. When I complained to a guard that Davenport didn’t want me to even examine her, one of them spilled that she had been complaining of thirst.”

“Fuck. Have the guards been denying the inmates food and water again?” Vidal asks in a tone bordering on anger and concern.

“No, she’s not thirsty for water,” Jen clarifies. “For blood. Which doesn’t make any sense. Davenport already killed four patients and then her fiance. Five murders.”

“Wait. But if Davenport killed five people, shouldn’t she have committed suicide and moved to another host by now?” Alice asks.

“Something is not adding up. Zaniac’s infected canonical hosts followed a pattern of murders beyond gender. Prostitutes. Actresses. Teachers. Mothers. Criminals,” Lilia reads. “So, unless Davenport was having an affair with her own patients or treating her fiance as a patient, there is no pattern there.”

Finally trusting her own voice, Agatha lifts her eyes from the pages. 

“What about her younger sister?”

“Gillian Davenport? She died from an overdose two months ago. Why?”

Agatha tilts her head. “Regardless of what is happening with Davenport, one thing we can all agree on is that people don’t just wake up and kill at random. Even dissociative episodes are triggered by something disrupting the person’s world.” Agatha pauses, feeling Vidal’s eyes on her. “Grief can be one of those things.”

After a second, Vidal nods. “Since Jacqueline doesn’t have any friends or family here, I’ll interview the fiance’s parents on Monday and ask if they know anything about Gillian.”

“Thank you, Dr. Vidal.”

“I’ll try to talk with Davenport again, too,” Jen offers.

“I can come with you,” Agatha says.

Jen silently evaluates her. "Do you still live in the same place? I can pick you up on Monday morning,” she pauses, attempting to give Agatha something that resembles a smile. “You can give the gas money later.”

Agatha snorts at the inside joke. “Sure, Kale. I’ve moved, but I’ll text you the address.”

Vidal claps their hands. “Good job, guys. Lilia and Alice, can you two go to the hospital Davenport worked at? Try interviewing the staff, patients, and colleagues. Anyone who accepts walking with us is a win by this point.”

Vidal opens the mini fridge in the corner of the meeting room and takes a soda bottle.

“We did a good job today. I’m happy our Coven is finally complete. I even brought champagne, but Alice suggested we schedule next Friday to celebrate, and then we come to work without our cars. They pour soda into five champagne glasses. And then, looking straight at Agatha with those shiny brown eyes. “Dr. Harkness, it’s a pleasure having you with us.”

As Vidal raises their glass, Alice promptly takes hers and hands it over to Agatha before mimicking Vidal. Lilia releases a mocking laugh and takes hers, but doesn’t toast. She drinks all at once and bangs the glass on the table before leaving without a word.

Jen, who was watching the whole scene with a smirk, shakes her head. “No, thank you. I don’t drink sodas,” and walks away, leaving her glass untouched.

“I’ll drink hers,” Alice says, holding a glass in each hand. 

By now, Vidal’s eyes are apologetic enough to make them look like a lost puppy that Agatha should bring home and shower with endless love. But Agatha’s household survived for years with a strict no pets policy since the twins discovered their neighbor had adopted a puppy.

“Agatha, I’ll talk with them-”

Agatha puts her glass on the table. “No need, Dr. Vidal. I appreciate your effort, but don’t try this hard to turn us all into friends. We’ll be colleagues, at best.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The second Agatha turned the doorknob of her front door, she was welcomed by the smell of fresh coffee mixed with something sweet and warm. It was obviously the same house that was left a complete mess this morning. Except that the house was now completely cleaned and tidy.

There were no toys scattered on the living room floor. No empty mugs on the coffee table. No dirty laundry decorating the furniture. No books and paperwork on the dining table. And there was a scent of lavender that Agatha hadn’t felt in months.

“Natalya? Did someone kidnap the boys?” Agatha asks, entering the kitchen.

“Yes, dear. They are currently kept hostage by the promise of freshly baked carrot cake with chocolate topping if they clean their bedrooms and another room of this house.”

Natalya hands Agatha’s green coffee mug, already filled with hot black coffee.

 “Pietro and Wanda hated cleaning the house, too. Every child does. The secret is turning boring tasks into a fun little game for them.”

Childhood and fun were an unfamiliar association for Agatha as well. Doing her chores and cleaning her childhood room was rewarded with the absence of beatings and punishments. “What do you mean?”

“Mama, I won!” Nicky comes running, trying to catch his breath. “I cleaned my room faster than Billy and Tommy together!”

“What?! Faster than Tommy?” Agatha kisses the top of his head. “We need to add that to the House of Harkness Records later.”

Nicky is on Natalya’s lap. “Grandma, can I have my cake now?”

“Well, since your Mama is home, you’ll have to ask her.”

“Mama, please?” He gives her his best puppy brown eyes. “Can I eat while watching TV, too?”

“Have you finished your homework?”

He nods enthusiastically.

“Then sure, baby.”

“Not a baby,” he complains, taking his cake to the living room.

Tommy and Billy came to get their share before joining Nicky. They instantly start arguing over which cartoon to watch.

“Do you want to take a shower while I keep an eye on them?”

“No, I can take over. You’ve done more than enough, Natalya. I still can’t believe you convinced the boys to clean the house. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, dear. I’m happy to spend time with my grandchildren. I’ll take care of Tommy for as long as you need me. And speaking of that, how was the first day in the new job?”

Agatha laughs. “Have you heard of the Davenport case?”

“The woman who is claiming Jack the Ripper forced her to kill people? It’s all over the news lately. I was hoping the Seven would have released an official statement to calm the population.”

Agatha agrees. “I don't think they’ll risk taking sides now. Especially with the rumors that they will publicly endorse Strange’s campaign. Agreeing its possession, it's practically the same as publicly supporting him. And disagreeing it's almost boosting Doom’s marketing.”

“Goddess, I can’t wait until this whole thing is over,” Natalya says, drying her hands with a kitchen towel. Then her voice drops enough for the boys not to overhear them.  “Have you talked with Wanda, dear?”

“Not since that day, but she should call any minute now before the boys’ bedtime. Wanna stay and say hello to her?”

Natalya shakes her head. “I talked with Wanda last night. What she is doing to this family isn’t right. Taking three years to come home isn’t good for the children. Or being a good wife to you, Agatha. You four deserve better than what my daughter is giving you. Children need both their mothers at home with them.”

“I doubt that changed anything in Wanda’s mind, Natalya.”

Her mother-in-law sighs. “No, it did not. But that doesn’t mean Wanda doesn’t have to hear it anyway.” Natalya opens her purse and hands Agatha an envelope with a stork illustration. “Since Wanda won’t be able to come, Pietro asked me to give you this.”

Agatha mutters a whine. “A baby shower? I hate baby showers.”

“It’s both a baby shower and a gender reveal.”

Gender reveals were much worse. “I thought they already knew they were having a girl.”

“They do, but Crystal insisted on doing both. I can take the boys if you don’t want to come.”

Agatha shakes her head. There was no point in avoiding meeting her brother-in-law now.

“No, I’ll go and bring the kids.” Natalya gives her a kiss on the cheek and walks to the front door, so Agatha quickly shouts from the kitchen. “But I’ll roll my eyes when pink glitter comes out of that balloon! And I’ll buy their baby what they keep calling ‘boy toys’ as a protest!”

She hears Natalya’s laughter. “I expect nothing less!”

One hour later, Agatha and the boys are in her bed. The second Wanda had answered the call, three kids started to speak over each other. Agatha giggled, watching Wanda trying to answer three different questions at the same time, and keeping up with five more follow-up questions and stories.

“... They will announce the cast on Monday! Kate and Cassie agreed with Ellija! My audition was flawless,” Billy announced, proud of himself.

Tommy snorts quietly. Agatha gently pokes his back as a warning.

“That’s amazing, Billy! You’ll be the best Dorothy that school has ever seen.”

Agatha looks at the clock on her nightstand. “Alright, boys. Time to say goodnight to Mom.”

“Noooo,” three voices say in unison.

“Five more minutes?” Billy begs with clasped hands.

“Pleeease, Agatha? I’ll even brush my teeth tonight.”

Agatha frowns. “What do you mean by ‘tonight’?”

The boys continue their protest. Agatha stands and extends her hand to Nicky. “Nicky, it’s way past your bedtime now, ba- honey.”

“But it isn’t ours!” Billy celebrates.

“That’s not fair!” Nicky whines, pouting and crossing his arms, which makes both Agatha and Wanda laugh.

“Come on, Nicky. You need to obey Mama, right? We’ll talk more next week. I’ll even bring the stuff I’ve been meaning to show you.”

Nicky reluctantly nods, accepting Agatha’s hand. “Wait, wait. I have one more question, Mama,” without waiting, he runs back to the notebook and asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “Have you found the dinos yet, Mom?”

Wanda’s laugh echoes through the room. Agatha smiles at the scene. Despite being explained many times that Wanda wasn’t that kind of archaeologist, Nicky still believed deep in his heart that Wanda was secretly in the Wundergore Mountains trying to find dinosaur fossils.

“You know what, hon? I have not. But I did find a very weird-looking flower. Wanna see?”

Nicky enthusiastically nods as Wanda mentions his second-favorite thing in the world. Agatha walks over in time to see her wife displaying to the kids a flower that Agatha recognizes as an Everbloom Blossom.

“This flower only grows in the darkest parts of the Mountains. The rumor is that they are trying to hide themselves from people because their petals grant visions from the future to whoever eats them. They can survive deep temperatures and grow without any sunlight. How cool is that, Nicky?”

“So cool!” he whispers, his eyes glued to the screen. “Can you bring me one? I promise I won’t let Tommy eat this one.”

“Hey! Shut up, Nicky. I only eat that for fun once.”

“I’ll have to talk with Mama, Nicky,” Wanda says, then winks at him when she thinks Agatha isn’t looking, adding in a compliance whisper. “But I promise I can convince her.”

“Not fair!” Billy whines. “If Nicky can have a plant. Tommy and I want a dog.”

Leaving Wanda to deal with the twins' hundredth request for a puppy, Agatha makes sure Nicky brushes his teeth and puts on his pajamas instead of reading until he passes out on the bed. “Did you learn anything new today?”

Nicky nods with a smile, but his eyes are the same as when Billy gets angry at him whenever Tommy convinces him to hide Billy’s spell book as a prank.

“Mama, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, Nicky.”

“Is it true that bad people killed magic?”

Agatha moves uncomfortably. “Where did you hear that?”

“Iric’s mom told him that. And that the man with a funny beard from the posters is going to bring magic back if he wins! Isn’t that awesome, Mama?”

Trying to swallow down her fury, “Nicky, did any of your teachers ever try explaining magic to you?”

Nicky shakes his head. “No, Mama. Are you mad at me for asking?”

Agatha tries answering, but a notification sound cuts her off. She picks up her phone to silence it, but sees that someone has added her to a group chat named ☽ Coven ☾. Originality wasn’t their strongest quality, obviously.

~R. Vidal ཐིཋྀ
Welcome, Dr. Harkness!
We can talk here about any updates
and questions on our cases!

~ Gull⚡︎ver
Hii guys 
I’ll send u the doc with the photos and 
other stuff Rio found on Zaniac and Rippers 
Agatha opens the link to the document 
and skips straight to the pictures.

Agatha Harkness
I can ask my wife to try to translate the sigil.
 If that’s okay with you

~R. Vidal ཐིཋྀ
That would be awesome. 
Thanks!
 
Alice
Unpaid consultant? 
We would LOVE that, Agatha!

Jen only reacted with a thumbs up; Lilia didn’t even bother with that much of an effort. Deep down, Agatha understood their reactions to her presence there. Jen definitely couldn’t be blamed for hating her after what happened between them seven years ago, even if it wasn’t Agatha’s fault entirely. And Lilia probably could only see Agatha as a shadow of Evanora Harkness’s legacy.

The Harkness family wasn’t famous for their trustworthiness, and the Salemites were an institution with a reputation for shady business, despite praising themselves for not getting involved in politics. At least, never publicly.

“Mama?” Nicky sweetly calls, snapping Agatha from her own inner demons.

Agatha looks at her son’s concerned expression and instantly locks her phone.

“Sorry, honey. No. I’m not mad at you for asking me questions, my love. I’ll never get mad at you for being curious and asking questions, okay?”

Nicky nods, his expression softening. “Is it true then?”

“No, Nicky. Magic is just a concept grown-ups came up with a long, long time ago to try to excuse themselves for their own actions. That story that people killed magic is just something the real bad people say to make other people feel bad for being different or disagreeing with them.”

“So they are like bullies?”

Agatha smiles proudly. “Yes, Nicky. And we don’t like bullies, do we?”

He shakes his head, and Agatha keeps smiling as she tucks in his hair and gives a goodnight kiss before turning on the nightlamp. After putting the twins in bed, Agatha returned to her bedroom to continue talking with her wife.

“How are you feeling now, baby?”

“I’m still mad at you, if that’s what you’re asking.” Agatha sits, putting a pillow on her lap. “Look, Wanda. I’m happy for you. Really. But… I just can’t do this alone anymore.”

Wanda nods. “I promise you, Agatha. Just nine more weeks tops.”

“Nine? Wanda, last week you said six weeks! What the fuck?!”

“Baby, I’m sorry! I truly am. Mom already gave me shit for this, I don’t need you doing the same. I won’t take away the reason why you two are angry and hating me right now, but I fucking need to be where I’m.”

“We don’t hate you, Wanda! We miss you. We need and want you back home. I need you and want you back home, Wanda. That’s why I’m angry at you, not because I hate you.” Agatha pauses, trying to be completely honest with her wife for once. “That and the fact you have been stalling me for a year now.”

Wanda sighs. “Agatha, what if it was the other way around, huh? If you found the Road and had to go away from us? Wanda is a little more annoyed, but is still trying to keep it down. “You would have done the exact same thing. Or even worse. And don’t fucking pretend you wouldn’t because I know you better than that.”

Agatha tries answering, but gives up. The truth was that, if she believed in the Goddess or any of the Elder Gods she grew up praying to, Wanda would be right. But Agatha didn’t give up on the Road because of her lack of faith. People assumed that, and Agatha, unable to tell anyone the truth, never corrected them. So, no one knew that her giving up the Road was precisely because she wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her family ever again.

“You’re right, baby,” she lies, forcing a smile. “You’re absolutely right. How is the transcription going?”

Wanda lights up. After an hour listening to her wife speaking about the coldness of the Mountains, that endless darkness, the lack of proper sleep and sunlight, the loneliness of being hours away from civilization, Agatha almost felt avenged.

Then she heard another familiar voice coming from the other side of the call.

“Is that Amy?” Agatha cuts Wanda off, trying to see better behind her wife.

A ginger head pops on the corner of the screen. Agatha smiles instantly.

“Professor Harkness! How are you?” Amy blushes, trying to fit both of them into the frame. “Shit. I didn’t mean to interrupt you two. I just came to warn Wanda that they’ve changed the schedule again. Johnny said that if we want to visit the Citadel tomorrow, we’ll need to leave by 7 a.m.”

“Shit… That’s four hours from now,” Wanda takes off her glasses, rubbing her temples while groaning. “Thanks, Amy. I’ll try to sleep in a sec.”

Amy nods, then looks at Agahta. “Bye, Professor Harkness. I miss you!”

“Miss you too, love. I hope my wife is treating you better than I did.” Agatha watches as Amy laughs and leaves Wanda’s tent. “I hate that you’ve stolen my best student from me.”

Wanda gasps before laughing. “What?! I didn’t steal her from you. You gave her to me. Remember? Like an already trained pet.”

Agatha lies down, looking at Wanda with heart eyes. “Don’t let Amy hear that. She’ll start barking at you. Maybe even bite.”

“She still would be worth it. She is the best assistant I’ve ever had, Agatha. Can’t even imagine how great a student she was to you.”

“Hmm, she was alright, I guess,” Agatha jokes, both knowing it was a huge diminishment of Amy’s true worth. “Do you really have to go now?”

Wanda nods, pouting. “I feel like I monopolized the whole conversation tonight. I’ll try calling you again next week. After the kids’ bedtime, so you can tell me every detail of what’s happening with you.” She makes a pause, giving a naughty smirk. “I bet Morgan is eating herself alive ‘cause I’ll be home in two months with a full transcription of the Book of the Damned.”

Agatha laughs. “Morgan is not that bitchy, Wanda. She’ll be happy for you. Your work will help her own research, you know.”

“I know. It just feels nice to be the first to get to something important to her, since she got to something important to me first.”

“Oh, yeah? And what was that?”

“You,” Wanda says sweetly. “I love you so much, Agatha.”

Agatha rolls her eyes, but smiles at her wife’s jealousy. “I love you too, baby.”

“Don’t spend too much time reading tonight, okay?”

After Wanda ends the call, Agatha opens her notebook and selects the text-to-speech tool, too tired to try any of the focus tools. She spends almost two hours that night listening to books on sigil and chaos magic.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

On Monday, Agatha texted Jen her address. For some reason, Agatha felt nervous about being stuck in a car with someone she hadn’t spoken to in private for seven years. After Natalya arrived just in time to stay at home with Tommy, Agatha saw a BMW she didn’t recognize parking outside.

Opening the car door, Agatha whines. “No! I can’t believe you ditched the Hell Charger for this pretentious thing, Kale!”

Jen lowers the music as Agatha enters. “She died on the road years ago, Harkness. Goddess, I miss that car. Remember how we used to sneak out of campus at night to get that cheap, awful beer? We drove for hours just to save fifteen bucks.”

“Which was naive of us. We probably spend twice as much putting gas on that beast just to get us there.”

“Hey, don’t speak ill of the dead! We did have fun in that car.” Jen pauses, glancing at Agatha to see her reaction. “Didn’t we?”

Agatha nods, memories threatening to wash over her. “We did.”

Jen turns on the music again as the silence starts to linger. The drive to the North Central Correctional Institute lasted almost Jen’s entire 2000s pop hits playlist. So when Agatha saw a breach through Jen’s musical defenses, she took it.

“Do you think Davenport will talk with us?”

“That’s unlikely. She was so weird, sitting there for hours just staring with that smirk. I could breathe her anxiety from all across the room, but she didn’t say a word.”

Agatha looks outside the window. 

“Hey, Jen. Remember our second year when that friend-of-yours-we-don’t-mention stole that rare book your grandfather left you and Andy before dying?”

“Oh, don’t even make me remember that bitch’s face,” Jen warns, strangling the steering wheel. “I get so mad at that, Agatha. Why are you even bringing her up?”

“Remember how we tricked her into confessing and returning your book?”

Jen nods. “Your psychological torture plan. Why?”

Agatha grins. 

“Do you think that can work a second time?”

And Jen grins back.

They draw their plan during the rest of the drive. Despite being a mental institute, the place Davenport was being held was more like a prison center. After arguing with the front desk lady who made them wait for half an hour, Agatha and Jen were approached by a man and a woman wearing sunglasses and black suits.

“You must be Dr. Kale and Dr. Harkness, am I right?” he asks in a British accent, showing his credentials. “I’m Agent Peter Wisdom, and this is my partner, Agent Maureen Raven. We’re here representing F-66, the-”

“Department of Unusual Deaths?” Jen finishes. “Why? Aren’t you two outside your jurisdiction?”

He puts his credentials back in his suit pocket. “I see you’ve heard of us, Dr. Kale. Unfortunately, I’m the harbinger of bad news. Your meeting with Dr. Jacqueline Davenport has been canceled.”

“Cancelled? By whom?” Agatha complains.

“We just drove for more than an hour!” Jen picks up her phone and walks away.

“I’m terribly sorry, doctors. We have explicit orders not to allow anyone close to Dr. Davenport until the judge rules over the extradition request we applied on her behalf.”

“Extradition? Davenport’s crimes were committed here. You can’t do that.”

“I can, Dr. Harkness. And I already did. Davenport’s case requires a proper trial with people who hold knowledge and culture that only a British court of law can offer her.”

“She was the one who hired us!” Agatha counters. “If Dr. Davenport doesn’t want us here, I want to hear that from her in person, not you.”

Ready to reply, Wisdom takes his sunglasses and smirks. Raven puts her arm in front of him. “We’re just doing our jobs, Dr. Harkness. And just among us?”

“Maureen, what are you doing?”

“Shut up, Pete.” Maureen gestures for Agatha to come closer and nearly whispers in her ear. “Dr. Sofen personally requested that Davenport be sent to Ravenscroft. At least until the judge decides on our request. It can take anywhere between one and three weeks. And we both know that place won’t be good for a woman in her circumstances.”

“Doesn’t matter if you’re doing the Elder Gods work, Agent Raven. I’m not leaving this place without talking with Davenport.”

Maureen tries arguing, but Wisdom cuts her off. “Dr. Harkness, do you have a hearing problem? I said your meeting has been canceled. You and your colleague can enjoy a nice walk in one of Gardner’s many malls. Maybe go to the hair salon? Do your nails?”

Ready to slap his face, Agatha takes a step forward, but Jen puts her hands on her shoulders, holding her in place. “Here,” Jen extends her phone to Wisdom. “Our boss wants to speak with you.”

Wisdom walks away, already lecturing over the phone. Left alone, the three women keep staring at each other. “What is the Department of Unusual Deaths?” Agatha breaks the silence.

“The name is pretty straightforward, Dr. Harkness. Someone dies an unusual death? We show up to investigate. It’s a British initiative after the incidents in Avalon. Pete and I travelled own the way here to convince your government that it’s an important department to have nowadays. Who are you two with?”

“We’re independent consultants,” Jen says before Agatha has a chance. “Kind of the same path as F-66.”

“I see. And Dr. Davenport hired you?” Maureen asks with suspicion, and Agatha nods. “That’s strange, considering she is claiming to be, well, possessed.”

“It’s not unusual for people experiencing dissociative episodes to temporarily regain consciousness and make requests like this to serve their best interest,” Jen says.

“Dissociative episodes? Is that what you have been calling it? There are five innocent people dead, Dr. Kale. Cold-blooded murder by Davenport’s hands. Do you know how many cases of possession we have investigated since the Sorcerer Supreme has disappeared?”

“How many?”

“Sixty-two in three months, Dr. Harkness. And that’s just considering me and Pete. We’re not even counting cases of deaths involving voodoo, blood magic, demonic pacts, exorcisms, hauntings, or even necromancy. Things are getting serious. I advise you to step aside while you can. You don't have to be at the eye of the storm when shit hits the vent.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you have children?”

Jen shakes her head, then Agatha feels her eyes on her. 

“Three boys.”

Maureen nods. “I have a son. Johnny is the best kid in the world. I… I’m fearing for his future daily. What will happen when he wakes up one day and the world has become Doom’s personal mad scientist laboratory?”

Agatha scoffs. “Do you think Strange can build a better future? You want your son to be raised following the Salem Seven’s disturbing commandments? Do you want him to be raised to carry the torches and pitchforks?”

Maureen shakes her head. “A world led purely by scientific logic seems just as harmful, doesn’t it, Dr. Harkness?”

Agatha feels Jen’s hand back on her shoulder.

“What Agatha means is that both sides sound pretty bad now, but Strange’s politics won’t accept anyone disagreeing with the existence of magic and who won’t follow their rules.”

“Doom isn’t different, Dr. Kale. Forcing people to abandon their spiritual beliefs? That’s why he blew his own country to pieces years ago,” Maureen counters.

“No one is forcing anyone to give up anything!” Agatha shouts, giving them her back to walk outside, but Wisdom’s voice stops her.

“I’ve spoken with your boss. You two have one hour with Dr. Davenport. That’s all I can grant without having to be present myself.”

“That’s more than enough.”

Jen entangles her fingers with Agatha’s and pulls her by the hand towards the metal door.

Kept with the highest security protocols, Jacqueline Davenport was in bad shape. If the woman sitting across from them ever reassembled the one smiling in that portrait, it felt like years had passed, not days. She was a version of herself that not even a nightmare could produce with that level of accuracy. 

Jacqueline’s long blonde hair had been cut short, sloppily and unevenly. Her skin was dirty from not accepting showers. The lips were dried and swollen with red stains, probably from biting. But the most unsettling thing was her defiant smirk that didn’t match the pleading and scared eyes.

“Dr. Davenport? I’m not sure you understand what’s happening. Unless you start talking with us, we won’t be able to continue our investigation,” Jen explains in her best concerned voice. “You’ll be judged for the first-degree murder of five people. If you let us do our job, then we can help.”

Agatha snorts. “Help? Jen, look at her! If you believe she is possessed, then you're dumber than her. Don’t you think that, if a demonic entity could choose someone to act on their behalf, wouldn’t they choose someone more fitting?”

Jacqueline’s eyes fall on Agatha, and she tilts her head.

“I say we let her rot in here,” Agatha punctuates every word directly to Jacqueline.

“Dr. Harkness, I’m warning you to stop,” Jen scolds.

Agatha looks at her, displaying anger. And that makes Jacqueline’s smirk get bigger, but she doesn’t take her eyes off Agatha for a split second. Not even blinking.

“I’m just saying that, if the devil wanted the job done, they would have possessed someone who could actually complete five murders!” Agatha stands, putting her hands on the desk and getting closer to Jacqueline. “What happened there, Jackie? Did you run out of lovers or patients?”

“Dr. Harkness, that’s enough.”

“Why didn’t you get to the next phrase, uh? You should be dead by now.”

“Agatha!” Jen stands. “That’s enough.”

“You’re not actually possessed, are you? You’re a faking piece of crap who just can’t deal with what you’ve done with your own boyfriend. I saw a picture of you two together, you know? Was he boring you? That’s why you did it?”

Jacqueline’s eyes start flickering with every word. And Agatha notices her smirk changes, slowly fading away.

“Come on! Tell me!”

“Out!” 

Jen pulls Agatha by the elbow and practically throws her out of the room. 

“What? Come on, Jen. We can catch a movie and-”

Jen bangs the door in Agatha’s face. And one hour later, Jen leaves the interrogation room with three pages of notes.

“We still got it, Harkness.”

“I never doubted us for a second, Kale.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

“That’s impossible! How did you make her talk?” Lilia asks suspiciously as they gather once again in the meeting room later that day. “We tried everything! And she just kept smiling at us.”

“Agatha and I have our own interrogation methods,” Jen says with a proud smile. “I still think she is hiding something, though. She sounded almost too sincere. Even for someone in between dissociative episodes, I’d expect her to be more shaken by her own actions, but no.”

“What did she tell you?” Vidal asks.

“After Agatha left the interrogation room, Davenport kept threatening to make Agatha her next victim.” Jen glances at Agatha, who bows theatrically. “So, I asked what I would feel killing her, and she started talking until I asked about that night. She told me she had a night shift that day, so after having a shower and dinner with Mr. Myers, she took a nap and drove to the hospital. And she only regained consciousness with blood in her hands and with the cops knocking on her front door.”

“That’s no help, Jen,” Alice comments with sadness. “It’s basically the police report.”

“I know, Alice. That’s why I asked her if she had done or seen something unusual in the last weeks. She said the only thing out of the ordinary was attending Murderworld that Sunday. Agatha googled on our way here. It’s an amusement park that's currently touring. They will stay in town for two more months.”

Lilia frowns. “That’s unusual, isn’t it? I’ve done some gigs in Murderworld as a clairvoyant back in the 90s. They usually don’t stay that long in the same town.”

Agatha swallows a laugh at the image of Lilia reading tarot in an amusement park. Vidal gives her a warning look before talking with Lilia and Alice. “Any luck at the hospital?”

“Oh, yeah! We interviewed her boss, Dr. Amalia Chavez,” Alice says. “She told us some pretty interesting stories about Davenport. Like, did any of you know that she was under a secret internal investigation at the hospital?”

“Investigation? The police report didn’t mention that,” Jen says.

“It shouldn’t. This is classified information that Chavez didn’t even tell the police.”

“And why would she tell you two?”

“Alice can be very persuasive,” Lilia explains.

Alice shrugs. “People talk if you ask the right questions at the right time. According to her, a year ago, the hospital institutionalized a new policy to track its doctors’ prescription pads after some incidents. Three months ago, Dr. Chavez noticed that a lot of Davenport’s pad pages were missing and unregistered in the system. When she asked, Davenport said she had no idea what happened.”

“But they agreed to solve that between themselves, to not involve the hospital’s legal team. Probably, they were trying to avoid getting fired for medical negligence. Davenport promised she would handle the situation herself and report back to Dr. Chavez,” Lilia continues. “But that never happened.”

Vidal sits back, closing their eyes. “So, recapping: three months ago, Davenport had problems with her prescription pad. Her boss finds out, but she never tells her what happened. Then cuts to last week, and she goes to an amusement park called Murderworld. And then one night she wakes up, drives to work, murders four patients, drives back home, and murders her fiance.”

“Why do you assume her fiance was murdered last?” Agatha asks, absently playing with her wedding ring.

“That’s what the police report says. It matches her testimony and the estimated time of their deaths. And it makes sense since she was arrested at her apartment,” Vidal explains.

“But why would she do that?” Agatha thinks out loud. “Either way, it’s weird. Let’s assume for a second that it’s possession. Davenport was in a hospital. That place probably has enough people to fit whatever pattern the Zaniac was following. Why would they drive one hour just to murder her fiance?”

“I’ve talked with Mr. Myers’ parents. They said Fred and Jacqueline were in love for ten years until she murdered him. They believe what happened was a terrible tragedy. It’s even weird ‘cause you would assume they would hold a grudge against her, right? But no. They don’t even sound angry over Jacqueline killing their only son.”

“Did you ask them about Gillian?”

Vidal nods. “They never met Gillian, but according to Jacqueline's stories, the sisters had an on-and-off relationship. When Gillian became addicted to drugs, she lost everything. So they’d live together for a few weeks or months, then Gillian would storm out and disappear for months to get drugs. Then she’d run out of money and knock on Jacqueline’s door, asking for a place to live. You get the idea.”

“I wonder how Mr. Myers felt about Gillian. I suppose it’s not easy living with your sister-in-law who happens to be a drug addict,” Jen comments.

Agatha snaps her fingers. “Did you analyze that stick thing I found in her apartment?”

Alice nods. “Yeah, but we didn’t even bring it up because it turns out it was just pollen.”

“Pollen? Like flower pollen?” Agatha asks.

“Weird, isn’t it? I don’t remember seeing any plants in her apartment.”

“But why would flower pollen get that slimy?”

Jen gasps. “Oh, Goddess. It’s not flower pollen. It’s a drug. I’ve seen a few cases of people overdosing on that thing. It turns sticky and yellow when it comes in contact with air, but it obviously needs to be injected into the bloodstream in its liquid form. That’s why it’s hard to fabricate. You need a laboratory without air circulation, oxygen tanks, and masks.”

“If it’s hard to fabricate, then it’s probably expensive, right?” Lilia asks.

Jen nods. “It’s a rich people’s drug. I don’t even think it was Davenport and Myers’s case. She was a doctor and he was a stockbroker. I’m talking about disgustingly rich people.”

“Wait. Isn’t that a drug made from that Krokoan flower?” Alice asks. “I read in a forum someone saying they are now adulterating Pollen. Mixing with other plants and stuff. One was this Eastern European ugly flower that made the fabrication cheaper for some reason.”

Agatha looks at her. “Because it grows without the need for sunlight?”

“Yeah! How did you know that?”

“That’s the Everbloom Blossom. My wife was telling our son about it. She explained it was a flower associated with divination.”

“Did your wife say anything about the sigil?” Vidal asks.

“I didn’t have the time to ask her yet. She was too busy.”

Jen rolls her eyes, muttering a low, “Shocking.”

Ignoring the snarky comment, Agatha looks at Vidal. “I’ll ask her tonight. What’s our next move?”

“I vote that we try that park Davenport told Jen about,” Lilia suggests. “We don’t have many other options, and I still think it’s weird for them to spend more than two weeks in the same town.”

“It opens at 1 p.m. We’ll eat something and go after lunch," Vidal says.

While Alice and Vidal went out to grab their lunch, Lilia was napping in the break room, and Jen was at the balcony talking with someone over the phone as Agatha texted Wanda.

Agatha Harkness
Hi, babe. Need your help translating
?a sigil for old times’ sake. Can you do it
Don’t ask why. I’ll tell you next time you call

Wanda ♡
Of course, honey. You know I’ll do
anything for you. I’ll start translating
right away. Text you when I finish it.
Love u so much

In moments like this, being Wanda’s wife felt right. Her wife was hot, smart, funny, and caring, even though it didn’t seem like it lately. They were two sides of the same disturbing coin, complementing each other. Even in their flaws.

Even though the balcony door was closed, Agatha could overhear Jen’s conversation. “We can meet tomorrow at 9 a.m.? Yeah… You can try the chocolate cake, but I’ve already ruled out the red velvet, baby… Yes… I know it’s also your wedding, baby… But you were the one who decided to marry me, remember?... Okay… See you later… I love you, too. Bye!”

Jen closes the door behind her, and Agatha welcomes her with a smirk. “Jennifer Kale, are you engaged?!”

Jen sits, rolling her eyes and nodding once before showing Agatha her middle finger. “Are you regretting not putting a ring on my finger when you had your chance, Harkness?”

Agatha snorts. “I don’t think that’s the ring finger, Jenny. Besides, we probably would be divorced twice by now. Or even killed each other. Double homicide. Nasty stuff.” Agatha pauses, giving an honest smile to the woman who had been her best friend for almost two decades. “I’m happy for you, Jen. Who is the lucky woman’s name?”

Jen lowers her finger, checking her nails. “His name is Jaxon. And he is not a woman.”

Agatha gasps. “Oh, no. Kale! A man? You had better taste back in college.”

“That’s debatable. I was sleeping with you in college, Harkness.” 

Agatha takes the punch she has been given. 

“I hope he treats you right.”

“He does. Jaxon is perfect. He proposed at my favorite restaurant after he went to see a ballet performance from my former ballet company. He had his speech memorized by heart. He bought me this rare garnet for my engagement ring.”

“Where is that bad boy of a ring?”

“He didn’t have my ring size. We sent it to a jeweler to adjust.”

Agatha smirks. “That would never happen if you were marrying a woman.”

“Not knowing my ring size?”

Agatha nods. “Wanda had my finger size memorized when she proposed. That’s the lesbian magic of dating women.”

“Oh, Goddess, Agatha. You’re disgusting, you know that?” Jen pauses, looking outside for a second. Then, without her former confidence, she repeats. “Jaxon is perfect.”

“Well, then I propose that we have a toast!”

“A toast to what?” Alice enters, carrying two cup carriers with their lunch drinks.

“Jen is engaged,” Agatha celebrates.

Upon hearing her words, Alice trips over her own foot as she tries to place the drinks on the table. And ends up spilling them all over Jen’s dress.

“Watch what you’re doing! Fuck,” Jen angrily says, groaning as she leaves.

“Shit….” Alice says, tearing up. “Fuck!”

She throws the rest of the drinks on the floor.

And, obviously, instantly regrets and takes napkins to dry it.

“That’s a perfectly normal reaction to spilling drinks,” Agatha jokes, trying to ease Alice’s mood. “Or hearing your co-worker is engaged. Did you have a crush on Jen or something?”

Alice’s eyes snap as she looks at Agatha, completely blushing.

“Oh. Oh, Alice. Fuck. I was messing with you… You do? You have a crush?!”

“Who has a crush on who?” Vidal asks, entering with the delivery bags, almost blushing as much as Alice. Then they look at Alice in panic, “You told her?!”

Agatha blinks at their reaction. “Yeah? Something wrong with that? Alice has the right to tell whoever she wants that she has a crush on Jen.”

“Oh. Alright. That’s, uh, nice,” Vidal’s expression softens, and they start helping Alice to dry the floor. “I mean. It’s nice you’re telling people about your crush on Jen.”

“She is unfortunately too late,” Agatha pouts. “Jennifer Kale is an engaged woman!”

“Agatha! Can you stop telling people I’m engaged?” Jen asks, trying to dry her dress with a bathroom towel. “Do I need to remind you that this is not your wedding?”

Agatha raises her hands in a peace offering.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Lilia asks, looking at Jen’s state.

“Alice! She spilled our drinks on me,” Jen complains.

“I… I’m so sorry, Jen. I’ll pay for-”

“Save it, Alice. I can pay for my own laundry.”

Alice blushes even more, and Agatha resists the urge to give her a pet in the head.

“Great! What will we drink now?” Lilia adds to the complaints, giving Alice an ugly stare.

“Don’t torment the kid, Dr. Calderu. I’ll get out and get us more drinks,” Agatha offers, taking her keys and wallet.

“I’ll go with you,” Vidal offers, already opening the door for her.

“Again: not a two-person job, Dr. Vidal,”

Looking like a kicked puppy, Vidal sits back.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Agatha decided to drive to the nearest store and buy many drink options, just in case. She even found Jen’s favorite green tea. They had lunch as Jen and Lilia incessantly talked about wedding plans and honeymoons. Alice looked like she was about to cry the whole time. And Vidal was awkwardly quiet and sad.

For a moment, Agatha wondered if she was being too harsh. They haven’t asked questions about the Road ever since that morning when Agatha drew that line. They gave her a job even after she refused and spat on it when offered. And without said job, Agatha would probably be rotting at home watching Tommy play video games.

“Hey, Dr. Vidal. Want a ride?” Agatha offers at the parking lot.

Vidal swallows, pointing at themselves and looking around as if they weren’t sure Agatha was speaking with them. Then they ask in the quietest voice. “Are you serious?”

“Take it or leave it, Vidal,” Agatha gets into her car.

Agatha tries to hide her smile when Vidal finally enters the car. They drive quietly at first, Agatha following the GPS to a place on the edge of town. Vidal was looking outside, fiddling with their necklace stone.

“That’s pretty. What is it? Obsidian?”

Vidal shakes their head. “I don’t know.”

“How can you not know? Didn’t you buy it?”

“No. I…. It’s kind of a long story.”

Agatha looks at the GPS. 20 minutes until their destination. She lowers the music volume.

“We have time.”

Vidal finally looks at Agatha. “This necklace was the only thing that was truly mine for the first eighteen years of my life. I was adopted… Actually, no. Not adopted.” They pause, trying to find the right words. “I was abandoned by my biological parents when I was a couple of hours old. In a Seven’s chapel in Puerto Rico.”

Agatha widens her eyes. “Really?”

Vidal nods. “The only thing they left me was an old blanket and this necklace.”

If there was something motherhood brought, Agatha had learned the ability to empathize with stories like those. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Vidal smiles.

“You never took the stone to a jeweler? I imagine there are only so many black stones out there.”

“Sixteen. There is way more if you count variations and different cuts, but rounding it down, there are sixteen out there. And yes, I tried that many times. No one knows what it is.”

A true master with words, Agatha frowns. “That’s… Odd.”

Vidal chuckles, putting their necklace back under their shirt.

“So I assume you grew up under the Salem Seven’s faith?”

Vidal nods. “The nuns working there raised me until I turned eighteen. A lot of praying. Fasting. Rituals. Traditions. Magic. But I think you’re familiar with all that.”

Agatha snorts, then says in a fake faithful voice, “May the Powers-That-Be bless you.”

Vidal smiles. “It wasn’t that bad. A part of me kind of misses how simpler things were under their roof. The rules. The beliefs. Leaving Añasco was… Difficult. I had to say goodbye to a lot of things.”

“But you’ve kept their beliefs, I suppose. Since you were representing the Seven that day.”

“Some of their beliefs, yes. Others not so much. Did you keep any?”

“No. I abandoned them all the second I ran away from home,” Agatha says, not even realizing she's confessing something so personal to a complete stranger.

“You run away from home? Why?”

“My mother and I don’t have the best relationship in the world.”

“I had no idea.”

“It’s not like she is announcing to her followers. Sounds bad enough that your own daughter deserted your faith, but that she did in the middle of the night? The second she turned eighteen? Leaving without a single penny in her pockets?” 

Agatha pauses, trying to glance at Vidal’s reaction, wondering what could be. Pity? Anger? Disappointment? Remorse? Envy? But they are only staring with a kind expression. They were hearing Agatha’s every word with nothing more than attention. No judgment, no assumptions. It felt as if Vidal was watching her closely.

“I just couldn’t keep following her rules anymore. They never made much sense to me. I wanted to read any book I wanted without asking for permission. To study everything I was curious about. I wanted to ask questions that no one wanted to answer. Or even listen to. I wanted to learn things from people who wouldn’t scold me for waiting to learn. And, honestly? I wanted to get stoned. Drunk. I wanted to fuck women. Don’t you think their commandment over sex restriction is insane?”

Vidal thinks for a second. “No. I like that one.”

“Come on! You think that if everyone in the world stopped fucking, magic would suddenly reappear? Do you believe that the Goddess removed our access to magic because we fucked too much as a species?”

“That’s not… The commandment isn’t like that. Not originally. It’s not even about sex itself. It’s about intent. It’s more about how people experience their own emotions and sensations. Their own pleasure. Sex is a good thing. The Seven don’t preach that people stop having sex. Only that they start thinking and feeling about what it means to experience pleasure.”

“Hmm. What are you saying? Sex can only happen when there is love?” Agatha asks with an inevitable hidden mockery tone.

Vidal laughs. Agatha hadn't noticed how their laugh was pretty.

“Sex can happen where there is desire, attraction, lust, friendship, or partnership. Many other things, actually. But it can’t happen when people don’t care about each other. When someone thinks only about their own pleasure. Where there is no respect or care. You don’t have to be in love to have sex, Agatha. You and your partner only have to care enough about each other.”

“But that is kind of hard to find, isn't it? What happens when you don’t have a partner you care about?”

“I don’t have one. And I would say I’m doing fine.”

“But don’t you miss sex, Rio?” Agatha whines.

She didn’t even realize how intimate the question was until the words were out there. Vidal looks away. “It’s not possible to miss something you never had or never even had interest in, Dr. Harkness.”

Agatha disagrees, but doesn’t want to drag the subject. But then their words are digested as Agatha parks her car in the amusement park. “You never…”

“No. I never found anyone that I, you know, cared enough to be intimate with.”

“Intimate. That’s a word for it, for sure. So, you never had even a little crush on someone?”

Vidal stares at Lilia, who was waving at them right next to Alice and Jen, who were probably still arguing over spilled drinks. For a moment, neither mentions leaving that car. And then Vidal opens the door. “That’s not what I said.”

As soon as they walked into the park, Alice and Vidal ran like children to get cotton candy. The amusement park wasn’t called Murderworld for nothing. Most rides were horror and death themed.

When they return, Vidal offers Agatha their green cotton candy. Agatha shakes her head before whispering. “That’s pure sugar, Dr. Vidal.”

With defiance, they put a whole chunk in their mouth before putting their Ghostface mask back on.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Jen asks.

“We’re looking for something that connects with our case,” Lilia answers.

“Oh, that’s perfect. We drove forty minutes in the hope we might find something that connects with the case. What are you guys expecting?” Jen mocks, turning to face the group. Everyone just stops walking. “A huge neon sign saying ‘Jack the Ripper’ somewhere?”

Alice, who was wearing a Freddy Krueger mask, just nods and points to a spot behind Jen, swallowing her orange cotton candy. Jen turns around, following Alice’s finger to the huge red neon bloodied knife above another sign saying ‘Saucy Jack’.

As they enter the tent, a maniacal laugh echoes through the room. Agatha jumps and accidentally grabs Vidal’s arm. She releases immediately, and Vidal doesn't even acknowledge what happened.

“Welcome, my friends!” a man says in a British accent. He was dressed in a Victorian-style suit with a black cloak and a top hat. “My name is James L. Ransom. May I entertain you with some Ripper fun facts?”

Agatha tries saying ‘no’, but Lilia is faster. “Yes! Please, Mr. Ramson.”

He clears his throat. “Very well,” and points for them to sit at the foldable chairs facing a projection screen. He turns the projector, and images from Victorian London start appearing in front of them. “Out of the many lies they tell about my friend Jack, my favorite is that he was a cold murderer.”

Agatha looks at him, then rolls her eyes and looks at the screen again.

“Old Jackie wasn’t always a murderer. No! He was a kind man. A gentleman even at his finest hour. But the devil in his many forms tricked my friend Jack into committing his first murder. And then there was no way back. Every addiction comes with a first. And with a triggered downfall to addiction, Jack’s story starts.”

Agatha looks at Lilia. Even her seems lost at his random words.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the five women that old Jackie murdered, right? But have you heard how he cared for them? He was nothing but a gentleman, sparing them from a much worse destiny. They weren’t only prostitutes, they were troublemakers. Ancient spirits leading London’s folks to madness. With drinking and man problems, those women checked the whole bingo card of-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Vidal interrupts. “Before you say something you can regret. We’re not interested in your ‘fun’ facts. I’m representing the Salem Seven, and these are my consultants. We’re investigating a cause involving Jack the Ripper allegations.”

“Oh. Mrs. Jacqueline Davenport, right?” he says, turning on the lights.

“It’s Dr. Davenport, actually. How do you know about her?” Agatha says.

“That’s my job, ma’am. I’m a certified ripperologist. Knowing things about Jack is my main source of income.”

“Oh, yeah? And what do you think about her case?” Jen asks, crossing her arms.

“What do I think? That woman is desecrating Jack’s memories! What else?”

“Desacrating a serial killer’s memories?” Agatha mocks.

“He wasn’t a serial killer! Jack wasn’t even one person.”

“Here we go,” Lilia mumbles.

“You don’t believe in the time travel theory?”

“I believe in time-travel. I do not believe in that insane theory that Jack was actually many people time-travelling from the future trying to prevent an apocalypse!”

“You can’t prove it wasn’t!”

“And you can’t prove it was!”

“Of course I can! How else would Spring Heeled Jack?! It was clearly someone who time-jumped to the wrong era! That’s the only explanation for them having a technology that allowed them to jump that high.”

“Oh, by the Elder Gods! Spring Heeled Jack is a confirmed Spirit of Vengeance! Not a fucking serial killer time-travelling to a wrong era.”

Agatha looks at Jen just in time to see her eyes widening at that mention. And then she puts her best unaltered expression as if the phrase didn’t shake her even a bit.

Vidal puts themselves in front of Lilia. “Mr. Ransom. Davenport said she visited the park the same week the murderers happened. I don’t believe in coincidences. Do you?”

“Well, normally yes. But in this case, no.”

“What do you mean?”

“I remember seeing Davenport that week. We talked, and I explained to her the many facts about Jack. We talked over the Zaniac. Possessions. Time travel. Murder addiction. Sigils-”

“Sigils? How do you know about sigils?” Alice asks.

“As I said, knowing things about the Ripper is my job. It’s on my show! Everything I’m telling you right now is on my show. If you had been patient enough to watch, I wouldn’t need to tell you. But that’s all I remember.” He pauses, swallowing dry. “Wait. Does that mean she killed those men because… Because my show influenced her?”

“I wouldn’t advertise with pride, Mr. Ramson,” Vidal warns, handing him their card. “Call me if you remember anything else.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

After they exited that tent, Jen drove everyone else to the office, and Agatha went home. Instead of being welcomed with coffee, this time Natalya handed her a letter from Tommy’s principal saying that, after a more serious evaluation, he would be expelled instead of suspended. And because bad news never arrived alone, Billy was depressed because he wasn’t given the role of Dorothy, but the role of a background tree.

That night, Agatha and Wanda tried to comfort him before bedtime. When Agatha returned to her bedroom, they decided to enroll Tommy in a different school next month, even if they agreed it wasn’t fair to him.

Before Wanda started talking about the sigil, Agatha walked her through everything that had happened over the last couple of weeks. Suspension. New job.

“I can talk with Edvard, baby. I’ll threaten to leave the university and take the Darkhold with me to another if they don’t bring you back tomorrow.”

Agatha smiles, knowing that Wanda definitely would do that. “No, baby. At least, not for now. Let’s wait until you finish the transcription. Otherwise, they will cut your funding and let you be stuck in the Wundergore Mountains without a penny. And we don’t currently have the money to bring you back home. What can you tell me about that sigil?”

“The old images were easy. There are a few random things that didn’t make any sense, but when I tried again, it said ‘Azael craves fresh blood’. But here is the thing. Let me share my screen with you.” After a moment, Wanda’s screen shows up, and Agatha looks at two sigils put side by side. “The hospital photos say the same thing. It’s the very same lines, even. They are a perfect match. All of them. But, can you see here? That little line on the bottom? Now, look at the one from the bedroom.”

Without her glasses, Agatha squints. “Fuck. It’s different?”

“It’s very subtle, but if it were the case of a demonic possession as she says, that difference would never happen.”

“She is faking it.”

Wands nods. “At least one of the murders.”

“If she is faking one, she is faking the rest, Wanda. Because how could she-” Agatha takes a deep breath, remembering Ransom’s words during his show. “Wanda, I’ve to go. Thanks for the help. Love you.”

Even if it was only 21 p.m, Agatha called Vidal and asked them to meet at the office parking lot. She called Natalya to come watch the kids and invite her to sleep over.

“We need to see her. Right now,” Agatha says as Vidal parks their car. “Did you bring your passport?”

“Yes, but why?”

Agatha swallows. “Because we have been focusing on the wrong thing from the beginning.”

Around two hours later, Vidal and Agatha were renting a car to drive to the Ravencroft Institute, where Davenport had been transferred that afternoon. As usual, Davenport kept smirking at them until Agatha started to speak.

“You can drop your act, Jackie. No one else is hearing us. We know what happened that night. You’ve found the Pollen, haven’t you?”

Jacqueline’s eyes widen for a second, but Agatha notices it.

“What happened? Was Fred starting to get addicted like Gillian? That’s why you killed him?” Agatha offers, guessing the truth was much worse than that. “No, that wasn’t it, right? You’re a smart woman. It would be enough to end the engagement, or maybe drop him in rehab. Do you want to know what I think?”

“Please. Your opinion is so important to me,” Jacqueline says with fake admiration.

“I think you found out something that night. Something worth killing him for. Honestly, I don’t give a damn what you found out. But whatever it was, you got angry and killed him. I don’t even think it was completely on purpose.”

This time, her smile flickers.

“But here is the part I don’t understand yet: why kill your patients? The people you swore not to harm?”

“I did not kill them,” she says. 

Jacqueline’s expression was now completely different. In a way, Agatha wondered if that was the fake part.

“Then tell us what happened,” Vidal asks with a kind voice. “Let us help you, Jacqueline.”

Trying to rest her hands on the table in a more comfortable way, but unable since she was handcuffed to it. Vidal instantly stands and walks to the door behind them, searching for a guard.

“Can you take off her handcuffs?” they ask when the guard enters the interrogation room.

“What? Are you crazy?” 

“No. Remove her handcuffs, please,” they insist. When the guard doesn’t move, Vidal adds in a familiar authoritarian tone. “I’m not asking a third time.”

The guard obeys and leaves the room as if afraid Jacqueline would jump at him any second. Jacqueline rubs her wrists with red marks from the pressure that those tight handcuffs left.

“Gillian got addicted to Pollen while I was in college. After I graduated, she started asking me to prescribe some medications. At first, I did because I thought it was better if she stayed hooked only on pills. But eventually, pills turned into drugs. After I met Fred, I stopped prescribing her. One night a year ago, she knocked on my door and said she was tired of everything. I wanted my sister clean, so I put her in rehab, and months later, she came to live with us. Better. Cleaned. At least until…”

“Fred gave her Pollen, didn’t he?” Vidal asks.

Jacqueline nods weekly. “Not the usual drug. He stole my prescription pad to buy M-drugs. It’s legal and has Pollen derivatives. He had a friend who mixed that with Everbloom Blossom. And he kept giving her that cocktail until she overdosed,” she gives a dry laugh, closing her eyes. “When I asked him what happened that night, do you know how he told me?”

They both shake their heads.

“He said his friends made the wrong cocktail. Much more Blossom than Pollen, enough for her system not to take. And then he fucking had the nerve to tell me that he was doing that for us! To give me a better life. His clients were asking for better financial advice, and that dumb fuck thought the Blossom would make her see the future.”

“And did she?” Vidal asks.

“Of course not! She was hallucinating! High enough so even she thought she was having visions from the future. And Fred was blind enough to believe her. Half of his advice was completely wrong, but because she got three right, he thought their little idea was a success.”

“I think that’s a good motive to murder someone, Jacqueline,” Agatha says, feeling Vidal’s eyes dropping on her. “But what happened at the hospital?”

“I don’t know. I killed Fred. That was me, no one else. I don’t even regret killing him. But I did not kill my patients. I’m telling you the truth. You have to believe me!” she cries.

“You said that the first thing you remembered after what happened in the hospital was being arrested. Is that true?”

Jacqueline shakes her head. “I remember holding the knife, and when I looked at the wall, I saw the sigil. Then I looked at that hospital bed and…” her voice fails, she takes a deep breath. “I remembered what Mr. Ransom told me. So I drove home and drew that same sigil on the wall.”

“But you expect us to believe you didn’t draw that sigil on your patients’ walls?” Agatha asks.

“I didn’t!” she shouts, standing. “Can you believe me for one second when I say I didn’t kill them?”

“Yes,” Vidal says. “But there are holes in your story, Jacqueline. Enough holes that we can’t fill for you. If you were possessed by the Zaniac, how did that happen? Why did it force you to kill your patients?”

“What if killing Fred triggered it?” Agatha suggests, remembering what Mr. Ramson said during his show. “Could we prove that killing one person triggered the infection? That she wasn’t in her right mind while killing the other four?” she asks Vidal.

Vidal shakes their head. “There are no precedents. That part of the Ripper’s story is nothing more than a legend, Dr. Harkness. I think the jury won’t buy your story either way, Jacqueline. If Fred’s death doesn’t count as a Zaniac victim, then why haven’t you killed a fifth victim? And even if he does count, then why aren’t you dead yet?”

Both of them look at Jacqueline, looking fragile and small without a smile on her face.

“After they lock me up, there will be no one to visit Gillian’s grave,” Jacqueline says as if her grief were the only thing worth saying right now. “Who will put flowers for her?”

And somehow, that was the first thing Agatha felt they had in common.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As Jacqueline Davenport’s trial unfolded, Vidal gave the rest of that week off to the Coven, so they could watch the trial. At the end, after seeing that the jury consisted of people who didn’t believe in witchcraft, Jacqueline accepted a plea deal to confess to one of the murders if she was judged separately for the other deaths. 

Wanting to end the media attention as soon as possible, that same jury found Davenport guilty, and the judge sentenced her to thirty years without parole for the first-degree murder of Fred Myers.

In her second trial, the defense attorney tried arguing that Dr. Davenport was innocent of murdering her patients under the influence of a demonic entity called Zaniac. He tried arguing about Pollen and Blossoms, and the jury, which ironically consisted of people who believed in witchcraft, found her not guilty for the murder of her four patients.

But the judge, a defender of Doom, sentenced her to lifetime treatment in the Ravencroft Institute under the care of Dr. Karla Sofen. When asked if the public would ever be sure if Davenport was under the Zaniac or not, the prosecutor answered simply that, “If she kills someone else in prison and then commits suicide, then we’ll know it was true.”

On Thursday, after the final sentence was announced, Agatha found herself standing in Gillian Davenport’s grave.

“I’ve always liked cemeteries,” a voice says from behind her.

“I always hated them,” Agatha answers. When she looks at them, Vidal is holding a white flower. “A Asphodelus?”

Vidal smiles. “How did you know that?”

Agatha laughs genuinely for the first time that day. 

“My youngest is obsessed with botany. He also has a thing for Greek Mythology. He even has an Elysium map that he drew himself hanging on his bedroom wall, so I’m familiar with the Asphodel Meadows. Those are his two main obsessions. And dinosaurs, it’s his third, of course.”

Vidal’s smile gets brighter. “He sounds like a great kid. What is his name?”

Agatha pauses for a second. “Nicky.”

“Nicky,” they repeat. “That’s a pretty name.”

Agatha nods in agreement. They remain silent for a moment.

“That last sentence wasn't fair. Don’t you feel fucking powerless right now?” Agatha finally lets out the complaint.

With their usual confidence, Vidal nods. “Everyday.”

“Good thing you don’t let it show.”

“When you spend your whole life feeling powerless to do anything, you learn that sometimes it’s more important that you do something. Regardless of whether it helps or not. Just… Stand up for something, you know? It’s better than feeling stuck on things you can’t solve.”

Agatha watches as Vidal puts a flower on the grave.

"So you brought a flower?" Agatha asks.

"I brought a flower."

After a moment, Agatha breaks the silence:

"What happens next?"

"Our next client already requested maximum discretion from us. His pregnant wife has no idea we're investigating the clinic where she is receiving treatment for a rare medical condition," Vidal pauses before giving her a kind smile.

And for that brief moment, Agatha didn't feel all that powerless.

“I’ll see you on Monday, Dr. Harkness?”

Agatha nods. “I’ll see you on Monday, Dr. Vidal.”

Later that day, Agatha parks ten minutes early to pick up Billy from school. The blonde receptionist asks her to wait outside while she announces her presence. Without waiting, Agatha followed her inside the principal’s office.

“Dr. Harkness? How can I help you today?”

“Look, Mr. Bohner- How does someone get to be a school principal with a last name like Bohner? It must be a nightmare to work with teenagers.”

Mr. Bohner clears his throat. “How can I help?”

“You’ll reinstate Tommy. He told me what happened, and it’s not fair that you punish him for-”

“We are aware of what happened, Dr. Harkness. I’ve spoken with Loki’s parents. He confessed to what he did. Don’t worry. They promised to talk with their son, so Billy won’t ever be bothered again.”

“Wait. Didn’t that kid get expelled as well?”

“No. His parents were pretty upset about their son being physically assaulted. They said that, if I expelled Loki as well, they would press charges against the school. And you and your wife, doctor.”

Agatha nods, sitting on his desk with her legs crossed. “What’s your first time?”

“Ralph.”

“Ralph. Here is what’s gonna happen: you’ll reinstate Tommy, effectively immediately, and he will return on Monday. And then I won’t press charges against the other parents for their son being a homophobic brat and bullying my children.”

“Dr. Harkness, is that a threat?”

Agatha shakes her head, smiling at him. “No. Not at all, Ralph,” then waits until he smiles back to grab him by the collar. “If I ever hear my son need to punch another kid to defend himself or his brother ever again, because your school failed to monitor its students against homophobia. Or if Billy is ever harmed in any way over his sexuality… I’ll hex this place to burn to the fucking ground in the middle of the night. And I’ll make sure you’re the only one inside burning with it.”

Ralph’s lower lip trembles as if he were seconds from crying. In fact, he seemed one second away from pissing his pants. So Agatha releases him and stands with a smile.

“Now, that was a threat, Mr. Bohner. Have a good weekend!”

Hours later, after putting the kids to bed and texting Wanda saying she was too busy for a call, Agatha adjusted her headphones and opened the text-to-speech tool, smiling without noticing when she heard a familiar voice.

“... The rumors that the Dark Road can be accessed by some hallucinogenic plants could be proved right. If we consider the Black Lotus, the Death Spore, and Hell-Flowers. Even the Ebon Rose. But there are rumors that a tree called Yggdrasill in Asgardian mythology can grant access to the realm of the dead, and we assume, the Dark Road…”