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Agatha knew something was wrong when she power walked down Main Street and no less than twelve people waved, some embarrassing enthusiastically, when they saw her.
Agatha gave them an incredulous look as she passed them.
That...that wasn’t the reaction she had been expecting.
Pausing, she looked around. Something was…different.
She had been gone from Westview for several months collecting information about a foreign sorceress visiting the States. Rumor had it she packed a hell of a punch going all the way back to Merlin’s time; something about having fair folk blood. Now that was the kind of power Agatha could get behind.
But before she could follow up on a few leads she needed a spell book. Specifically, the one last seen at her Westview residence. Agatha crudely ground her teeth together upon realizing exactly where she was going to have to go.
Just peachy.
Returning to where Wanda had held her mind captive for years was the last place Agatha wanted to grace with her presence. A lost battle ground; not only with the Scarlet Witch, but with Wanda’s son as well. And that was before throwing in her ex and the absolute train wreck of a situation that came with that hefty baggage.
If one thing was for certain, it was that Agatha had made better memories elsewhere.
When she left, she thought she was leaving the Stepford Wives town behind with both middle fingers up as she marched off into the horizon, never to return.
But there were no two ways around it.
If she wanted to find Ms. Medieval Times she was going to require the yellow spellbook sitting on the top shelf in the library of Agnes O’Connor’s house.
Maybe if she just strolled in casually no one would notice.
The only people who would really recognize her were the Chief, her partner, the Librari… Agatha let out a low growl, her vision going slightly red. She did not want to remember her time as "Detective O’Connor.”
Like she said, she had made better memories elsewhere.
When Agatha surveyed the town square, she didn’t see anything glaringly out of place. The same shops lined the road that ran through the center part of town and it was still devastatingly dull. Something was slightly off, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
More people waved at her. They didn’t even cross the street when she walked by. Every person flashed a large grin and greeted her by name.
The only explanation for this was Wanda’s spell had clearly done a number on their minds and left them with barely functioning intellects.
At least they weren’t hostile. After all, it wasn’t like she was the one who had forced them to live out a D rated sitcom for what…a week?
She rolled her eyes. No matter, she had bigger fish to fry.
When she arrived at Agnes O’Connor’s house she had expected it to be occupied. She even anticipated having to swindle her way in or put a spell on the new resident, but upon returning she discovered it vacant. Not only that, but everything was exactly as she had left it.
Agatha raised a skeptical eyebrow.
Maybe like Wanda’s old home, they were afraid to go in.
That theory immediately went up in flames when she entered the kitchen. On the island sat a large bottle of wine with a sign that read, “We hope you come back soon, Agatha!”
What the hell was going on?
__________________________________________________________________
The question was quickly answered the next day at precisely 8:00am.
When a rhythm of sharp knocks had started, Agatha simply rolled over, unbothered, and settled into a more comfortable position.
As if sensing her indifferent attitude the intensity and succession of the knocks increased. This time disrupting her quiet morning haze.
Fully awake, Agatha cracked an annoyed eye open as the incessant knocking continued.
Who the hell has the audacity to knock on my door at this hour?
Grabbing her purple robe, she marched down the stairs and threw open the door; vitriol on the tip of her tongue.
But before she could utter a single word, an absurdly high pitched voice rang out, “Agatha! I thought you might be home!” The voice came with an equally sharp bob of blonde hair and an absolutely blinding orange shirt with a hideously, wide smile to match.
Agatha’s eyes widened and she took a step back, but the suburban creature moved forward and thrust a giant plate right under her nose.
“I baked you cookies! I hope you like chocolate! Don’t worry, they are organic AND gluten free!” The orange traffic cone positively beamed.
Agatha wasn’t sure if this was an attack or intimidation tactic.
“We noticed you came back and I thought to myself, I said, “Susan, do you know what our witch needs?” And do you know what I said?”
All Agatha could do was give a small shake of her head.
The woman bobbed up and down with excitement, “Cookies, you silly goose! I said to myself, “Susan, Agatha has been out there taking out bad witches all day long and she comes home with no homemade cookies waiting for her!” How sad is that? Our town hero, at home with no baked goods to show our appreciation!”
Suburbia leaned in even closer, dropping her voice down several octaves and locked eyes with her victim.
“And do you know the secret ingredient?” she whispered aggressively.
Agatha didn’t dare move or look away.
A small, manic giggle escaped from those blindingly white teeth, “Love!”
Agatha stood there, speechless.
“Now, take these cookies and you enjoy them, you hear?” Suburbia’s orders were clear. Agatha slowly reached up and took the plate.
The woman popped back, “Wonderful! It was so good to see you, Agatha! Don’t be a stranger!” She gave a little wave as she sashayed down the brick path.
Agatha quickly slammed the door shut. Goddess, what a terrifying creature.
Then she froze. Replaying the conversation back.
All the confusing puzzle pieces began to fall into place.
They cannot be serious.
She needed to get out of this town.
__________________________________________________________________
Agatha did in fact get out of Westview.
However, only three, pitiful weeks later did she find herself crawling back.
The foreign witch had proven to be quite the opponent with more than one surprising trick up her sleeve. Where the hell did she learn how to regenerate?
Agatha limped up her walkway with as much dignity as she could muster and shoved the door open. She hadn’t sensed Ms. High and Mighty following her, but if she changed her mind and decided to finish the fight Agatha started, the last place she would look was in Westview.
Goddess, Agatha herself could barely believe she was here…again.
Stumbling up to the bathroom Agatha started ripping open drawers; Toilet paper, floss, hairspray, where the hell was the antiseptic?
Under normal circumstances she could heal her own wounds, but fighting and escaping had drained her.
She was about to make her way downstairs to look for alcohol. She was pretty sure she saw a bottle of whisky behind a stack of books when her doorbell rang.
Agatha froze.
Then scoffed at herself. If the other witch had found her she doubted she would be using the doorbell. Whoever was behind the door could piss right off.
Of course, Agatha wasn’t that lucky because right after the doorbell came three sharp knocks. “Agatha? Hey Agatha, it's Harold, uhh, you know, the Chief?”
She could hear hushed voices talking quickly behind the door. The Chief didn’t come alone. Smart.
The doorbell rang again.
She could feel a headache start. She didn’t have time for this. She was hurting (in more ways than one).
By Mephisto’s hairy balls, where were the antibiotics!?
The Chief’s muffled voice came through the door again, “Agatha, it's Harold and Abilash. We were taking a walk and saw come in. You, uh, you didn’t look like you were doing too good. We wanted to make sure you are okay.”
Silence.
Then, “Agatha?”
She let loose a growl of frustration and bellowed at the top of her lungs, “Fine!” She limped gently down the steps. She hoped she fell down the stairs to make them feel bad.
It wasn’t beneath her to make a show of opening the door; complete with swirls of magic and lighting, but her hands were too swollen.
She made do with practically ripping the door from its hinges.
Standing under the dim porch light stood the Chief and Norm. They looked unsure to say the least.
The Chief raised one hand in greeting. “Howdy, Partn…Agatha. Looks like you had a bad run in with the evil witch.” She gave him a vicious look.
Norm took charge of the conversation, “Do you need help?”
Her gaze slid over to the short man, “What?” she spat.
Emboldened, Norm continued, “Your hands need to be wrapped. And it looks like the rest of you needs to be patched up too. I’m a nurse, I can help.”
Maybe she was experiencing a nightmare. A leftover remnant from their time living in Wanda’s wacky world. But Susan had confirmed that no, this was the universe Agatha was alive, awake, and living in.
Lucky me.
Another bolt of pain shot up her leg and she hissed violently, nearly falling to her knees.
To their credit, neither man moved to try and catch her. It would have been disastrous for them both. But that didn’t stop them from looking at her with wide, concerned eyes. She gripped the door and went to slam it in their pathetic faces, but Norm exclaimed, “I can get you patched up in fifteen minutes!”
Agatha stared at him.
He stared back.
She glared.
Norm didn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow.
Breathing heavily through the pain, she choked out, “Make it five.”
Norm gave a sharp nod and followed her into the house.
Agatha leaned against the wall for support as she walked gingerly up the stairs. Norm trailed behind her. Presumably to catch her if she fell, but Agatha wasn’t having any of it.
“You don’t need to follow so close behind, I’m not a toddler,” she bickered.
Norm took it with grace that Agatha herself could never possess. “Of course not, I am simply admiring the woodwork. It’s true craftsmanship.”
Despite feeling like she had just been swallowed by a garbage disposal and spat back out again, Agatha barked with laughter, which ended a painful grimace that Norm didn’t see.
They didn’t speak for the remainder of the journey up to the second floor. Which was just fine because by the time she made it to the top floor she sounded like she had run a mile.
Agatha couldn’t help the deep sigh of relief as she sat down on the closed toilet lid.
Norm promptly opened the bathroom closet and retrieved an emergency kit from one of the shelves.
So that’s where it was.
As he laid everything he needed out on the counter, Agatha looked down at herself. Her mud and blood spattered shirt and pants were destined for the trash, but it was doubtful she could remove them on her own. However, Norm lifted up the solution in his hand; a pair of fabric scissors.
Looking at her he explained, “I’m going to remove the fabric around your legs first. I’ll only cut up to the knee.” When he didn’t move to start immediately she looked back at him. Norm just raised his eyebrows.
Agatha gave a sharp nod of approval.
Not-Norm worked quickly. In the haze of pain she couldn’t remember the name Harold had called him.
Why she cared what his name was she didn’t quite know. It was hard to think when the antiseptic was burning what was left of her raw.
She hissed loudly as her nails dug into the counter. Not-Norm never flinched or even glanced up once. This wasn’t his first rodeo.
Agatha hadn’t realized Harold wasn’t there until he came in carrying a glass and the large bottle of alcohol she knew had been hiding somewhere. He poured her a very generous amount.
Harold understood the assignment.
Taking the glass she downed it one go. Holding it out, he quickly refilled the shot. She was slower this time, but Harold refilled it again without comment.
When Not-Norm switched to the other leg, Harold asked if he had caught the game on Saturday. Agatha rolled her eyes, but quietly drank as Harold made light conversation while Not-Norm worked.
This had not been on her yearly bingo card.
Agatha was thoroughly inebriated by the time Not-Norm declared he was finished. Stark white bandages nearly covered her from head to toe and she was almost positive she wasn’t the only one who drank half the liquor bottle. She also had a distant feeling that it had been longer than five minutes, but amiably decided to forgo mentioning it.
How benevolent of me.
She even let Harold and Not-Norm help her make it to the large fourposter bed in the primary bedroom.
As they were settling her in an unexpected tight feeling began to well up within her. A tiny flicker of something that hadn’t been there before now. Agatha was aggravated to find that she could not kill it no matter how hard she tried so she did the next best thing and instantly quashed it. She shoved it into the farthest corner of her mind where it could never be seen or acknowledged.
Must have been the alcohol.
She barely registered Harold saying something about Sarah bringing over some soup before gently closing the bedroom door.
__________________________________________________________________
The next time she showed up, it was an utter shock to no one but Agatha.
The scorned mystic arts sorcerer had violently thrown her through an inter-dimensional portal. Apparently, tall, dark, and gorgeous didn’t like being teased.
She heard another sorcerer give a short cry of protest before she shot through the fiery opening. He must have realized what she had taken.
Agatha smiled wickedly as she tumbled through time and space with the artifact she had lifted, tucked snugly in her blouse.
She didn’t have much say in where she landed, but Agatha wasn’t without her talents, she could redirect to somewhere more safe…comfortable…familiar.
Without warning, she landed flat on her ass and rolled a few times before coming to a complete stop.
On her back, Agatha gazed up at the blue, cloudless sky and gave a small whine of pain; landings were not her specialty. The witch took a few minutes to catch her breath before gently sitting up to see where she had ended up.
Agatha immediately recognized where the portal had sent her.
You have got to be shitting me.
The familiar houses sat neatly in a row, looking nauseatingly domestic. The grass beneath her felt soft and fluffy despite the sharp chill of autumn in the air. Neighborly sounds of a lawn being mowed, a dog yipping with excitement, cars driving slowly down the road, people talking and laughing floated through the air.
The sheer…mundaneness was enough to send Agatha into a tantrum; so that's exactly what she did.
She let out an inhuman scream of frustration as she dug her fingers into the perfectly manicured lawn and ripped out fistfuls of turf.
Was she ever going to be rid of this town?!
With another dignified scream of injustice, Agatha slammed her fists down.
Why did she keep ending up here? Was this punishment for…well, everything?!
The witch flung a piece of turf across the yard before burying her head in her hands.
A few deep breaths later, she felt the tension in her jaw subside; her heart rate slowed as the red in her vision faded back.
She could fix this. This was simply a small accident. A flea bite. Annoying for certain, but nothing she couldn’t walk out of, on top.
Well, she wasn’t one to wallow in agony.
Time to get back out there and show the world who was top witch.
Before Agatha could finish her internal pep talk, a door to her right opened and a familiar voice called out, “Happy to have you back, neighbor!”
She whipped her head around and looked incredulously at the man standing on the porch.
Hugo…Hargrid…Henry…
“Hank.”
The man smiled gently, “Actually, the…other witch called me, Herb. My real name is John and this…” An attractive woman came to stand beside him in the doorway and put her arm around his waist. “... is my wife, Melissa.”
Damn, Herb hadn’t done bad.
Melissa beamed, “Agatha! How wonderful to see you again! We were just talking last week about when you might stop by. I just took the lasagna out of the oven, would you like to join us?”
Agatha hesitated, but that was all Melissa needed to push her sales pitch, “The garlic bread is warming up right now and I made a cheesecake for later.”
Dessert was pushing it.
But Agatha couldn’t deny the sharp pain in her gut. And it hadn’t come from being thrown through a portal.
Thieving and seduction were hard work.
Fine. What could a meal hurt?
She may have unexpectedly landed in this cesspool of town, but at the end of the day, she had gotten what she wanted, an iron relic from the Kamar-Taj Library.
Putting on her best Hollywood smile, Agatha calmly wiped the grass and dirt from her hands and walked, head held high, up to the house.
__________________________________________________________________
The snow crunched lightly under her shoes as she walked up the pathway leading to the front door. It was dark and cold and all she longed to do was climb under the soft comforter on the four poster bed upstairs.
Maybe even see if Dottie…no…Sarah had left something for her in the fridge.
Agatha jerked her head to the side; the muscles in her neck and jaw contracted tightly.
She needed to stop coming here or she was actually going to start calling these idiots by their correct name.
How embarrassing.
Her train of thought abruptly came to a halt as she stepped up to the front entrance. Looking down she studied the small mountain of cards laying on the doormat with curiosity.
What is this? Some kind of joke? Accusations?
Whatever it was, she claimed total deniability. She hadn’t been here for months!
Crouching down, Agatha reached out and snatched a letter from the stack. She could feel a low throbbing sensation starting at the base of her skull. Because that's all this town does is cause headaches and problems.
The cheap envelope ripped easily, revealing a card with a frog wearing a Santa hat while playing a banjo.
Agatha stared in disbelief.
Right beneath the frog read, “Hoppy Holidays” in bright green letters. A bright red message was plastered across the inside of the card, “May your days be hoppy and bright this season!” At the bottom, a loopy script,
“Best holiday wishes to our favorite town witch!
With Love,
Allison, Darrel, Matt, and Little Alice.”
Agatha dropped the card and quickly reached for another. This one had a cat with a pair of Christmas sunglasses and a sweater.
“May Your Season Be Merry And Your Sweaters Be Ugly!
All the Best,
Stacy & Ruth
P.S. Thank you for saving us.”
The next one featured a family photo with an obscene amount of children all wearing matching pajamas.
“Merry Christmas from the Johnsons!
Agatha, you are welcomed to visit anytime. There aren’t enough words to describe how grateful we are to have you as our town witch. This wonderful Christmas season would not have been possible without you. Thank you. If you ever need anything just let us know.
Warm regards,
Ben and Linda Johnson”
Something raw pulled deep in her chest and uncomfortably crawled its way up her throat. The strong repulsion she was used to feeling towards this town instantly felt like a weak candle flame; overtaken by a new type of loathing.
A loathing she only associated with a small handful of people.
Frustrated and too tired to give the unexpected sensation more thought, Agatha slowly reached for another card. This one only contained a large piece of construction paper that had been folded over several times. Unfolding it revealed a child’s drawing.
A small yellow sun hung over two pink houses that sat crammed into a corner. An afterthought, clearly, as both houses were completely dwarfed by two large figures featured in the center of the page. The larger figure was covered with so much purple it was hard to make out the large smile and brown hair on the head. The smaller figure had the same large smile and brown hair, but was scribbled all over in pink. They were holding hands.
Enormous, barely legible words written in pink stated, “i luv u agata.” Agatha looked back at the figure colored in purple again.
The realization struck her like an unwelcomed bolt of lightning.
That's me!
The new sensation overwhelmed her again, faster this time and tightly constricted around her heart like a disease.
Dropping the picture, Agatha quietly unlocked the door and went inside. Once she found what she was looking for, she headed back outside into the freezing temperature and gathered all the cards. With more care than she would ever admit, Agatha put all the cards in the laundry basket and took them upstairs.
__________________________________________________________________
The next few times, Agatha stuck around long enough to take stock of her surroundings with a more critical eye.
As she pulled the curtains back to let in the morning light, she noticed that her yard had been freshly mowed.
Tilting her head to the side, she quickly surveyed the rest of the yard. Bright flowers stood tall by the mailbox and lovingly draped over flower boxes; she was almost positive those hadn’t been there last time.
Stepping outside, Agatha noticed the new front door for the first time.
When had they put that up?
She vaguely remembered it being there the first day she had waltzed back into town.
The laundry she had thrown in the hamper without thought weeks ago was hanging in her closet; washed and pressed.
There wasn’t a speck of dust in the living room, or the kitchen,...or the whole house for that matter. Her large collection of books were arranged neatly on shelves or in organized stacks around the house.
The rug beneath her feet felt fluffy, like it had been vacuumed recently.
The kitchen and pantry were well stocked with a few frozen meals in the freezer.
The tight, uncomfortable feeling that she had banished to the back of her mind came crashing back in full force. This time, its barbed hooks stuck in her chest and refused to be dislodged.
Agatha closed her eyes and gritted her teeth so hard she could feel the enamel coming off.
This town, these people frustrated her to no end. There didn’t seem to be an end to their patience, their acceptance, their generosity.
In the past, Agatha would have delighted in such mindless, devoted followers.
But now…
Now…they weren’t just nameless acolytes with whom she could use and abuse, they were Harold, Sarah, John, Abilash,...
Maybe…just maybe… this place wasn’t a complete and utter cesspool…
Agatha flung out her hand and sent a lamp crashing to the floor, shattering everywhere.
For the first time, Agatha was angry at the people of Westview for entirely different reasons.
These people romanticized a person who didn’t exist! A friendly, neighborhood witch who selflessly saves them from tyrannical crime lords on the regular and poses for family photos all while wearing a truly ridiculous costume.
She couldn’t be what they wanted…what they needed…
She couldn’t be Westview’s Town Hero. That wasn’t who she was. That person wasn’t someone she had ever been or could be.
The unexpected realization doused out her anger like a bucket of cold water, leaving her feeling empty, tired, and for the first time in a long, long while, alone.
Sighing heavily, Agatha cleaned up the mess she had made.
She just needed to stay away for longer.
That was how she was going to fix this. Stay away and not come back.
__________________________________________________________________
Agatha was sitting outside a cafe in Boston enjoying an Americano. It was a gorgeous day in Downtown Crossing and people were bustling about enjoying the weather.
Agatha paid them little attention as she considered her next move.
It had been nearly a year since she last faced off with Tinker Bell from hell. When Agatha had started searching for her whereabouts again she could find no trace. She had even flown overseas and done some poking around. Nothing. At least nothing the other witch wanted her to find.
She was coming up on a dead end.
Agatha might need to put a pin in her search until the witch decided to show her face again and look into something else. She had heard talk of cosmic happenings in Lativera.
Intriguing.
A sunshine bright voice snapped her right back into the present, “Well howdy, neighbor!”
Agatha was so surprised at being addressed in such a manner she forgot to kill them.
The man needed no introduction.
“Chief,” she blurted.
She quickly looked around to make sure she hadn’t accidentally been transported back to Westview.
No. She was still squarely in Boston. For better or worse.
Her former chief of police hadn’t stopped grinning since he addressed her with more familiarly than a politician on campaign.
Definitely for the worse…
He gushed, “It’s Harold, remember? Who’d thought I’d run into our favorite town witch. If you don’t mind me asking, are you here for business or pleasure?”
Flicking an invisible crumb from her person she grumpily replied, “Business.”
Never letting her disagreeable attitude get in the way of a good conversation, Harold continued, “Wonderful! I know you must be busy as a cat on a hot tin roof with witchcraft missions, but the town’s really hoping you’ll join us for the Blueberry Dumpling festival in June. It’s going to be just bushels of fun.”
Completely distressed at the mere thought, Agatha went with blunt honesty, “I can’t think of anything I’d like to do less.”
Harold slapped his stomach as he let out a bulbous laugh. It looked like a move taken directly from a sitcom…maybe Wanda’s influence wasn’t totally gone.
He beamed, “No worries at all, Agatha. It can be a lot if you’re not used to seeing folks dressed as blueberries getting pushed around during wheelbarrow races.”
She had most definitely made the right decision.
He turned to leave. “Don’t work too hard, Agatha! Oh, by the way, Sharon has a cheesecake with your name on it when you are back in town again and Ava …”
Something in her broke.
Clutching the arms of the chair in a death hold, she lashed out, “I don’t understand!”
Her exasperation with the people of Westview had bubbled up like acid inside her chest. Corroding within her until she projected it on to the only Westview citizen within her current reach.
Harold paused.
“I don’t understand your town’s insane fascination with me!” She stared right into his surprised face. She had to make him understand.
Somebody in that stupid town had to!
She snarled, “I’m not your superhero. I’m not anyone's superhero. I didn’t save your town because I felt sorry for any of you. I wanted power and I lost!”
Her heart was pounding so hard it was all she could hear.
Pain continued to pour from her, “I lost and she trapped me in that godforsaken town. I didn’t save any of you! It was a fluke. I’m not what any of you want me to be.”
Agatha didn’t realize she was out of breath until she was forced to inhale. “I’m not a good person. I drain witches dry and climb the hill of people begging for help just so I can be on top!”
She peeled her hands from the armrests and leaned back in her chair like she had just run a mile, her energy finally drained.
Goddess, why did she feel so defeated?
To his credit, Harold still stood there.
He didn’t look scared or angry. Just thoughtful.
And he was quiet for a long time.
Then slowly, he said, “I saw what the reports said about you after the…incident. I also know what Shield said about you too. And you are right. You will kill people and you have. But…so has the Hulk and Iron Man. You may not be good for Captain America or for organizations like Shield, but you are good for our town. What little that might mean to you or anyone else.”
Agatha felt like she had swallowed her tongue whole.
What's worse is that he looked sincere. Like he meant what he said and wished earnestly that she believed him.
What the hell was she supposed to do with that?
She wanted to scream. To grab him by the collar and throw him down. She wanted to be ugly.
But the moment the violent thought struck her, another more intense feeling surged to the front. She would never do that, and anyone who did she would eat them alive.
She was going to throw up.
Never one for missing an opportunity to self-sabotage, Agatha replied, “I think you’re wrong.” But it didn’t come out as bitterly as she expected.
Harold smiled gently. “You’re probably right. Take care, Agatha. I hope to see you around town.”
With a small wave he turned and disappeared into the sea of tourists, leaving behind a conflicted witch with more questions than answers.
The sun had long since set before Agatha left the cafe. But when she did it was with a begrudging thought that maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world if she ended up in Westview… just one more time…on purpose.
__________________________________________________________________
Morgan Le Fay threw her hands up, sending an energy blast directly at her opponent. Agatha leapt across the bakery’s roof, landing hard on the building next to it, ducking behind an airvent. The blast sent bits of brick and concrete flying everywhere. Including her mouth.
A thin trail of saliva hung from her lips as Agatha spat out gravel and blood.
This wasn’t going how she thought.
Miss Camelot had made an unfortunate surprise appearance in downtown Westview. Which annoyed Agatha to no end. She was the one who got to do the surprising. But she guessed some people just couldn’t stay out of the spotlight.
Talk about main character energy.
“Had enough, little witch?” Morgan purred.
Agatha dusted herself off, straightened her clothes, and swept her hair back before stepping back onto the battlefield.
The medieval enchantress gave a small saccharine smile, “I was expecting better from someone like you. Did the first defeat not teach you anything?”
Agatha sneered, “Oh, it certainly did, Madam Mim.” Purple tendrils of powers wove around her then struck like a viper, pushing Morgan over the roof. There was little victory though as Morgan levitated high above the rooftop.
Well, shit.
Agatha gritted her teeth. It was time to get serious. Maid Marion wasn’t going to defeat herself.
“Go, Agatha!”
Agatha tore her gaze from the witch in front of her and stared in disbelief across the street. Several Westview citizens were taking shelter in the General Store, but a few stood under its awning watching the two witches battle.
When her supporters realized she had spotted them, they erupted into cheers.
“You got this!”
“Don’t give up!”
Sarah was particularly enthusiastic, “Show her what you're made of, Agatha!”
Morgan sent an energy bolt directly at them, destroying the front of the building. The people of Westview screamed and retreated inside. Cassie’s grandson wailed in terror. Old Bill crouched behind a large street planter. He was too scared to move and hadn’t made it inside. Ava lay on the sidewalk clutching a bloodied arm.
Righteous anger burned through her so hot, Agatha swore she could breathe fire.
These people had baked her cookies, patched her up, sent her cards…John and Melissa had listened intently as she raved about the injustice of Henry Cavill in The Witcher. Agatha didn’t belong in most places, but she belonged here.
The thought didn’t further pierce her heart like she expected it to. In fact, the uncomfortable sensation associated with these people loosened the tension. The pain left. Agatha felt her chest expand to encompass everything and everyone in the small town.
The people of Westview may not have been witches or sorcerers, but they had cast their own spell on her regardless.
And that fucking witch was going to pay.
Channeling her rage the sky quickly darkened. Agatha called forth the thin iron dagger, courtesy of Kamar-Taj, into this dimension.
A look of ugly fury overtook Morgan’s features. She knew what Agatha had.
The expression stayed as the sorceress began to morph. Her body twisting into a great winged serpent. Its scaled green neck arched dramatically, pulling back to get a better look at Agatha and roared.
The booming cry shook the foundations of the town and sent more debris crashing to the ground.
That's cute.
Agatha brought the sky down.
The spiral arms of the galaxy engulfed them in gas and dust while the stars shone brightly around them in tiny pricks of light. Perhaps the Milky Way deserved more veneration than a single moment, but the sparkly pinwheel was going to have to wait.
Agatha’s voice echoed with power, “Oh, sweetling, you think you are something special?”
The iron dagger grew and extended in her grasp, filling her hand.
Agatha immediately struck the beast with the blade. Morgan writhed, snapping her jaws close to Agatha’s legs, but the damage was already done. The dragon’s scaled hide hissed and bled red where the sword had cut.
Morgan growled, “Rotten harlot.”
Agatha smirked, “Bitch.”
In a swirl of color, Morgan transformed back into herself, pulling a slender sword from her hip. She swept her arm out in a long stroke, sending energy and the cosmos with it. Agatha parried. Then jumped forward raising her sword. The blades hummed as they clashed together, vibrating with magic.
Morgan flung back then struck again, locking their blades once more. The sorceress only had a moment to look surprised before Agatha’s longsword emerged from her breast; pushing all the way up to her heart. The decoy witch melted away, leaving the real Agatha with her hand on the top of her hilt driving the full length of her blade into the back of her enemy.
Morgan’s magic yielded to the cold iron and she vanished into stardust.
It wasn’t until several moments after, that Agatha remembered she had forgotten to drain her.
Well, if there was anything she had learned over the centuries is that there is always next time.
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Agatha could hear the excited chatter on the other side of her front door. They had rung the doorbell no less than four times and knocked twice. When that hadn’t worked, they had threatened her with pranks if she didn’t meet their demands quick enough.
Her lips twitched upwards, “Impatient snots!” she answered back.
The goblins on the other side shrieked with laughter. She would have a full blown mob on her hands if she didn’t hurry.
Dumping the rest of the goods into five gallon buckets, Agatha adjusted her pointed hat and threw open the door in a dramatic flurry of lighting and purple energy.
A crowd of children with pointed hats, wands, cauldrons, spellbooks, and even one with a live toad screamed their threatening chant at the top of their lungs, “Trick or Treat!”
Half of the town must be at her doorstep, decked to the nines in an array of costumes. Purple witches though greatly outnumbered any and all other categories.
Take that, Iron Man.
They had recovered well enough from Morgan Le Fay’s attack and were determined to celebrate her victory with the largest All Hallow’s Eve festival this town had ever seen.
It was certainly a change from what she was used to. But she was surprised to find that it was a welcome change.
She was still Agatha Harkness, the deadliest witch in the world…at least on the east coast.
Right now, however, the only people who should fear her powers of devastation were the parents. She had ordered a shit ton of candy and was determined to see every last piece gone before midnight.