Chapter 3
Cass stormed into her car, slamming the door behind her. She muttered a string of annoyed curses, her knuckles white against the steering wheel. “Great,” she fumed. “Now that I’ve finally found her, Agatha’s completely deranged.”
She leaned her head back against the seat, exhaling sharply. Her anger was a distraction, a cover for something far messier beneath the surface. Why am I still so fixated on her? For all her brilliance, Agatha had never been warm or nurturing. Her mentorship had been a study in contrasts—sharp critiques laced with fleeting moments of genuine kindness, like crumbs tossed to a starving bird. Yet despite everything, despite the betrayal, (and obviously the attempted murder), Cass couldn’t sever the pull she felt toward the older witch.
It wasn’t just respect. It wasn’t even about closure.
I still love her.
The thought slammed into her, unwelcome but undeniable. She hated admitting it even in the privacy of her mind. But there it was, raw and inescapable. She loved Agatha in a way she could never quite define, tangled in memories of power and pain and the unbearable ache of what could have been.
Cass closed her eyes, willing the thoughts away, but something else stirred—another familiar pull. “Oh my Goddess,” she breathed, a shiver running down her spine. She opened her eyes to see a shadowy figure approaching her window. A gentle tap broke the silence, followed by a voice smooth and teasing. “Hello there, my little sprout.”
Cass turned to see Rio, her amber eyes glittering in the fading light. The sight of her sent a jolt through Cass’s chest, a mixture of relief and irritation. “Rio,” she whispered, rolling down the window. “I knew you’d come see her too,” Rio said, leaning casually against the car door. She peered toward the house, where Agatha’s silhouette moved erratically behind the curtains. “It’s bad, huh?”
“Yeah,” Cass admitted, her voice tight. “How did this happen?”
Rio sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” she said softly. She hesitated, her gaze darkening. “I felt something shift when the Darkhold vanished. Like the world lost its balance. Then I found her here. But it wasn’t until I got close that I felt it.”
“Felt what?” Cass asked, her grip tightening on the wheel. Rio glanced back at the house, her expression grim. “The Scarlet Witch’s magic. It’s all over her, Cass. Wanda didn’t just strip Agatha’s powers—she locked her in a nightmare. This isn’t just memory loss. It’s a prison.” Cass’s breath hitched.
Rio continued. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you? That pull? It’s like Wanda buried Agatha in plain sight, wrapped in layers of delusion so thick even she doesn’t know she’s trapped. Wanda didn’t just want to punish her—she wanted to erase her.” Cass’s jaw clenched, her anger bubbling beneath the surface.
Rio’s gaze softened as she studied Cass. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Seeing her like this.” Cass didn’t respond. She didn’t trust herself to.
After a moment, Rio stepped back from the car, squaring her shoulders. “Alright,” she said, her tone brisk. “I’m going in.” Cass turned sharply toward her, scowling. “Why you?” Rio’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “Because I know how to work with what’s in front of me. You?” She shrugged. “You’re more likely to yell and shake her until she snaps. That’s not going to help.” Cass opened her mouth to argue, but Rio held up a hand, cutting her off. “Relax, little sprout. I’m not stealing your thunder. I just want to see where her head’s at. Besides…” Her gaze flicked back to the house, her expression unreadable. “You know how Agatha feels about me. She might respond to me in a way she won’t with you.”
Cass’s stomach twisted. History. The word hung between them, unspoken but undeniable. Agatha may have hated Rio, but Rio had always been loyal, even when it defied reason. “Fine,” Cass said through gritted teeth. “But don’t make it worse.” Rio smirked, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “When have I ever done that?” Without waiting for a reply, she vanished into thin air, reappearing inside the house.
Cass watched through the window as Agatha froze, startled by Rio’s sudden appearance. She clutched a notebook, flipping through it as if it held the answers to some grand puzzle. Cass was able to see that Rio was finding a certain humor in what Agatha, was saying. But hey, who wouldn’t? A crazy lady spouting a bunch of nonsense and pretending to be a detective.
Cass finally decided that there would be no harm in casting a simple invisibility spell to be able to hear their conversation. She was already so accustomed to be at the crossfire of both of their antics she thought it wouldn’t be such a big deal. She waltzed inside Agatha’s house to to hear Agatha saying “if there’s one thing we can agree on is that these cases are always about the place. The specific small town, the history of it, the people in it, the secrets buried beneath it. That’s where the answers lie”. Rio and Cass both grin and suppress their laughter. It’s almost comical. With the Scarlet Witch dead, Agatha was almost out of her spell’s grasp, but not quite. Rio than says: “Well, who better to solve the mystery than one of Westview’s very own?”, she paused “I mean, you’ve lived here your whole life. Isn’t that true…. Agnes?” Agatha stiffened, her pen stilling on the page. For a moment, her eyes flickered, and Cass felt a spark of hope. But the moment passed, and Agatha’s confusion returned. She rose abruptly, heading for the door to the corridor.
“I don’t want you here,” she said, her voice flat.
Rio’s shoulders sagged, but she didn’t argue. “Te veo,” she murmured, her gaze lingering on Agatha before shifting to the corner where Cass watched unseen.
Cass slumped back in her seat as Rio exited the house, her thoughts a chaotic whirl. This wasn’t how she’d imagined their reunion.
Agatha’s delusions weren’t just frustrating—they were heartbreaking. The woman who had once terrified and inspired her, who had been both her tormentor and her guide, was now a shadow of herself, trapped in a cruel and twisted illusion. But the worst part wasn’t Agatha’s delusions. It was the pull Cass still felt toward her, the way she couldn’t walk away—not now, not ever. Cass frowned, her heart aching. Agatha’s voice was steady, her mannerisms so familiar it was almost comforting. But the words were nonsense, the ramblings of someone lost in a fractured reality.