Death Has a Heart...and it's Black
On the Road of Purgatory
Death snapped out of the memory, turning to see the boy staring at her in shock. Tears brimmed both of their eyes as they continued to stare at one another. Death had fallen asleep, well not really, her road was playing with both of them, but instead of making Death want to stay, it only made her want to reach the end faster. Billy stared at her, pity crossing his features making Death bristle. He had seen it too, their first meeting and the way Death literally had a heart because of Agatha.
Billy opened his mouth, expecting Death to sew it shut, but she didn’t. She didn’t have the strength, “You-you have a heart?”
Death allowed the skin to melt away, her bones glowing a low yellow with the fire casting their orange, but Billy watched intently as she moved the thin vines away, revealing the cavity of her chest. Inside, the heart floated there, black and unmoving. Billy’s tears dripped to the soil, an understanding passing through him.
“When did it stop?” he whispered the question carefully.
Death chuckled, surprising him, “When I’m in my lair it stops, but on the mortal plane it has only ever stopped two other times.”
Death lowered her head as her mind went to him. It had stopped when Rio appeared to Agatha during her labor and stopped the moment Nicholas took her hand and crossed the bridge. It didn’t start beating again until a century passed after Nicholas’s death, when Rio and Agatha would meet on random occasions–well not entirely random. Agatha killed so many witches, but usually left the moment Rio would be close to take them. After a century, Agatha lingered. They fought deadly battles, but that usually ended in tears, Rio healing the wounds she inflicted, and grabbing a room at a tavern or inn. She would always leave the moment Agatha fell asleep, knowing not to stick around. They did their chase for centuries. Neither forgiving the other, but unable to ignore the pull. There were a few instances when it felt like before Nicholas, before his death. Her favorite was April 15, 1912. It was their marriage anniversary or the random date they picked. In truth, when they married, they spent days in their cottage together, unsure of time. Rio would leave here and there, but come back as fast as she could to her wife. They just chose this date on a random day, and that random day led to one of the world’s famous catastrophes. Rio was ignoring her wife that day, her pain refreshed for some reason, but it angered Agatha. In her casual flair, Agatha decided to pull an iceberg in front of the world’s “Unsinkable Ship.” Her hands were full, collecting the souls across the sea until she came upon an empty boat and there sat her wife, smirking at her.
“Happy anniversary, my love,” Agatha bared her teeth at her. “Be a dear and get me out of here please.”
Rio had smirked at her, playing with her dagger, “Mmm, and if I leave you here, Agatha? Shivering, close to death– well me.”
Agatha scowled at her, but in truth, Rio wasn’t in the mood for their usual game. She had sighed, picking up Agatha and taking her to land.
“And the third?” Billy snapped her from her memories.
Death formed to human again, peering at him through her eyebrows and stating, “You are seeing my memories.”
Billy nodded, looking away, “I think it’s this land. I swear it’s not me, I didn’t think–”
She held her hand up, stopping his ramble in its tracks. She looked around, realizing the road moved them slightly closer to her destination. Tears pricked at her eyes again, and her mouth opened in shock. The land was accepting her decision. The land was ready for her to go on the price that this mortal saw why she chose her end.
“The land is ready,” she explained to him, a smile tugging on her lips. “I have to share these memories with you before I die.”
Billy’s mouth opened this time, “But you're ancient– I mean like you and Agatha have lived for centuries.”
She hummed her laugh, “Time doesn’t pass here like the mortal realm. Don’t worry, you won’t be here for weeks, if not a day. Plus, I doubt you will be privy to all of it. Wouldn’t want to traumatize a young teen.”
Billy huffed, “I am always traumatized by you two.”
She laughed softly, staring out into the distance before answering his question, “It stopped beating the moment Agatha’s lips pulled away from mine and I realized what she did.”
Billy leaned forward, interest in his eyes, “I thought it was the kiss of death and your first kiss.”
She shook her head before cackling, “Oh, we have done way more than just kiss.”
The teen made a face, forcing more of her laughter from her throat.
“And your first kiss?”
***
1693 – Salem
Rio appeared behind the cottage Agatha lived in with her mother. The garden was dead and magic was strong here, wards put up to keep Rio from entering. The cottage was small, but filled with life as she stared at the smoke coming from the chimney. An owl sat nearby, cooing softly as a cool breeze ruffled Rio’s skirts. The sun had just risen, casting an orange glow across Salem. The pine trees behind her glowed as if they were on fire, casting tall shadows upon the house. She stared, sensing Agatha was alone. Smirking, she rang the small bell on the garden gate. She listened, hearing feet spring down stairs until the backdoor swung open. She was met with the most beautiful blues, shining in the light, but the most beautiful part was Agatha’s hair, curls shaping her face and glowing with the rising sun. She narrowed her gaze, finding a wide smile that drew perfect lines to accent her cheeks. It was contagious, so much so, that Death, the most composed of all, returned it. Agatha practically sprinted, bursting through the garden gate and wrapping her arms around Rio. Death gasped, not ready for such an impact. She blinked, finding a curtain of wild chestnut locks and those eyes staring intently down at her.
Agatha laughed, “Caught you off guard?”
Rio couldn’t respond, enchanted by the way her heart was pounding in her chest. It was so strange, so foreign, so human. She continued to stare, feeling the weight of Agatha on top of her as she pressed her into the soil beneath them. Her hands found their way to Agatha’s hips, pale skin of her legs peaking from her skirts that pooled over her.
Agatha didn’t seem to notice the way Rio was staring at her, used to her lack of replies and rather how Rio always intently listened to her like no one else had before. She didn’t even seem to register she was straddling on top of Rio, the closest they have ever been, the closest Rio has even been to a human. She couldn’t stop the pounding of her new heart as she stared up at Agatha. Her eyes were bright, her hair wild as she talked and she was the most beautiful creature Death had ever seen. No matter how many mountains, stars, lakes, flowers– they couldn’t compare to the creature who sat above her.
“I know you can be gone for longer,” she tuned into what she was saying. “But you were gone so long this time, well maybe not that long, but— why are you looking at me like that?”
Rio blinked. She was caught as Agatha sat up, allowing her to follow, but Agatha remained in her lap. She wrapped her arms around Rio’s neck, her green hood falling and releasing her black hair from its hold. Once more she didn’t know what to say, but melted as Agatha’s fingers played with her hair, a knowing smile taking over her lips. She smirked menacingly at Rio, happily knowing something for once that Rio did not. She cocked her head at her before Agatha moved a hand, placing it above where Rio’s new heart was. She felt it settle the moment her touch was there, matching Agatha’s after a few hard beats. The purple witch chuckled, moving her hand up to caress her cheek before standing up. She took Rio’s hand, leading them into the woods behind the cottage. Agatha didn’t take her far, but stopped her the moment they were behind a tree. Rio, ever so poised and graceful, ever so calm and tranquil, gasped. The purple witch was cupping her face with gentle, hard hands. Rio melted, for Agatha was holding her like she was the most precious and delicate flower in the forest, as if she would break if she was too fast or not gentle enough. Warmth radiated from Agatha’s hands, spreading through Rio like life itself. Agatha’s thumbs gently circled Rio’s cheeks staring intently into her eyes, searching them as Rio melted further.
With ease and grace that Rio usually possessed, Agatha pulled her forward so slowly, so carefully, and so intently, Rio thought her new found heart would burst. It was a feather touch at first, lips testing the waters against her own. Sparks ran through Rio’s entire being as she pressed forward, wanting more of this warmth, of this strange feeling Agatha provided for her. It was life for Rio, it was the beginning of the cycle of her job, but so much more. A fresh breath, the first fall of snow, the first flower she gave Agatha– nothing could describe the way the kiss felt. They pulled away for a moment, Agatha looking up at her, searching her eyes again. Rio only smirked, clashing their lips together and pressing the witch against the pine. Agatha gasped into her mouth, smiling into the kiss as Rio held onto her wrists, the woman still holding her face with so much care.
Her hands moved from her wrists, cupping her own cheeks before running her hands through Agatha’s hair. Oh how she loved this woman’s hair. They spent many days where Death sat behind her, combing her fingers through the thick locks, releasing the tension from the young witch. Now, with the witch in her arms, everything came out. Her heart was pounding in her ears, pulling her closer and closer, needing every touch Agatha had to offer. Something warm prodded at her lips, to which her mouth opened, welcoming the slick feeling against her own tongue. Death almost gasped again. Agatha tasted so sweet, so full of power, and so full of death, she realized. She wanted more of it. Death became greedy, her hands exploring the mortal as her own tongue won over Agatha’s. Her hands moving down her waist and back up her torso. Death couldn’t help herself, biting lightly at Agatha’s bottom lip, drawing out a soft gasp from the witch. She licked the blood away, healing her lip before her tongue explored Agatha’s mouth again, drinking in her taste. It was perfectly messy, the clash of lips and tongues, leaving the purple witch breathless and flushed. Agatha’s knees buckled and Rio chuckled, holding her against the tree as they continued this new dance until the pull forced Rio away. She released an annoyed breath she heard Agatha do a dozen times, placing her head against the woman’s. They stayed like that for a moment, the witch catching her breath as Death licked her lips, tasting a linger of Agatha. Something coursed through Death’s veins, holding the mortal closer.
That’s what this is, she realized what the universe or whatever higher force than her was telling her. She’s mine.
Death couldn’t say love just yet, she wasn’t ready to accept that there was a human part of her, or rather this witch was creating Rio, but Rio knew it. And oh how her black heart beats for her.
“You have to go, don’t you,” Agatha exasperated, her breath clearly taken.
Rio fought the urge to laugh at her, “Yes, sweetheart.”
Agatha’s cheeks grew a brighter shade of pink at the new pet name.
“You won’t be as long as last time?” she heard both the question and plead.
Rio frowned, tucking the woman’s hair back behind her ear, “I do not know, but you know I will always come back to you.”
She went to conjure a flower, but Agatha stopped her, “Promise?”
Rio smiled, “Yes, sweetheart, I promise. You are mine.”
She watched as Agatha’s eyes only brightened at her statement. This time when Rio went to give her the flower, she decorated Agatha’s hair in purple rio dipladenias and chrysanthemums before producing a red rose in her hand. As their usual routine, she tucked the flower behind Agatha’s ear, but decided to add to their routine.
She placed a simple kiss on her lips before pulling away and whispering, “Te veo.”
__________
Unbeknownst to either them, too infatuated with the other, a sister witch was watching. Agatha Harkness, a simple but powerful witch, had so much of Death’s attention, Death didn’t even recognize a soul was watching them.
The witch turned on her heel, heading straight for Agatha’s cottage. Evanora should be home now, and Evanora had to know what her abomination of a daughter was. She was quick, making sure the young witch didn’t see her. With a simple knock, Evanora answered, still dressed in her travel cloak. She looked tired and worn, but too much was at stake.
“Evanora, I am sorry to bother you, but Agatha–”
The old woman raised her hand at her daughter’s name and pinched the bridge of her nose, “Please, please let it be something good for once.”
The witch shook her head, “She is consorting with someone dark.”
“Consorting?” Evanora questioned.
“Well more than that. Right on the edge of the forest, I saw them, her and this witch, entangled against a tree.”
Evanora’s heart stopped at the mention of a witch, but she smiled, finally something she could use.
The sister continued, not seeing how the gears turned perfectly for her coven leader, “There’s something about this witch, Evanora, a power and fear I don’t understand. She’s a Green Witch, and the flowers that Agatha bears are not from her own making, but the Green’s.”
At that the back door opened, and there stood Agatha, a soft smile on her face, her cheeks pinker than normal, and her hair decorated in flowers. Evanora’s eyes darkened at her daughter, “Gather our sisters. You!”
Agatha gasped as her wrists were bound along with her legs. She fell to the ground before her mother approached, ripping the flowers from Agatha’s hair.
“Your trial will be tonight.”
Agatha gasped, “What? I haven’t done anything. No!”
Her sisters appeared, picking her up and dragging her out of the house.
“No! Please! Whatever I did– please! I can be good!”
__________
Rio felt it. It was only hours since she left Agatha, but something was wrong and she was distressed. Rio let her-selves roam the earth, collecting the bodies as her true form revealed. She needed to get to Agatha and she couldn’t do that without allowing herself to shift. Rio went as fast as she could, until freezing. Multiple bodies just dropped, their souls begging for Death’s collection in Salem. She gasped, her heart racing as she appeared in a clearing in the coven’s territory. She looked around, finding the members of Agatha’s coven shrivelled and lifeless. Their life force and power were stolen. A lesser version of herself appeared, taking the souls before they both turned to find Agatha crouched on the ground sobbing. Death let out a breath. She was alive and safe. Her lesser self took Evanora who cursed at her but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered, because her Agatha was alive. She survived and she hummed with new and raw power.
Rio crouched next to her, a bony hand shakingly placed on her back. Agatha looked up, and Death froze. She swore in her head as Agatha stared at her. She would run, Rio just knew it, but instead a relief seemed to wash over her as she threw her arms around her, crying into a bony neck. She held her, letting her cry as versions of herself came back, allowing Rio to form for Agatha. Agatha didn’t stop crying, and Rio felt something pull on her heart. With ease, she gathered the witch in her arms, holding her as if she were a child and carried her off into the night. Rio let her powers creep forward, and she glided through the forest with speed and precision. She had to get Agatha away from here, away from Salem and where the rest of her sisters wouldn’t find her after what she did to their parents. Agatha eventually fell asleep in her arms as Rio went, reaching the great mountain range and climbing its great heights to an abandoned cabin secluded away from humanity. To any other eye, it was abandoned, haunted probably by skin-walkers. Her Green magic came to life, lifting the spell and revealing a cottage decorated in greenery and flowers.
Rio stepped onto the porch, the wind opening the door for her. The cottage was small, but filled with trinkets and books, all of which Death had collected for herself. This was her sanctuary in the real world, a place for her to be away from all it: her realm, this realm, and her thoughts. Here she could just be. With a simple thought, she started the fire in the unused hearth and closed the door. There was a table in the center, covered in her books and studies. She lit the candles, bringing out so much greenery. The vines hung everywhere, spider webs hanging in the corners with large beautiful spiders. Her own familiar walked along the table, a large tarantula she rescued from captors in the Amazon. Its long legs waved at her, seeming to have greeted her before it went back to do whatever tarantulas do. Shelves lined the walls with her favorite books: fictional, historical, and spells. She rounded the corner of a shelf, the wood creaking under the weight of Agatha and her. She lit the candles along the bed, all of them glowing a dim green. The bed was large and comfortable. The furs were from animals that recently passed and she used to warm herself when she felt like being warm. Death never slept, there was no reason too, but sometimes lying here with her thoughts was what she needed.
Her magic lifted the furs and wrapped around the witch in her arms, removing her dress and putting her in a silk slip. Agatha’s breaths were deep, her cheek stained with tears, but she was at peace, her heart thumping slowly. Rio was careful, not wanting to disturb the peace. She laid her down in the fur bed. Then Agatha’s brow furrowed, a dream threatening to wake her. Rio quickly placed her hand upon the witch’s forehead, directing her dream to them running in the forest and through the meadows, and her heart caught as a smile stretched on Agatha’s face. She tucked Agatha underneath the furs before turning away and starting the cauldron. With ease she started the soup on a low simmer, knowing Agatha won’t wake for a while. She wondered if Agatha ate at all, but most of all she wondered what happened in such a short time span, that led Agatha to be tried. She smiled though, her Agatha was so strong, so powerful, so surrounded by death…
That’s why I am drawn to you, Rio realized, for how could Death not love a woman who was so surrounded by it.
Eventually, after sorting through the cottage, Rio let her form change, a green lace slip wrapping around her human body as she prepared tea. She made her way back to the bed, climbing in carefully next to Agatha. Conjuring a book into her hands, she lost herself in the story, but jumped when the woman next to her moved. Agatha, in her sleep, cuddled up against Rio, her head resting in her lap, letting out a contented sigh. Rio felt herself smile, running her fingers through Agatha’s hair as she continued reading. Rio– Death, sitting in bed, reading and drinking tea with a woman asleep against her. Oh, if the cosmic entities saw her now, their jaws would be on the floor. For once, Rio wasn’t worried. It was human, domesticated even, but every fiber of her being craved this.
Hours slowly passed, the sun hiding behind the mountains and the smell of stew filling the cottage. Rio didn’t notice, not right away at least. She was too consumed in her book to notice the change in Agatha’s breathing. It was lighter, not as deep as her eyes flickered open. Agatha didn’t move as Rio hadn’t stopped playing with her hair, but as Death, it didn’t take long to notice the difference in breathing. Rio set her book down, staring down at the woman who clung to her. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks as she slowly sat up, looking around the cottage before turning to face Rio. She braced herself, ready for the questions and fear from the woman, but instead Agatha moved deliberately. Rio kept her calm, but her heart was hammering as her purple witch straddled her lap wrapping her arms around Rio’s neck. Rio held her, her fingers still combing through tangled locks as Agatha cried again.
This time Rio spoke, her voice carrying the grace Agatha had found so much security in, “You are alright, sweetheart. You survived.”
“I’m a monster, Rio. I didn’t mean to– I didn’t want to,” she cried into her neck.
Death hummed softly for a moment, “Remember what I told you when I first met you? Never apologize for who you are and never feel guilty for your talent. You survived, like witches and women have been doing for centuries.”
Agatha took a shuddering breath, calming her tears but burying her face into the earthy scent of Rio. Rio didn’t say anything more, feeling Agatha’s heartbeat easing into a steady thrum, matching the beating of her own. Rio pressed a kiss to her head, moving her fingers back through chestnut hair. She didn’t know how long passed until Agatha pulled away, staring into her eyes. Agatha caressed cheek before leaning forward again, capturing Death’s lips in a tender, careful kiss. Death didn’t surge forward like the first time. Instead, she allowed Agatha to lead at a steady pace. One where Rio was sure, Agatha was pouring every ounce of emotion into Death. Agatha pulled away a few times to catch the breath she needed only to clash their lips together again. Rio melted again, falling into the tenderness that was the woman on her. When Agatha finally pulled away, her stomach growled, making Rio chuckle.
“Did you eat at all today, sweetheart?” she asked softly.
Agatha shook her head, still staring at Rio as if she was the most precious thing in the room.
Rio had to ignore it, her heart beating too fast as her fingers tapped Agatha’s thigh, having her get up. She moved with her grace, practically floating to the stew and making a bowl for her as her magic poured Agatha a cup of fresh tea. She moved her papers from the covered table, creating a space for her purple witch to eat. Agatha moved slowly, but to Rio’s surprise, dived into her arms, placing a soft kiss to her neck.
“Thank you,” her voice was below a whisper, but Death heard her.
Rio didn’t respond, letting her go so she could eat. They didn’t speak for a moment, Rio digging through her books before she heard Agatha gasp standing away from the table. Rio turned, her magic flaring ready to protect her, but instead found her tarantula circling Agatha’s cup of tea. She sighed, reaching forward and picking her up carefully.
“Sorry, she’s a curious little one,” Rio placed her on her shoulder watching as the witch’s eyes widened.
Agatha looked around, eyeing the different spiders, “Where did you get a tarantula?”
Rio hummed, “I rescued her from captors in the Amazon. She lives here mainly but can go to my realm.”
Her own eyes widened as Agatha laughed at her. The purple witch caught it, trying to stifle her laughter, “I’m sorry, I just didn’t expect Death to care so much about such a small creature yet it also makes perfect sense.”
Death froze, searching Agatha’s eyes for fear of her, but she only found adoration.
She tongued at her cheek, “You know who I am.”
Agatha nodded, stepping closer to her, forcing Rio to set her spider down.
“How long have you known?”
Agatha chuckled, “I had my suspicions when you first showed up, but was confused by how warm you are and your heartbeat. I didn’t expect Death to be so warm, to be so full of life– when you showed up tonight in your true form, I knew it was you, Rio.”
Rio didn’t move, unsure what to say other than, “And you’re not scared?”
Agatha shook her head, wrapping her arms around Rio’s neck again, “How can I be scared of something so natural? How can I be scared of the only being who cares about me?”
Rio shared her smile, leaning forward and capturing her lips again. She decided not to tell Agatha yet about her heart, how new it was for her.
Her purple witch pulled away from her lips for a moment, “How can I be scared of you, when there it’s almost like we are connected? I was unsure at first, but I swear there is something drawing us together and it feels so weird every time you have to leave for your job.”
Searching deep into her blue eyes, she breathed, “You feel it, too?”
Agatha nodded, locking her lips to Rio’s again. Her hands started slipping down Rio’s sides, feeling the thin night dress but Rio stopped her, “You need to eat sweetheart.”
The witch groaned, reluctantly pulling away and sitting down. Agatha’s eyes danced around her books and writings as she blew on the soup. Rio leaned back and watched as her eyes lit up. They sat like that for a time in silence, Agatha processing what happened and Rio processing what the next steps were going to be. There was no turning back, not that she wanted to. Whatever Agatha was doing to her, she welcomed it, yet there was part of her that knew the witch would be her undoing. The rest of the evening was spent in a comfortable silence. There was no more to be said even though the question of what happened burned through Rio, but that was a story for another day, when Agatha was ready.
Rio climbed into bed, beckoning Agatha into her arms. Exhausted and with fingers combing through her hair, it didn’t take long for Agatha to fall back asleep. Rio stayed awake, listening to the steady thrum of her heart and slow breaths. Sleeping, the closest humans ever got to death without dying…and here was a witch, sleeping against Death, seeing more than just the end and unknown.