You’ll Never Get Away From the Sound of the Woman that Loves You
On the Road of Purgatory
Death and Billy stared at each other. Death had rotted to the point her teeth and nose were bone, her eyes just visible as they leaked heavy tears. Death no longer possessed the ability to speak. Her magic was barely at her fingertips, but she could feel the earth and Green Witch power, but Death’s, it was leaving her. Death tilted her head, wondering why the boy now stared at her with a matching sadness, his own eyes searching hers. She couldn’t tell him that she needed a minute. Any indication that she needed a little time before delving back into everything felt like a weakness, but she was killing herself before him, all for the hopes of…
I just need it all to stop hurting. I don’t deserve to see either of you afterward.
The teen took a breath, ready for her to stop him, but she did not. He got closer to her, kneeling before her and sitting crisscrossed. He was below her, showing her some sign of respect, but also an attempt of comfort. She took it, unable to tell him off anyway. They didn’t leave each other’s gaze as the tears continued down Death’s face, her eyes sinking into it.
His voice was careful this time as he spoke, “Rio, you are getting close.”
It was familiar, the tone that he was using, one she used for so many just before their souls left their bodies.
“But you need a break, show me something happy. During Nicky or after, something for you to continue.”
She nodded, feeling the tears turn to bittersweet things as the world faded around them.
5-23-1997, California
Rio Vidal smirked as she took the soul, but there was something else, an attachment calling to her. Oh, it had been a few decades since she last saw her. Agatha Harkness in California, she could hardly believe it. Over the centuries, nothing changed. It was the same chase, the same argument, the same conversation, and the same hate that made them love each other more and more. Agatha Harkness was always on Death’s mind, never far from it and Rio just knew her shadow never left Agatha. Hell, Death was always on her trail, waiting for the slightest slip up. She enjoyed it, no matter how long it took until Agatha was back on her back, or if she would be, it didn’t matter, because at least they were close. In some sick and twisted way, it brought the smallest comfort to Rio. Agatha couldn’t resist her, couldn’t stop herself from loving Death. Never matter how hard it was, how much blood she drew, or how much Agatha’s words pierced her own skin, they would always end up licking each other’s wounds with a hidden love behind their eyes.
Rio moved through the mirrors, sensing she was by one, and oh, how she loved scaring the shit out of her witch. It was easy, but the image before her brought out a different type of anger. Agatha sat on a bathroom counter, a woman between her legs and her mouth on Agatha’s. There was no siphoning, just a pure want in her wife’s connection and Rio burned from the inside. Her lip curled as Agatha hummed, her hand coming behind the other woman’s head as the woman’s hand gripped Agatha’s waist, pulling her closer. Death felt herself twitch, a need to draw blood and not Agatha’s. She wanted to watch this witch bleed slowly and cover the bathroom in crimson. It could use the color anyway.
She forced herself to materialize through the mirror, her lips brushing Agatha’s ear as she whispered, “Boo.”
The other woman jumped back, her eyes wide as Rio chuckled, her knife against her wife’s throat. Agatha didn’t flinch but nor did she move. The connection was secured and her wife’s feelings were of pride and arrogance as Death’s hand moved through long curled locks. Rio took her in. Her wife wore a beautiful midnight purple silk dress. The sleeves flowed off the shoulder, her neckline plunging down to her stomach as the dress made way for pale thighs to be in view. She couldn’t stop her gaze, admiring how good her wife still looked before turning to the other witch, raising an eyebrow.
“Who the hell are you?” the witch now shook out of her shock, her fingertips crackling with power.
Her chuckle was deep, running shivers through the witch as her wife seemed to move further back against Rio who was still half way through the mirror, “Mmm, you didn’t tell her about me, Agatha?”
Agatha matched her laugh, “Why would I?”
Rio didn’t like it, something in her crackling as her lip twitched. She wanted this woman before them dead for even having the audacity for looking in the direction of her wife.
“Jealous, toots?” Agatha treaded in dangerous waters.
Rio let the blade cut slightly, revealing a crimson she wasn’t just yet craving. The witch gasped, bringing her hands up and making Rio press the dagger harder. A shuddered breath left her wife’s body, her neck pushing more into the blade.
She couldn’t wait to ponder what her wife was up to as the witch tried her best to look brave, “Let her go!”
Rio laughed again, releasing the blade up on her wife before pulling away completely. She licked the curved dagger, tasting the sweet power and herbs of the blood as her body materialized where she was standing between them. Her back was to the witch, finally meeting those blues. They twinkled at her, a plan behind the gaze as Rio’s own was as sharp as the dagger, a rich soil searching the sky. Something twitched inside Rio, a need to make sure this woman wouldn’t touch her wife again. Agatha was hers and hers alone, no matter what was between them. Her hands were harsh on Agatha’s waist, yanking her off the counter where their hips met. The reaction was pure muscle memory, arms draped on Rio’s shoulders, and head tilted back to where her neck was exposed as blood slowly made its way down between her breasts. She didn’t waste time, her tongue once more tasting the blood as she moved up the warm, delicate skin. Agatha let out a breathy moan, her neck bared as Rio healed the wound.
“Agatha?”
Rio almost forgot about the witch, almost. Her eyes darkened as she stared at her wife, raising an eyebrow.
“Who is this?”
Death licked her lips, her teeth covered in the blood as she sneered, “I’m her wife.”
Agatha pulled away from her, well tried to, her hands pressing on Rio’s shoulders, “Ex-wife.”
Rio snarled, refusing to budge, “You know as well as I do you can’t break our soul tie. You’re mine, just as much as I am yours, for all of eternity.”
“We haven’t been together in decades,” Agatha replied, but there wasn’t the usual malice and venom she would spit at Rio with.
Rio tongued her cheek, “No, but we have been separated for longer and been together for longer, sweetheart.”
What game are you playing now, my love, Rio asked in her mind, cocking her head at her.
Agatha couldn’t hear it, but she knew the question lingered between as Agatha’s smirked widened, “Well, we are separated, so I am having my own fun with” she hesitated, clearly already forgetting the woman’s name “with my darling here.”
Rio still growled at it, pulling Agatha closer together where their hips bruised.
“Let her go. She doesn’t want you,” the witch spoke up, starting to advance on her.
Lady Death didn’t have to even look in her direction nor use the mirror behind Agatha’s head as vines ripped their way through the floors, wrapping around the witch’s arms, ankles, and neck, and pinning her against the wall next to the toilet. Rio smirked, knowing the witch’s eyes were on them as she leaned in, her lips meeting her wife’s. It was the same dance that lit a fire inside Rio, her heart beating frantically as lips pressed back, a hand tangling in her hair behind her head. Sparks ran through Rio, a need to stake her claim on her wife as her tongue swiped along her wife’s lips. She was allowed entrance, meeting the warmth and savoring taste of the purple witch. Her taste invaded Rio, consumed and left her wanting more and more. Their tongues tangled and danced, wrapping around the other in a delicate battle. Moans left both of them breathless, but breaths were rare between them.
“Agatha!”
It was nails on a chalkboard hearing the woman pinned to the wall speak.
Rio shoved her tongue deeper into her wife’s mouth, refusing to let her speak as Agatha whimpered against her, their bodies pressing tighter together. She could feel the tether between them, the want and need building up in her wife. She pulled away, her tongue leaving her wife’s mouth with a string of their mixed silva between them. It broke, hanging off Agatha’s lip. Rio was faster, licking it off her and swallowing. The woman shivered before going to open her mouth, but was interrupted as Rio attacked her neck, pressing kisses down her throat before sucking harshly on the side. Agatha moaned loudly this time, her eyes closed, but Rio grabbed her, her thumb and pointer pinching her jaw. She forced Agatha to look at the witch, needing her to know it wasn’t the witch making her feel like this. It was Death. The witch was pinned to a wall, powerless and nothing compared to them.
“Rio, my darling death,” Agatha breathed out. “You made your point.”
Rio pulled away only slightly, “And what is my point, exactly?”
“That you are jealous–”
She snarled again, “I’m not jealous. I just don’t like sharing what is mine.”
“But she is not yours.”
The fucking nerve of this witch.
“Let us go!”
Rio sighed, picking her wife back up and setting her on the counter. Agatha could easily evade her movements, but she followed, allowing Rio to handle her. Rio basked in it, staying between her legs as she turned to face the witch. She didn’t move though, pressing back into her wife, Agatha’s chin nuzzling against her head as they stared at the witch in the thorns.
“She is, and I don’t share,” her dagger was out again, her gaze piercing into the mortal.
She couldn’t stop the Lady Death part of herself, the gaze shifting subtly. Electricity was in the air as she stared, boring ice into the witch as her mind swirled with thoughts of how she could kill her…if she were allowed. The mortal didn’t understand the fear that consumed her, the other worldly fear that Lady Death radiated. Ice crept up her arms and around her throat as tears fell from her eyes and she paled.
“Rio, my sweet, you made your point,” Agatha sighed, falling into her as she kissed the side of her head. “I’m yours.”
Rio didn’t let go but turned in an instant, her head tilted up at her wife who took her face in her hands. Their eyes met and for a moment, the years of torment disappeared. They didn’t happen. It was them, together in the cottage. Rio had purposely distracted her wife, setting her on their kitchen table, and stood between her legs, refusing to move.
“Move,” Agatha had demanded sternly to her. Rio would only chuckle, shaking her head as her lips would move over Agatha exposed collarbones and if they weren’t exposed, she would make them.
“No, say it nicely,” she would reply, both of them knowing how easy it was for Agatha to get down.
Agatha would shake her head, “You’re impossible, Rio.”
“And you love it,” she would reply, still kissing up her neck.
“I love you more,” Agatha chuckled, and would meet her lips in a scorching kiss.
But that was the past, one where Rio had tried to run away from, but found she could not. She would never forget those moments, where Agatha made her feel human, feel the heart that beats inside her, black and beating only for Agatha, and made her feel alive beyond the death she was accustomed to. She would never forget, never get over her– Agatha was hers.
Bringing herself back to the present, she placed a chaste kiss to her wife, “Okay, Agatha,” letting her voice drop into the voice she knows that makes her wife falter. “But first, kill her, for me, my love.”
“Wh-” the other witch didn’t finish, Rio sewing her both shut with her own Green magic.
Agatha chuckled, “Still getting off on murder, Rio? That’s low, even for you.”
Rio curled her lip, “Only when you do it, and don’t be so righteous with me, sweetheart. Not after when we had fucked in the blood you spilled countless times over.”
It brought another laugh out before Agatha cocked her head at Death, “And what does this murder give you, my Lady Death?”
They both heard the gasp and the loud muffled realization of, “Lady Death?”
They ignored her, “Other than your usual gift of bodies, it also proves to me that you are mine. No one else can touch you, but me.”
Agatha had the audacity to laugh at her, but stifled it once Rio’s eyes darkened, “Alright, at least give her the dignity to face me.”
There wouldn’t be dignity either way. Rio’s eyes sparkled, moving away from Agatha in the same moment the witch dropped to her knees, staring up at both of them. She watched from the corner as Agatha let her magic crackle in her palm, acting like she was going to strike her. The witch took her hesitation, blasting a light of orange straight into her wife’s chest. Rio waited, patient and stoic as ever as her witch’s purple took over the orange, draining the life and magic into her. Agatha smirked as the witch dropped dead and Rio turned to the girl’s soul. She let her shadow take her, not interested in what she had to say.
Agatha turned to her, her gaze studying, but the hate was still there as much as the love. For a rare moment, Rio broke the silence, “Agatha, what was that? You have never dared to touch another woman like that.”
She sighed at her, “You didn’t care about Dolly.”
“No, because that was Dolly Parton and you wanted her power, Jolene,” she smirked.
Agatha made a face, mocking their past argument and it still warmed Death’s heart seeing the humor her wife still held on to.
“Why did she touch you like that?”
Her wife shook her shoulders, feigning boredom, “Oh, why not. I ran into her, thought it would be fun and I knew it would get to you.”
Rio raised an eyebrow, “Get to me? So what now? Your purposely trying to make me protective of you–”
“Jealous, possessive–”
“Why?” Rio was starting to get tired of this.
Agatha was a lot of things, and she did a lot of things to get Rio’s attention because their bond wouldn’t allow them too much time apart. It would get to Agatha, more than she would ever admit. But this was different. It had only been between two decades and Agatha would have done something grander and feigned it off as a quest for power, not the pathetic high school behavior she showcased now. Agatha needed her more than ever and Rio wanted to hear that, not just in terms of sex even though their interactions and fights almost always led to that. No, she wanted to hear the truth slip from her love’s lips.
Her wife approached her, cupping her face, “Be my date to this concert.”
She never in her wildest dreams expected that out of her witch’s mouth. She raised her brows, tempted to step back, but instead, she allowed her colder exterior to protect her from the shock. She raised her eyebrows, leaning casually against the wall.
“Date? Did the Agatha Harkness just ask me on a date?”
“Shut up,” her wife growled, her fingers trickling with magic now.
Rio looked down, finding she was in a pine green dress, almost matching Agatha’s as she took her hand. Rio allowed herself to be pulled out of the bathroom and with ease, she allowed the body to be swallowed by her vines and taken into the earth. They were swallowed by the crowd in a hall, humans and witches alike moving through as Agatha kept her head down. Around them, people were dressed up, talking excitedly as merch and food stands lined the outskirts. They weaved between the people, Agatha purposely bumping into some, but she could hardly pay attention to that. Rio stared into the back of her wife’s head as she was led into a large venue, with a stage before it. Tickets were shown to a security detail and they were led to private seats on the upper level, getting a clear view of the stage.
“My love, what is this?” Rio asked, not tearing her gaze away from the stage dressed in blue light, a black piano to the side as more of the guests filtered in.
Agatha sat her down, both of them looking over the edge as her wife kept her face hidden as she shrugged, “Fleetwood Mac is playing tonight. I like their songs.”
Her eyes widened as something in her stomach dropped, “Agatha, right after them is Lorna Wu–”
“I know,” she snapped, her anger rising before letting out a defeated breath, her voice softening. “I know. I am leaving once she comes out.”
Rio stared at her, her mind swirling on why Agatha would bring her to a concert– much less a date. This wasn’t their normal dance, their normal fight–the normal search for a spark of love that Rio craved. No, this was all love, all on the table for Rio to take. She wanted to question her, what was the change in the game, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Something was wrong with Agatha, it was clear between their tether: a hesitation, but Rio just couldn’t. Instead, she allowed the witch to lean into her, basking in the quiet intimacy they could share once again.
Rio wrapped her arm around her wife, their fingers intertwining as the lights dimmed and together in silence, they watched as Fleetwood Mac came onto the stage. The first few taps of the drum commenced The Chain. Rio was never one for music, or at least to get attached to it, but Agatha was. Agatha loved to sing herself. Rio remembered the softer moments in their cottage or walking together in the woods and the continuous humming from her. Then it passed to Nicky, a ballad he and her wife created, before it led to the stories, the rumors, and then Lorna Wu took it, angering both Agatha and Rio herself. Neither could do anything as it seemed the world took the song greedily, not understanding the truth behind it all.
Pushing past it, they fell back into the music, Agatha humming along, her fingers drumming to the beat on Rio’s thigh. They were an hour in, but Rio’s attention was solely locked on to her wife. The music didn’t matter, just the rare moment of peace upon her wife’s face as she sang along. Rio savoured it, her heart beating for the fact that her wife was here with her, enjoying a rare moment of normalcy. Then, the song caught her attention, their voices beautiful and even touched Death. She turned her head away from Agatha for the first time that night, listening to the band below them.
Time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me
I know I could’ve loved you, but you would not let me
I’ll follow you down ‘til the sound of my voice will haunt you
(Give me just a chance)
You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you
(Was I such a fool?)
I’ll follow you down til’ the sound of my voice will haunt you
(Give me just a chance)
You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you
Rio turned back to Agatha, her heart heavy as the lyrics finally sank in. Agatha was already looking at her, their gazes locking, and in that moment, words were unnecessary. Their shared glance spoke volumes—louder than anything they could have said, screamed, or argued. It revealed the truth between them. For Rio, Agatha had become an unshakable presence in her mind, haunting her no matter how hard she tried to forget. She would follow Agatha to the ends of the earth, and Agatha knew it. Though Agatha refused to let her love her, Rio’s voice lingered in her thoughts, her touch, her gaze—everything. They could both say they were fine, but deep down, neither would ever be whole. They were each other’s silver springs.
With that realization, unspoken yet understood, they leaned in, their lips meeting in a promise—silent but true. It was soft, passionate, everything Rio had felt before Nicholas. Agatha’s hand rose to cup Rio’s face, cradling her like she was the most precious flower in the world, and Rio melted into it. When they finally pulled apart, Agatha wrapped her arms around Rio, pulling her into a gentle embrace. Rio hadn’t felt this in ages, and she clung to a sliver of hope—maybe Agatha understood now, that with Nicky, there had been no choice. But Rio knew, even in this moment, she was already pushing her wife. Centuries had passed, but no amount of time could ever truly heal the wounds between them. So, for one more second, one more fleeting moment, they ignored the pain, holding each other in the love and adoration that burned bright, deep, and unrelenting from the inside out.