Chapter Text
“I’ll give you the part you chose for yourself. The nosy neighbor.”
“Wanda, don’t do this. You don’t know what you’ve awoken in yourself. You’re going to need me to guide you.”
“And if I do, I’ll know just where to find you, Nathan.”
The sun blinded Nicholas when he opened his eyes. He blinked in irritation and absently wondered who the hell had sheer curtains these days before he registered where he was and what had happened to him. The nearest solid object to him (an ugly paperweight he wouldn’t be caught dead buying) became a projectile in his frustration, smashing through the front window as he screamed enough obscenities that even Mom would have raised an eyebrow. Agatha Harkness wasn’t known from hiding her bad language from her child and had even encouraged him to use it on occasion, but the litany of curses that escaped his mouth would have made a nun keel over- something that both his mothers would have no doubt appreciated.
He stomped towards the door and threw it open, making a beeline for the nearest person he saw, Herb, or whatever his name had been in the hex. The man’s eyes widened, and he almost lost a finger to the hedge clippers he was using, still obsessively trimming the damned things even after Wanda’s curse. “Hey, there, Nathan. You feeling okay today, man?”
Nick held up his hand to cut off whatever drivel was about to come out of his mouth next. “Shut up. How long have I been here?”
“What?” Herb asked obliviously.
“How long have I been stuck in this backwards ass town after the Scarlet Bitch fought me?” Nick restated through clenched teeth, valiantly ignoring the urge to uppercut his neighbor.
“You don’t remember?” Herb questioned, a confused crease in his brow. Nick thought it would have been obvious, but perhaps the mortals were too simple-minded to understand that he hadn’t been himself over the past however-long he’d been cursed.
“Catch me up.”
“About three years.” The other man answered, finally.
Nick could feel his face fall. “Three years.”
He took a few measured breaths in an attempt to calm himself. “Wanda.” He growled.
Before him, Herb grimaced. “We try not to say her name around here. It can set a few folks off.”
“Because you’re cowards,” Nick said with a roll of his eyes. “She’s not Voldemort, saying her name isn’t going to magically summon her.” A more pressing through occurred. “What have I been doing all this time?”
“Well,” Herb started. “You’ve mostly been a good neighbor. A bit lax with your boundaries, sometimes.”
Nick glared. “Call me nosy, and I’ll punch your teeth in.”
“Right. You haven’t been yourself for the past few days.” The neighbor informed him. “Almost like you got bit by the true crime bug.”
With a heavy sigh, Nick pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you telling me I’ve been talking nonsense, and you’ve all just been humoring me?”
“I mean, people have stopped by and tried to help you out. Brought you groceries and such. Mrs. Davis has religiously been bringing you casseroles every week.” Herb offered with a shrug. “I think she just enjoys the flirting. Gives her life a little spice.”
Gods above, these people really hadn’t been given much of a part in Wanda’s spell, had they? They were exactly the same. Still gossiping and giving him exactly zero useful information. Nick turned away from him when he heard shouting from the other side of the street, finding a new set of neighbors staring him down, a man protectively clamping a hand over his daughter’s eyes and fruitlessly trying to drag her and his wife inside away from the spectacle. Why Dottie was eying him like he was something to eat, Nick wasn’t prepared to consider, especially since he was realizing with horror that he recognized their faces. “Librarian. Chief of police.”
Another familiar face jogged around the corner, making an abrupt U-turn when they saw him, and Nick groaned. “Jeweler.”
Herb had removed his jacket and was attempting to tie it around Nick’s waist from over the fence, only just then alerting him to the fact that he was nude. No wonder Dottie had been staring. Nick wasn’t scared of nudity, wasn’t ashamed of his body- even if he noted with disappointment that he’d lost muscle mass over the years-, but the last thing he needed was to end up in jail for flashing people.
“You seem pretty lucid for a change.” Herb noted. “Angry, even. Powerful.”
“What did you just say.” Nick asked, cutting him off.
“I said powerful, but look, Nate-,”
“It’s Nicholas.” Nick cut him off with a glare. He’d kill the next Nathan he met out of spite, just for having to hear the name.
“Right, Nicholas. You really need to go inside and put some real clothes on because school lets out soon, and-,”
Nick held up a hand. “I got it, thank you.”
He stomped back across the street, jacket still tied tightly around his middle. Something had clicked in his mind when Herb said what he did, and it wasn’t a good something. Safely behind the closed door of the house that certainly wasn’t his, Nick took stock of himself, horrified to find his fingers bare of the stains from the Darkhold for the first time in almost a century.
Frantically, he tried to draw on his magic, desperate for even the simplest of spells, but his efforts yielded nothing. Not even the smallest hint of purple. He centered himself with a deep breath and tried to call on the other side of his magic, one that he hadn’t touched in decades, but even that only gave him the smallest wisp of black before fizzling out. Wanda had truly culled him of everything.
Still, not was all lost just yet. Magic could be rebuilt. Nick had kept a few tonics and artifacts hidden away for just this reason. No one was infallible, and while he was the best, he wasn’t perfect. Having a backup plan was always the best thing to do in any situation. Agatha had taught him that more than once growing up. There were plenty of times they’d needed a speedy exit after killing a coven or a couple of stray witches only to be blocked, but Agatha was smart and had always had another way for them to flee. He snagged a pair of basketball shorts he saw hanging over the back of the couch and continued on his path.
Nick flung open the door to the basement, and hurried down the steps, dread coiling in his gut even from what he could see from there. Where there had once been a grand display of his magical collection, there was now nothing except for a couple of appliances.
As Nick crossed the room, Señora Harkness popped out of her hiding spot, hopping towards him. Nick crouched down to pick the bunny up, cradling her gently and pressing his face into her downy fur. “We got mugged, Señora. That bitch robbed us for everything we own. I should be grateful she didn’t take you, too.”
A thud sounded from upstairs, and Nick’s heart dropped. With no magic and a far cry from the physicality he was before the curse, he wouldn’t put up much of a good fight against any intruders. He supposed there was a chance that it was another well-meaning neighbor coming to check on him. Perhaps Herb had spread the word.
Cautiously, Nick crept up the stairs, hearing the thumping continue, coming from the kitchen. He set Señora Harkness down in a side room to keep her safe and continued on his hunt for the source of the noise.
He tracked the noise to a coat closet and grabbed a cast iron skillet as he passed the kitchen counter for some sort of weapon before throwing open the door. Inside was a teenager tied hand and foot with duct tape covering his mouth. Nick frowned. “So, the arrest was more of a kidnapping, huh?”
The kid tried to say something, but it was muffled under the tape, and Nicholas didn’t quite care enough to bother trying to understand. He had far more pressing matters to attend to. “If you’re real, and not a character from that deranged ginger’s spell, that would also mean-,”
Splinters of wood pelting him in the face cut Nick off, a forceful gust of wind sweeping him off his feet and sending him flying into the cabinets, safety skillet flinging across the kitchen island. He sputtered as he hit the floor, trying to clear his vision of blood and hair enough to get a proper view of his attacker, though he was almost positive of her identity already.
With all the dramatics of the lesbian theater kid Nick knew she would have been had she been born in the right time, Lady Death swaggered into the house. It had been decades since Nicholas had seen his mother, and it seemed that she’d discovered Hot Topic in that time if the dark clothes and makeup were anything to go by. She’d ditched the corset/dress combo at the turn of the last century, but she’d traded it for green three-piece suit, if memory served.
Alas, Nick wasn’t given much time to process as his mother used the door frame as a launching pad to fling herself towards him just when he managed to find his footing among the many, many pieces of what used to be a very sturdy door. It was only his quick instincts that saved him from a dagger through his currently mortal throat. If Rio had tried to stab him three years ago, it wouldn’t have done much, but without any of either of his magics, he was as defenseless as a kitten. He wasn’t much of an opponent for his mother on a good day, even if he was able to put up something of a fight, but a real fight with Lady Death right now would only end with her walking him to see his mom again, and tempting as that was, he was more interested in regaining his power at the moment.
Trembling hands were locked around his mother’s wrist where she pinned Nick to the wall, a maniacal grin on her lips. “I missed you.”
“Well, you sure have a funny way of showing it.” Nick managed to respond with his eyes locked on the dagger creeping ever closer to his very breakable skin.
“How long has it been, Mijo? Since you hid yourself from me with all that dark magic?” Rio asked, pressing forward even more.
“You know, plenty of kids are going no-contact these days.” Nick said, trying his best to avoid the tip of the dagger. “You’re supposed to accept that.”
“You’ve lost your magic, Nicky. That’s as good as asking me to find you, you know that.” Rio had valiantly ignored his snark and brought her other hand up to press down on the dagger, just barely managing to draw blood. “You’re vulnerable.”
“Only physically.” Nick said and used what little strength he had to slam his mother’s head into the wall.
There was a part of Nicholas that knew that if she wanted to, Rio could end the fight with a couple of well-aimed punches and a nonfatal stab wound, but since he’d been old enough and strong enough to raise his hand to her in the first place, this was how they expressed themselves. They weren’t good at talking. Nicky was too steeped in his anger after all this time to give her anything but vitriol, and Rio was too hurt by his anger to respond rationally. They could usually manage something of a conversation after a good fight, but without any magic to protect himself, Nick knew this would be far from that.
They both grappled for the dagger, Nick mostly to keep the business end of it from piercing any of his body parts, and he was able to wrestle it into the wall in a feat of strength that he could only describe as superhuman. He grinned at Rio with pride at the hint of his cosmic entity side, completely forgetting for a moment what they were doing. She grinned back at him also proud, only clench a hand around his throat, manhandling him into the proper position for her to be able to kick him clean across the room.
Nick groaned, scrabbling to his hands and knees as Rio yanked her knife from the wall. “I’m pretty sure this is considered child abuse.” He shouted.
“You’re not a kid anymore.” Rio fired back as she advanced on him.
“Just regular abuse, then.” Nick said, barely managing to bring up a cutting board that was laying nearby to keep his mother’s dagger from lodging itself in his skull.
The dagger skittered away, and Nicholas drew back the cutting board to hit Rio with, only for her to bat it away effortlessly. “This really feels like an unfair fight.” Nick said as they tussled, both throwing a few punches, though his were far lighter.
“You’d be upset if I scaled back for you.” Rio fired back.
And, well, she wasn’t wrong. She’d tried that when he was younger and he’d set fire to her favorite forest in revenge.
He managed to get a good enough punch in that it surprised her, and Nick scrambled over Rio, hands locked around her throat.
To his irritation, she only laughed. “You can’t kill me.”
“You can’t kill me! It’s not allowed.” Nicholas hollered.
She followed that comment up with a vicious headbutt Nick knew he was going to feel for the next few days, using a wind spell to fling him into the China cabinet, and if he hadn’t had a concussion before, he definitely did now. “I don’t need to kill you, sweetheart. I think we both know there are fates worse than that.”
Nick whimpered into the hardwood (really, it couldn’t have been carpeted anywhere in this house?) and attempted to peel himself off of the floor. “Come on, this isn’t even a fair fight. Surely, you’re not enjoying yourself right now. I don’t have enough magic in me to do a single measly spell. This is undignified.”
“Then take my power.” Rio offered.
“As if you would let me.” Nick knew a red herring when he saw one. “You’ve always been a big proponent in letting me learn from my bad choices.”
“True.” Rio said. “And there was no choice worse than going up against the Scarlet Witch and trying to siphon her magic. That’s like trying to fill a teacup with a five-gallon jug, pendejo.”
“First of all,” Nick stated. “Rude. I can see were Mom learned her bad language. Second of all, I kind of thought I was above all that with my-,” he cut his gaze to the very confused and traumatized teenager watching him from the closet. “Unique heritage.”
“Two different magics, kiddo. Even then, your dark magic isn’t bottomless, which I’m sure you’ve now realized since you’ve been robbed of both.”
Rio clicked her tongue in anger. “Let me tell you, having the Scarlet Witch run around with that special magic in her possession was a different kind of annoying. Made her very hard to deal with. And that’s on you, boy.”
“Oh, come on! That’s hardly my fault!” Nick protested. “I didn’t expect her to steal my magic!”
“And, yet, the fault still lies with you, mijo. You need to pay for that. And thankfully, there are plenty of parties interested in your location. I’m more than happy to sit back and watch them come for you.” Rio said with a grin.
There was a certain party Nick had been avoiding for centuries that he knew his mother was itching to have in her domain where she could properly play with them. Without any magic, fighting them would be a one-way ticket to the Other Side.
Seeming to sense and understand his concern, Rio conjured enough wind to slam to closet door shut and block them from view of the teenager. She grew a small orb of black magic, firing it into directly his chest for him to absorb. “You remember the rules?”
“Death magic is for mortals not magicals.” He recited.
“Good. It won’t help you against the Seven, but it’ll keep you safe enough from anything else.” Rio said, pacing forward to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “I expect they’ll be here by sundown. You best figure something out.”
She turned her back on him to leave, only glancing back at him once she’d made it to the empty doorway. “Te veo.”
Nick stared after her, realizing belatedly that his head had finally stopped throbbing. He swiped a hand over his face, and it came around clean of fresh blood, only a couple dried flakes remaining. This was how they operated. They fought, they talked, she healed him, and then she left again. Some part of Nick that he tried to bury deep beneath the surface longed for a more normal relationship with his mother. Something kinder and loving. The glimpse he’d gotten that day all those years ago right after he lost Agatha. But that train had long since left the station, and this was all that remained.
Nick jogged upstairs to find something with a bit more coverage than just a bloodstained pair of shorts, though the choices were minimal. Whoever’s closet he was digging through seemed to more favor casual wear, and Nicholas liked to think he had more style than that. Still, he was able to find a nice pair of jeans and a button-up that would do.
He jogged back down the stairs right as the banging started up again from the closet and he was reminded of the yet unidentified minor he still had locked up. Nick threw open the door so the kid could escape and then ran off again in search of shoes. The first pair were a set of flip flops he wouldn’t be caught dead in, and he had to scour the next room, using precious time he did not have for something a little more presentable. He found a pair of nice sneakers under the desk in the office and shoved his feet into them, lacing them up quickly. They weren’t perfect, but they would do.
There was a mug of coffee on a side table that Nick thought might have been fresh, though a mouthful of ice-cold tea proved him wrong in more ways than one. No matter. He could steal something from somewhere on the way.
“The house is yours, random boy.” He hollered in the kid’s direction. “Be sure the tell the vengeance seekers I said hi.” He pulled on a nice jacket he found on the coat rack, already feeling the chill coming through his empty front door frame. He glanced around once he was ready, knowing that Señora Harkness was around somewhere. He had no idea where her carrier had ended up, but she was well enough behaved that she could be loose in the car, he supposed.
“Take me to the Witches’ Road!”
Nick froze in place, head slowly turning in the boy’s direction. He marched over, yanking the rest of the duct tape from his face. “What was that?”
“The Witches’ Road. Take me there.” The boy said, then grimaced. “Please?”
As if his manners were the problem and not the request itself. It had been ages since Nick had pulled off the Witches’ Road scam. There weren’t enough people left that believed in it, much less whole covens, and Nicholas wasn’t willing to kill a kid, all that aside.
“The Witches’ Road doesn’t exist.” He stated plainly. The kid didn’t need to go looking for things he wouldn’t find.
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” The audacity of the boy. Nick would know, he’d been the one to make the whole thing up.
“That’s just what real witches say to keep the amateurs out.” The boy insisted. “The Road will give you what you want the most. If you can make it to the end. And I know I can. I will.”
Nick almost considered it. He could practically taste the magic coming off the kid in waves. But still, he did have some morals. “The Road is no place for a kid.”
“I’m sixteen!” Teen argued.
“Teen, whatever. The point stands. You’re too young to go getting mixed up in that nonsense. I don’t know where you heard about it, but you need to let it go.”
“Book, the Ballad, legend, lore…” The kid listed
“It’ll kill you.” Nick said, rolling his eyes. Damned kid was relentless.
“It didn’t kill you.” Teen fired back, hopping towards him, still bound.
“Yes, well, I had an exceptional teacher.” Nick responded, now scouring the living room for his rabbit.
“That’s exactly my point!” Teen exclaimed before taking a breath. “Okay, so, confession, I know an egregious amount about you. I’ve been obsessed since I first read up on your Salem days. “One of my favorite you eras.”
That gave Nicholas pause. There weren’t many that actually looked into him these days. “That’s a good one.”
“That’s why I came here last night. Why I saved you from the spell you were under.” Teen said, still frustratingly unnamed.
Rio had likely done at least some of the heavy lifting on spell removal, but Nick could sense the power beneath the boy’s surface, and his eyebrows ticked upward in interest. The boy read him wrong and smiled widely. “No. It was my pleasure.”
Nicholas took a seat in a nearby armchair, willing, for the moment, to indulge the kid. “If you have the goods to break a spell by the Scarlet Witch, what use do you have of the Road?”
“I mean, I’ve studied.” Teen said, also hopping to a seat. “But that can only get me so far. I want to blast, shield, levitate.”
Typical teenage boy. “You want a shortcut.”
“The Road promises that what’s missing awaits you at its end. Power is what I’m missing. Sounds like it’s what you’re missing too.” Teen smiled at him, clearly thinking he’d won with that line.
And to be fair, Nicholas did consider it. For all of a second. “Nope. Too risky. No time.”
He spotted Señora hopping from one room to the next and rushed towards her, Teen stumbling along behind him. “If you wanna run, fine. But these people coming tonight sound serious. You really think you can outrun them with no magic at all?”
Nicholas did not have ‘no magic at all’. He had a very small amount of death magic that would be enough to get him far, far away until he could drain dry another witch. He paused, looking around again for his rabbit, foot brushing against something among the wreckage of his door. He glanced down to find his mom’s locket. He was quick to pick it up and fasten it around his neck.
Nick glanced over to the boy. “Who are you?”
“My name is-,” Teen was silenced with a sigil. How queer.
Nick stepped closer, wanting a better look. “Try that again.”
“I’m-,” Same thing.
Power, Nick could find elsewhere, but a fun little mystery would be far more difficult to come by. Besides, he’d always thought about getting himself a protege. The kid might be useful for a thing or two. “I’m driving.”