Interlude: Mask of Stability
Agatha Cain was having a difficult day.
Actually, to be more accurate, Agatha Cain had been having a difficult month. It had been a messy, complicated, confusing month, and it wasn’t getting better.
Was it fair to say that it had all started so innocently? Maybe it was more accurate to say that, at the time, Agatha hadn’t been considering any of the less innocent implications. Swept up in the excitement of gaining confidence and doing a good job being a spy—something very normal to want and possible to achieve—she hadn’t wanted to question Archon’s ritual or what unintended side effects it might have.
When those side effects came, they weren’t unpleasant. Sacrificing leisure time for work was the right call. Her mood boost was so strong it felt like getting high—an experience she’d had only once—but better, because she kept her mental clarity. Being more outgoing, more social, more extroverted, more confident, those were all things she wanted. She wanted to enjoy herself, to enjoy life, to enjoy what she did.
Enjoying her faux flirtations with Archon was simply a logical extension of that. Until it wasn’t, and then she was kicking herself for not seeing it coming.
By coincidence or by culture, all the heroes she emulated were heterosexual men or bisexual women. From a poisoned seedbed, desire was nurtured through the necessity of her role; to play the part of Visage’s ruthless little queerbaiter, the path of least resistance was developing genuine feelings for her fake rival.
She hadn’t realized it at first—or maybe hadn’t wanted to realize it, though the signs were all so clear. When she started looking up slashfic of herself and Archon, it was just keeping her finger on the pulse of her audience. Browsing the spicy art tags? Same reasoning. Fantasizing about her and Archon going on dates was just… maintaining the illusion in private, to better perform the mindset in public. There was nothing real about it.
Waking from a wet dream lifted the wool from her eyes.
The transformation spell had been doing more than just giving her confidence; it had been rewiring her, inch by inch, until her feelings for Archon were real and her whole orientation had been warped around that fact. She kept noticing other women in ways she never would have before and it was driving her crazy. She felt like a teenager again, unable to control her raging hormones, only this time it was boobs she kept staring at.
When she realized what was happening, she tried to fight it. That made things worse. The moment she strayed from the spell’s path, all the good feelings she’d become so accustomed to vanished in an instant. Defiance sent her into the kind of nightmare spiral she hadn’t had since she started taking her meds, curled up on the floor and whimpering as her mind was wracked with every depressed and anxious thought she could conjure.
Briefly, paranoid and lashing out, she wondered if Archon had done this to her on purpose. Had the spell been a trap? Had Archon wanted her to develop this crush?
But that couldn’t be true. For one, the witch had done nothing to capitalize on Agatha’s changing state, nor had she even hinted at doing so. More importantly, she was already deeply in love with someone else.
Strix Striga stood before the assembled members of her secret conspiracy and judged them. Her masked gaze took in each magical girl and each witch and analyzed them, feeding every scrap of observable data to her superpower. The invincible heroine. The undefeated champion. The savior of the Pacific Northwest.
Behind her, the Morrigan sat wretched upon her throne, bound to her place of power. The witch had invited them all to this meeting through her usual means, sending secret letters that appeared as if from nowhere. She presided, but she ceded her time to Striga.
“Thank you all for coming,” Striga said calmly, “and for your work in the months prior. Thanks to your efforts, we have everything we need to begin the next stage of our war against the egregores. In a few days, on Valentine’s, we take the fight to Venus and expose this shadow war to the harsh light of revelation. Tonight, as a single unit, we lay the groundwork for that battle through one final intrusion into her reflection of the Visage spire.”
Herbalist and Lilith sat together around a metal table, a small pile of leatherbound journals between them. They’d been engaged in animated conversation before Striga’s arrival, but now both were silent and attentive. Herbalist showed no change in expression as Striga spoke; from everything Agatha had seen, Herbalist was as much in Striga’s confidence as the Morrigan. Lilith, the newcomer to the group, betrayed keen interest on her face. Her gaze flicked between Striga and the others, still trying to take everyone’s measure.
Howl and Harlequin leaned against a topiary statue of a skeletal knight. Their conversation had been one-sided; Harlequin chattered while Howl drank. The witch from Europe still had a bottle in hand after Striga’s proclamation, but her eyes were narrowed and focused on the heroine. Harlequin was clapping, of course; something about their power necessitated leaning into the jester role, Agatha suspected—or they were just like that, and that was why they’d been chosen.
Agatha, Archon, and Ferromancer had clustered around a fountain in the Morrigan’s courtyard. While they waited for the meeting to begin, they’d discussed their work with Visage and recent events. Archon was cagey about her unexpected stream, but promised it would be explained soon. Ferromancer had expressed interest in that explanation.
Agatha didn’t like Ferromancer. She wasn’t a threat, but she fancied herself one, and that made her something more like a gnat. Before the transformation spell, Agatha might have actually been intimidated by the witch.
Better Agatha had no such fear.
Howl was the first to raise an objection. “Valentine’s? Seriously? You’re springing that on us now? Hell of a timetable, Striga. You couldn’t have given us even a week more to prepare?”
“That intel was secured by Archon,” Striga answered, unfazed. “You are learning it a mere day after she did.”
There was a lie, somewhere in the mix. Better Agatha could see it in the strings, so natural to her now that the magic was in her mind. Howl’s strings showed distrust and defiance toward the authority figure of Striga. Striga’s strings showed distrust toward almost everyone, and secrets shared with a select few. Something in the red string connecting Striga and Archon had intensified, and been joined by others; love and trust flowed between them, and other, complicated feelings. Better Agatha wanted to cut those strings.
Ferromancer whistled and grinned. “Damn, that actually paid off? I thought that stunt was one more misguided attempt to impress our fearless leader. Thought it was too risky for your style; too much heat.”
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“And yet you helped,” Archon said with a glare at Ferromancer. “Was that a misguided attempt to impress me, or did you just want to stir some shit?”
The machinist witch had strings denoting attraction and resentment to many of those around her; she was a creature of ugly desire. She wanted to be a player in the game, but she wasn’t respected like one by the others. The threads connecting her to Archon had begun to fray and fade.
“No one cares about your weird rivalry,” Howl snapped at the two of them. “We have a week until everything goes down. I’m tired of sitting in the dark, Striga. Do you actually have a plan to stop Venus? Are you going to tell us what it is?”
“Yes, actually,” Striga said. “That’s part of why I called you here. I’ve kept my cards close to my chest for operational security, but the time has come to share everything. I must warn you: this information is dangerous. The more you know, the easier it will be for the Jovians to tell you’ve turned against them, and the likelier they are to set their hunting hounds against you.”
“You’re speaking of the Catastrophes,” Lilith guessed, hands folded and tone polite. “Phage, perhaps? Or is that the real reason for Echidna’s presence in the region?”
“Echidna is here to attack the Visage Spire. Phage would be the more likely opponent set against us—or, rather, against the people in our civilian lives we care about. My presence in the city keeps Phage wary, but it won’t stop her from making attacks of opportunity if the Jovians find her additional support. I don’t know how many non-Catastrophes are loyal to them, but the number isn’t zero.”
Ferromancer crossed her arms. “Our little group isn’t staying secret forever. What happens when we reach that ‘harsh light of revelation’ you mentioned? I have friends in this city, Striga. I’d rather not lose them.”
“My Ossuary has been prepared for this purpose,” the Morrigan said, her rich voice projected into the minds of those gathered. “It has been grown, year over year, until it could support a stable population. When calamity comes for those you care for, they may shelter here, in my domain, and our enemy shall find no purchase.”
Shelter. A prison. Helping. Hostages. Agatha could see the value in such a sanctuary, but she couldn’t ignore the leverage it would give the Morrigan. Agatha still held affection for her family. Would they be in danger if she interfered with Archon and Striga?
Not that she had any idea how she could interfere. The red string had turned bright crimson, wrapped tight around both women. Their love was all but assured. Destined. Soulmates. It drove Agatha feral.
She needed to claim Archon for her own, but standing against Striga was suicide. She had to wait. She had to hope for an opening—for some secret weakness neither would divulge. Perhaps something to do with the new thread of impossible color jutting from Archon’s chest.
The others kept chattering for a few moments more, but they weren’t important; none of them were truly critical to what was coming, according to Ariadne. Only Striga and Archon.
“It has to be Valentine’s Day,” Striga said, answering another question. “It’s a forced move. Venus won’t get a better opportunity to amass power; the symbols are too great. Delaying just to be unpredictable would cost her more than she gains. The obviousness of this move means all players must be aware of it, and aware that each other player will be acting. The other egregores will want to disrupt her power grab. For the Jovians, that means sending in Echidna.”
Lilith narrowed her eyes. “Is that why you’ve been pushing so hard? I know how much you burned to get me here, Striga. I’ve seen the kind of pressure you’re putting on my peers. You need the Coterie in place now, because Echidna’s not waiting another month.”
Striga nodded. “I’ve had my suspicions for some time.”
“More secrets,” Howl said with a curl of her lip. “And this time, secrets that could get a lot of people killed.”
“I’m sure she had her reasons,” Lilith said smoothly, “but I do wish you’d told me sooner. As it stands, I shall have to throw around a great deal of weight to get my witches into position.”
“Don’t.”
Striga’s curt response silenced the room. Howl and Lilith both looked shocked. Ferromancer looked smug. Archon was inscrutable; had she known? She must have.
“This is our chance to deal with Echidna once and for all,” Striga continued. Her voice was cold. “We let Venus expend some of her power keeping the Catastrophe at bay while we take down the egregore, and then we jump Echidna before she can get away in the chaos of the aftermath. We make preparations, but quiet preparations—traps laid in secret. Our organizations have to react as expected, or it may warn Echidna and send her scurrying early. If we play this right, we take two threats off the board in one night.”
“And if we play it wrong,” Agatha said, finally joining the conversation, “hundreds or thousands will die for nothing.” She was careful with her voice; a little more confident than usual, but not too hard-edged. Concerned, not critical. Upset, not enraged. It would never have come naturally to her before, this social trickery. Now, though, she was Better.
“You’re gambling with the lives of everyone in Forks,” Lilith said, voice tight. “Are you truly that ruthless, Striga?”
“Of course she is,” Ferromancer laughed. “She’s a machine. Lying, threatening, killing, it’s all in her nature. Our hero, everyone.”
“You should watch your tongue,” Archon said sweetly, “before I rip it out and pickle it. Syndicate swine don’t get to quibble over morals. When Striga makes a decision, it’s always the best decision available. Always, Ferro. Who are you to claim better sight than her?”
Howl rolled her eyes. “I’m tired of listening to the groupie and the roach. No one’s questioning Striga’s cunning; what I want to know is, what are you going to do after you get those hundreds killed taking down the Catastrophe?”
“I would like to know that as well,” Lilith added. “I cannot tie my organization to someone reviled by the public for such extreme measures, even if they prove necessary and successful—and I don’t believe you’ll be able to cover this up.”
Herbalist cleared her throat. “You won’t be, Lilith, because Lady Striga will be stepping down in response to the backlash.”
Another wave of surprise. A shift in understanding of position from Lilith, Howl, Ferromancer, and Harlequin. The pretense of surprise from Archon, but none of her threads even twitched. She knew. This was planned.
Striga nodded. “I’m fully prepared for the enemy’s propaganda attack. I’ll take full responsibility and publicly surrender my title as leader of Vanguard, leaving management of the organization to my lieutenants. Then I can focus my full individual efforts on killing the other egregores and ending their threat.”
“You’re serious,” Lilith said, sounding baffled. “You’d actually give up that much power?”
“What use is power never spent?” Striga asked. The others fell silent.
The threads between Archon and Striga twitched. There was another layer to her game. More secrets. More plots. Agatha needed to learn what they were hiding. She couldn’t let Archon slip away from her.
“When the day comes,” Striga continued, “we divide into three groups. The Morrigan will assist Lilith and Herbalist in preparing a seal that can receive Venus’ power. Archon, Agatha, and Ferromancer will infiltrate Visage’s defenses and be ready to strike. I’ll join Howl and Harlequin in breaching the last layer of the other Spire. The two offensive groups will carry tools that can mimic my ability to siphon power from champions of the egregores; we’ll use those to pour magic from Venus into the seal. Is anything unclear?”
The assembled magical girls and witches all stayed silent.
“Good. Then back into the World of Glass we go.”