Page 23 of Hopelessly Teavoted

Best not to picture that, though. The idea made it difficult to focus, especially pulled as Vickie was by the musky bergamot of the devil and the woodsy lemon of the witch.

She was a veritable bouquet of lustful thoughts at the moment, and so was Clarissa, who looked up at the devil from beneath unnaturally long lashes.

She smelled like spun sugar and something sharp.

Peppermint, maybe. Vickie shifted, made restless by the three of them.

Lex leaned into her and whispered softly, entrancing command in his voice.

“That’s generous of you, Clarissa. It’s a shame you have to take a bath.

” His voice spoke command now. An otherworldly influence that made Vickie desperate to go, and even Azrael looked with interest in the direction Lex gestured.

“You’ll be so busy with yourself and that bath that you’ll forget we were ever here. ”

Clarissa sighed, running a hand down her neck.

“Come on in. I was just about to get in the bath.”

“Lex,” Vickie hissed. “We are not getting in the bath with her.”

No matter how hot she is.

His eyebrows shot up. “Victoria, if you wanted to play kinky, all you had to do was ask. But no, not right now, we are not. She’ll be out of our way while we get what we came for.” He winked. “We can talk about any particular multiplayer bath fantasies you might have later.”

Azrael muttered words under his breath that she didn’t catch.

“What was that, Hart?”

“Let’s just fucking do this,” he said, voice clipped and strained.

She cleared her throat. The interaction felt sexy, but uncomfortably empty.

“What does he value the most?” She looked around the sparse apartment, peppered with mirrors and decorated almost entirely in spotless white, from the carpets to the sofa to the walls.

“It’s a limited-edition Genesis vinyl.”

“Is that—”

“Yes. He doesn’t listen to it. Just for show.”

“The cliché and the satire of it all lost on him, then?”

“Vickie, darling, men who profit off annihilating other humans are almost always immune to critique. Now let’s reap this soul and get out of here before his newest model finishes getting off in the bathtub and realizes she’s let three strangers into her house.”

Victoria hated the idea of even touching anything that monster had, but there was no way she was letting this slime bag escape, even in death.

The bedroom was done in modern linens, a wall of windows, two walls of mirrors, and no other art besides the record.

She punched into it. Lex cleared his throat and Azrael snapped, and the glass vanished without puncturing her hand.

She wasn’t sure which of them had done it, and she didn’t have the time to sort out which one she wanted to have done it at the moment. “Ready?” Her heart was pounding.

“When you are, pet.”

“Just tell me what you need,” said Azrael softly. Lex glared at him, and she ignored it.

Vickie touched the record with both hands, and a square-jawed man in a suit with thin-rimmed glasses appeared.

Gray hair sat limply atop a weak forehead and a face twisted into a grimace that was either an awful attempt at a smile or some sort of intestinal problems. She was fairly certain ghosts didn’t get those, so it was most likely the former.

“Donovan,” she said.

“Actually, it’s Mr.—” His arrogance told her he realized his predicament at once.

“I don’t give any fucks what you’d like to be called.”

The ghost sniffed. “Well, if you’re going to be one of those terrible woke snowflakes about it, I’ll be going, then.” He fisted his hands and concentrated. “Fuck you and your feelings.”

Now he looked even more constipated, but he didn’t go anywhere.

“Exactly what is your problem, young lady? And why the devil can’t I portal out of here? It’s the best part of being dead. Finally, the control I so deserve.”

“Ah, Donny, tsk tsk tsk.” Lex stepped forward, and the shade paled, which was impressive for a person who was already only a transparent shadow of a being.

Azrael looked around, confused, as he realized he was the only one who could not see the ghosts.

“You,” spat the man, pointing. “You can’t take me.

I have things to do. Unfinished business.

You know the rules.” Vickie felt cold. Why was it that evil held so much control, even in the afterlife?

The shade continued. “You have no power to destroy any object that anchors a soul to this world. I figured that out quick enough, you dumb fucking devil.”

“Ah yes, do enjoy that satisfaction. You caught me there.” Lex’s smile was lazy and slow, and Vickie thought that Donovan Wagner was far too confident in his hand here.

“Unfortunately, my dear Donny, she is not so inconveniently limited.”

Vickie smiled at him, hoping it came off as cruel as he had been in life. It had only been two minutes. “Should I give him his remaining time?”

“No need, pet. Go ahead and immolate him.”

She smiled and held the record in both hands. Concentrating, she willed the flame to build faster than the usual five minutes.

“No! Don’t!” The scream was pitiful and hair-raising. “I have information you need. There’s something rotten in Hallowcross. You have no idea—”

In her hands, the record had turned scalding, and burst into flames, and with them, the essence of Donovan Wagner flickered like an old television losing reception. Lex opened the box, and Donovan let out a high-pitched screech until the noise cut abruptly and the box slammed shut.

“Hello?” Clarissa called from the bathroom. She sounded breathless. Confused.

“We ought to leave before she breaks from my trance,” said Lex. He put the box in his pocket and winked at Vickie, who followed him out of the unit, Az behind them.

“She’ll be okay, right?” Azrael asked Lex, and Vickie’s heart cracked at his concern.

“Indeed,” said Lex, sniffing. “I’m not a monster. She’ll sleep it off and wake up hazy, unsure if this was all just a beautiful dream.” He turned to Vickie. “Excellent work, pet.”

They paused in the hallway outside the apartment.

“Stop calling her that,” said Azrael. His eyes glinted, the gold flecks angry in the dark light, like sharp splinters of defensive hurt.

Vickie slid her palm around his waist, tucking it into his back pocket and pulling him toward her, as though she could hold him in against the hurt of the moment.

Against the cruelty of humans, even in death.

The greed. But there was no time to unpack it; next to her, Azrael was stiff, the emotions roiling and radiating off him.

She wasn’t sure why he was so angry with Lex. For a moment, she pressed into Azrael, smelling lemon and wood.

“Interesting,” said Lex, and there was a dangerous edge to his voice she didn’t recognize.

The tension between the two had pulled too thin now, and Lex ground his teeth.

Her hand in Azrael’s pocket was a promise, and Lex saw it.

A decision. His eyes darted, lingering on her hand against the fabric.

Against Azrael. Lex waved his hand, now full of something.

“Well then, I see that I may be the devil in name, but neither of you deliciously lovely creatures are quite angelic in honesty, now, are you? Your friend , is he?” Violet eyes sparkled, dancing with mischief.

Vickie couldn’t quite distinguish what was in the devil’s hand, though she had a feeling Azrael could, for he tensed and drew her closer, tucking her under his arm as though he wanted to shield her.

Her chest filled with warmth at the gesture, a flicker of hope in the desperate fear burrowing there.

The devil raised his hand and smiled, a treacherous, tempting thing, and blew on the glittering dark dust cupped in his palm.

A cloud of brown enveloped them, settling on Vickie’s jacket and face, in her hair.

It fell on Azrael, in his dark curls and lingering on his long eyelashes.

He blinked, looking at her, and her heart twisted again.

She understood now why people were always saying that.

It really did feel as though the muscle were contracting and reshaping with her realization.

She felt for him, all sorts of confusing things, and it was too late now to tell him on her own terms. Enchantment cut through her denial; she knew her mistake.

She had waited too long and there was no time.

Lex smiled again.

“Gravedirt,” said Azrael, the word between them an accusation and a revelation.

“Yes,” purred Lex. “I am a force of justice. Truth.” He paused, drawing his fingers together. “Well. Mostly justice, anyway.”

“You’re a devil,” spat Azrael. “Isn’t manipulation in your nature?

Isn’t it why you’re looking at us like that?

At Vickie like that?” The words came out cruel.

She frowned. Azrael knew better. But gravedirt would make him honest, and she realized that if he was jealous of Lex, that would show.

In the first few hours of it, emotions would show completely.

Unfettered. Tension froze in delicate strands between them, threatening to snap at the fire in Azrael’s eyes, and the coldness mirrored back in Lex’s.

Tell him , she thought. Tell him you could one day love him again, maybe, before something terrible happens.

“You can’t judge us all in one fell swoop, Azrael Ashmedai Hart.

Though I suppose I have succumbed to my baser angels in this moment, and I’ll admit it, but devils are part human too.

And for what it’s worth, I’m looking at both of you like that.

” His voice was icy. Piercing. “And now the two of you will be honest.”

“How dare you,” started Azrael. He ran a hand through his hair. It came away dirt-streaked. He looked down at her, swiping a thumb to brush some of it off her cheek. There was warmth in the gesture, and she hoped his feelings would survive what would happen next.

And that hers would.

“I am sorry, Vickie. This is going to hurt us both,” Azrael whispered.

“Too much honesty almost always does,” she choked out.