Page 25 of Hopelessly Teavoted

Before she knew it, Vickie was heaving awkward breaths between her fingers, tears streaming over the chipped remains of her pink nail polish.

Then Azrael’s smell was on her, like warm summer nights and campfire, and his arms were around her, his face close to hers, but not touching, murmuring in her ear.

“It’s going to be all right, Vickie. It’s a lot, and it’s okay to be overwhelmed right now, but it’s going to be all right. ”

The elevator dinged, and she didn’t look up, hopeful that its occupant would keep walking and leave her to cry pathetically in Azrael’s arms.

“Hey.” The voice was gentle. Familiar, and then, more accusatory, “Azrael Ashmedai Hart, why the fuck is your girlfriend crying on the floor of my girlfriend’s apartment building?”

“She’s not—” Az began, at the same time as Vickie blurted, “It’s not like that.”

Priscilla glared at them, raven-colored hair braided loosely to one side, her fingers intertwined with Evelyn’s.

“Hi,” Vickie said, hating how small her voice sounded.

“It’s been a rough night, Prissy,” said Azrael, running a hand down his face. “Evelyn, good to see you, always.”

“I’m Vickie,” she said, holding up her hand in a weak wave. “Don’t let my awkward crying in your hallway fool you. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“It’s good to meet you too. I was sorry to miss last week at your Star Trek bar.

” Her voice trailed off uncertainly, so Vickie coughed but didn’t correct her.

Evelyn’s eyebrows knit together. “Something came up at work; I’ve been filling in for the Witchery Council president after taking some time off from the European Council to do research in New Haven. ”

“Evie, perhaps now is not the best time to give them your entire résumé,” said Priscilla, and the sharp undertone of her voice was not lost on Vickie.

She fixed her gaze on Azrael. “If you’ve done something dreadful, I don’t care if you’re my own brother, hell hath no fury like the pranks I will unleash upon you.

You better sleep with one eye open, and dream of needles. Big needles.”

“Fuck,” Azrael muttered, and Vickie shook her head.

“It’s not really his fault.” She regretted the qualifier immediately at the sight of her friend’s face. Still, it was reassuring, knowing that acerbic, highly powerful Priscilla Hart was on her side.

“My apologies, Vickie. Would you like to come inside?” She glared at Azrael. “Not you, not if you’re the source of her discomfort.” Evelyn rooted around in her bag, pulling out a set of keys.

“That’s not quite—” he started, but his sister interrupted.

“Vickie? Are you okay?” Priscilla leaned down to look her in the face.

Shit. There would be no good way to hide that she had been crying. And the gravedirt made it impossible to lie. They had to get out of here.

“Yeah, this isn’t what it looks like,” she started. “It’s not Azrael, but it’s also not something I can discuss in a public space.”

“Oh, good. I thought maybe Azrael was doing that shitty thing where he waffles back and forth about telling you he has feelings for you again,” she said.

Azrael’s eyebrows shot up, horrified.

“Listen,” said Evelyn, sticking out her hand and helping Vickie up.

Next to her, Az dusted himself off and got up while Priscilla glared, arms crossed, as though she didn’t quite believe that he wasn’t the cause of the tears.

“I live just down the hall.” Evelyn’s clipped British accent was comforting.

“Priscilla and I would be delighted if you came in and joined us for a moment.” She hesitated, looking at Az. “You, too, I suppose.”

“Perhaps some tea? I know you like tea,” Priscilla added.

Vickie looked at Priscilla. For once, she didn’t appear to be orchestrating any sort of romantic setup.

“I don’t want to intrude, but I do have a favor to ask,” she said, trying to collect herself. “We are stuck without a ride. It’s a long story.”

Priscilla dug in her purse, sighing. “Take the Packard. Evie can drop me tomorrow. But, Azrael, you have some explaining to do, and Vickie, hexing him is not off the table if I’m not pleased with his explanation, or if you ever just would like me to, on a whim or anything. ” Priscilla handed Azrael the keys.

“Great. Thank you,” said Az, shoving a hand through his curls, which stuck up ridiculously. “We need to pay a visit to Hallowcross’s resident fake psychic. Dad, uh, mentioned her to Vickie.”

Looking at Vickie, Priscilla said, with a twinge of sadness, “You spoke with Dad?”

“Um,” said Vickie, but the gravedirt had other plans.

Azrael cut in. “Yes, we did.”

Priscilla scowled at her brother. “You contacted Dad without me ?”

Vickie lowered her gaze. She hadn’t thought of it, but maybe they should have invited her.

“Sorry,” Azrael offered, “I didn’t realize.”

“I bet you didn’t,” she began, glaring. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she paused. “Wait. You said psychic . You know about Madam Cleopatra?” She glanced furtively up and down the hall. “Let’s talk about it inside, asshole.”

Azrael rolled his eyes, but he nodded to Vickie and they followed her into Evelyn’s place.

The apartment was modern and sleek, full of stainless steel and accent pieces selected to be purposefully minimalistic but riveting. A small lamp of a mermaid sculpted in bronze sat on an end table, and behind her stretched a deep turquoise canvas of abstract paint that called to mind the sea.

It was lovely, if a bit cold.

“What can I get you? You can come ’round and see the options if you like.” Evie made quick work of filling a kettle and setting it on the stove.

“I’d love an Earl Grey with a splash of milk, if you have it.”

“Of course. Az?”

“Surprise me.”

Evelyn smiled, a bit wickedly, and winked at Priscilla.

“Not with anything magical, though,” he added quickly.

Prissy sat down at the glass-topped table and gestured for Az and Vickie to do the same. “It’s nice that you talked to Dad. I thought you might, eventually.” She sighed. “What did he have to say? What do you need with Madam Cleopatra?”

A pang of guilt ran through Vickie. “I’m sorry. I should have offered for you to be there too.”

Prissy shook her head. “No. It’s fine. I mean. I was here when they died, and I had my closure.”

Azrael looked ashen. A whistle of the teakettle interrupted them, and Evelyn set two steaming mugs in front of them, returning to the kitchen to get two more.

“Again, I am sorry we didn’t ask you.”

Prissy rubbed her temples. “Maybe better not to reopen that particular wound at the moment. Not like I could see him again, anyway.” She sighed and opened her eyes. “What did he say?”

“He said to be careful of the megachurch. And to warn the Council that there could be consequences for Madam Cleopatra.”

“The Council is already watching Madam Cleopatra closely,” Prissy said wearily.

Hairs on Vickie’s arms raised. “Is she in trouble?”

Evelyn looked at Priscilla, mouth set in a firm line as she placed a mug in front of her. “That’s Council business.”

“This is family business now,” said Priscilla. “You’re the one who is always saying family is the most important.” She looked thunderous, and Vickie suspected she wasn’t only talking about a roadside psychic.

“Fine,” said Evelyn crisply. The slight blush on her face said otherwise, so Vickie offered more, hoping to iron out the tension.

“When my parents disowned me, the debt they owed for my gift passed over to me. I’m collecting souls, and I just reaped a nasty one down the hall from you.

That’s why I was so upset. I’ll need to collect two more, but the devil I owe them to assured me they were all dreadful in life.

And every ghost I’ve talked to lately has hinted that something is rotten in Hallowcross. ”

Evelyn sighed. “That awful man. I hate to celebrate a death, but no one here was sad to see him go, not even his wife. I think she married into money and got in over her head with a monster. Go on, then,” she said to Priscilla.

“I should have asked for a stronger drink than tea,” Priscilla said darkly, snapping her fingers and taking a sip.

“Better. So, Madam Cleopatra. Her real name is Connie Witherspoon. She’s harmless, one of those fake psychics who makes a decent living telling people what they need and want to hear to believe she’s contacted the beyond.

It’s a hustle, but it’s not hurting anyone. ”

“So why would the Council need to keep an eye on her?” Azrael looked puzzled, but he was also running a finger back and forth across the middle of Vickie’s back, over her shirt, and she was having trouble focusing on what Priscilla was telling them.

“Because Connie has been in a coma for a month now, and no one knows why.” Az’s finger paused on Vickie’s back, Prissy’s words sending an unexpected shiver down her spine, entirely different from the one incited by Azrael’s touch.

“She was attacked in her own shop. There was a burst of unsanctioned magic, which we investigated, but its source was not traceable to witches. It was something else. We set up a warding system around the hospital she’s in, and it’s been tripped twice since then.

So far, whatever is trying to get through hasn’t been able to, or, if it has, it hasn’t caused any changes, but she’s not in good shape. ”

“She’s showing signs of an adverse reaction to rudimentary spell work rejection,” Evelyn chimed in. “It’s odd, because the skill by no means matches the power of it.”

“Come again?” Vickie had been around magic her whole life, but she wasn’t a witch.

“It’s like someone tried to take her soul out with magic, and then stuff it back in, but they were sloppy. Only time will tell if her soul is able to reattach properly.”

“But it shouldn’t be possible to reap living souls,” she said. Soul reaping, she did know.

“No,” said Prissy darkly. “No, it should not.”