Page 68 of Hopelessly Teavoted
“Hey, one of these days, you and Az should take a midnight hike,” said Priscilla, winking and not even attempting to hide it. “Like we did in high school, remember?”
“I remember you ditching us to go run off with your girlfriend.”
“That sounds like you,” said Evelyn fondly. She appeared much more relaxed after a glass of wine. Vickie wondered how much of her apparent coolness was really nerves.
“We’ll all go hiking another time, Priscilla. Azrael’s got witching to do.” She hoped Prissy wouldn’t push her on it.
“Come and have a drink, then?” Priscilla held the wine up and waved her hand so that the giant polar bear rug on the steps roared slightly in agreement. “See? Even Franklin wants you to join us.”
“Next time, Prissy. I promise. I have an early morning. Az and I are going to the hospital and then Havenwall on Wednesday. I think we can figure out what we’re missing here. See if there’s a link between the attempted soul stealing and the megachurch and whatever the scrying found in Havenwall. The tracing spell says what we need is there.”
Evelyn raised a sculpted eyebrow. From what Azrael had told Vickie, Evelyn had not been pleased about any of this. Something about foolhardy actions without Council approval, but he said Priscilla had brushed it off—for now, anyway. “Anything the Council should be aware of?”
“Just buy us a little more time before they get involved. We’ll keep you posted.” She paused. “Havenwall will help us put together all of these pieces.”
Prissy fixed her with a brown-eyed stare, and though her eyes had a sleepy drunk sheen to them and her signature braid was coming loose, her severe expression made Vickie want to confess everything.
“Put a pin in that, killer. What’s going on with you and Azrael?” Priscilla squinted at Vickie; she hoped the younger Hart didn’t have any gravedirt on her. Evelyn grabbed Priscilla’s hands, rubbing each one separately in one of her own in a romantic gesture that, it did not escape Vickie, also prevented her old neighbor from snapping her fingers.
“Nothing,” squeaked Vickie. “We’re friends.” Whatever was going on between her and Az, it wasnotready for a family inquisition.
“Really?” Priscilla’s face was emotionless, but the set of it reminded her of the way Emily Lickinson stalked Az when she was about to pounce.
“Truly. I’ll see you two later. Can’t wait to take that hike sometime.” If Vickie’s voice had shifted up an octave on one of those words, it wouldn’t be enough for them to notice.
She hoped.
“Drive safe,” said Evelyn. “And do let us know if you need the Council for anything at all.”
Vickie could feel Priscilla’s eyes on her back the entire way out.
“Your shirt is on inside out,” Prissy called as she shut the door behind her.
Vickie looked down. It was.
Fuck Azrael and his quick-snapping fingers.
CHAPTER 21Azrael
Thank goddess Priscilla had agreed to let him take the Packard. Arriving at a haunted old New England church that had historically been the site of everything from hangings to burnings was creepy enough without showing up in a hearse.
He and Prissy had thought about getting rid of it, but Uncle Larry would roll over in the bed of his retirement home if they sold the old clunker before he was dead. He always insisted they pick him up in it for a monthly lunch out. Said it felt like home more than anything, though when his health failed him enough to move out of his own place years ago, he had also insisted on Sunnyhallow Senior Living instead of coming to stay with them like Persephone and Benedict had suggested.
The old man had winked, leaned in, and whispered conspiratorially, “Much more strange ass at the retirement community. Folks are like vampires there, around too long to be picky about who they’re shacking up with. It’s all love and none of this foolish normie discrimination about the bits of the ones we love. It’s basically Woodstock, but with pudding.”
Azrael had recoiled at this particularly gelatinous imagery, and tried to object, but Priscilla magicked an axe at his head, narrowly missing his ear, and insisted that his being a stuck-up prude who kept quiet about his sex life didn’t mean the rest of them had to be.
“Priscilla,” his mother had reprimanded. “Don’t make Azrael uncomfortable. And Azrael, sex is a normal and healthy part of life. If your uncle wants to live in a retirement community to procure it, he has our full support.”
Larry smiled wide, and Benedict slipped an arm around Persephone’s shoulders. “Ah, my darling, you always say the loveliest things.” He kissed her cheek.
The memory was hauntingly honest. That kind of love was eternal. Maybe he should tell Vickie again. That even if he couldn’t, he wanted to kiss her from her fingers to the top of her head. Tell her it was more than the magic of their bodies; it was that his skin sang when she touched him. He pulled up next to the shop.
Fuck. The reality of the woman was almost too much. Vickie was standing outside of Hopelessly Teavoted, the sign turned to closed.
Azrael snapped his fingers, summoning a few leaves from his mother’s ginkgo tree. He rubbed them between his hands, murmured a word for dreams, and snapped both fingers. There. Now any human who stopped by the store on the days it was closed would remember the next morning, and with any luck, return when it was open. It was harder to work on witches, but it had been one of his mother’s favorites for aiding the struggling mundane students who sometimes sat studying and leaking stress.
Vickie was texting someone, and the right corner of her bottom lip was tucked ever so slightly under her teeth. She was wearing high-waisted bleached jeans, a snug peach-colored top that fell just above the sparkling rhinestone charm in her belly button. That fuzzy hot-pink coat stood out against the bustling street. Even her rose-colored hiking boots matched, and her hair was pulled up into a messy bun. Stray strands were held back by rhinestone sunglasses.
