Page 103 of Hopelessly Teavoted
Azrael snapped again, but to no avail.
“Ah, Hart, you couldn’t have thought it was that easy. Now I suppose I’ll be eating three souls tonight. I’ll save the fourth for Halloween, of course. Seal in the kind of beautiful power that I have always deserved. God, I wish I could savor each one of you, make it last. But I’m not fool enough to let more than I need live, not when things are lining up so nicely. That’s afucking shame; I’ll be bloated for days after that much consumption. Nothing to be done about it, though, and I can’t say I’ll mind the power upgrade. I haven’t had witches—yet. I was so cross when that psychic turned out to be a fraud, but no matter. I have you now. Shame you’ll all have to die before you can find out what kind of powers I might be able to manifest once I’ve absorbed your souls.”
Chet moved quicker than lightning. Before Azrael knew it, his hands were on Priscilla’s, cleverly keeping her fingers from connecting, just in case. She struggled and kicked at him with her pointed heel, and then headbutted him hard enough that Chet looked dazed before shaking it off.
“I’m afraid I’ve traded quite a bit to the king of the devils to be able to withstand physical attacks,” he said. “And I guess I should say thank you for the plants. They helped me trick old Frankie into granting me this protection spell in exchange for my dear old dad’s soul.”
Evelyn pushed angrily toward him, but the invisible barrier was impenetrable, and they stood there, magic jumping and flaring as they tried to free Priscilla, who was attempting to bite Chet with some success, though not enough to free herself.
“You cut a deal with Lucifer,” breathed Azrael.
“The one and only. I cut two deals with him, as a matter of fact. Did you know he goes by Frankie these days? A bit less intimidating than the original name, if you ask me, but hey, it works. I met him on a trip to Vegas this summer. My family was clever enough to be born wealthy, and I’m clever enough to gamble with more than just that money, it turns out. Challenged him to a game of pool, drunk off my ass, but joke was on him—he had no idea how much time I’ve spent in bars all my life, and to be honest, I think he was drinking too. By the time he sobered up, it was too late. I had bargained to eat living souls, not just to reap the dead. And I’d gotten him to throw in a personal protection sacrifice, which made the plant-based magic extending the spell that much easier to weasel out of him.” Chet smiled, a sickly, scheming thing. “He wasn’t too happy when Itrapped him into more than he wanted to bargain for, but you get what you get, and sometimes it’s unfortunate.”
“I’ll be devil damned,” said Azrael softly. He had to keep this man talking until they could figure out a plan. Whatever deal he had made must have been a wretched one, to grant a mundane power against a witch as mighty as Priscilla.
“I turned down a job from Frankie once,” Azrael said, as casually as he could while a monster gripped his sister by her hands.
The snapping wasn’t working, and Azrael couldn’t get around the barrier. He had to think, and he had to keep Chet talking.
Chet scoffed. “You’re exactly the kind of maudlin weirdo who would do that. Just think, you could be collecting souls just like your pretty little girlfriend there.” He winked at Vickie. “I like you better in the lingerie from your whorish tea shop.” He smirked, and Azrael lunged toward him, but the protection spell held, blocking any of them from going farther. “Who knows, though, Hart? The night is still young.” He leered at Vickie, and Azrael knew then that it would not be enough to just defeat the man. He needed to destroy this kind of evil, to rip it from the world.
But Chet wasn’t done. With the aura around him still intact, Chet whipped Priscilla’s head against a bookshelf, knocking her unconscious so that she slumped to the floor, still out of Azrael’s reach. Azrael snapped with all his might, but his magic, like Evelyn’s, bounced back harmlessly.
“You beast,” screamed Evelyn. “I’ll kill you for that.”
Chet smiled and shook his head slowly. His terrible, product-laden hair barely even moved.
“Ah, darling, that’s what they all say. Before they die.”
CHAPTER 34Victoria
The cream-colored sweater smelled like Azrael so much that Vickie wondered if this was the most she’d ever been in love with him, desperate to stop him from losing another family member while the scents of lemon and burnt amber crept into her nose and around her like a hug, reminding her of what was just out of her reach.
If Chet killed Prissy, Azrael wouldn’t just be out of Vickie’s reach. He would also have to grieve another unbearable loss. He didn’t deserve this.
The thought made Vickie absolutely furious.
On the desk behind Chet, now far enough away from the protection spell to reach if she moved cautiously, lay the lighter he had tossed, and suddenly, Vickie understood.
Azrael’s magic was out of play, and he could do nothing against the protection. But her gift should be intact. She needed his objects.
Chet Thornington had flicked that lighter there as though it was a token of protection in symbolism only, but she had grown up summoning the dead from what they had loved most. Trinkets like that were almost always the most precious objects.
Vickie slid slowly over toward the desk while Chet focusedon taunting Azrael and keeping Evelyn at bay, Vickie’s movements going unnoticed.
People always underestimated Vickie, thinking she was just the bubbly girl next door. But Vickie was more than just champagne problems in a fuzzy pink coat bottle, and by the time she was done, she’d be willing to bet that Chet would think about her.
Well, for as long as he still had the capacity to think, that was.
The edge of her smile twisted as her fingers touched the lighter and warmed. The familiar sensation confirmed her suspicion. An old man with thinning hair, a thick white mustache, and a jean shirt appeared, looking confused for a moment. His eyes grew wide when his gaze landed on the battle in front of him.
“Ah, my foolish son,” the specter said, sadness reverberating through his ghostly form in his last earthly minutes. “What have you done now?”
Vickie looked at the shadow of the man expectantly.
“Can he not see me?” he asked Vickie. “Hear me?”
Vickie shook her head, unwilling to betray what she was doing. The lighter grew warmer against her palm. Chet ate souls. He didn’t collect them, usher them the way she did.
