Page 43 of Hopelessly Teavoted
“I bet you didn’t,” she began, glaring. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she paused. “Wait. You saidpsychic. 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. Ithought 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 isfamilybusiness 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.”
