Page 100 of Vengefully Matched

“Shucks. No to dinner? What about bowling?” Kevin’s smile was lopsided and indulgent, and it took all of Priscilla’s strength to prevent herself from marching over and attempting to smack it right off his stupid face. She was both proud of her newfound maturity, and infuriated by it; the sound alone would have been so satisfying.

“No, as in the weird little fling, which, by the way, is an offensive way to refer to your boss’s relationship, is most certainly not over.” Agatha paused. “And even if it were, I’m not interested in you for drinks, dinner, bowling, or anything else outside of official Council business.”

Kevin’s jaw dropped. “I saw that playing out differently in my head,” he said, ruffling a hand through his hair. “Well then. Off to plan B, I suppose.”

He turned, face still stunned, and walked back to his desk.

Priscilla couldn’t help herself; she leaned over, just far enough to be in the line of sight of where Agatha sat at her desk, door open. She tilted her water bottle in the air, hoping that Agatha would take it as a toast to laying down the law and shutting down an arrogant himbo, but for some reason, that made Agatha blush a deep scarlet.

Agatha raised a hand to wave. She’d seen Priscilla standing there the whole time, maybe.

She waved back weakly and returned to her desk. If she couldn’t catch the would-be killer, well, it was a close second best to watch Agatha shut down Kevin so thoroughly. And since there had been no evidence of additional attempts on Agatha’s life, and not even so much as a trigger of any of the wards or alarms, she really couldn’t make any more progress on catching the murderous and potentially immortal thief. Even Connie had hit a wall with prognostication, unable to tell them anything other than to be cautious. In the absence of any leads, it was time to sort out this business with the mundane mayor and start planning grand gestures.

Mayor Khalil rarely came into the Council building, which was disguised so that most mundanes thought it looked like a condemned building, and mundanes who might be delighted to explore such a thing thought it looked like a ritzy accountant’s office.

So when he did arrive, in full mundane inquisitiveness, whirling around the place to observe it as though it didn’t look very much like the inside of any typical government offices, the magical staff of the North American Council of Witchery very much gawked, some of them stopping to stare at this mundane, who looked exactly like them, only outside of the context of the places they typically interacted with the nonmagical.

Priscilla could have laughed at it all. The Witchery Council offices could have been a set for any office sitcom, and were certainly not worth gawking at. They didn’t even have delivery dragons the way the international offices had, but people were strange, and sometimes even just knowing that there were things about another person they could not understand made them behave oddly.

Once he was ushered into the chambers along with the Council and staff, he seemed to relax a little.

“You know, it does look remarkably like the Council chambers for Hallowcross,” he joked.

“Indeed it does,” Priscilla said. “Magic and nonmagical, politicking tends to become boring and tedious. Important, though.”

“Council members, please join me in welcoming Mayor Khalil of Hallowcross to the NACoW proceedings today. Mayor Khalil, we appreciate you joining us as a measure of good faith.”

There was a smattering of applause at first, and then it became thunderous.

“Thank you so much for having me,” said the mayor. “I wanted to thank the North American Council of Witchery for years of collaboration, particularly in my work, and my predecessor’s work, with the Hart family. It has been such a comfort over the years to know that the magical world is working in tandem with my own, and to know that we share a common goal of safety, peace, and happiness here in Hallowcross and the great state of Vermont.”

“Hear, hear,” said Otho, tapping a champagne glass that he hadn’t been holding a second ago. Across from her, Agatha shot him a disapproving look, and he made it vanish abashedly, as though he had just remembered the rule against alcoholic beverages on the Council floor.

“I think what the Council would very much like to know is what you have been working on with Councilwoman Hart, who has been very secretive about the plans.” Agatha levied a stern look that made Priscilla wince a little, even though it wasn’t directed at her.

“Ah yes. Thank you, President Vanderbilt Voisin. I appreciate Councilwoman Hart keeping her word to keep it all under wraps until I had it finalized. You see, I’ve been working with my contacts as well as our state representatives, and I just got the go-ahead for our two-pronged approach to travel and tourism initiatives.”

“Go on,” said Agatha, and Priscilla didn’t dare look at her face. If it was still staring in stern disapproval, she’d have to simply lie down on the floor right here and die.

“So, at the state and local level, Priscilla and I have been working on an initiative to bring a high-speed railway stop to Havenwall. It’s not quite in Hallowcross, but it’s close enough to get to, and it makes sense to put it in by the university. It would be part of a larger Northeast Corridor railway system, and the implementation of the line would make travel smoother and more seamless than the portaling system I understand your international organization is struggling with. We’d like to pitch the recruitment of magical architects familiar with mundane construction in the development, and also request a Council grant since the rail line would benefit us all. Mundane and magical alike, I think we can agree that high-consumption travel modes like planes and traditional gasoline-powered cars simply must be replaced with more environmentally conscious alternatives.”

Priscilla reminded herself to breathe as Agatha nodded along.

“A high-speed railway sounds like a lovely solution,” she mused. “Obviously, it doesn’t solve international travel issues, but connected with similar projects across North America, it could alleviate some of the stressors on the continent. It’s something I’ve thought about a lot, actually.”

“Priscilla mentioned that she found your notes on this when reviewing the docket on mundane-magical interactions.” This was the tricky part, the part where Agatha could finally deduce what exactly Prissy had been messing with in her office the day of the horrendous pink lipstick prank.

“I didn’t know you’d read them,” said Agatha, and for a moment, not long enough for anyone who didn’t know her and love her so thoroughly to catch, her presidential composure dropped, and Priscilla saw her. She was just Agatha, a woman Priscilla wanted to be better for.

“I read everything. I know I haven’t always been what I needed to be, but I’m doing the work to be better now. I went back and caught up on everything that is interesting to you. I care about the projects.” And you, Priscilla wanted to add, but it wasn’t the time or the place. It hadn’t been an evil sneak; it had been a supportive sneak. If she had to do it again, she’d ask directly, but she didn’t regret the work she’d put into this initiative, not one bit.

“On to prong two,” said Mayor Khalil excitedly. “The tourism and travel. Priscilla and I have been working with Constance Witherspoon, known professionally now as Madam Cleopatra, and by the way, thank you. We appreciate so much that there are no more awkward psychic outbursts to take care of. It turns out that Constance Witherspoon loves nature and will be spearheading a Hallowcross chapter of the Green Mountain Club, dedicated to maintaining hiking trails and cabins, organizing community volunteers, and promoting at least an occasional return to nature for both mundane and magical families alike. Starting with the campground where her psychic shop is located. She’ll be rebranding as less of a caricature and more of a holistic psychic–slash–campground caretaker. It will be unusual, but we think it’s the sort of crossover job that could help all parts of our community feel at ease. Priscilla?” He turned toward her, and she cleared her throat.

“Her unique perspective will help people and witches feel safe, providing a valuable service to the community,” she began. “And I think this will cure the magical outbursts. It could be healing. Restorative. I think it’s the kind of balance most of us could use,” Priscilla finished.

Agatha smiled, and this time it reached her eyes. “Well, that sounds like you have been aligned with the Council goals after all.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” said Xiomara Cohen. “I was afraid you’d gone rogue.”