Page 107 of Vengefully Matched

“Yes,” said Agatha. “I’m sure people are going to be pissed to be called in again, but when they see that we’ve solved the elixir problem and the sabotage problem, I do hope they’ll forgive us.”

Prissy smiled at her. “We’re pretty forgivable.”

“Indeed,” mused Agatha. “And, chérie, come what may with their response, at least we have each other.”

CHAPTER 37 Agatha

The Council meeting began solemnly, pieces of Kevin spread out across the table but separated by the same impenetrable temporary barriers that they used for deliberation.

Xiomara Cohen stared at the head, possibly trying to decipher the words in whatever soundless diatribe Kevin undertook behind the partition. Agatha, for one, was grateful not to hear him. She’d had just about enough of her slimy assistant, now that she knew he wasn’t just a little bit gross with his asking her out, but a lot disgusting with his knocking her out, kidnapping her, tampering with her memory, and stealing from the Council. The list could go on. Men were trash sometimes.

“I’ve never seen a thing like it,” Xiomara murmured, flexing her hands and letting out a nervous breath. “It’s absolutely horrifying, to be honest. There is a reason witches don’t typically seek out immortality.”

Albert Thistleworth was inspecting one of the partitions with the foot in it, holding his monocle out at different distances as though this might shed light on the grotesque severed foot, startlingly dry.

It was the lack of bodily fluid that disarmed her the most, that the pieces could have shattered off so neatly, but she supposed there was a reason the Fountain of Youth had been destroyed. And right now, that reason was clearly named Kevin. She shivered a little, glad that the elixir was gone, and the perpetrator caught.

“Remarkable,” said Thistleworth. “I should like to attempt a demonstration on the larger leg.” The curiosity in his voice was only slightly alarming, but she hated Kevin enough to push that thought aside. It was her job, as president, to allow for the proper function of research and science, and hadn’t Kevin himself tried to dupe her into thinking research her only passion and pursuit?

“I move to allow it,” said Otho, nodding grimly and adjusting one of his suspenders.

“I agree,” said Agatha, for they did need to know more about the situation before they determined what was best to do about it. “So long as we are all present and the hands are kept imprisoned to prevent any magical escape.”

“Here,” said Mei, and that was enough to bring a demonstration to the floor, so Agatha rubbed her thumb across her fingers, and the barrier around the head and each of the feet dissipated.

“Council,” said Kevin, comical in the way that the head lay on its left side, tilted slightly downward so that half his mouth was covered and his face was propped on the side of his nose. “I move to release me at once. This is inhumane treatment after my years of dedicated service to not one, but two Council presidents.”

“Kevin,” thundered Agatha. “Given the severity of the situation, including, specifically, that the list of crimes against said Council president includes arson, kidnapping, mind meddling, and attempted murder, I am, of course, going to deny your request for immediate release and insist we use gravedirt. Priscilla?” Kevin wouldn’t be strong enough, with his piddly, weak magic that took two hands, to resist gravedirt.

“I’d be happy to do the honors.” Priscilla reached into her pocket, snapped for the vial that Agatha now knew she kept handy at her desk, and sprinkled it on Kevin, smiling maliciously when a few specks landed in his ridiculously long eyelashes and he had to blink them out. “There.”

“Very good,” said Xiomara, nodding. “May I open the line of questioning?”

“Go ahead,” said Agatha. She sat back, crossed her arms, and stared at Kevin with the unwavering hatred of a person who had suffered far too much indignity at the hands of this fool.

“Kevin Cross, did you conspire to kill the Council president and undermine the authority of the Council?” Xiomara’s voice was clear.

“Yes,” said the head, rolling its eyes. “But when you put it that way it sounds so serious. Really I acted in the best interest of the Council; once I took that elixir, I became not only immortal but unstoppable. I can’t be killed.”

Xiomara prodded at the head. “Does this hurt?”

Perhaps forgetting that it was separate from the rest of him, Kevin tried to shake his head, which in turn resulted in him being face down.

“Mphg butter,” he mumbled, but that couldn’t be what he’d meant, so Xiomara turned the head gingerly, picking it up and setting it down so the neck was on the table, the head facing her.

“Much better. I was saying, it feels much better than before. Even the shattering is like a mild tumble—a bit disorienting, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“Hmm,” said Xiomara, crossing her arms. “Interesting. So you also admit to breaking into the Council’s most valuable chambers and stealing the elixir.”

“I should think that was obvious.” The head sniffed. “Yes. I did that. Again, I think I did you all a favor. Now you don’t have to deal with how to secure it and keep it safe. You’re welcome for that weight off your shoulders.” The head smiled in what was probably meant to be sympathy, but disconnected from a body, it came across quite sinister and macabre.

“No, just the more irritating task of securing you,” said Agatha. “Fortunately, we got some advice from the devil Olexandre on that point.”

Agatha rubbed the bridge of her nose. How had she ever sought him out as an assistant? How had she ever failed to vet him? She supposed she’d assumed that since he’d been fine with Evelyn, he’d be fine with her, and then he’d dazzled with his capacity for Council details—a skill that now seemed much more intentionally devious—and she’d gone from there. Organized or not, even as just a head, he was infuriating.

Albert, who had been prodding away at the longer piece of leg, cleared his throat.

“If pain is not an issue, in the interest of the proceedings being fully informed by the capabilities of the separated limbs, I vote we test to see what happens if we divide this leg into three, and then place two bits together.” He looked up, his face serious. It was a morbid suggestion, but it did make sense. They couldn’t properly secure the criminal without knowing the precise nature of his new form.