Page 15 of Vengefully Matched

“Yes, lovely to see you as always,” Priscilla added, and they walked out, Agatha’s head held high despite the fact that more than one person on Main Street did a double take passing her ensemble.

Priscilla had expected the hex to derail Agatha’s confidence, but Agatha had been unflappable, even when Mayor Khalil had grilled her at the start of their meeting.

She replayed that bit in her mind, not because of the way Agatha managed to still look lush and inviting even dressed like a Kate McKinnon character—maybe even more so for the comparison to Kate?—but also not not because of that. She forced herself to act normal as she left work, by herself, heading home on foot to clear her head.

The walk home from the Council building was pleasant enough, and by the time she cut through the old forest, she was deep in her thoughts.

She made her way past the path; she’d been cutting through these woods for long enough not to need to follow it. There was a patch of low growth here, a spot of clearing there, and then a five-minute brush through thickets that were easy enough to part with magic and walk through, shaving ten minutes off her afternoon commute. She didn’t do it every day, but it helped her think, slipping into the woods and snapping her fingers to carve her own secret labyrinth, winding through the bushes that grew taller than her head here.

Priscilla needed a moment to brew the plan for Connie in her head; her previous approach had been mostly avoidance, and if she was honest, the avoidance was born of a frustration with her inability to help Connie as easily as she wanted to. She and Connie had talked about it, and the easiest solution was to ignore it, but all the ignoring seemed to be having the opposite effect.

The outbursts of prognostication simply could not continue.

Sighing, she snapped her fingers, rubbing the shadow-craft ward she kept in her pocket, and the grass grew, thick and soft, in the small, secret space she had wrought for herself in the middle of this magical clearing.

She sat down and set her tote bag to the side, readying herself to cast a protective spell, to stop anyone from coming near the clearing or her until she had worked her way through the problem.

Before she could, though, the scent of bergamot filled her nose, and her eyes flew open.

Glittery purple smoke surrounded her, and she frowned.

She knew exactly which sort of dramatic devil was arrogant enough to invade her thinking maze in a puff of extravagant magic.

“Olexandre,” she said, snapping her fingers and tossing up the protective spell anyway. Whatever he wanted with her, she was willing to guess it would be more trouble if an unknowing mundane stumbled across them.

“Priscilla, darling, please call me Lex.”

She rolled her eyes, sighing deeply. Unlike her brother and Victoria, the handsome devil had no particular appeal for her. And besides, she was still cross that he’d unseated her in gravedirt pranking last year.

“Lex, if you call me darling again, I’ll magic your long-gone horns back on and cut them off myself, with relish.”

“Now, now, Priscilla Hart, I haven’t had horns in centuries, and you know that. Is that any way to greet a friendly visitor simply here to offer advice?”

“Yes,” said Priscilla, crossing her arms. “I love threatening people who offer unsolicited advice. In fact, I find that it is the absolute best method for dealing with unsolicited advice.”

Lex chuckled. “Fair enough.”

He plopped himself down across from her on the grass, running a hand across it.

“Very lovely magic here, as usual.” He shook his head, tossing his blue-black waves, an insouciant smile creeping across his face. “Now, do you want my help with the psychic or not?”

Priscilla scowled. “Of course you would be meddling in my affairs.” Lex winked, which she did her best to ignore.

“You know I dabble when it suits me. Now would you like help, or not?”

“Fine.” She wasn’t happy about it, but she’d had so little luck, and he couldn’t possibly make it worse.

Well, probably not, anyway. Given what Lex had put her brother through last year, it was possible for him to make things worse. Just not likely.

“Her unexpected outbursts happen when she gets all blocked up,” Lex offered.

“Excuse me?” Priscilla had gotten up to some unfortunate things, but never had she ever had to dabble in human bowel movements. “I don’t think this is a physical-ailment-with-magical-consequences situation.” She blanched at what might be necessary if that was the case.

“Not that sort of blockage, Priss.” She frowned at the abbreviation of her name, but somehow, from the devil, she didn’t hate it. They had bothering her brother in common, perhaps more consequentially on his end than hers, but she thought they might be friends.

“A sexual blockage, then? I guess I could help Connie find love,” she mused.

“Hah! You Dirty Bertie, no, not a sexual blockage.” He threw himself on the ground, a pillow appearing beneath his head the second before it hit.