Page 63 of Vengefully Matched

Even if they were taken apart into a million pieces, they could never die.

Agatha was screwed, and not in the way she’d hoped to be this morning.

CHAPTER 21 Priscilla

When she pulled up to the shop that now once again said Madam Cleopatra’s in large, mystic lettering, the sign on the door warned that there was a reading in progress. She dawdled, killing time by scrolling through her email in the Packard, and then rifling through the glove compartment to see if Azrael had left anything good.

Her brother drove the car to work that morning, but a brief text exchange during his planning period that involved far too many questions about where she had slept last night had ended in him agreeing to let her bicycle over to Hallowcross High and leave the bike for him to take home after work. She could have magicked the bike carefully, of course, but it felt better to do the task. Benedict Hart rules were that summoning the thing was fine, but doing the work, whether it be cleaning a mess or getting from point A to point B, was an important part of being alive.

Biking, and then driving to visit Connie, had cleared her mind.

She wanted to revisit the conversation from Free Spirits with Agatha, but she needed closure first. Mending things with Evie and helping Connie find stability would put an old chapter of her life to bed and let her move forward into something new.

Whatever reading was going on in there seemed to be taking a while. Priscilla got out of the car and, grateful that she’d followed a nostalgic whim and opted for combat boots instead of heels today, started off around the pond.

Moose Pond was almost large enough to be a lake, but she was grateful that it wasn’t one. This way, it was a delightful small vacation spot. The bigger and more popular lakes tended to get crowded and overrun by tourists. She’d always wanted to rent one of the houses here for a getaway. How had she forgotten that dream, paired with Agatha’s own visions of glamping? How had she not seen the way Agatha would slot so nicely into her hopes for the future? How they could grow and intertwine together, winding into something more beautiful and stronger than either of them could be on their own?

She thought of what Agatha had admitted in the bar. Wanting a cozy cabin. A fireplace to fuck in front of. Agatha Vanderbilt Voisin was built to destroy her. If Priscilla was indeed a monster, Agatha was the hunter who held the arrow tipped in silver, the only poison, the revealing slice of sunlight, whatever it was that would be her undoing.

And maybe, just maybe, Priscilla wanted to be destroyed. Would it be so bad, really, to be at the mercy of a beautiful, commanding woman?

She stopped in front of the lake house set farthest from the water. Would it have a charming bathtub? She wanted to have a place where she could make Agatha moan her name in all the ways that would teach her, gradually, how very real this was all becoming for Priscilla.

Swearing, she headed back for the trailer, and by the time she reached it, a broody-looking tall blond man was slinking out. He gave her a tentative wave and a half smile that revealed a sharp set of incisors.

Good. The plan to push paranormal sales as a magical release valve was going strong. Connie had been doing a reading for a vampire.

She knocked on the door.

“Madam Cleopatra will see you,” the woman said. And then, when Priscilla walked in, “Ah, I knew it was you. How are you, dear?”

Priscilla slumped down on the faded jacquard of the bench seat.

“I’m well.” She wasn’t.

Connie narrowed her eyes. “Don’t lie to a seer. It’s a waste of breath.”

“Fine, things are complicated.” Priscilla blew a shock of hair that had escaped from her side braid out of her eye.

“Hmm,” said Connie, giving her a long look, cocking her head, and then nodding. “Yes. The cards will tell this time, I think.”

“I’m not here for a reading,” Priscilla added quickly.

“Humor me.” She was clearing the crystal ball from the table, smoothing the tablecloth, and producing a pack of tarot cards from goddess only knew where on her person. “You can tell me what you came here to tell me while I shuffle.” She pulled the cards out of their pack and deftly flipped them, fanning, cutting, rearranging, like second nature.

“Fine,” said Priscilla, leaning forward. “I think the trick is to find hobbies.”

“Hobbies?” Connie broke the deck, slowing down and shuffling vertically, letting the cards flutter gently against one another. “Like what, knitting?”

“Sure, yes, knitting. Reading, baking. Scuba diving. Collecting fancy spoons. Anything, really. I think what we have been missing is balance in all things, not just in your new magic.”

“That’s the most reasonable thing you’ve ever said to me, Ms. Hart.”

“Please.”

Connie smiled. “Priscilla.”

“My friends call me Prissy.”