Page 25 of Vengefully Matched

“How bad is it?” She hadn’t asked him. If she was honest, she was too afraid of the answer. “I mean, what have people been saying? I know I lost the election and all, but how bad do I come across? Like a bad witch taking names, or like a bad witch, derogatory?”

“Why do you ask?” He looked suspicious, like she might set him up for some sort of prank with this, and that made her feel even worse about her precarious reputation in the witching community.

“Someone has been trying to blow up Agatha.”

“Shit.” Azrael paused, and she heard the indecision in it. He snapped. The room was bubbled in silence, the sort of protection spell that bound whatever was said in secrecy.

Fuck. That could only mean one thing. She sat up, looking him in the eyes as Azrael leveled his gaze on her. “Was it you?” he asked calmly. “I’m not judging. I think we should talk about it if it was you, and I’m not assuming it was. But if you’ve taken things too far, and you need help figuring out how to deal with it, I’ve got your back. Harts stick together.”

“What the fuck? Of course it wasn’t me! I’m a prankster, not a homicidal maniac.”

He let out a sigh of relief, measured, as though maybe he didn’t want to heave it in front of her.

“Oh, thank goddess.” He snapped, and the privacy spell lifted. His face fell. “That probably doesn’t look great for you, though.”

“Yeah. My own brother contemplated my murderous intentions, so I guess I shouldn’t be shocked if other people do too.” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to let that thought fill her with unbridled rage.

“They don’t know you like I do.”

“I don’t know if that’s supposed to be reassuring.”

Azrael shrugged. “Is there more?”

“Yes.”

“Go on.”

“Don’t rush me.” He would have opinions about fake dating, but she also didn’t see a way around telling him, if Agatha was going to be here and Az was going to hear about everyone thinking they were together anyway.

He flicked his fingers, and a seltzer water materialized in front of her, with a few lemon wedges. She smiled and took a sip. Lime seltzer with lemon garnish—her favorite.

Even if he thought she was capable of killing, at least her brother knew her taste in beverages.

“I may or may not have agreed to fake date the Witchery Council president for reasons.”

Azrael stared at her, and then looked around, like he expected to find a hidden camera or bugs or something to pop out.

Which was silly, because she hadn’t done a shock-him-and-make-insects-rain-from-the-ceiling prank in ages. Though his fear of spiders would be useful in distracting him if he asked too many questions.

But that was a thought for later.

She needed to get this out before Agatha arrived and her presence did the talking for Priscilla.

“It was Agatha’s idea.” She cleared her throat. “She was trying to give me an alibi when she said we were dating, a little bit.”

Dating a little bit, he mouthed, eyes wide.

“Yes, after the explosion, things got complicated.”

“And she went with saying that you two are dating?” Az’s eyebrows were so high, she almost feared they’d jettison off his forehead.

“Well,” said Priscilla. “It wouldn’t be the first time I got handsy with a Witchery Council president, so it’s not completely outside the realm of possibility.”

Her brother stared at her, mouth opening and closing, and then he shook. For a second she thought he might cry, until a laugh burst out of him, and she realized he was silently shaking in laughter, cracking up, and then loudly guffawing.

“You sound like a baboon, Azrael,” she said thinly.

“I can’t help it,” he shot out between laughs, bending over, his face resting on the table. “Devil damn me, it’s too fucking funny. You left one Council president at the altar six months ago, and you decided that the best way to repair your reputation was to date the next one?”