The wash of rage that filled Prospero made her feel like her vision tinted red.No magic. No magic. Do not kill him.
Mindlessly, Jaysen kept talking. “I was thinking about a hydroponic cannabis warehouse. Everyone’s so angry all the time. Do you know they don’t sell seeds at the farm shops here?” He grabbed a handful of fluff that was also his chair and popped it in his mouth.
“So you had no issueshooting Scylla and exposing our worldso you could come here and plan to grow drugs?” Prospero’s hand balled up. She could punch him. Surely, that was fine. Not magic. Just a solid hit.
“Herb. Yes. If we had it at Crenshaw, everyone would stop fighting,” he explained earnestly, sucking the sticky marshmallow from his fingers.
“So you joined theenemyin pursuit of drugs? Allan shot Lord Scylla.”
“Yeah… totally uncool of him,” Jaysen said, frowning. “It’s bad energy to spill blood, and it’s notdrugs.It’s herb.”
“Where’s Agatha? Allan?”
Jaysen shook his head. “The old witch and her left-hand man skedaddled.”
“And Jenn?”
“Don’t know. Dionysus, though? He’s wild, you know?” Jaysen laughed awkwardly. “Has anagenda.”
“He. Shot. Scylla.”
“Right, but I’m not him. I just wanted to figure things out to help at home, you know?” Jaysen gave her a wide-eyed look like he was a daft toddler. “I’m not a bad guy, you know?”
“Not…” Prospero wanted to punch him in the throat. “Did you see what youdidto this place? You cannot use magic over here. There are laws.”
“I didn’t usemuchmagic. I just wanted a snack, a comfy chair, and to be left alone. I’m not hurting anyone.” He tore off another piece of fluff and held it out to her. When she ignored him, he popped it in his mouth and mumbled, “I ruined a chair. So what?”
“Aside from working with treasonous bastards who shot my friend, you flooded the first floor. There’s poison ivy on the steps—”
“Iwantedto be leftalone,” he reiterated. “I didn’t hurt anyone.”
Prospero wasn’t in the mood to keep arguing. “Time to go home.”
She snatched hold of his wrist, and she let the pressure to return to Crenshaw hook under her ribs. When she released Jaysen, he was stillseated in his mound of sticky fluff, and the books were still in it. Now, however, he was at the door of Walter’s cottage.
When Grish, Walt’s chief hob, opened the door, he made a sound somewhere between a gargle and a word. His expression of disgust spoke loud enough. Then he vanished.
Walt stood in the doorway a moment later. “What in Henry’s horny hump is that?”
“An escaped witch. He has no idea where Aggie is. He confirmed that Allan shot Scylla.” Prospero stepped away from Jaysen, who gave Walt a sheepish smile.
“Hey, Chief Dude,” Jaysen said.
Prospero paused to enjoy Walt’s expression before adding, “I’m sticky and itchy, and there’s no one at the helm of House Grendel, and Allan—fucking weasel that he is—shot Scylla.” Prospero gestured at Jaysen. “This one’s your problem. I need to go back to the castle.”
Walt scowled. “You couldn’t take him to the infirmary?”
If I stay here, I’ll injure him,she almost admitted.
Instead, she said aloud, “He’s not injured. Yet. Mae’s busy with actual patients.”
Prospero glanced at Walt and pushed her emotions down. In a more rational tone, she said, “He created a flood, covered steps with poison ivy, and he went along with Agnes and Allanwhile they shot Scylla and exposed Crenshaw.He ought to be siphoned or badgered.”
Then Prospero teleported away as she could feel the itching from the magical poison ivy creeping up her ankles. She was covered in blood, marshmallow, and poison ivy. All she wanted at the moment was a bath.
And vengeance.
Deeper down in that morass of feelings she tried to keep contained, she wanted to set fire to a few people. The urge to use her own magic over there and hunt them pressed on her nerves. There werebillionsof humans, though. There was no way to find three witches—notuntil their magic leaked—and being over there would mean her magic leaked.
