Once they were out of the area, they could pop back home.
No teleportation around nonmagical folks.
Prospero had been between the worlds often enough that it ought not be a huge issue to transport one unconscious woman. So she was unprepared when she heard an unwelcome voice say, “Oh, look, the noble heroine and her lackey.”
“Aggie.” Prospero stepped forward; all good intention vanished at the mocking voice. She’d heard Aggie in Scylla’s mind. She’d seen the woman’s joy in Scylla’s pain.
Fuck the rules.
“Did the other wench wake?” Aggie asked in that same faux-friendly voice. “I wasn’t sure after that bullet carved into her. Allan was too drunk to aim, though, so I wasn’t sure.”
“She’s in recovery.” Prospero tried to catch the old witch’s eye, but Aggie was wearing dark black sunglasses and a hat tipped low, blocking the top of her face to prevent accidentally making the eye contact necessary to use her magic. She was obviously not a witch who typically kept her face hidden, but they were no longer bound by the politeness of both being heads of house.
Some witches lose clarity with age. She could be suffering from…
Prospero shoved the moment of empathy away. She didn’t carewhyAgnes orchestrated shooting Scylla. Regardless of Aggie’s reasons, a woman nearly lost her life simply because they disagreed. Agnes and her cronies could have left through the barrier. Sure, the law opposed it, but the law opposedmurder,too.
And even if Scyllahadstood in the way, even if there had been a fight, guns were not the answer. Agnes had tried to take the life of one of the few people who mattered to Prospero. And she did so with cold premeditation.
Attempted murder.
As Prospero tried to angle herself to see the older witch, Sondre was uncharacteristically silent. Out the corner of her eye, Prospero saw him lower Jenn to the ground and step over her. He stayed at Prospero’s side, but he rotated slightly to keep an eye on their surroundings. He didn’t comment or interject himself into the situation. He watched and waited.
Prospero had a stray thought that decades of being adversaries made them slip into partnership with ease. If they worked together, they couldsolve this. Seeing him, realizing that he was assessing and likely running possibilities in his mind made Prospero realize that she was being careless.
And she was grateful for his more taciturn nature.
Her first impulse was simply to knock Aggie out and drag her ass back to Crenshaw.Liar. Her first instinct was to wish she had a weapon of nonmagical means to mow Agnes down where she stood smirking.
However, their small group was already drawing more attention than they needed—and Aggie’s magic was rolling out to wash over the nonmagical people like a chemical cloud. For a fraught instant, Prospero could feel the undercurrent of agitation, could see it in the way one man shoved another, could hear it as a woman called another person a vulgar word. The crowd was seething with a wave of Aggie’s magic, and violence was coming.
If we can relocate this and—
“Asshole,” one person yelled.
Another man punched a woman, and the crowd churned in rage. Anything would have elicited the wrong sort of reaction from the increasingly agitated crowd, and now that the spark was lit, fights were breaking out everywhere. The smattering of squabbles would surge into a riot if they didn’t get a handle on this quickly.
“Rules?” Sondre asked in a low voice.
“No magic… if possible,” Prospero murmured.
Could I erase all the memories here if it wasn’t possible to resist?she wondered. It was conceivable, but it wasn’t ideal. Nothing about this moment was ideal.
We just need to get her back to Crenshaw.
“We were wrong,” Sondre said, louder now, talking to Agnes. Whatever tactic he had chosen was either logic, trickery, or appealing to Agnes’ better nature. Prospero wouldn’t be successful with any of those attempts, but maybe Sondre could pull it off.
He stepped forward, not quite flanking Aggie now but better positioning himself to attack her if necessary. Agnes undoubtedly realized that, but she let him ease closer.
While it left Jenn’s limp body exposed, it also meant that Sondre was well out of Prospero’s path if she had to throw any stones at Aggie. That surely wasn’t accidental, and Prospero was grateful that he was adept at thinking of both details.
“The traitor speaks.” Aggie turned to face him, ignoring Prospero entirely, as if Sondre was more of a threat than Prospero. The head of House Grendel had always underestimated her, though. Being adept at avoiding physical altercations didn’t mean that Prospero was inept at violence. It was simply not her first choice, not that she ever admitted that.
Years with a husband who spoke his opinion with fists will do that,she thought before shoving the memory of her pre-witch life away. Arriving in Crenshaw with the skin flayed from bone on her face had a way of souring a person on physical conflict.That doesn’t mean I didn’t learn.
After seeing another woman die from his rage, after feeling his rage time after time, Prospero had spent quite a few years learning how to fight. She felt guilty afterward, though. That was—in her estimation—why her magic was mind alteration. Better to avoid the blood and pain, better to simply change their thinking, better to change herownthinking if necessary. Those had been survival mechanisms in her original life.
Now they’re my magic.
