I had to bite back a laugh. I must have made some unconscious movement, because Isadora’s eyes snapped to me, her lips parting in a silent hiss. A heartbeat later, she wrenched her attention back to Priscilla.
In a split second, Isadora slid her hand from her daughter’s cheek into her hairline, fingers tangling deep in her dark locks. She yanked downward, dragging Priscilla with her.
Priscilla didn’t make a sound, denying her mother the reaction she wanted.
Her hands came up to clasp her mother’s wrist as Isadora dragged her in front of me.
This isn’t right, a small voice sounded in my mind before promptly flittering away.
Isadora yanked Priscilla’s hair, forcing her head up to face me. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to move—to help her—but my feet stayed rooted to the floor.
“This, Daughter, is Ambrose,” Isadora said, hissing the words into her daughter’s ear. “Ambrose is almost as big a disappointment to me as you are.”
Shame pooled in my stomach.
A disappointment?
A small voice at the back of my mind rebelled, a distant cry ofNot right, not right, not rightringing in my skull—only to be smothered beneath Isadora’s whispered disdain.
“But at least he’s inadvertently shown me your latest betrayal, Priscilla,” Isadora continued. “Ambrose suggested a little vacation. Something to take my mind off the fact that that creature refused to bind itself to me and the house again.” Her grip tightened.
“I really don’t need to know about your planned romantic getaways with a sex demon, Mother,” Priscilla said, boredom lacing every word.
“A trip to Headless Hollow,” Isadora spat.
Priscilla’s gaze flickered, just enough to suggest she knew exactly what her mother was talking about.
“And can you guess what I found?”
Isadora yanked my phone from her pocket and shoved it in front of Priscilla’s face. From my angle, I could just make out a photo of a cabin, complete with a poorly photoshopped bedsheet ghost and the garish words:World’s Most Haunted House.
Priscilla’s eyes widened a fraction—then slid back into practiced disinterest.
Isadora seized her daughter’s head again and screamed, “I askedonething of you.One. To secure me a sentient house so I could finally live the life I deserve—waited on hand and foot.” She shook Priscilla violently. “And all these years, it never once occurred to you to mention that the Myers house was sitting”—another sharp shake—“abandoned”—another—“only a few hours from here?”
Priscilla barked out an indignant laugh.
“Of courseI knew about the vacation house,” Priscilla said coolly, as if that should have been obvious. “Everyonedoes. It’s the infamousWorld’s Most Haunted House, Mother. Don’t tell meyou’venever heard of it?” She scoffed lightly. “I assumed you already knew about it and had deemed it not worth your time. It’s planted itself in one of the most heavily populated magical towns in the western hemisphere. The risk of a nomadic witchlike you getting caught breaking Council law—and let's face it, Mother, youwouldbreak a law sooner rather than later—and being hauled in front of them would be far too high.”
That, at least, gave Isadora pause. She pursed her lips, then finally released her grip on Priscilla’s hair.
Priscilla found her balance, but instead of rising, she settled back onto her knees, calmly running her fingers through her hair as though she’d intended to be sitting on the floor all along. The slow, deliberate motion called to mind a painted mermaid perched on a rock—though I doubted she’d be snaring any sailors with the look of disinterest on her face.
Isadora’s expression softened, her features rearranging themselves into something almost maternal again. “Of course,” she said lightly, “that house would have been completely unsuitable for my needs anyway.” Her smile sharpened. “But it appears another has become available.”
Priscilla’s hand faltered, the hesitation almost imperceptible.
Isadora returned to scrolling through my phone, opening my emails and clicking on an email thread. Without looking up, she said, “This one is part of a security firm. He has a partner—another incubus.” At that, she finally lifted her gaze, pinning Priscilla with a pointed look. “And can you guess where that incubus happens to be at this very moment?”
Priscilla didn’t look up. “Enlighten me.”
Isadora thrust the phone in her face. Priscilla’s eyes skimmed the screen, rolling lazily as she read, and a chill crawled up my spine. Something wasn’t right. Something primal scratched at the back of my mind, urging me to keep Isadora as far away from Blaise as possible—but the thought scattered as Priscilla finally glanced at her mother.
“According to this email,” Isadora said smoothly, “that girl Caitlyn Myers—the one you went to school with—has hired Ambrose’s partner as her security guard.” She tapped the screen.“And look at this. She mentions her house coming with her.” Her gaze sharpened. “Care to explain why you didn’t tell me aboutthat, dear?”
Priscilla shrugged. “Really, Mother. You’ve seen how those other witches treat me. Nothing has changed since you left. They hold me in the same contempt they held you.” Her lip curled. “Do you honestly think one of thosewitches”—she spat the word—“would have told me they were planning to leave the coven with their house? Because they didn’t.” She let out a cold, barking laugh. “They hate me. And yet you insist I stay there, fruitlessly spying on them year after year.”
The room filled with Isadora’s melodic voice. “Are you telling me the truth?”
