Trail of Dead (Scarlett Bernard #2)(63)
“Yup. I do it every year.”
“Is that…” I hesitated. I had learned a lot about the mechanics of witchcraft in the last couple of days, but I still didn’t know the social conventions. Asking a werewolf how they were changed was a really personal question. Was asking a witch about their talents the same? Screw it, I decided. I wasn’t here to make friends. “Is that part of your specialty?”
His cheerful expression didn’t waver a bit. “You bet. I can sense intentions. Nothing specific, just whether or not people are hoping to have a good time, planning some trouble, dreading the whole party. That kind of thing.”
He has so little power, though, I thought, but I managed not to say that aloud. “Couldn’t another witch just…cast a spell to hide their plans from you?”
Kevin shrugged. “Sure. But it’s better than nothing, right?”
“What are you supposed to do if someone has bad intentions?”
His smile dropped off his face for the first time since “Boo.” “Call Kirsten. Or call the police directly, depending on how bad it is.”
I thought that over for a second, and then pulled out my cell phone. “Let me give you my number too. I can be here quickly, and I can stop the magic, at least. What’s your phone number?” He told me, and I called his cell, letting it ring just long enough for me to hear it buzz in his pocket. He agreed to call if someone scary showed up, and I turned back to the front door.
Before I went in, though, I paused and turned back to Kevin. “Does everyone know I’m coming?”
“Nope.” A man of few words, was Kevin.
“Can you keep it to yourself?” He hesitated, shifting his weight uneasily, and I waved a hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll ask Kirsten to come tell you the same thing.”
Kevin bobbed his head again, looking relieved, and I went inside.
My jaw dropped open at the threshold. The front door opened into a typical entryway: stairs straight ahead, a living room on the right, hallway to the bathroom, and kitchen on the left. And every single surface was covered in candy. Enormous candies made from foam or plastic hung from the walls and ceiling. Big, brown gingerbread-men cutouts were attached to the walls, looking like they’d step forward at any second and challenge me to a footrace. Every table had at least one bowl of brightly colored M&M’s or Skittles on it. I looked down at my feet. I was standing on a bright-green plastic square. It was part of a long path of colored squares that led off to both my right and left.
I felt a familiar buzz of serious power as Kirsten appeared from the hallway. She was dressed in a long, white-and-ice-blue strapless gown and had put some sort of blue rinse or dye through her light-blonde hair, which hung loose on her shoulders. A light-blue plastic crown perched on top of her head, completing the look. She smiled at my confused expression.
“There are so many religious and spiritual beliefs and customs tied to the solstice, and I don’t want any fighting. So every year I pick a random, secular theme for the party.” She gestured at the decorations. “Do you get it?”
For a very brief moment, I pictured the witch from Hansel and Gretel, the one with the house made out of candy. But no, Kirsten wouldn’t be that crass. “Um…diabetic shock?”
Kirsten chuckled. “Nope. Welcome to Candy Land.”
I looked around again. “Ohhhhh.” That explained the plastic squares. I took another look at Kirsten too. It had been a long time since I’d played Candy Land, but there was one character card that I’d always hoped to get, just because she was so pretty. “You’re Queen Frostine.”
Kirsten curtsied, which would have looked ridiculous on me, but she made it look kind of regal. “You did all this with six hours’ notice?” I asked incredulously.
She straightened, shrugging modestly. “I had all the supplies already, and some of my witches came to help.” She pointed to the hallway. “They’re still here, setting up in the kitchen. Let me show you where I think you should hang out.”
I asked her to talk to Kevin first, and she nodded, grabbed a handful of candy from a nearby dish, and popped out to the front porch. She returned a second later with empty hands. “He understands. He won’t mention you.” She frowned as she started down the hallway. I followed. “I suppose someone at the party could text their friends who aren’t here yet, and one of those friends could be Olivia’s partner. But I find it hard to believe the conspiracy is that big.”
I shrugged. “There’s also the thing where none of us had any better ideas.”
“Yes, there’s that.”
I followed Kirsten down the hall, past a small den with a fireplace, and through the dining room. I felt a couple of low-intensity hits on my radius as we passed the kitchen. Nothing to worry about there. Whatever the witches were making did smell wonderful, though: sort of like cupcakes and almonds.
Finally, Kirsten stopped at a patio door that opened onto a sunken sunroom. The space had been done up like Queen Frostine’s kingdom: rolls of white cotton hung over tables, bearing an uncanny resemblance to snow. Paper snowflakes dangled from the ceiling, and tufts of silver garland, like the kind you put on Christmas trees, dangled from a slow-moving ceiling fan. It was beautiful.
“We usually gather in here to talk,” Kirsten explained. She pointed toward a sofa that had been covered in a white sheet with blue embroidery. “If you hang out there, everyone who comes down the stairs into the room should pretty much pop into your radius, I think.”