Trail of Dead (Scarlett Bernard #2)(64)
“Let’s try it.”
We did a bit of experimenting with Kirsten coming in and out of the doorway, and ended up moving the sofa six inches farther into the room. When she was satisfied, Kirsten nodded to herself and moved back toward the doorway. “I need to get back to hostessing duties, but I’ll try to make sure everyone heads in here at some point. Usually people like to see all the decorations, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Are you keeping track of who doesn’t show up?” I asked. Kirsten nodded. “Okay, then.”
She vanished back into the kitchen, and I plopped down on the couch, wishing I had a magazine or something. Now that I was here, this plan was beginning to feel rather stupid. Yes, I could tell how powerful witches were, especially with Kirsten around as a litmus test. But we were counting on an awful lot of luck too: that the right witch would show up, that she wouldn’t hear about me being here, that she’d come close enough. On the other hand, there were only a few more hours until midnight. We were fresh out of better ideas.
People began trickling in, carrying appetizer plates and chattering. Kirsten was right—just about everyone came into the sunroom to admire the decorations. Most of them were women, but a few of the women had brought their husbands along. Some of the guests were dressed fairly casually in street clothes, like I was, but plenty had turned up in costume: either Candy Land themed, like Kirsten (I saw one detail-intensive Gloppy costume, which I hoped to drive out of my memory someday), or as famous witches: Harry Potter was a popular theme, as was Wicked, and I saw two witches who’d dressed up like Tilda Swinton from the Narnia movies.
As they came and left the sunroom, I stayed where I was. As long as nobody tried to use their magic, I was pretty much invisible. A few people sat down on my couch and made small talk for a few minutes, but it was obvious that everyone there knew everyone else, and after a few minutes the small talker always wandered off to find someone more interesting. Kirsten popped in to hand me a plate of hors d’oeuvres and a soda at some point, and I took my time working through the snacks, watching the witches talk and laugh. A few of them seemed troubled rather than celebratory, and I figured they were probably talking about Erin and Denise.
In two hours, I only got caught twice: once when a young redhead in green Elspeth makeup tried to demonstrate a levitation spell, and once when a middle-aged witch in a perfect Grandma Nut costume tried to clean up a spilled glass of wine with magic instead of paper towels. Both times the witch looked around, confused, and spotted me curled up on my couch. I met her eyes, challenging, and got a glare before the other woman looked away. If I was here, Kirsten knew I was here, and that meant I was invited. None of the witches in Kirsten’s society were going to question her in front of everyone.
By 9:00, no more new people seemed to be arriving, and I was getting bored and restless. Jack had texted to say he was waiting at the gate, so at least that was one less person to worry about. But tonight’s mission was tanking: there was nobody at Kirsten’s who was anywhere near powerful enough to challenge her, much less muck around with animation spells. We were wasting time that we didn’t have. I kept checking my phone for texts, figuring Jesse must be getting even more impatient out in the car. At 9:15 I stood up, stretched, and headed for the sunroom doors. It was time to find Kirsten and figure out a plan B. Maybe she knew of some witches who hadn’t shown up at the party, and Jesse and I could go track them down. That seemed even thinner than this plan, but at least we’d be doing something.
I never made it back to the dining room, though. On my way up the stairs from the sunroom I ran smack into a pretty young witch with white-blonde pigtails. She was wearing an intimidating-looking camera on a strap around her neck, and when we collided it hit me in the chest. The blow was softened by my bulletproof vest, so we were both looking at the camera first, checking for damage, before we met each others’ eyes and I realized who I had just run down. We were frozen for a long moment as I put some puzzle pieces together, and her gorgeous blue eyes widened with apprehension. Almost without my knowing, my hand darted out and grabbed her upper arm. “You and I need to talk,” I snapped.
“I’m sorry, have we met?” she asked nervously.
“Knock it off, Runa.” This was not what I needed right now, but I couldn’t just ignore it, either. “Are we talking right here in front of everyone, or do you want to step outside?”
The blonde witch looked around for help, but I’d managed to keep my voice low, and no one had noticed us. Finally she nodded, resigned, and pointed toward the sliding door in the sunroom. “Let’s go out back.”
I followed her through the glass doors and down a little hill to Kirsten’s wide backyard. I hadn’t actually been back there before, but even in the dark I could tell it was just as landscaped as the front. Runa sat down on a little bench next to a birdbath. I grudgingly perched myself on the other side.
“How did you know who I was?” she asked.
“I saw a picture on Jesse’s phone,” I said, fury in my voice. “I’m guessing he doesn’t know you’re a witch.”
Her voice was low and miserable. “No.”
Anger was making my head swim. I took a deep breath of the cool night air before I continued. “Please tell me you’re not dating him just because Kirsten ordered you to. Tell me you’re not part of some half-assed undercover thing to keep an eye on Jesse Cruz.”