“If we find what we’re looking for and can’t leave nonchalantly, we’ll return to the bathroom, and I’ll warp us to the car.” We’d already packed up all our stuff and moved the car to a side street in the crappier neighborhood in case shit hit the fan.
“Perfect,” Phoebe whispered as we climbed the front steps.
I rang the bell, and the door flew open immediately, making me jump.
“Girls!” Rita crooned. “So glad you could make it!” She motioned for us to come in, and we obliged, taking a few steps into a foyer that looked like it was straight out of Versailles.
Phoebe took the front position and began engaging Rita in small talk. This enabled me to take in my surroundings, which I’d need a thorough understanding of to warp us effectively. Already, my witch senses were tingling harder than they had all day. I was almost positive that our intuition about the party had been right.
We need to find whatever we’re looking for in this huge-ass house, and leave fast.
Suddenly, Rita took a hard right into a shallow alcove and pushed open a set of double doors. Phoebe let out a little squeak and stepped backward, right into me.
I peered around her, and my eyes popped open.Holy shit.
“As you can see, this is our coupling room.” Rita threw her arms wide, as if she was showing off a priceless piece of art and not a bunch of shifters ripping each other’s clothes off.
“I wasn’t sure if joining in on the full moon festivities would interest you girls, but thought I should inform you of them sooner rather than later.” Her eyebrows wiggled. She looked delighted by the scene. “If you want to join, walk on in—with or without a partner. As the night wears on, this room will become more popular. There are also rooms upstairs, if you prefer more intimacy.”
“Umm, thanks,” Phoebe choked out. “We’ll pass, but it’s good to know our . . .ahem. . . options.”
Rita’s grin grew. “Do as you wish! I realize that witches are more prudish than shifters, but there’s no judgment here.” She shut the door. “Follow me, ladies.”
Note to self: Do not warp into that room.
Rita continued the tour, showing us rooms with pool tables, an offshoot into an actual pool, and finally, to the main party space, where people huddled around a bar.
“You’re free to explore, although I daresay most of the fun will be had in this very ballroom. We even have dueling pianos, scheduled to start in an hour!” Rita’s grin grew as she twirled around in ecstasy.
I scanned the ballroom. There had to be at least eighty people in here, way more than Rita had led us to believe would be at the party. I was about to ask if she’d had a few last-minute RSVPs, when my eyes latched on to a familiar face.
Leslie stared back at me from behind the bar, a bottle of vodka raised as if she’d been about to pour a shot.
I waved, and her eyes grew as wide as saucers.
Interesting . . .“This is fabulous. Thanks for inviting us, Rita. Your friends look like a fun bunch,” I said as I latched arms with my partner. “Wanna get a drink?”
“Sure?” Phoebe said, looking confused.
Her reaction wasn’t unwarranted. Spellcasters allowed us alcohol during our missions, especially in situations in which it would look odd not to indulge. But one of the first rules of espionage was to get a lay of the landbeforeingesting any substance that may hinder your mental capabilities.
Rita clapped her hands together. “Go get liquored up! Our bartenders make mean martinis.”
“We’ll take you up on that,” I said and pulled Phoebe away.
“I thought we planned to scout a little first?” she whispered as soon as we separated from Rita. She looked left then right and scooted closer to me. “Also, do you notice that the staring is super intense?”
I nodded. We were probably the only witches here, and outsiders to boot, so it made sense that people were interested. But something else lingered in their gazes too. Something that sent chills up my spine.
They looked . . . hungry.
“Recognize the girl behind the bar?” I asked.
Phoebe’s attention shifted. “Leslie. She looks . . .”
“Shocked to see us? Frightened?”
“Like someone we should question.”
