Yes, I smiled.
The music was loud enough—something with a slow country beat—I could hear it through the door.
“I’m going, too,” Abbi told Lula. “I’m going,” she said to me, as she pointed at the21 and olderonlysign. “I’m not really a little girl. I’m older than any of you, and I want those cookies.”
“Bars don’t have cookies,” I said.
“They will,” she insisted. “Because there are witches here and theyloveme.” She grinned, showing off her square front teeth, her round face tipped up, eyes absolutely huge.
“Maybe they’ll give you carrot sticks, little bunny.”
Her eyes somehow got bigger. “Or carrotcookies,” she breathed. “Go, go.” She pushed Lula’s hip. “Go in.”
Lu cast me a quick question, her eyes glittering like a predator in the darkness. I nodded.
She opened the door, and Lorde slipped up to walk with her, striding into the glow of yellow, green, purple and pink; into the loud, soulful country song—into a room filled with witches.
Just like a scene from a movie, the music abruptly silenced. Every head turned our way.
Lordewoofed softly.
“About time,” Cassia called from the bar. “That was very dramatic, Jerry,” she said to a man standing behind a sound system on the far side of the empty dance floor. “You can turn the music back on now.”
He threw her a salute, and a different song filled the place, this one with a little more twang. I recognized it: “The Redheaded Stranger,” sung by John D. Loudermilk.
“You’re the redhead,” I told Lula. “That makes me the raging black stallion.”
She choked back a laugh and cleared her throat.
“Come in,” Cassia said. “Have a seat.” The witch waved at an open table that would let us keep an eye on the door and most of the room.
Abbi was already halfway across the room, headed straight to Cassia at the bar, elbows out as she held onto her backpack straps, an absolute picture of determination.
“Do you have—”
I gave a soft whistle. Abbi paused and looked back at me. I pointed toward the table. She rolled her eyes but stomped that way. “Cookies?” she yelled over to Cassia.
Half a dozen people stood up. Cassia pointed to a woman with pixie-short hair who looked way too young to be in a bar.
“Go ahead, Pru. Just bring a variety.”
Pru sprinted to the door. “I’ll be back in a second,” she said breathlessly. “Hang on.”
Okay, that was weird.
“Cookies are on the way, Moon Rabbit,” Cassia said. “Now. You two.” She pointed at Lula and me. “Sit. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Lula looked like she was going to argue, but I caught her elbow and guided her to the table where Abbi had already claimed a chair.
“They’re bringing me cookies,” she said triumphantly. “You heard that right? Cookies.”
“We heard,” Lula said.
“Everyone heard.” I positioned a chair so I could watch the bar. Lula sat opposite, her eyes on the door.
“All right everyone,” Cassia said to the room at large, “let us begin.”
I tensed. Lula tensed. Abbi sat up straighter and stopped swinging her feet.
