I hadn’t been to the house since Atlas moved in. Somehow the space looked more imposing than before, like a towering glass castle fit for a political king, as if the house itself had somehow shifted to match its new owner.
The moment we stepped onto the long drive, I felt the presence of being watched. My attention darted around, wondering if others were walking up with us, but there was no one. Just the fog and the clack of our heels against the pavement.
Despite the event being a masquerade theme, we’d been instructed on the invitations that our masks would be provided for us. Now, as we got closer, I saw there were dozens of masks—some animalistic, others decorative, and a few just plain spooky—dancing along the fence.
“Manifest your mask and then pluck your poison,” came a cheery singsong voice, pulling our attention to a young witch holding a clipboard, raven hair swirled atop her head like a 1950s pin-up girl.
“You must be the event coordinator.” Hazel extended her hand with a smile. “I’m Hazel and this is Oakley.”
“Clio,” she replied, shaking it. “Nice to meet you.”
My sister could charm the pants off, well, anyone. I could too, if I wanted, considering Desire was my gift, but I usually tried to keep it at bay. Hazel’s thumb stroked Clio’s hand, lingering there until I cleared my throat.
“Oakley…as in Aspen’s mother?” Clio asked, finally ungluing her focus from my sister. “Such a cutie. Atlas is always showing me photos during our meetings.”
My heart floated and sunk simultaneously. “That’s me.” I gave her an awkward wave. “So, what do we need to do?” I asked, trying to get us to the party and away from the topic of my ex.
“Place your hands in front of you and call your mask forth,” the event planner instructed.
Hazel held her palms out, lifted toward the sky, and I followed.
Thoughts cluttered my mind, worry bolting through me over how things would go tonight, obscuring my ease with my magic. A moment later, a calming hand landed on my shoulder and my scattered thoughts cleared.
A chill ran up my spine, my hands now cradling something metallic.
“It suits you,” Lynx purred in my ear, hand still on my shoulder. Looking down at my palms, there was a delicate mask embellished with diamonds along the nose and brow line, three rows of glittering chains dangling from the center out to the mask’s edge.
Clio was already finishing up tying Hazel’s on, its delicate black filigree making her cherry-red lipstick pop even more in the darkness.
“May I?” Lynx asked, lifting a hand toward my mask. He was dressed in a deep-charcoal shirt, the top three buttons undone, with black pinstripe trousers. He donned on a mask representing his namesake, an onyx lynx with pointed ears painted with golden crescents and embellishments.
“Thank you,” I said. My breath caught when I spun around and almost bumped into Saros. He wore a black owl mask, its beak and feathers carved in fine detail. Somehow even the faux fowl matched his furrowed brow, embodying his serious disposition.
“Oh, the things I wish I could do to you right now, Wicked,” Lynx whispered over my shoulder while his fingers meticulously tied the ribbon at the back of my head. I didn’t miss the way his hand trailed down my arm when he stepped away, or the curl of his cat-like smirk beneath his mask. A flood of his lust washed through me, electricity zinging straight to my core, making me zip up my thighs.
“Doesn’t Ms. Brooks look ravishing tonight, darling?” Lynx asked, keeping up appearances. A few other coven members came up and began summoning their masks.
Saros’s throat worked, his voice was a rasp, scraped away of its usual baritone. “She does.”
“Shall we?” Hazel cut in, pointing over to a dozen floating vials and assorted treats. “Clio said we are to pick one and it will transport us to the celebration.”
“And don’t forget to drop your cell phones in the bucket. You can retrieve them on the way out,” the event coordinator instructed from over our shoulders.
Anxiety simmered at my fingertips, now clutched around my phone. I took a deep breath, reminding myself that I had my wrist band if Aspen needed me. So did Hazel. And we were only a short walk away.
I tossed in my cell, and the others followed suit, Saros with only the slightest hesitation, probably not loving being disconnected in case something came up with their assignment.
There had to be at least forty phones piled in the small bucket. It would be fun to comb through them later.
The last few stragglers sidled up next to us, quickly picking things from above. One snatched a purple glowing vial and chugged it down, vanishing a moment later, the empty glass swiftly finding its way to the recycle bin. An iridescent unicorn-masked witch, whom I believed to be Sage, snatched a cookie with orange flecks strewn within, eating it in three bites before disappearing from view.
“Nothing’s labeled.” Unease coiled within Saros’s words.
“Chop-chop,” Clio said, glancing up at the empty house.
Where was everyone?
Hazel reached up and grabbed a bright-yellow vial, drinking it down in one gulp. “See you in—”
