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“Is hosting the coven’s Halloween reception across town.” Carolina’s lips curved behind her mask. “She wanted me beside her, but I slipped out after the formal greetings. She thinks this gathering is beneath her. With luck, she’ll be too busy holding court to come looking.”

Relief loosened the knot in my chest, though not by much. “Then we might have a little time.”

“If nobody reports back.”

“Which means,” a voice announced behind me, “you have exactly seven minutes before the costume contest.”

Audrey Lawrence emerged from the crowd first, long blonde hair spilling over the shoulders of a wicked queen costume. Her bright blue eyes landed on Carolina, then me, missing nothing.

“So you’re Logan,” she said. “The vampire who convinced my mate that emotional meddling counts as a hobby.”

“In my defense, he was meddlesome before I met him.”

“True.” She offered Carolina her hand. “Audrey. Human, professional bullshit detector, and the reason Mack is about to regret letting me choose our costumes.”

Carolina shook it, visibly relaxing. “I like you already.”

“Most intelligent people do.” Audrey stepped aside with a grin. “Come out, Red.”

Mack stood there dressed as Little Red Riding Hood. The costume included a scarlet cape, combat boots, and a wicker basket full of beer.

“I have questions,” I said.

“Lose them.”

Carolina looked him up and down. “Please tell me someone forced you into that.”

“Dean bet I wouldn’t.” Mack pulled a bottle from the basket. “Dean continues to underestimate how little dignity I possess.”

From behind the bar, Dean raised one massive hand. He wore wolf ears and a tag that read EMOTIONAL SUPPORT WEREWOLF. The ears twitched independently.

“Those are enchanted,” Carolina said.

“They bite anyone who complains about the drink prices,” Mack replied.

A scream erupted near the jukebox. One of the ears had apparently found a customer.

For ten minutes, the party swallowed us. A gorgon dressed as a hairdresser won Most Ironic. Two goblins sharing a trench coat won Best Couple despite insisting they were one tall accountant. Lucy the were-fox arrived as a sexy tax auditor and frightened half the room more than any monster costume could have.

Then Dean shoved Mack, Carolina, and me onto the small stage.

“Finalists,” he announced.

“For what?” I asked.

“Bad decisions.”

The crowd applauded with insulting enthusiasm.

Dean pointed at Mack. “Little Red Riding Hood, if Little Red had three restraining orders and an outstanding bar tab.”

Mack curtsied. Beer bottles clinked in his basket.

Dean pointed at Carolina. “The mysterious masked witch, proving once again that some people can put on black clothing and call it a costume because they’re unfairly attractive.”

Carolina bowed, silver mask flashing in the candlelight.

Then Dean looked at me. “And Logan Richards, a vampire dressed as a vampire because irony is cheaper than therapy.”