I smiled. “Fine. But I’ve got to change again.”
It took a while to find a top with a high enough collar, but when we finally left Molly’s I was wearing the vest under a purple crewneck sweater Molly had reluctantly lent me. After a moment’s thought, I’d discarded the flats in favor of my knee-high leather boots, which were reasonably noncasual, but better for running or getting dirty. I couldn’t wear my beloved coat-o’-nine-pockets over the whole situation, which meant I had to leave my Taser at home. That was somewhat deflating, but at least I was bringing along my very own armed police escort.
At any rate, I figured I had better not get shot, because vest or no vest, if I got bullet holes in her cashmere sweater Molly would probably just finish me off. Or I could ask Jesse to shoot me as a mercy kill. Either way.
Chapter 22
Kirsten’s house in Sherman Oaks isn’t a mansion the way Dashiell’s is, but it’s big and perfectly kept: expansive manicured lawn, beautiful landscaping, white picket fence that’s really only decorative. The whole neighborhood is like that, and in my darker moments I’ve wondered if it’s a witchcraft thing: Could she be using magic to keep her street planted firmly in perfect fifties suburbia? Probably not…right?
I didn’t want to miss anyone who came and left early, so we arrived half an hour before the party was supposed to start. Jesse found a good parking spot on the street where he could see Kirsten’s front door without being completely obvious about it.
“You’ve got your phone? Battery charged?” he asked before I stepped out.
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Mom. Cab fare too, in case my date drinks too much.”
He shrugged unapologetically. “Are you sure you don’t want to take the gun?”
“No. No way.”
Jesse nodded, resigned, and reached over to squeeze my hand. “Good luck. I’ll be right out here.”
I got out of the car and walked briskly up to the front porch, wiggling a little at the itchy bulletproof vest. Damn, I should have put a tank top on under it instead of just a sports bra, I thought, but it was way too late to go back. It was a cool night, but between the vest and the sweater I was comfortable.
Kirsten’s front door was framed by a decorative pillar on one side and a porch swing on the other. As I walked up I winced when I saw the swing—Eli and I had once had kind of a moment there. I was so distracted by the memory that I completely missed the witch sitting placidly behind the decorative pillar. I didn’t even feel him enter my radius.
“Uh, boo?”
The voice had been quiet and mild, but I was still so startled I almost fell off the porch steps. When I spun to face him, the witch stood up, grinning at me. He was a balding man in his late forties with a small paunch under his sweater-vest and slacks and one of those affable, saggy faces that was not handsome but instantly likable. “Hi,” I said, clutching my chest and trying to still my breathing. “You scared me.”
“Sorry about that. I’m Kevin.” He looked like a Kevin. “You must be Scarlett.” He held out a hand, and I shook it without thinking. I gave him a friendly smile and concentrated on my radius. He was a low-level witch, not particularly powerful. I suddenly felt a spark of magic come from him, and I let go of his hand, raising my eyebrows. He grinned again.
“You felt that, huh?” he said sheepishly. “Sorry, I was just trying a simple wind spell. I’ve never met a null before.”
“Well, I’ve never met a male witch before,” I said without thinking. “So we’re even.”
His head bobbed up and down. “We’re a rare breed, aren’t we? There are only a handful in Kirsten’s organization.”
“You’re on bouncer duty tonight?” Either that or he had a serious thing for scaring the shit out of people.
“Yup. I do it every year.”
“Is that…” I hesitated. I had learned a lot about the mechanics of witchcraft in the last couple of days, but I still didn’t know the social conventions. Asking a werewolf how they were changed was a really personal question. Was asking a witch about their talents the same? Screw it, I decided. I wasn’t here to make friends. “Is that part of your specialty?”
His cheerful expression didn’t waver a bit. “You bet. I can sense intentions. Nothing specific, just whether or not people are hoping to have a good time, planning some trouble, dreading the whole party. That kind of thing.”
He has so little power, though, I thought, but I managed not to say that aloud. “Couldn’t another witch just…cast a spell to hide their plans from you?”
Kevin shrugged. “Sure. But it’s better than nothing, right?”
“What are you supposed to do if someone has bad intentions?”
His smile dropped off his face for the first time since “Boo.” “Call Kirsten. Or call the police directly, depending on how bad it is.”
I thought that over for a second, and then pulled out my cell phone. “Let me give you my number too. I can be here quickly, and I can stop the magic, at least. What’s your phone number?” He told me, and I called his cell, letting it ring just long enough for me to hear it buzz in his pocket. He agreed to call if someone scary showed up, and I turned back to the front door.
Before I went in, though, I paused and turned back to Kevin. “Does everyone know I’m coming?”
“Nope.” A man of few words, was Kevin.
“Can you keep it to yourself?” He hesitated, shifting his weight uneasily, and I waved a hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll ask Kirsten to come tell you the same thing.”