As I look at him for approval, Ben’s nostrils flare. He puts a hand on the small of my back and leans in protectively. “I can’t decide if I want to kill you for wearing something that provocative or find a dark corner and strip it off of you.”
“Well, I know which one I vote for,” I say breathlessly. And I smooth a hand down the tight bodice. Lisa’s built differently than me, so the dress doesn’t fit quite as it should. It’s a fitted dress in dark, deep gray with paler gray piping to set off the tight bodice. It’s sleeveless and the straps tie behind my neck, the front of the dress a loose gather that implies more cleavage than I actually have. Because I have less cleavage than Lisa, I have to remember not to lean over, or else I’m going to give everyone some full-frontal action. The back is entirely open and swoops down to the curve of my spine, and the skirt flares out ever so slightly at the knees so I can walk. It’s pretty and flirty, and I’ve never worn anything like it. Even though it shows off the dual bracelets I’m wearing, I also feel powerful and sexy in this, which I figured I’d desperately need if the rest of this witchy crew are anything like Gwen.
Ben’s hand is massive on the small of my back, and I can feel his fingers twitch as he escorts me toward the house. He shifts as if to move away, and I immediately snag his hand, nervous. I smile brightly at the people staring at us and try not to gawk at the house we’re about to go into. I want to touch my hair to make sure no strands have gotten loose from the tight bun I’ve worked my brown waves into, but I don’t want to fidget. So I just smile as if this is the greatest, clutch the strap of my purse in one hand and Ben’s fingers in the other, and do my best to look thrilled even as I lurk as close as possible to Ben.
The inside of the house is an absolute sea of people. The moment we step inside, the temperature seems to rise by about ten degrees due to body heat, and the stink of a hundred perfumes and the flowers in vases on every surface fills the air. It’s overwhelming. I wondered why people were standing outside of the party, and now I know—it’s impossible to breathe in this crush. I’ve never seen so many people converging on a single house. There must be hundreds here.
And my temper flares, because Ben apparently wasn’t invited. Neither was Dru.
Someone moves past us with a pair of champagne flutes, glancing in our direction as we make our way inside. It feels like everyone is eyeballing us, and I wish my dress had sleeves to cover the too-obvious and too-large familiar cuffs on my arms. I look for the same cuffs on other people and spot a few in the crowd, usually on the arm of a much younger woman who’s leaning on a gray-haired man in a suit. Lovely.
Actually, now that I look around, the average age in the room seems to be wildly skewed. Most of the men are gray haired, their faces lined. Most of the women look to be close to my age, though a few pass by that could be age-mates of Dru. Every woman’s wearing a fancy cocktail dress and high heels, and I can’t help but notice that most of the younger women are wearing the familiar bracelets.
Yay, patriarchy.
I think of Penny, who’s been waiting a long time for her chance. She’s small and excitable and not slinky and seductive like the women here. I suspect that’s a reason why she’s been left on the shelf, and it makes me ache for her. I lean in close to Ben to share my observations. “So far I’m seeing a lot of old men with all the power.”
“An accurate assessment,” he murmurs against my ear. “Let’s just find Abernathy and get the fuck out of here.”
“What’s he look like?” It occurs to me I probably should have asked this earlier.
“Small, tanned. Bald, with just a hint of white fringe above the ears. Favors wire-rimmed glasses. Usually hunched over a book.”
I glance around at the partygoers. They look like they should be in Hollywood rather than at a witchcraft party, and I bite my lip, because the man Ben is describing doesn’t seem like he would fit in with this crew. But we wasted all this time and money, so he has to be here . . . right?
As Ben leads me in, the uncomfortable staring continues. Every time I look around, I notice someone’s watching us. People whisper, too. They smirk as we walk past, and someone stares pointedly at my dual bracelets. I feel like we’re stomping all over everything these people—who are our people, I guess—hold sacred. We head down a hall that’s just as crowded as the main foyer, and the rooms have the doors closed. Each one is labeled, though, and someone with a cuff like mine stands outside, guarding.
Bloodletting Required, reads one.
Do Not Enter Unless You Bring Your Own Fluids!!, reads another.
Orgy Room, reads a third. I lean over toward Ben at the sight of that one. “Um, is that for sex magic?”
“I’m not going to go in and ask,” he murmurs. “Come on.”
Before we can round the corner, a man approaches us. He doesn’t match the description that Ben gave me. He’s got a full head of hair, his skin is pasty white, and he’s rotund. He’s also got a furious look on his face as he storms toward us.
“You have some nerve, Magnus,” the man says, and our surroundings go quiet. My skin prickles, and I realize everyone’s listening in.
The look on Ben’s face is cool and remote. Deadly. “Is there a problem, Tiberius?”
Tiberius curls his lip as he looks at me. “It isn’t enough that you poisoned your aunt, but you have to steal her familiar out from under her nose? Your mother would—”
“I killed my mother,” Ben says flatly. “So I don’t know why you assume that I care what she thought.”
The silence is deafening. Somewhere out in the party, a glass clinks. A giggle is stifled.
Tiberius glares at both of us. “You—”
“Excuse me,” I say quickly, and step in front of Ben. He tries to pull me behind him, but I hold both his hands in mine and pin them at my back, as if we’re just a lovey-dovey couple that can’t keep their hands off each other. “But I don’t appreciate your tone.”
“Reggie,” Ben begins.
“I don’t appreciate your tone,” I say a little louder, repeating myself. I decide to lie my ass off. “Ben was invited to this party, as was I. Now unless you have business with the two of us, we’d like to be on our way.”
Tiberius looks astonished, as if no one’s ever talked to him like I have. Maybe no one does. But I’m tired of all this shit. I’m tired of everyone looking at Ben like he’s a piece of garbage, and I’m tired of him having to fall back on his parents’ deaths—something that hurts him—to defend himself. “You, a mongrel—”
“Me, a mongrel,” I say sharply. “Yes, that’s right. I didn’t come up in your little familiar society. I don’t care. You’re letting plenty of good familiars wither on the vine with that little society of yours, so I’m glad I didn’t—”
“You should be at Drusilla’s side—” Tiberius raises his voice, trying to get one up on me.
I just speak even louder. “Drusilla is the one that brought us together,” I bellow. At Tiberius’s astonishment, I continue to talk, because I’m angry and no one is on Ben’s side but me. “Ben and I are dating. What part of that is hard for you to understand? Drusilla set us up. She likes that I’m wearing his bracelet. She encouraged it.” It’s a tiny bit of a lie, but I suspect Dru wouldn’t mind it. She did hint that she wanted me with Ben, but that’s all she mentioned. Still, I continue on, because I want to put this asshole in his place. “Now, if you’re going to tell me that you’ve never fucked anyone that wore your bracelet, I’m going to call you a damn liar. Can we enjoy the party now, or is there some other make-believe issue you want to take up with my boyfriend?”