A rare rainstorm threatened the day of the dance, but the weather-workers of the coven — including Adam — quietly got together and nudged those moisture-laden clouds a little farther to the west, so they might hold off for another twelve hours. Messing with the weather wasn’t something we did lightly, but sometimes a little meddling was in order. A critical observer might have noticed that it never rained or snowed during any of Jerome’s most important events: the Halloween dance, the holiday lighting ceremony…the Mardi Gras dance in February.
Even so, it was a gray sort of day, not the kind to inspire much enthusiasm. It helped a little that Sydney came up early, saying she wanted to give me a manicure, because I needed red nail polish to match the lipstick, and between that and watching her spend a good hour curling her hair while my nails dried, we managed to use up a large chunk of the afternoon. And after that Aunt Rachel fed us smoked chicken enchiladas and her famous Spanish rice, saying she knew we’d be drinking and so had better lay down a good base first. I noticed Sydney didn’t make much protest, despite the tight-fitting dress she’d be wearing later; no one in their right mind turned down my aunt’s enchiladas.
Then it was time to change, and the two of us headed up to my room to put on our dresses and makeup. That is, Sydney insisted on doing my makeup, too, since she was the expert. I didn’t bother to protest, since deep down I had to acknowledge that I wanted to know what I’d look like with real makeup on and not some hastily applied lip gloss.
“I’d love to smoke up your eyes,” she said as she worked away on my face, dabbing foundation on with a sponge, “but you’re doing a red lip, and that would be too much. We don’t want you looking like a streetwalker.”
“Well, it would fit the neighborhood,” I joked. Hull Avenue, where Spook Hall was located, had been the center of the red light district back when Jerome was a bustling mining town.
“But it wouldn’t fit you,” she said severely, then set down the sponge and picked up a brush, lightly applying blush in upward motions along my cheekbones.
“Probably not.”
For the next few minutes she worked in silence, expertly tracing liner along my upper lids, brushing on mascara, using a pencil to define my brows before at last applying the red lipstick. Finally she said, “Okay, I think I’m done. It’s pretty amazing…but don’t peek until you have the dress on.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
I just shook my head, feeling the unfamiliar weight of my hair gathered into a low chignon. But I did as she requested, keeping my eyes cast downward at the Persian rug on the floor as I went behind the mirror and took off my shirt and jeans, then pulled on the unfamiliar and not very comfortable hose I had to wear under the gown.
“Goddess, people actually wear these horrible things every day?” I muttered as I wriggled into the pantyhose.
“Oh, stop grousing. I can only imagine what you’d say if you had to wear something historical with a corset.”
“I would’ve put my foot down about that,” I retorted.
“Quit bitching and get that dress on already. It’s almost eight.”
I didn’t bother to point out that she’d just spent almost a half hour doing my makeup. Instead, I stepped into my gown and drew it up, then gave the zipper a quick mental yank. Then I sort of pushed and pulled until everything more or less felt as if it were in the right place. I’d left my borrowed shoes back here so I could step into them easily once I was dressed, and I did that now, then came out from behind the mirror.
“About time,” Sydney began, and then she stopped, staring at me. “Wow.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah. Look at yourself.”
Almost fearfully, I turned and regarded myself in the mirror. Well, that is, I knew it was me, but it definitely didn’t look like me. My usually unruly hair was sleek and shining, my mouth full under its coating of red lipstick. Long gold earrings danced against my neck, and the dress, with its built-in padding, was doing some spectacular things to my cleavage.
“It’s…nice,” I said finally.
“Nice? Give me a break. Adam’s going to take one look at you in that and have a heart attack.”
“Well, that’s really not what I was going for.” To put it mildly. Adam’s infatuation was already enough of a problem…what was he going to do after he saw me looking like this?
Sydney grinned. “No worries. I’ll run interference if I have to.” She came over and stood about a foot behind me, regarding herself critically in the mirror. “No one’s even going to notice me with you looking like that.”
“I highly doubt that.” Maybe at first glance my outfit was more eye-catching, but she looked like the perfect golden girl, with her hair curling over her shoulders and the gleaming fringe of her dress shimmering with every move she made. Also, that dress was short. Her legs looked about ten miles long in it. “Anyway,” I added, “why do you want people noticing you? I thought you were with Anthony.”
“I am. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still want guys looking at me.”
“I really don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”
She grinned, her blue eyes twinkling. “Yeah, probably not. But can we both agree that putting masks on top of all this is really a waste?”
My gaze flickered to the mirror. Sydney was a golden goddess, and I looked far more sultry and exotic than I’d ever thought I could. Wearing a mask did seem kind of silly. “You’re right. No masks.”
“Thank God.” A quick once-over of her ensemble in the mirror, and she asked, “So are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” I went over to the bed and picked up the black fringed shawl I was using as a wrap — another loan from my aunt.
We clattered down the stairs and heard voices coming from the living room, where apparently Adam had been waiting for us. He’d been chatting with my aunt, the cowboy hat he was wearing as part of his costume tipped back on his head, but when I entered, Sydney a few paces behind, he apparently lost all power of speech. His mouth dropped open, and his eyes widened. Great. Just what I’d been fervently hoping wouldn’t happen.
My aunt, bless her, scoped out the situation immediately and rose from the couch, exclaiming, “You girls both look wonderful! Sydney, it was so good of your friend to loan out her dresses!”
“Oh, well, she wasn’t going to wear them again, so she figured they might as well get some use,” Sydney replied, her voice full of suppressed laughter. I could tell she was having a hard time not bursting into giggles at Adam’s reaction to my appearance.
“You look great, too, Aunt Rachel,” I said. And she did — she’d sort of piled together some of the choicest boho pieces from her wardrobe, making an awesome gypsy fortune-teller costume. Big gold hoops hung from her ears, and it looked as if she were possibly wearing every necklace she owned.
“Oh, well….” She waved a hand. “Tobias is running a little late, so you three should just go on ahead.”
“What, no armed escort?”
That remark earned me a sour look. “There are several…guardians…at the hall already, and you’ll have Adam with you.”
“What am I, chopped liver?” asked Sydney.
“In this case, unfortunately, yes.” My aunt softened her words with an accompanying smile. “But there is always strength in numbers, I suppose. Anyway, there are also a good many people on the street as well, so I think it should be safe enough.”
“Then let’s get going,” I said. “I want to get a decent table to sit at.”
That comment seemed to snap Adam out of his stupor. “Right. It’s better to get there early, or you end up having to stand all night.”
I had a feeling that really wouldn’t be an issue, that because of the bodyguards and my status as prima-in-waiting I’d somehow magically get a table no matter how crowded it might be already, but there really wasn’t any reason to delay any longer. “Okay — we’ll hold some seats for you and Tobias.”
“No need for that. We’ll manage. You go and have a good time.”
That seemed to be our cue to leave, so the three of us left Aunt Rachel in the living room and trooped to the back door. The sun had been down for a few hours by then, and the night air that greeted us was already chilly. Sydney had decided against a shawl or coat and now looked as if she regretted it. Good thing we didn’t have far to walk.
Because she was there, Adam kept silent, although I noticed how his gaze kept darting over at me. I pulled the shawl closer and pretended not to notice.
There was a line to get into the hall, but it looked as if we were early enough that we’d still be able to snag a table without having to resort to any magical intervention. We paid our ten dollars to get in — for a second I was worried that Adam would try to pay for my ticket, but one quelling look from me seemed to let him know I wasn’t going along with that idea — and found a spot toward the back of the room but on the side closer to the bar.
“You two want some drinks?” Adam asked, hovering at the table without sitting down.
“Bacardi and Diet Coke,” Sydney said promptly. One of her mottoes was definitely “never turn down a free drink.”
Since arguing with him about buying me a drink seemed petty, I made myself smile and say, “Whatever red wine they have would be great.”
“Got it.” He smiled back at me, and I hoped he wasn’t going to take my accepting his offer of a drink as a sign of encouragement. But then he headed off toward the bar, black frock coat flapping behind him. It was a nice-looking getup, I had to admit, although his boyish looks made it seem a little more Young Guns than Tombstone.
“Lose that shawl,” Sydney commanded. “You’re inside now, so stop covering up.”
I’d forgotten I was still clutching the shawl around me. I did feel safer with it resting on my shoulders and hiding my chest, but I had a feeling Sydney would forcibly pull it off if I didn’t ditch it. So I unwrapped it and draped it over the back of the chair, then made myself look around me instead of down at the alarming amount of cleavage I was currently displaying.
“Satisfied?” I asked.
“Much better.” She shifted in her seat and tossed her hair back over her shoulders. I supposed if she were going for an authentic flapper look she would’ve pinned it up somehow to make it simulate a bob, but she was far more interested in looking sexy than being authentic.
She wasn’t the only one, either. I saw women in saloon girl costumes and sexy vampire costumes and sexy nurse uniforms and just about every permutation of “sexy” that you could think of. There were scary ones, too, of course…zombies and ghouls and aliens, as well as people dressed as characters from all kinds of movies, including a group of four ghostbusters, not to mention Beetlejuice and Batman.
Behind the costumes and masks I recognized members of the coven, of course, but there were a lot of strangers, too, and I relaxed a little. My worries about the McAllisters taking over the whole dance appeared to be unfounded. It was an eclectic crowd, too, in terms of age — you had to be over twenty-one to get in, of course, but I saw everything from people my own age up to men and women who had to be in their sixties. Good for them, too. Who says you have to stop partying just because you’re not in your twenties anymore?
Adam returned with the drinks. “Good thing I went early, too,” he said, “because that line’s just going to keep getting longer.”
“Well, one of us will get the second round,” Sydney said, taking her Bacardi and Diet Coke from him, then helping herself to a healthy swig.
He handed me mine before sitting down in the chair on my left. I would’ve preferred that he sit on the other side of Sydney, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen, especially with Anthony supposedly showing up later that night.
What difference does it really make? I asked myself with a mental sigh. It’s not as if your soulmate is going to come waltzing through those doors.
Which was depressing but probably true. I couldn’t really accuse Adam of cock-blocking when there probably wouldn’t be any cocks to block.
I drank some of my wine, and Adam took a swallow of his beer. Right then it was early enough that they were just playing canned music; the band wasn’t supposed to start until eight-thirty. I could see some of their roadies finishing up with running wires and that sort of thing, so it probably wouldn’t be too long before they got started.
Sydney’s eyes roved over the crowd, obviously taking stock of the cute-guy quotient, and I wondered how serious she really was about being with Anthony. That was kind of her pattern, though — go after someone, get hot and heavy quickly, and then have the whole thing collapse a few weeks or a month later, depending on how fast their quirks got on her nerves. It wasn’t as if she dated around, exactly…more like practiced serial monogamy on speed.
I’d been less than thrilled with my fate of having to wait for Mr. Perfect to show up on my doorstep, but I had to admit that it did have the benefit of keeping a lot of drama out of my life.
But not all, I thought then, trying to ignore Adam’s attempt at not looking at my cleavage. It probably would’ve been easier if I could have just told him I didn’t want him tagging along with us. I wasn’t that cold-hearted, though. Maybe someone would show up tonight who would distract him from his obsession with me.
That didn’t seem too likely, though; most of the girls our age in attendance seemed to be either with a date or hanging out in groups of four or five, which would make approaching them difficult for someone like Adam. He was easy enough with me, but we’d known each other all our lives. Going up to a strange girl and asking her to dance probably was not in his cards that night.
Although the band hadn’t started yet, the music was still loud enough that it made talking difficult. I sipped my wine, noting how the table just behind ours was populated entirely with members of my “bodyguard” group: Wyatt McAllister, Margot Emory, Henry Lynch, my cousin Rosemary. There were two seats empty, and I wondered if they were saving those for Aunt Rachel and Tobias. I doubted that their position was accidental, either. Yes, I was supposedly in a safe place, but that didn’t mean they weren’t going to keep an eye on me.
“I hope Anthony will be able to get in,” Sydney said loudly as she eyed the rapidly filling hall.
That could be a problem, because I’d heard they closed the doors after the building reached capacity. “Do you want me to go say something? That’s my cousin Shelby at the door — I know she’ll squeeze Anthony in if I ask.”
“Would you? It would really suck if he drove up here and couldn’t even get inside.”
“No problem.” I pushed out my chair and stood. At once Adam’s eyes were on me, obviously curious, and I pointed at the front door. “Just want to tell Shelby something.”
He nodded, seeming to relax a little. What did he think I was going to do, take off because I was already tired of him pretending to not stare at my chest?
On second thought….
I pushed back a smile and wove through the crowd to get to the door. Once there, I explained the situation to my cousin.
“Sure,” she said, taking a twenty-dollar bill from a guy dressed as Gomez Addams. The Morticia with him was pretty amazing, and I wondered how much competition Gomez was going to have when it came to getting Morticia out on the dance floor. “People are always going in and out, so the building’s never totally at capacity. I’ll sneak him in. Where’re you sitting?”
I pointed at the table where Adam and Sydney sat, my empty chair between them. “Send him over there.”
“Will do.”
“Thanks!”
After that I turned and walked a few steps, then had to pause as the group of ghostbusters cut in front of me, clearly heading for the bar. Once the way had cleared, I began to move forward again, only to freeze as I came face to face with a tall man all in black, his face partly shaded by the wide-brimmed black hat he wore. Even the mask covering the upper half of his face couldn’t hide the lean, handsome features, the sensual mouth.
My brain sort of registered that he was dressed as Zorro, just as I also realized I was blocking his way.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, moving to the side so he could continue on his path.
“I’m not,” he said with a smile.
Right then I was glad Sydney had talked me into wearing that flashy dress, because from what I could see, the stranger’s expression was more than a little admiring.
The moment passed, though, and he just sort of nodded and kept going, clearly headed toward a table that had several other guys and a few girls seated at it. They all looked to be around my age, maybe a few years older. I didn’t recognize any of them, but that didn’t surprise me much. The Jerome Halloween dance was advertised all over the state, and we had people driving in from Phoenix and even Tucson to attend. The town’s B&Bs were generally booked on this weekend up to six months in advance.
Somehow I kept myself from staring at the stranger, though, and went on to sit back down at my own table. I plopped into my chair and reached for my glass of wine.
“Did you take care of it?” Sydney asked. It was a little quieter right then, as they’d turned off the canned music. I saw the band starting to walk onstage.
“Yes.” Then I leaned in close to her and hoped Adam wasn’t eavesdropping. “I just saw the hottest guy.”
“You did? Where?”
I lowered my voice further. “A few tables over to the left…the Zorro.”
At least she’d mastered the art of the casual over-the-shoulder glance. I doubted Adam could even tell what she was doing. She leaned in close to me immediately afterward and said, “Holy crap. You weren’t kidding. Are you going to ask him to dance? You have to — your costumes are perfect together!”
“I-I don’t know. Maybe.” I didn’t think I was brave enough for that. Yes, this wasn’t the Victorian era, and there certainly was nothing wrong with going up to a guy and asking him to dance, but…. I risked a quick look of my own in the direction of the table where Zorro sat. It was hard to tell whether he was with any of the girls in particular or whether they were just a group of friends who’d come to the dance together.
“Something interesting over there?” Adam asked, craning his own neck.
“No — I was just looking to see whether Aunt Rachel had shown up yet.”
Since that was a perfectly plausible explanation, he just said, “Oh,” and returned to his beer. And whether my little lie had manifested her presence or she’d just shown up at that particular moment, I actually did see her walk in the door a few seconds later, followed by Tobias. At least, from his height I assumed it was Tobias. He was dressed in black hooded robes and carried a scythe. I hoped he didn’t give her a heart attack when she opened the door and saw him in that getup.
She appeared to spy us and gave a little wave, and I grinned back. Behind her, the Grim Reaper lifted his scythe in greeting. Sydney saw where I was looking, noted Tobias’s costume, and said, “Well, that’s cheery.”
“But comfortable.”
“True. I doubt the Grim Reaper has his feet shoved into four-inch stilettos.”
“You could’ve worn something lower.”
“But these ones matched my dress.”
I couldn’t really argue with that. Besides, Lara, the lead singer for the band — not a McAllister, or a witch, but a longtime Jerome resident and someone who knew the score and wasn’t fazed by it — had just stepped up to the mic.
“Hello, Jerome!” she called out, and the crowd started clapping and cheering. “Are you ready to get this party started?”
More cheers and whistles and clapping. I wondered if everyone stomped and pounded the floor hard enough whether it would start Spook Hall sliding down the hill the same way so many of the town’s other buildings had done over the years.
“Then let’s do it!” She turned toward the drummer, and he started in, the lead guitarist playing some twanging chords along with the beat.
I recognized it half a bar in and had to grin. “Bad Moon Rising,” by Credence. Well, that was one way to kick things off.
Immediately couples started to crowd onto the dance floor. Adam turned to me. “You want to dance?”
Maybe I should have said no. But dancing was harmless enough, right? Especially a fast song like this one. No way was I going to slow dance with him. I wasn’t that crazy.
“Sure,” I said, as Sydney cocked an eyebrow at me. I stood up and followed Adam out to the dance floor, and squeezed past one of the ghostbusters, who had the sexy nurse as his partner.
Not that Sydney had much time to get judge-y, because one of the other ghostbusters came up to her and invited her out to the dance floor as well. He wasn’t bad-looking, either…maybe a few years older than we were, with sandy hair and dark eyes. She sort of shrugged and then got to her feet, squeezing out there with the rest of us.
Adam turned out to be a decent enough dancer, and since it was a lively song I didn’t have to worry about him reading much into it except that it was a dance, after all, and so it would have been kind of silly to go and then not, you know, dance. Even so, I couldn’t help glancing past him and through the crowd of dancers to the table where I knew Zorro was sitting. He hadn’t gotten up to dance, although several of the members of his group had. So maybe neither of the girls at his table were his girlfriend after all.
Like it really mattered one way or another. Yes, he was extremely good-looking, but so what? I doubted he could possibly be my soulmate. It was dark enough in the hall that I hadn’t been able to tell what color his eyes were. Maybe if I got close enough….
I shook my head at myself and refocused on the dance, on the rhythm of the music and the guy in front of me. It wasn’t really fair to Adam to be staring off at someone else while we were on the dance floor together.
The song ended, and we all headed back to the table. I was glad that my own borrowed shoes had sensible heels of around two inches, so my feet might actually last the night. Sydney already looked a little wobbly on her stilettos. I had a feeling by the end of the evening they were going to end up kicked under the table.
But that first song had gotten things going, and although I sat out the next one, I went ahead and danced to “Witchy Woman” with one of the ghostbusters — if he only knew how apropos that song was — and the one after that with Tobias, while Adam gallantly partnered with my aunt. In between dances I kept stealing surreptitious glances at Zorro, but he never seemed to look in my direction. Actually, he didn’t seem to be dancing at all, but just watching his friends as they came and went. Like me, he was drinking red wine, but he seemed to be careful about it, and only took a sip every now and then. Well, if he had to drive back down the hill after this, I could see why he might be watching it.
A little after nine, Anthony appeared, flying solo this time. I guess he’d learned his lesson about bringing his friends along. Or maybe Sydney had told him we’d have Adam with us, so things would come out even on the whole guys/girls front. We’d saved a seat for Anthony but let a saloon girl and her gunslinger boyfriend take the remaining two chairs at the table. They weren’t locals — it turned out they’d driven in from Winslow and were historical reenactors, which explained their costumes — but it seemed that sharing tables was the thing to do if your own party wasn’t big enough to take up all the seats.
While the band was taking a break, Anthony and Sydney went to get a fresh round of drinks. I’d offered to get them, but Anthony wasn’t hearing of it. He did seem like a nice guy, even if his friend Perry was an asshat, and I hoped Sydney might be able to make this one last longer than a month…or at least not completely break his heart once she got tired of him. Once again I stole a glance at Zorro’s table, but he wasn’t there. My heart sank a little. Maybe he’d gotten bored and left already. He didn’t seem that into the party.
But then I saw him come in from outside as he slid a cell phone into his pants pocket. I didn’t exactly allow myself a sigh of relief, although I felt the tension in the back of my neck ease up a little. So he’d just been making a phone call. It made sense, since even though the band was taking a break, the recorded music they were playing was loud enough that you’d have to scream into your phone to be heard.
I sipped my wine and attempted to return my attention to the people sitting around me, but it wasn’t easy.
“…Fun?” Adam was saying.
“What?”
He raised his voice slightly. “Having fun?”
I was, more or less, even if I couldn’t help being distracted by that gorgeous Zorro. “Oh, yeah,” I replied, and lifted my wine glass in sort of a “cheers!” motion.
Adam lifted his beer bottle in return. That was his third, if I’d been counting correctly. Oh, well, he didn’t have to drive home at least. His parents had a big Victorian on the same street as Aunt Ruby’s house, but he’d moved out this past summer, getting himself an apartment over the ice cream store on Main. Like the rest of the McAllisters, he had his own stipend to live on, but he was also pretty handy and helped out with the various renovations and repairs that seemed to be going on around town at all times. He’d mentioned getting his contractor’s license, but I didn’t know if he was actively working toward it or not.
On my other side, Anthony and Sydney were sort of hanging all over each other…not kissing, but they might as well be. I didn’t really appreciate the PDA, since I didn’t want them giving Adam any ideas. However, I figured a “get a room” remark wouldn’t go over very well, either, so I sighed and took another sip of wine, and hoped the band would start up again soon.
I didn’t know if my wishing had anything to do with it, but Lara and her bandmates returned to the stage a few minutes later. “We thought we’d ease into this set,” she said, her voice a teasing growl. When she sang, she sounded like she’d spent the last ten years smoking cigarettes and drinking whiskey in every back-road saloon within a hundred-mile radius…which was actually a good thing.
The bassist started, a slow succession of notes, and Lara snarled into the mic, “I put a spell on you….”
A voice said from somewhere over my right shoulder, “Do you want to dance?”
I looked up. Zorro stood there, smiling down at me. Dumbfounded, I could only gape up at him, until Sydney kicked me — sans stilettos, luckily — and I said, “Um…sure.”
He held out a black-gloved hand and I took it, rising to my feet as Adam glowered from the seat next to me. I supposed I couldn’t blame him too much, since I’d steadfastly refused to slow dance with him, yet here I was taking off with the first stranger who’d asked.
But he wasn’t just any stranger….
His hand still holding mine, he led me out onto the dance floor and to a spot somewhere close to the middle. Feeling more than a little awkward, I put one hand on his shoulder and my right hand on his left. He pulled me close, but not too close. At least in that position I was able to look up into his face, to get a better glimpse of the eyes half-obscured by the mask.
Brown. Dark brown.
Disappointment stabbed through me, even as I told myself not to be an idiot and to just enjoy the fact that he’d asked me to dance out of all the girls here…especially since he hadn’t danced with anyone else all night.
“So are you a local?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah. Born and bred. Well,” I added, “not born, I guess. I was born in California.”
He smiled. “That’s cool.”
“Not really. My mother brought me here when I was less than a month old.”
A nod. “Have you ever gone back?”
There was a loaded question. At least, it was loaded to me; he probably thought it was innocent enough. Just making conversation. “No. I don’t get out much. What about you?”
“Well, if you’re a local, then you know I’m not.”
“True. I’d definitely remember you.” Oh, that was brilliant. If both my hands hadn’t been occupied at the moment, I probably would have smacked myself on the forehead for making such a stupid comment. Hot blood rushed to my cheeks, and I hurried to ask, “So where are you from?”
Another grin, his teeth flashing in the dimly light room. “Scottsdale. Well, my family is. I’m going to ASU right now, so I live in Tempe.”
It all sounded so refreshingly normal. “What’s your major?”
“I’m working on my master’s in studio art.”
Hunky and artistic? I might as well have custom-ordered him. He was so close to me, too, his body only a few inches from mine. The only other times I’d ever been this close to a guy my age were when a candidate swooped in for his kiss. Then that made me think of what it might be like to kiss this stranger in the Zorro costume…and I knew my thoughts were veering in a very dangerous direction. Voice a little breathless, I said, “That’s really cool. We have lots of artists here in Jerome.”
“So I’ve heard. This is the first time I’ve made it up here, though.” He sort of jerked his chin in the direction of the table where his friends were sitting. “My friend Dylan saw an ad for this party in a campus paper or something, and so a group of us decided to come up and check it out.”
“Are you staying here?” I knew it was silly to ask, that he was a civilian and not the guy I’d spent the last five years dreaming about, but some part of me wanted to ignore all that, to pretend we could dance tonight and talk and maybe steal a kiss or two, and then meet for coffee in the morning like a couple of normal people.
He shook his head. “No. That is, not in Jerome. We got a room down in Cottonwood because everything here was already booked.”
“Good. I mean, that’s safer than driving a hundred miles back to Phoenix.”
“That was the idea.”
After that we both fell silent, but I didn’t mind that, either. It felt good to be out on the dance floor, his arms around me. It felt right, which was stupid, I supposed. Probably it was just that he was tall and dark-haired and good-looking, and so close enough to the ideal I’d held in my head for so many years that I wanted this dance to be more than it really was. And I would’ve known if he were like me — a member of one of the witch clans, that is. We didn’t exactly give each other the secret handshake or anything, but each of us has a little core of power within us that sort of gives off a glow others of our kind can detect. I didn’t feel anything like that with the man holding me right now. Well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel something, but it wasn’t that.
The song ended, but he didn’t seem all that eager to leave the dance floor…at least, not until the band started in on “Werewolves of London.” Then he drew me to the side and bent close.
My heart started to pound. Was he going to try to kiss me? And if he did, would I even try to stop him?
But then he said, “Can I get your number? I think I might like to come back to Jerome in the near future.”
If Aunt Rachel had heard that, she probably would have shaken her head. No point in giving him any false hope. She wasn’t anywhere near us, however, and he was already pulling his phone out of his pocket so he could enter my information.
Taking a breath, I said quickly, “Angela McAllister. It’s 928 — ”
My name, echoed, interrupted me. I felt someone’s hand on my arm, and I turned around to see about the last person I expected: my cousin Dora, her face pale and her eyes brimming with tears.
“It’s — it’s Ruby,” she gasped. “She’s going, and she needs to see you. You have to hurry!”
The warm afterglow of the dance abruptly disappeared. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, please, you have to come now!”
Helplessly, I looked up at Zorro. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”
He looked more than a little confused, but he just nodded. “Sure. It sounds like an emergency.” And, more softly, even as I was turning from him and beginning to follow Dora through the crowd, “I know where to find you.”