Trail of Dead (24 page)

“Scar?” There was a light knock on my door.

“Come in.”

The door swung open and Jesse shuffled a few steps into the room with his hands covering his eyes. “You decent?”

I laughed. On our last case, he’d accidentally walked in on me while I was close to naked. “Yeah, I guess.” He took his hands down and gave me a warm smile.
Don’t blush, Scarlett
, I told myself
sternly.
You’re better than that.
But the awkward silence unnerved me, and finally I looked down at what I was wearing. “What? You think it’s wrong?”

“No, I think you look great,” he said earnestly. “Do you ever wear your hair down?”

I stuck out my tongue and blew a raspberry at him. “What is this, a teen comedy in the nineties? If I just take off my glasses and take out my ponytail, I’ll be instantly pretty?”

“You don’t wear glasses, and you’re already pretty,” he said matter-of-factly. Then his voice softened. “You’re beautiful.”

I flinched. I never had learned how to take a compliment. Impatient, I turned back to my mirror and jerked the ponytail holder out of my hair. “Yeah, well, so’s your girlfriend,” I snapped. I reached up and braided my hair upside down, twisting the ponytail holder onto the end and letting the long braid settle down my back. “Happy?” I asked, turning back to him.

But Jesse’s face had stiffened. “I have something for you,” he said. He picked up a large paper bag from the hallway floor and thrust it toward me.

I immediately felt like an ass. Why couldn’t I ever say the right thing, just once? I reached into the bag and pulled out…a small, black bulletproof vest. “Uh…you shouldn’t have…?” I said uncertainly.

“There’s more.”

I peeked into the bag and saw a black leather cup with a snapping lid, the size of my two hands. “What is it?” I asked, pulling the thing out. Jesse didn’t answer, but I figured it out myself. I looked up to meet his face. “Jesse, this is for a gun,” I said stupidly. “This is a holster for a
gun
.”

“I know.” He reached around his back and pulled out a small chunk of black metal. “It’s the same model we used at the shooting range,” he said. “I think you should take it along tonight.”

I dropped the holster on the floor and backed away, as though it had burned my fingers. “No way. I am not carrying that. Put it away.”

“Scarlett…” He sighed. “Look, sending you into that party was my idea, okay? And Kirsten won’t let me come in and keep an eye on you. I’ll be all the way out in the car, by the street. Just do this for me, okay? I’ll feel better if I know you can defend yourself.”

“
No
,” I said. “No guns.”

“Scarlett—”

I shook my head. “
No guns.
”

He tried a few more arguments, but I just shook my head and waited him out. Finally he threw up his hands. “At least tell me why not,” he said, frustration all over his face.

I swallowed and tried to figure out what the hell to tell him. I didn’t actually disagree with anything Jesse had said. Being armed seemed perfectly logical when you were going up against a vampire who’d been crazy before she’d turned undead. But still…”Look, Jesse,” I began. “What I do for a living—and what I just
am
—it’s all about undoing damage.” I held up a hand, warding off his next words. “I know, I know, you think erasing crime scenes is
causing
damage. But that’s just not how I see it. I undo things that were done in violence, whether it’s cleaning a crime scene or humanizing a werewolf or vampire. But guns…what they do is forever. There’s no unshooting someone. And accidents happen, and I might miss, and it’s just so permanent.” I took a deep breath. “So shut the hell up about the gun, okay?”

I met his eyes for a long, searching moment, and something in my stomach turned over. Finally he relaxed, sighing. “Would you at least wear the vest?” he asked.

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.

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.”

Kevin bobbed his head again, looking relieved, and I went inside.

My jaw dropped open at the threshold. The front door opened into a typical entryway: stairs straight ahead, a living room on the right, hallway to the bathroom, and kitchen on the left. And every single surface was covered in candy. Enormous candies made from
foam or plastic hung from the walls and ceiling. Big, brown gingerbread-men cutouts were attached to the walls, looking like they’d step forward at any second and challenge me to a footrace. Every table had at least one bowl of brightly colored M&M’s or Skittles on it. I looked down at my feet. I was standing on a bright-green plastic square. It was part of a long path of colored squares that led off to both my right and left.

I felt a familiar buzz of serious power as Kirsten appeared from the hallway. She was dressed in a long, white-and-ice-blue strapless gown and had put some sort of blue rinse or dye through her light-blonde hair, which hung loose on her shoulders. A light-blue plastic crown perched on top of her head, completing the look. She smiled at my confused expression.

“There are so many religious and spiritual beliefs and customs tied to the solstice, and I don’t want any fighting. So every year I pick a random, secular theme for the party.” She gestured at the decorations. “Do you get it?”

For a very brief moment, I pictured the witch from Hansel and Gretel, the one with the house made out of candy. But no, Kirsten wouldn’t be that crass. “Um…diabetic shock?”

Kirsten chuckled. “Nope. Welcome to Candy Land.”

I looked around again. “
Ohhhhh.
” That explained the plastic squares. I took another look at Kirsten too. It had been a long time since I’d played Candy Land, but there was one character card that I’d always hoped to get, just because she was so pretty. “You’re Queen Frostine.”

Kirsten curtsied, which would have looked ridiculous on me, but she made it look kind of regal. “You did all this with six hours’ notice?” I asked incredulously.

She straightened, shrugging modestly. “I had all the supplies already, and some of my witches came to help.” She pointed to the hallway. “They’re still here, setting up in the kitchen. Let me show you where I think you should hang out.”

I asked her to talk to Kevin first, and she nodded, grabbed a handful of candy from a nearby dish, and popped out to the front porch. She returned a second later with empty hands. “He understands. He won’t mention you.” She frowned as she started down the hallway. I followed. “I suppose someone at the party could text their friends who aren’t here yet, and one of those friends could be Olivia’s partner. But I find it hard to believe the conspiracy is that big.”

I shrugged. “There’s also the thing where none of us had any better ideas.”

“Yes, there’s that.”

I followed Kirsten down the hall, past a small den with a fireplace, and through the dining room. I felt a couple of low-intensity hits on my radius as we passed the kitchen. Nothing to worry about there. Whatever the witches were making did smell wonderful, though: sort of like cupcakes and almonds.

Finally, Kirsten stopped at a patio door that opened onto a sunken sunroom. The space had been done up like Queen Frostine’s kingdom: rolls of white cotton hung over tables, bearing an uncanny resemblance to snow. Paper snowflakes dangled from the ceiling, and tufts of silver garland, like the kind you put on Christmas trees, dangled from a slow-moving ceiling fan. It was beautiful.

“We usually gather in here to talk,” Kirsten explained. She pointed toward a sofa that had been covered in a white sheet with blue embroidery. “If you hang out there, everyone who comes down the stairs into the room should pretty much pop into your radius, I think.”

“Let’s try it.”

We did a bit of experimenting with Kirsten coming in and out of the doorway, and ended up moving the sofa six inches farther into the room. When she was satisfied, Kirsten nodded to herself and moved back toward the doorway. “I need to get back to hostessing
duties, but I’ll try to make sure everyone heads in here at some point. Usually people like to see all the decorations, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Are you keeping track of who doesn’t show up?” I asked. Kirsten nodded. “Okay, then.”

She vanished back into the kitchen, and I plopped down on the couch, wishing I had a magazine or something. Now that I was here, this plan was beginning to feel rather stupid. Yes, I could tell how powerful witches were, especially with Kirsten around as a litmus test. But we were counting on an awful lot of luck too: that the right witch would show up, that she wouldn’t hear about me being here, that she’d come close enough. On the other hand, there were only a few more hours until midnight. We were fresh out of better ideas.

People began trickling in, carrying appetizer plates and chattering. Kirsten was right—just about everyone came into the sunroom to admire the decorations. Most of them were women, but a few of the women had brought their husbands along. Some of the guests were dressed fairly casually in street clothes, like I was, but plenty had turned up in costume: either Candy Land themed, like Kirsten (I saw one detail-intensive Gloppy costume, which I hoped to drive out of my memory someday), or as famous witches: Harry Potter was a popular theme, as was
Wicked
, and I saw two witches who’d dressed up like Tilda Swinton from the Narnia movies.