We soon reached a large old mansion blazing with lights and looking like something out of The Great Gatsby. Music poured out of the open doorway. “And here we are,” Ethan said, killing the engine and taking a deep breath.
“You know what you said about not getting me drunk on our next date?” I asked. “I won’t hold you to it.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“Nice work with the flare gun.”
“Thanks. I’ve had it forever and never had a need for it, but I thought we were close enough to the party that we might be able to get help. You were amazing staring them down.”
“Thanks.” I took a deep breath to steady myself and tried to get myself back on track for a date now that the danger was past. “I take it this is a magical party?”
“Yeah. I was helping Corporate Sales with some contract negotiations this week and they invited me. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought it would be interesting.”
Did I mind? The real question was, after having just faced down an evil magical menagerie, would I be able to relax around more magical people, especially if I knew that one or more of them might be working for the enemy? How else did the bad guys know we were going to be there? Then again, what semi-corporate party with salespeople was ever fun? “It looks like fun,” I lied, not wanting to hurt his feelings, but hoping maybe we could just go to dinner and a movie on our next date.
I waited for him to come around and open my door for me, not because I was playing Southern belle, but because my legs were still shaking from the close call. The gargoyle came to rest on the ground beside Ethan, and said, “You’ll be safe here. This estate is warded. Invited guests only.”
“Thanks,” I said shakily. Ethan escorted me inside with a protective hand at the small of my back, the very way I’d wished Owen had escorted me earlier in the week. And there I went again, getting sidetracked.
A butler took our coats in the entryway and directed us to the ballroom where the party was being held. The room was packed with every kind of magical creature I’d ever seen—except for the scary sorts we’d met outside—and a fair number of humans I assumed were wizards.
“Look, food!” Ethan said, gesturing toward a loaded buffet table. We restrained ourselves from running at it, but we walked with eager rapidity.
We’d just started loading our plates when a business-suited woman approached Ethan. “I was wondering if you were going to make it.”
“You’re not the only one. It was a close call. And I think the directions you gave me were for flying carpet, not car. It took longer than I expected to get here.”
She laughed. “I keep forgetting about that when I deal with nonmagical folk.”
He then turned to me. “Katie, have you met Melisande Rogers in Corporate Sales? She’s the one who invited us.”
I recognized the name as one of my many tipsters, the one who’d been ratting out an apparent rival in Outside Sales. She didn’t look particularly happy to see me, but I put on a smile and held out a hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Katie Chandler.”
She took my hand in a dry, cool grip. “Yes, I know. The boss’s right hand. I’m glad you could make it.” There was something in her eyes that told me she hadn’t expected Ethan to bring a date when she’d invited him to the party, especially not a date who knew what a backstabber she was.
Ethan seemed oblivious to the tension between us. His magical immunity may have allowed him to spot spells, but he was apparently blind to the workings of female jealousy. He said, “We’re both starving after that drive—and all the excitement. I’ll have to catch up with you later.”
Judging from the look she gave us, if it had been up to Melisande, I probably still would have been on the side of the road chatting with Mr. Bones while Ethan was safely ensconced in the mansion, having drinks with her. I was lucky that most of the magical world respected Merlin enough to give me some degree of protection, and I made a mental note to ask around about Melisande on Monday morning.
A bedraggled group of magical folk came into the room, and a cheer rang out. I recognized a couple of the people who’d come to our rescue. One of the gargoyles flew over to us. “You shouldn’t be having any problems from them for a while,” it said. “Unfortunately, a few of them got away, but they were heading out so fast, I doubt they’ll even look back until they’re safe in their lairs. You should be able to get home without being bothered tonight.”
“Thank you for your help,” I replied.
