Chapter 21

The party began at seven. Bryce seemed unnaturally concerned that we arrive perfectly on time, to better annoy everyone. Around two he began calling me non-stop, insisting that I should start getting ready. Savannah told him she had locked me in the washroom just to get him to stop.

I could hear them arguing as I got into the shower. Let the siblings hammer out whatever they wanted. They couldn't kill each other over the phone.

I didn't mind having five hours to get ready. I was a horrible girly-girl when it came to this sort of thing—I spent two days getting ready for Senior Prom. I liked smelling like some sort of flower. And I knew this was by far the most luxurious party I would ever get to attend. Might as well make the most of it.

I spent the rest of the day getting shepherded from place to place, from the nail salon to the hair salon and back again. Savannah rolled her eyes and I thought it was a little extreme, but Paulson insisted and Bryce was paying for it and it was sort of fun. I didn't even feel that bad about the disgustingly large amount of money we were spending. I had to face Thomas Nast. This was the least that they could do.

Putting on the dress without damaging my perfectly painted face was a challenge, but Savannah managed to help. The dress we had found was rather pretty, so light blue made me feel like I was just a weightless cloud in the sky when wearing. Not that I could escape; it was plastered so tightly to my body that there wasn't any risk of it falling down, even without having straps. Considering how short it was I probably shouldn't have let Savannah talk me into the slit at the side, but I figured I would only have one opportunity to try and kill the CEO of the Nast Cabal, so I might as well go all out. Not like they could blame me if he had a heart attack, right? I hoped not.

I focused on the dress, so I didn't think about what I was wearing underneath it. The thought of three hundred dollars worth of clothing that no one would ever get to see seemed sort of sad. Well, maybe I would show Bryce...if he didn't ask.

It was only when I slipped on the six inch heels that I had bought in a useless attempt to lessen the ridiculous difference in height between us that I realized, fully realized, I was excited. I sat down on my bed with an unladylike thump. I was so screwed. But who didn't like a party, really? Fancy dressed, fancy clothes...it was natural to get excited. It didn't mean anything.

I checked my make-up one last time and pulled my dress straight. I grabbed the clutch bag with my cell phone (turned to vibrate) tucked inside and was ready. I went to the living room where Savannah and Paulson were playing cards. I asked our friendly neighbourhood bodyguard: "I thought you had the night off?" He had been boasting about a date all day.

"I get off at six thirty. Or whenever the boss decides to show up." He slapped down a queen. "Take that."

Savannah sighed handed over the jack. She glanced up at me and gave me a rueful smile. "You look great."

"Sound any more disappointed, won't you?" I walked over to the grimoires to cram a few more spells in before I had to leave. The doorbell rang, saving me from getting even more nervous. I stood to answer it but Paulson grabbed my arm.

"The whole point of having me around is to let me watch out for you."

"Paulie, you don't need super-hearing to hear Bryce bellowing," Savannah said rolling her eyes. Sure enough, I could make out an angry voice. Joy.

Still, someone had to get the door.

Bryce could clean up well (of course he could—my life would be easier if he couldn't, so of course he could). His blonde hair was actually neat for once, without looking like he was wearing a wig, like men in suits sometimes did. His tie even matched my dress perfectly—I didn't want to know how he had managed that. With the blue around his neck it was impossible to miss just how intensely blue his eyes were. It made me feel like he could see through the thin dress and that thought wasn't as unpleasant as it should be considering his half-sister was three feet away. It was strange to see how natural he looked in the suit, despite the fact it was the first time I had seen him out of jeans. Still, he was leaning, this time against the house where it jutted out by the door. I resisted the urge to order him to stand up straight. He would never do it if he knew how much it bothered me.

There was a cell phone plastered to his ear as he gave me a critical once over. I worked hard not to fidget under his intense stare. Eyes lingered over my breasts; the miracle of Victoria Secret. As he walked inside—without returning my greeting—he muttered, "You're so fucking short. But you'll do."

"What is your issue?" I sighed as he went back to talking (shouting) on the phone. With him out of the way, I could make out Leech on the porch. He was going stay with Savannah while we were at the party. "Come on in."

"I feel like I should translate," Leach said with a smile as he followed me inside. "What Bryce meant was that you look really, really, really hot." He offered me his hand and I took it, letting him spin me around, staring at me the whole time. I could feel my cheeks heat up. It was nice to be appreciated every once and a while.

"Apparently too short, but what are you going to do?"

Bryce had walked into the kitchen and was arguing with someone about contracts. Business then, and I had to work hard not to understand. It didn't help I had been told since birth that the Cabal always came first. I really hated that.

Leech grinned. "Too short? The view's better from up here."

I swatted him playfully as Savannah called Leech over. It was strange seeing them together—Savannah had been invisible most of the time they had known each other. But he easily swung over the couch and landed beside her, taking the cards from Paulson, who managed to cover his dislike with a vague smile.

"Aww...War?"

"Buck up, big man, and get ready to get taken down."

Paulson chuckled at Savannah as he got up to leave. I made him promise to enjoy himself. Glancing quickly behind me—where Bryce was complaining about some overdue deadlines—he just gave me a brief, "Good luck, to you. Remember you look gorgeous and Grant will be there. If you feel uncomfortable, go up to him and he'll get you out."

"Thank you."

Paulson nodded and was gone. In the kitchen, Bryce finally hung up. Glaring at me like I had personally made whatever company miss whatever deadline, he asked: "You coming?"

Even dressed like a gentleman, he was still Bryce. He was going to talk to me like I was an idiot until the world ended. I headed to the door.

He reached out and grabbed my arm. If he bruised me before the dance, I was going to kill him. He pulled a box out of his pocket and handed it to me, even as his fingers moved over his Black Berry. "You need to put these on first. You won't look the part otherwise."

The velvet box contained jewellery. Lots of it. In gold. And diamonds.

When I didn't say anything for a long time, Bryce actually put the phone away and regarded me carefully: "You don't like it?"

"Like what?" Savannah demanded from behind me. I was having a hard time putting words together, stunned by the sheer volume of sparkle in front of me. I had seen jewellery like this before. I had just never been allowed to touch it.

"I know you think I'm an ungrateful bitch," I pushed out, "But nobody on the planet wouldn't like this."

"Like what?" Savannah demanded again.

I walked to the couch and showed her. My surprise was mirrored by hers for a second and then the Cabal princess reared her head. "Put it on then."

I handed her the box and she dutifully held it as I pulled out the earnings first. I wasn't sure my poor ears could hold up the large jewels, though I was sure as hell going to try. Bryce insisting I put my hair up suddenly made a little more sense. There was no point in wearing such enormous diamonds if no one could see them.

Next, a necklace came out of the box. There was a huge pear-shaped diamond that hung down, just barely brushing the tops of my breasts. As I felt the weight on my chest, I couldn't imagine the cost of a real diamond that big—on the other hand, would Bryce condescend to buy fake jewellery? That was even harder to imagine.

There was a ring in the box as well. It was two pieces of gold, interwoven, with two large, perfectly cut diamonds between the bands. I pulled it out, a little confused.

"I'm not pretending to be your fiancée. Am I?"

Bryce laughed. "You think that tiny thing is an engagement ring? Someone hands you a ring like that, you return it. He's supposed to go into debt buying the ring."

"What kind of ring would you have to buy to go into debt?" I asked, truly curious.

"You can't count that high. Hurry up and put it on."

I was going to ask where, but it fit so perfectly over my middle finger that I didn't need to bother. Bryce told me, "So when you flip me off, I have something nice to look at."

"How the hell does it fit?" Savannah demanded. It was a waste of breath. What other skills did he need to develop?

Now that I was over the sheer volume of the sparkle, I could handle him making me wear jewellery like this. It was all about making me his, declaring to the world that I was properly bought and paid for. It fit because that's what would look best; we had to stay in our roles, after all.

"I had it lying around," he shrugged. "Can we go know?"

"And it magically fits her?"

"Apparently." I was still fingering the necklace, the cool metal against my skin. The feeling of the jewels gave me shivers. Bryce ignored his sister. "Do you like it?"

I could only nod. No matter how demeaning it was supposed to make me feel, I simply couldn't get over how nice it all was. It shouldn't have made a difference—ten dollars, a hundred dollars or even ten thousand dollars, it just meant I was a doll on the shelf. I was used to that feeling. I wasn't used to being having everything feel so beautiful.

"Keep it then," he said dismissively.

"I couldn't—"

This could probably put me through college. For the next twenty years.

Now Leech and I joined Savannah in looking at Bryce like he was crazy. Bryce ignored us witches, and locked eyes with his friend, who backed down. A sigh of annoyance and then he headed towards the door. I had to half run to catch up with him.

"What the hell?" Savannah demanded as I wished her goodbye, shutting the door as she began to rant.

Bryce opened the door for me as we got to the car, seemingly unconsciously, and I stepped inside, brain still on autopilot. Grant was sitting in the front seat and I greeted him. He said nothing about the jewellery, just gave me a small smile.

"You couldn't have given him the night off?" I asked because I had to say something. Silence said too much, made me want to say thank you...and at least I still knew that was the dumbest thing for me to say.

Bryce tore his gaze away from the window, and then glanced at Grant, slowly figuring out what I meant. "They get paid overtime for nights like this. Would you rather not have a bodyguard?"

I would rather Grant was home with his family, but I couldn't say that. Instead I asked, "Am I going to need a bodyguard?"

"Not really. No one will hurt you on Nast property. You're not valuable enough."

"Thanks." I hated that tone. Half-bored, it said that I could offer everything I had and it still wouldn't be good enough. I was never enough. I knew that; Bryce didn't have to constantly remind me. "Did Grant at least find out what's wrong with your communications?"

Bryce sighed. "We've got so much security at the upper levels, it's taking him to forever to find out anything. But don't worry about it. He will."

"You going to tell me why I'm coming tonight?"

"No. But unless you're talking to my grandfather, try and be on your best behaviour. If you have any."

"Look who's talking."

He looked right down my dress. "I can be polite."

I made a noncommittal noise as Grant pulled the car out of the driveway. There looked to be a long night ahead of me and I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Except for the fact my sole purpose was to offend Thomas Nast. If that wasn't the dumbest thing I had ever done, I didn't know what was. Because of course the old man would be offended. I was a witch, after all.

Bryce had Grant turn the radio to the classical station and the rest of the ride was a series of etiquette rules to an instrumental soundtrack. It was as boring as it sounds.

But at the end of it all, there was the house.

Bryce was still talking but all I could do was stare. It was huge. The biggest house I had ever seen with property stretched out as far as the eye could. There were Chinese lanterns around the border and I could barely see the ones in the distance, faint twinkling stars in a black sky. The house was garishly designed, someone's idea of villa gone horrible wrong. Four enormous pillars stood between us and the door. I liked pillars, just not curving, twisting, slightly crooked ones. They didn't seem to serve a purpose. The whole building was a living, breathing stone monstrosity, which was a shame. Even natural disasters couldn't destroy it.

"What is your family compensating for?" I asked, eyes wide.

"You know we have nothing to compensate for," he snapped.

"And this is just one of your Grandfather's houses?"

He was helping me out of the car, as a valet came up to take the keys from Grant. The security at this party was going to be extreme—Thomas had even brought a company clairvoyant. Still, everyone around us seemed to have brought their own protection as well. What kind of world was it where you couldn't go to an octogenarians birthday party without armed guards?

I paused for a second, staring up at the building, trying to stifle the panic. Whatever else he was, Bryce was observant. He whispered in my ear, "Tonight, anytime you feel uncomfortable we can leave. The second it's too much, we're out of there. I hate being at these things anyway. All right?"

"I didn't know they made houses this big in real life," I choked out.

"I see. I'm sure it's amazing how attractive you find me at this moment."

I glanced over at him. Bryce was doing a good job of pouting while managing to look dignified. I did think he looked good, not because the house so obviously declared the Nast fortune but because it was so goddamn ugly he had to look good in comparison. I settled for a quiet:

"You're tie is crooked."

He fixed the tie just as the door opened for us. A white-gloved hand was gently offered to me. I took it, feeling almost like a fairy princess. I smiled at the doorman as he helped me across the threshold. There were lights everywhere and more of the gloved, perfectly dressed men appeared in front of me.

Bryce's presence beside me ruined the illusion. I couldn't be a fairy princess if reality was busy scowling next to me. With a tight smile, he offered me his arm. Reluctantly, I took it. He led me into the house without a word.

The hallway was terrifying. It was white and black and seemed to extend into infinity. The was a large staircase further in the room that looked like it was made of glass layered over onyx. No pictures adorned the walls, just strange silver sculptures. They twisted and turned and climbed upwards towards the stars.

"Bryce!"

Bryce turned to greet a man who I instantly recognized as Sean Nast. The nice brother. The one who had made sure I wasn't bothered by human inquiries into Tia's death. He was a little handsomer, his eyes a little bluer, his face a little broader. They had the same hair colour, but Sean's was longer, tied back at the nape of his neck. Bryce let go of me and returned his brother's hug easily. It didn't escape my notice that Sean seemed surprised at this.

"I wasn't sure you were coming," Sean continued, studying his brother, worry etched all over his face. It was hard to tell if it was just older brother concern or something more specific. Bryce didn't acknowledge it.

"When he says come, I come."

"Who's your—" Sean abruptly ended his sentence as he faced me, eyes locking. It was obvious he had just realized I was a witch. And he didn't seem to be taking it that well. But to give him credit, he covered so that it was clear it was his brother he was upset with, not me. His voice was pleasant as he asked, "Is this your date?"

Bryce stepped in. "Sean, this is Gillian MacArthur. Gillian, this is my brother, Sean Nast."

I didn't need the nudge he none to subtly gave me. I stuck out me hand and said sincerely, "Pleasure to meet you. Your siblings sing nothing but your praises."

"Siblings?" He quickly realized that wasn't a slip of the tongue. "You know Savannah?" he asked. I nodded. I don't know how he saw me, as his eyes were plastered on his brother. "Have you—"

"She introduced us, as a matter of fact," Bryce said smoothly. "Grandpa will be proud of my networking."

"Bryce..." Sean said, glancing around as if afraid Thomas would appear at any moment.

"You worry too much."

"What are you doing, Bryce?" Sean hissed. "What goes on your mind that you think Grandpa is not going to kill you for this?"

Bryce took my arm again, clutching it tighter than before. "We all have stupid taste in companions, Sean. I'm just reminding him of that."

"Don't. Don't do this. You're already—I don't need you to do this. You get that right? This isn't going to accomplish anything."

I knew I was missing something, but didn't have the slightest idea what. Neither brother seemed inclined to enlighten me. I kept busy avoiding the eye of everyone that was walking past us. I didn't want the rumours to start when Bryce wasn't paying attention.

"Maybe this isn't about you," Bryce said. "Maybe I really like her."

I almost snorted, but held it down. Yeah, this was clearly not about me.

The doors opened behind us and another, older, couple entered. Bryce's voice lowered. "I'm just going to scare him a little. Make him think it could be worse. Give him a little taste of the worst case scenario so he accepts reality. Remind him you're still better."

"Bryce...."

"You should love that," he snapped, getting angry. "Come on, Gillian. A night of infinite pleasure awaits us."

He yanked me through the black doors on his right. The heels were going to be a hindrance tonight if he was going to keep that up. I was liable to topple off balance at any moment. I could feel the tension radiating off of him, the encounter with his brother clearly upsetting him.

"What's going on?" I demanded.

Pain flickered in his eyes for the briefest of seconds and then the Cabal mask was on. "Some people have no sense of gratitude."

And with that we entered the hall.

It was just as grand as the entrance, though it actually had colour in it. If wood counted as a colour. Excepting the tables covered in white with silver candlesticks, the room was decorated completely in wood. Different colours and carvings and all sorts of interesting things, but all in different shades of brown.

There were people milling about everywhere and there were more sorcerers than I could count. I clung to Bryce instinctively, while cursing him for bringing me here in the first place. As more sorcerers caught my eye, more and more people turned to stare.

"Stop looking at people," he whispered as he lead me through the throng.

"You should have pretended I was blind."

"Hey. The Cabals don't discriminate against the disabled."

"Just the witches."

"Only when they're ugly," he reassured me.

Bryce greeted a few of the couples we met. The sorcerers were either blatantly rude or ignored me completely. Their wives just looked at me with a hint of disgust. It was going to be a long night.

Unfortunately, we couldn't just leave. This was the whole point, after all, at least, I thought it was. Piss everyone off by bringing a witch. I didn't understand what that could possibly accomplish, but I had promised Bryce. Plus, I liked the house. But annoying everyone was slow going work. It was a big crowd. Bryce didn't torture me the whole time; whenever we found someone who could tolerate my presence he lingered a little bit longer, keeping up the small talk. My job was merely not to say anything stupid. It was easily enough to judge whether our audience would tolerate a comment.

After the sorcerers, the necromancers were the most hostile. They were more likely to be high ranking employees of some sort and couldn't bear to see one of their bosses—because despite the fact that he was younger than most of the people we met, he was a Nast, and thus, in change—degrading himself so. The half-demons and shamans were fairly neutral, sometimes talking directly to me. They couldn't afford to piss off my date.

We were circling yet again, when I spotted them walking through the doorway. I barely managed to come up with an answer that the half-demon Financial Controller had asked. The next few moments of conversation were pure agony. I watched them out of the corner of my eye, desperately hoping they couldn't see me around Bryce.

When we finally got away I warned him: "Mr Cortez and Paige just came."

"They're here?" he asked, bored. "Fuck. I definitely have to talk to Lucas. Tonight is never going to end."

"My life," I explained, clearly, "is going to end, when they find out I'm here with you. They're going to suspect something and then they're going to investigate and then they'll find out..."

"Find out what? You're an adult; it is feasible that you're just here to have a good time."

I wasn't getting through to him. "They're going to wonder how I know you."

"So tell them," he said slowly. "I'm sure you could figure something out. Maybe I delivered the antibiotics that saved Savannah's life just in time and for that heroic act you decided to give good old misunderstood Bryce Nast a chance."

"You're not misunderstood if you act like an ass and people assume you're an ass. And that's too unrealistic. I can't believe Savannah didn't let me tell them. They're going to freak when they find out."

He shrugged. "Then tell them Savannah set us up. It's a blind date."

"I don't want them to think Savannah hates me."

"Hey." Bryce glared down at me. But he was also a lot closer than he should have been, considering we were in a room full of people. His hand was on my shoulder, thumb gently tracing my collar. "I happen to think I'm doing a good job of winning Savannah over. But we can avoid them, if you really want. It's about the only thing I can do well."

His breath tickled against my neck. I could feel a hundred different disapproving sorcerer eyes on us. I stayed right where I was. "Thanks."

We kept mingling with a never-ending crowd of people. It would have been even worse if I hadn't known Bryce hated it twice as much as I did. That wasn't to say he was bad at it—no, he was actually surprisingly great at faking interest, laughter and polite conversation. I guess being bred for this sort of thing hadn't hurt. I assumed he was cursing underneath, desperate to escape or to let something slip out of his mouth that he couldn't, but his countenance gave nothing away.

Except that every time we turned away he whispered some horrible thing about someone in my ear. I think he liked having someone to complain too. And since most of the people in the room were staring down their noses, I found it funny.

"Bryce, honey, are you really walking away from me?"

Bryce turned around and was attacked, swallowed in an enormous hug by a women in a bright pink dress. She was older, with short dyed hair and a pleasantly lined face. She was a hefty woman, with an enormous smile and in her dress, she reminded me of cotton candy. Her head was topped off with an elaborate hat of feathers, a sprinkling of sugar on top of maple syrup.

But Bryce didn't seem displeased to see her. In fact, he returned the hug eagerly, holding it a little longer than I thought appropriate.

"Alba, my love, how are you?" he grinned, stepping back to my side.

She sighed. "All work and no play, my boy. So I'm heading to my villa next month even if I have to convince your grandfather to come with me. We might be a little busy, but if you wanted to come, I wouldn't say no..."

The look she gave him almost made me blush, but he seemed to enjoy it. Of course he did.

"What time should I be there?" he asked.

She laughed loudly, body rippling up and down like a tidal wave. The feathers shook with her and I felt myself grinning in spite of myself. She was like a laughing pink Furbie—it was ridiculous.

"Bryce, stop flirting with me. You're going to make your poor girl hopelessly jealous."

"Would you like to be introduced, Alba?" He turned to me, trying to cover his laughter. "If you're scared, we can leave now."

Despite her pleasant smile, I noticed the pink-puffball was sizing me up. But she was the first person who seemed actually pleased to meet me.

"You can introduce us if you promise not to run away with her. Don't give me that look, Bryce, I can tell you're thinking it," I said finally.

Bryce smiled and addressed the woman. "Alba, this is Gillian MacArthur. Gillian, this Albarita Fermi, the love of my life. She works for my grandfather, on his board of directors. She's the most powerful shaman on the planet," he finished proudly.

She giggled, hands clapping. "I loved it when you lie about me like that."

"We both know you have the rest of the board in that magnificent hand of yours."

"I told you to stop." She addressed me. "You must think I'm horrible. It's all his fault. That boy makes me crazy. But here, let me welcome you properly."

The hug came out of nowhere, but I shouldn't have been surprised. It was rather like hugging a bean bag. It just kept shifting underneath you. She gave me two large smacks—one on each cheek—and then pulled away.

However pink and puffy Alba acted, there was a powerful woman lurking just under the surface. Her eyes were hard as they studied me for a moment and it scared me, despite the smile that had been on my face a second before. You don't get on the board of directors by smiling at people. And then, just as quickly, she went fluffy again.

"You must bring her over, boy. The poor girl needs a good home cooked meal and quickly. I make the best lasagna you have ever tried."

"It's true," Bryce admitted. "There was potential competition once, but Alba had her killed."

"The nice coroner said it was an accident," Alba shot back.

Bryce laughed but paused, glancing behind him. Then he swore, his attention no longer focused on either of us. "Hollis is coming."

Alba heaved a great big sigh but promised, "I'll keep him busy for you. Honestly, the things I do for you boy. Go! Though I expect to be thanked properly for this, sweetheart."

"Why don't I like the sound of that?" he asked.

"Trust me..." she trailed off mischievously, winking. From the left a tall, slender man dressed all in black was steadily approaching. Alba hefted her enormous frame in front of him and effectively cut off all paths of pursuit as Bryce and I melted into the crowd.

I started giggling then, right in the middle of the floor. She had terrified me more than I thought. "She's terrible! That cougar." He turned redder, if that was possible, and I had to ask, "Bryce? You didn't?"

He grabbed glass of champagne from the circling waiters. He took a sip and avoided the question.

"She's old enough to be your mother!" I said, still giggling. He so had. I could see it perfectly, her fawning over him, his young desperate body eager to please. Probably in the board room.

"I used to wish she was. Kept all my secrets when I was a kid."

He tried to play it off as a joke, but there was no doubt he was serious. I leaned into him, lowering my voice.

"I'm sorry I annoyed her then."

"Actually, I think she liked you. Usually she refuses to even speak to the women she sees me with."

"Because they're whores," I pointed out.

"They aren't—" Bryce stopped himself. "Not in the technical, technical sense of the word."

"She seems a little old to be an over-protective big sister."

"She's like my adoring aunt, if adoring aunts seduced their nephews. As long as I'm happy...she still loves me. She wouldn't have talked to Hollis for all the world if she didn't. He's on the board of directors too. Fucking power mad. The second I can I'm going to fire Hollis so fast—" He took a deep breath and remembered where he was. "Fucking Hollis."

"So you don't like Hollis?"

I grinned, but Bryce just shook his head. "He's been trying to get the necromancer under him, Mariah Eisenberg, fired since she had her kid. It was sick, or something, and she was always off taking care of it. We might have actually fired her too, except her husband's on the board of directors."

"That's terrible." And the way Cabals worked. Total dedication or go home.

"Hollis disagreed, but he was voted down. But when the kid died a few a months ago he started lecturing Mariah on how that was a good thing, how she should be grateful, because now she wouldn't be distracted from her duties. She tried to push him out a window. And when she told her husband, he didn't bother with the window, just tried to kill Hollis with his own two hands."

"And that's why you don't like him?"

"Who's fucking stupid enough to say that?"

I snorted. "It's not about what he said, but the fact he said it out loud?"

"Of course." Because he had to know I was going to start arguing, he said, "Let's not talk about Hollis. Let's dance."

And with that he pulled me onto the dance floor. This wasn't my kind of dancing at all. I could dance in clubs—if it looked like upright sex, I could pull it off—but this sort of elegant waltzing stuff was completely beyond me. Luckily this type of dancing only required I followed Bryce's lead and this was one time where I was happy to let him have his way.

One hand in mine, the other high on my back, he lead us slowly around the room. It wasn't too complicated and my father had taught me something similar once upon a time. He was nodding at various people around us as I tried to keep up.

"Does Alba feel up all your dates?"

"Yup." Bryce grinned at a fond memory. "I was dating this one tramp and she taking some sort of fertility hormone. Alba popped her right in the eye. She's got a mean left hook."

I suddenly felt lucky to have escaped with only a few scattered disapproving looks. "You're kind of paranoid about knocking someone up, aren't you?"

"Well, my father wasn't and now we have to deal with the she-devil." I 'accidently' stepped on his toe. He cringed but took the blow as it was intended. Neither of us apologized. "There are other stories in our family too."

"About the gold-digging whores?"

"You mock, but there are a lot more out there than the feminists would have you think." Bryce tried to twirl me and, to my surprise, he somehow succeeded, before continuing: "Grandpa's older brother, Misha, had an accident when he was five. He lived, but it left him a little...well, retarded, but we're not allowed to say that. But of course, this being a Cabal, he had to be on the board of directors, even if everyone made sure he never actually did anything. Anyway, he had this cleaning woman—some sort of immigrant and don't give me that look, MacArthur—anyway, she wasn't an idiot. She gets knocked up, he marries her, two months later he's dead. She takes the company for over a hundred million and then takes the kid and disappears. Smart woman."

"I've suddenly been seized by the urge to bear your offspring."

"Can you imagine? Our children would be monsters."

I had to smile because...they would be. "Maybe I should start a cleaning business instead."

"That might actually work. You wouldn't believe the number of men in my family that like a women in costume."

I pressed closer to him and whispered in his ear, "And what sorts of costumes do you like?" I was getting so desperately tired and there was no sign that dinner was going to happen any time soon. We might as well have a little fun. My hand slipped out of his, running down his tie, further...

The hand on my back a tad lower for a second. Then he groaned and grabbed my wayward hand. "Hold that thought. But if I disappear now, they're just going to think we're backing down. Let's just get some food. We won't have to talk to anyone then."

Thomas Nast lay out a splendid buffet. There was every sort of food you could imagine and some I couldn't. Fruit cut and diced and sliced every which way and pates and caviars and other exotic spreads. And cheeses from around the world. There was even a chocolate fountain in the corner. I didn't want to go over there, though. Corners weren't the safest places to be tonight.

Bryce filled a plate and I picked off it. When I asked for more fruit he told me to get it myself, since I had eaten all of his. With a forced sigh, I headed off towards the pineapple.

I reached for the knife as the same time as another woman. Glancing up I froze. Crap.

Paige Cortez couldn't believe her eyes. At least she wasn't the only witch.

"Paige," I said, trying to grin. "You look lovely."

She did look lovely. As the CEO's wife, she was wearing a respectable black, but it hugged her curves and showed enough skin to keep those older women gossiping and her husband quite happy. Her hair had been professionally done up, the only reason it wasn't a curly mess. I had wanted curly hair when I was younger—all girls with straight hair do, at some point—but hearing Paige bitch about hers had snapped me out of it. Tonight—the night of the six inch heels—I was a little taller than her, but I could feel her eyes burning into me, even from below.

"Gillian. I heard there was another witch here, but I didn't think—what are you doing here?"

"It's a long story. Where's Mr Cortez?"

"By the fountain. What are you doing here?"

"Enjoying the party."

I was saved from Paige's next question by the arrival of her husband.

Lucas Cortez had been born with a serious expression on his face and it never left, unless he was looking at his wife. Tall and thin, I couldn't remember him looking less than respectable even though he was in the business of rushing out at all hours of the night to save lives. He was one of the most powerful men in a room of incredibly powerful people—being heir to the most powerful Cabal—and he was probably the first people would forget. He was just that non-descript.

"Gillian. It's pleasure to see you," he said politely. "What pleasing revelation."

I knew I was in trouble when Lucas got the multi-syllable words out. Honestly, I needed a dictionary when I was around him. Usually because there was a strong urge to throw it at him and demand he speak English like the rest of us.

"Good to see you to. Listen, I have to—"

"I don't understand," Paige said. "You hate Thomas Nast."

"I'm not here with him," I said. The instant the words left my mouth I wanted to take them back. There was nowhere the conversation could go except...

"So who are you here with?"

I turned and there he was. With a tilt of my head, I beckoned him and he came. As he came to stand behind me, hand possessively on my back, I managed to squeak out: "Paige, you know Bryce Nast, right?"

Paige's eyes flashed, no doubt recalling how Bryce did not talk to his sister, her darling ward. Lucas and Bryce, on the other hand, had both done that stupid Cabal thing. Their faces were completely blank. I wanted to laugh.

Paige said, "I'm sorry. I didn't know you two knew each other at all."

"We don't." I should have let him do the talking. My brain had completely ceased proper functioning. Because I really hated when she was disappointed in me, because I was passive-aggressively angry about it, and because I sort of suspected something was about to blow up in my face.

"Gillian means to say we don't know each other in the Biblical sense. We're really quite close on a spiritual level."

So much for letting him talk. He was loving this, the bastard. Paige and Lucas were just looking at me like I had lost my mind, which wasn't actually that unusual. Bastards.

"What Bryce means is...he saved my life. Twice."

The words just came tumbling out—I barely realized they were true. I didn't even know what I was saying anymore, but I wanted to shock them, just a little bit.

"And got shot. Once," he added.

"You said you'd stop bringing that up," I hissed. When I saw Paige's started look I may have smiled, just a little, as I promised, "I didn't shoot him."

Evidently, the Cortezes didn't want to hear that there was something else wrong with me. Lucas turned to Bryce: "You're Grandfather reaches quite a milestone tonight."

They babbled inanely about the celebration as I tried to keep from looking too amused. And then Paige caught my eye and asked, "How have you been, Gillian?"

Thank goodness I could feel Bryce's hand on the small of my back, reminding me how I never could resist people who pretended to care. That wasn't fair. In a way, Paige did care. I was a witch, and therefore her responsibility. That simple. I suddenly felt horrible—as I always did in her presence. I just couldn't help letting her down. Opening my mouth, I went to apologize—

"I'm sorry," Bryce said, before I could say anything, "I think I just saw my grandfather. I haven't wished him happy birthday, yet. Please excuse us."

Without another word, he pulled us through the crowd, putting as much distance between the Cortezes as we could. I hastily brought a finger up under each eye, trying to mop the tears without ruining the makeup that had cost him a small fortune.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I really should figure out if I love them or hate them."

"Tell them to screw off. It's easiest," he said, like he really didn't understand why I might not act exactly the way I wanted to every single second of every single day.

"Not all of us can afford to alienate everybody we meet."

"I only wish I could," he grumbled, glaring around at the crowd that we still had to talk to. We lucked out. The servers began beckoning people to their seats. This was it. Time to face Thomas Nast.