1 Chapter 1
About the AuthorWitch’s corpse. Witch’s ticket. Witch’s party.
As a counter-boy at a high-end men’s boutique, Charlie Jessup’s life consists of little more than work and sleep. That, and enough flirting to help guarantee his commission on sales will pay his rent. So when a twist of fate, and some behavior unbecoming that of a Ganymede employee, leaves him in possession of a dead man’s pass to a mysterious Club 669, Charlie has no desire to waste it.
Every seventeen years, the House of Witches throws a party like no other. It’s invitation-only, and for centuries it has helped ensure peace between the covens. It’s the last place Caspian wants to be, but with the death of Queen Avel, and his own imminent rise to the throne, it’s more important than ever that he attends. The stability of the House depends on it.
In four days a new king will be crowned, but when Charlie unintentionally crashes a gathering of the most secretive of all the Great Houses, he sets in motion a series of events that could disrupt the transition of power, and threaten the future of the House of Witches forever.
I think there is a little magic in the fact that I'm so totally real but look so artificial at the same time.
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Dolly Parton 1
Idon’t know how longthe dead guy had been there. I hadn’t seen him the night before, but I’d been tired and snow had been falling. By the time I’d discovered him laying in the alley on my walk to work, his shoes had been stolen.
From the look of the rest of him, they had probably been expensive.
“Let me guess. Good-looking, right? Tattoo? Alley off Pearl, north of Long?”
“That’s the one.” Yeah, even dead, I’d noticed the guy had been hot, and I’d peeked at the unusual tangle of snakes inked on his forearm as I rummaged through his pockets looking for identification. But if he’d had a wallet, it was long gone, like the shoes.
“That tattoo, is that a gang thing?”
“Nah. Probably one of the eastern covens.” The cop didn’t sound as if he found it particularly interesting, like he couldn’t fetch a coffee without tripping over a dead witch. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen one. “We’ve got a call out to his people. They’ll retrieve the body if he’s important enough.”
“And if he isn’t?” I wasn’t sure why I bothered to ask. The officer didn’t care, and it was brass-balls cold out. It’d be weeks before the weather warmed up enough for it to matter.
“Not your concern. Just stay away from it. Who the fuck knows what those things carry.”
By those things, he wasn’t talking about dead bodies. That was clear enough.
Dropping the phone back on its cradle, I forced the old, rusted booth open again and walked back to look the man over one last time. I had no desire to stick around, yet I was hesitant to leave. But he was way past needing someone to stand guard.
The sun was just peeking through the clouds, and I saw a flash of something in his jacket pocket when it caught the light. I bent down and fished out a thin silver card. A ticket to a concert? Maybe a pass into a club?
Everyday necessities were hard enough to come by. Something so frivolous? I was surprised it hadn’t been swiped along with the shoes. I stared at it a moment, fighting the impulse to pocket it myself, as if Mr. Aki was watching me from behind the dumpster. Employees must strive for perfection in every aspect of their lives.I moved to put it back.
The wail of a siren caused me to jump, and after another moment’s hesitation, I slipped the ticket into my coat.
I stood, checked my watch, and cursed. I was late. Very. I’d spent far too long waiting to speak to an officer. I should never have bothered to make the call.
It seemed no good deed ever went unpunished.
***
Ipushed through thedoors of Ganymede twenty minutes late and found Adam behind the makeup counter bagging a sale that should’ve been mine. He gave me an apologetic look over the customer’s head.
While we were supplied with a generous clothing allowance, the meager salary meant that if not for the commission on sales, I would be hard-pressed to pay my rent, let alone buy food.
I waved his apology away and busied myself cleaning the salt from the streets off my boots and checking my makeup. It was Friday, and we’d have plenty of sales for both of us before the day was out.
Ganymede was a high-end men’s boutique that catered to all the Houses, though admittedly its location meant our clientele were more often shifter than anything else.
