I could only hope, as I made my way out of the library, that the other witches of New Orleans would do the same.
“There you are,” Nicole said as I walked down the hallway. The exasperation in her voice didn’t go unnoticed, and neither did the jewel toned purple dress she was wearing. It was strapless and floor length, like mine—simple and plain, but elegant—and she had her hair up in a French twist. A lacy, black mask hugged her face.
“Here I am,” I said, “Looking for me?”
“Of course,” she said, marching down the hallway toward me. “Guests are starting to arrive. I need you with me, greeting people at the door.”
“I thought we’d put you in charge of hospitality.”
“Yes, but our special guests will be getting here soon, and I don’t want to be on my own when they get here.”
“Is this a they’re your friends, not mine situation?”
“That’s not it, although I don’t remember ever having had a conversation with Jean Luc without you present, now that I think about it.”
“Relax, okay?” I said, taking her hand, “Everything’s gonna be fine. How many guests are here?”
“Six.”
“And is, uh…”
“Jared one of them? No, he isn’t here yet.”
“Okay.”
“Just okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Nothing. I just thought you’d be more excited about him coming.”
“I am, but I’m more excited about getting everyone to get along again.”
“If you say so,” she said, as we continued to walk down the hallway and into the foyer where the main doors into Remy’s Garden District home were open and ready to accept more guests.
“Showtime,” I said, under my breath.
CHAPTER SIX
A steady trickle of witches made their way into the house, and we greeted each party in turn as they arrived. When Harvey and Nina arrived together, I almost couldn’t believe it. It was difficult to shake the memory of how they had been bickering only a few months ago, but seeing them now—arm in arm, each smiling behind their masks, clearly infatuated with one another—lent credence to the idea of opposites attracting.
“So, that’s a thing,” Nicole said, as Nina and Harvey swept into the ballroom.
“I know!” I said, “It’s kinda cute, in a weird way.”
“I guess it’s good to see witches pairing off.”
“It makes sense. They went through something terrible, along with their covens. Adversity tends to bring people closer together.”
The doors opened again, and then Jared stepped through the doors with a smile planted on his face. His suit was black, and he was wearing a matching black waistcoat, a white shirt, and a red tie. His mask was also red with gold edges and trimmings. The smell of his masculine cologne followed him in on the breeze, and it was intoxicating.
A silver tray floated through the air toward him with three champagne glasses sitting on top of it. Jared’s eyebrows rose when he saw it, but he took one of the glasses of champagne anyway and watched it float back to its position just inside the house.
“Hey,” he said, “Wow, you both look… amazing.”
Hot blood flushed to my cheeks. “Well, thank you,” I said, extending my hand, which he promptly took and kissed. I hadn’t expected him to do that. It was a joke, a mock gesture, something to break the ice, but it had backfired greatly. Now my hand was tingling, and all of the air in my lungs had somehow escaped. I took a breath and smiled. “What a gentleman,” I said as he kissed Nicole’s hand. He can’t kiss mine and not hers, I guess.
“The pleasure’s all mine, ma’am,” he said, putting on his best southern drawl.
“Please don’t,” I said, placing my hand over my mouth to stifle the laughter. “That’s an awful southern accent.”
“Yeah, I’m no good at accents. I don’t even know why I tried.”
“Yeah, I don’t get it either. But you are good at picking a suit. I’m impressed. I asked you to bring your A-Game, and you did.”
“I’m not one to back down from a challenge like that one,” he said, tugging on the lapels of his suit jacket.
“Yeah, well, I should have known better than to challenge you,” I said.
“That’ll teach you. Do you want to get a drink?”
“Now? I have to greet guests…”
“I can hold the fort,” Nicole said. “It’s no big.”
“Oh… well, then I guess—”
I was stalling my answer, and I wasn’t quite sure why. Jared looked hot in his suit, but I couldn’t give him a firm yes, sure, I’ll have a drink with you to save my life. But the point was moot, because through the front doors came Jean Luc followed by his family of vampires. The strange chill their mere presence brought with them was enough to cause even Jared to turn around and look.
I noticed first the lack of a prominent glow in their eyes, as if they had somehow subdued their unnaturalness. There were two vampires at the head of the group—Jean Luc and a woman I didn’t know, but I found myself wanting to know. She was possibly the most stunningly beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on. She had a slender frame and wore a maroon gown that flattered her milk-white skin, with a tumble of black curls that fell all the way down her back, and sharp, crystal-clear green eyes the color of a field in spring.
“Holy shit,” Nicole said, loud enough for me to hear.
“Holy shit is right,” I said, feeling so hot now the urge to fan myself was almost impossible to ignore. Luckily, the supernatural chill in the room was helping. I turned to look at Jared. “Why don’t you go inside?” I asked, “I should say hi to them.”
Jared turned his head and looked at me. “Oh,” he said, his eyes only slightly masking the disappointment within him. “Alright, I’ll… see you inside.”
He slipped out of my grasp and headed into the main dining room without glancing back. He hadn’t been happy with my response, but I would see him again in a minute; the party was only just getting started, and I had to play host to these vampires. I wasn’t about to leave Nicole alone with them, not after what she had confessed to me earlier.
“Jean Luc,” I said, approaching with a smile on my face. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“Bon soir, Madison,” he said, with that charming French accent of his, “You are looking wonderful tonight. Allow me to please present to you, mademoiselle Delphine Thomás, my sister.”
“Sister,” I said, eyes widening, “Welcome, my name is Madison Collins. This is Nicole Harriman.”
“A pleasure to meet you both,” she said, that same French accent present in her voice as in Jean Luc’s. Siblings they were, from a time when they shared the night more than two hundred years ago, bound by the blood of whatever turned them. But physically they couldn’t have been more distinct. She, petite and the definition of delicate; he, broad shouldered and tall. They probably wouldn’t introduce themselves as siblings to anyone who wasn’t a vampire or a witch.