Before I can respond to Todd’s crude suggestion, two arms slide around his torso and he is lifted up like a toy in a claw machine.
“That’s about enough of that!” Arthur tosses him aside without much effort and rushes over to me. “Dick! Are you okay?” he asks. Worry paints his forehead, and I all but fall into his chest. “What did he say to you? Did he follow you over here? Did he do anything?”
“I’m all right,” I reply. “You know how he gets when he’s drunk. Bastard.”
“Oh, you mean how he turns into a rapist? Yes, I do know that,” he says. “And I’m sure he’s looking for his next victim right now. I have been waiting for an opportunity to kick his bony ass.”
I turn my head from side to side. “Arthur, no. Let’s not get into any fights while we’re here.”
“If he touches you again, I’m going to break his fucking arm. I mean it.”
“Just help Gwen light that goddamn fire, and then we can get out of here.”
Arthur’s jaw muscles relax and the light returns to his eyes. “Okay,” he says.
Gwen is in the kitchen when we find her, yelling at some kid who has made balloons out of condoms left on the counter. He can’t be any older than fourteen, fifteen at the very oldest.
“Do you know the statistics for teen pregnancy in this state?” she shouts at him. “Do you? Well, I can’t think of them off the top of my head, but they’re pretty fucking high. Get out of here, and take this, because I sure as hell don’t want you getting someone pregnant. Goddess help me!”
After she’s popped each individual condom balloon, she stands up, her hands spangled in lube and latex. She mutters to herself and throws two handfuls of rubber into the garbage.
“Little prick. Oh hey,” she says, finally realizing that we’re standing there. “Where have you been?” She eyes Arthur for a second, and slowly focuses on our hands. Her eyes narrow and I break free from his grasp, then shove my hand into my pocket, because I’m not ready for this—I’m not ready to be seen, I’m not ready to answer more questions.
I’m not ready to live this dream that’s slowly coming true.
“Bonnie said there’s pizza in here,” Arthur says. “Is there any cheese left? Jesus, what the hell was that?”
Gwen and I exchange heated glances. I don’t know what she’s thinking, nor do I truly care, but I’m sure it has to do with me and Arthur, or how I’m hiding something from her, when I’m not.
The overhead lights blink twice before going completely out, and vibrations caused from the loud music in the next room over viciously rattle the bones inside my chest like a human maraca. The only rational explanation for this power surge that I can think of is magickal in nature—a convergence of too many energies in one place, perhaps.
“Shit,” Gwen says. “Help me light these candles. And be quick about it.”
Arthur removes two pizza boxes and several empty soda bottles from the kitchen counter, and Gwen drops six glass candles onto the clean surface. The candles make loud thunks on the granite countertop, and one nearly rolls off the counter before I catch it.
“You sure you wanna clean up broken glass in a poorly lit room, Queenie?” I ask, now shouting over the loud hip-hop music blaring from the other room. “Did it just get louder in here, or is that just me?”
“No!” Gwen says. “There’s some heavy energy here tonight. Some powerful witches, I guess. I have no idea who half these fucking people are, though. Olivia is going to be so pissed when she comes home and sees everyone here. I said plus one—plus one—not plus ten.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I ran into Todd Butcher out there.” Arthur grunts and folds his arms. If I hadn’t stopped him, Arthur would have started a brawl right there in the middle of the house. I love him, but he does let his emotions get the best of him at times, and I have to remind him to keep them in check.
“What?” Gwen asks, straining her neck to look through the doorway. “Is he still here? Lance, I swear I didn’t invite him. I wouldn’t. What did he say to you?”
“It’s not a big deal. That incident was a little over three years ago. I’m okay. I just didn’t expect to run into him here.” I put up my hand, a physical dismissal of her concerns. “And who the hell is Olivia?” I ask. “I thought your girlfriend’s name was Lena.”
Gwen lights the individual candles, and stops to say a prayer into each flame. The music in the next room returns to a decent volume, and the kitchen suddenly fills with light as if the power surge never occurred. My sister is finally becoming a witch—her powers must have awakened sometime this year when I was away. I smile at her.
“Olivia,” she says, “is my boss. She owns Baubles.”
I sneer at her. “Your boss? There’s an orgy about to happen out there on the lawn, and this house belongs to your boss. Are you out of your damned mind? What are you thinking?”
“Relax, grandma. Olivia is super chill. She asked me to house-sit for her this weekend, and told me that if I wanted to have a get-together, it was okay. Power surges aren’t that big of a deal.”
Arthur joins my side, a piece of cheese pizza in each hand. “It’s not the electricity I’m worried about, dude.” I point to the people standing in the doorway. “It’s the massive swelling of energy in this house. Did you intend on calling a coven tonight?”
Gwen’s smirk vanishes from her face, only to be replaced by a scowl. She’s going to lose her temper—it’s easy to spot when she’s been drinking.
“All we’re going to do is eat some acid, maybe do some shrooms, and dance outside under the beautiful moonlight. No one is going to get hurt. Jesus, you worry too much.”
My phone buzzes in my side bag and I check to see who’s calling. I don’t want to bicker with Gwen, and I’m thankful for the distraction. I didn’t come to the party to argue with anyone, especially not my little sister and best friend.
A Facebook notification alerts me that someone has just sent Camelot Crafts a message.
Shit. I guess I didn’t log out of the store account before I left the store.
Emmett, my boss, has asked me to manage the page while I’m at work, because he’s too stubborn to actually learn how to maneuver the damn site for himself. I open the link and a message from someone called Mordy Lafayette pops up. They want to know if Camelot sells candles, stones and-or rubbing oils. I send a reply, stating that we sell wax to make candles, and glass stones for aquariums, that kind of stuff—adding that if they’re looking for something else, to check out Baubles & Books, the store next door to ours.
As soon as I send the message, I hear the faint sound of a Facebook notification. I look up from my phone and scour the scene. Other than Gwen and Arthur, there are only two other people in the kitchen.
My phone buzzes again. I look down at the message. Mordy thanks me for the advice and wishes me a good night. The message intrigues me for some reason, so I send another text expressing that they’re welcome, and as before I hear a notification. While Gwen and Arthur busy themselves with collecting pizza boxes to burn in the fire—something I do not approve of doing—I meander from room to room, looking for anyone who might be on their phone. It takes all of five seconds to discover that most everyone is on their phone, and there’s no way of telling if this Mordy person is at the party.