Chapter 7
SEVEN
Joan reentered the party feeling deeply unenthused.
She headed for the door as spite dug its claws in deeper, began its transformation into righteousness. Joan didn’t know what the future held, but she had to beat her family to sealing Mik, before they followed the trail right to CZ’s doorstep.
And now, she also needed to figure out who had done this to Mik to protect Moon Creatures. If Joan could use the clues from Mik to deliver this person to Valeria, then Mik and a whole bunch of Moon Creatures would be spared.
On the downside, Joan would be delivering the spellmaker to her aunt, to use in ways she might not agree with.
She didn’t want to protect whatever sick bastard had done this to Mik; it was only because, in Valeria’s hands, this power was dangerous.
Joan, in a fit of bloodlust, thought she’d rather eradicate the spellmaker from the earth, but she shook the thought out of her head before it could take hold.
She wasn’t having much luck making it to the door.
They’d entered the dancing portion of the night, a rare break from the endless small talk.
The foyer had cleared in a circle, and couples were dancing together in easy spins like it was the 1800s.
Molly and Nate rotated around, laughing.
Valeria and Ronnie joined in, swaying, Valeria looking totally at peace, like she wasn’t planning to forgo all diplomatic relations and enact the equivalent of invading Canada by storming the Night Market.
“Excuse me,” a voice said at her side.
Joan, having been stopped by the dance floor, dragged her gaze from her family, and it landed, instead, on Astoria Wardwell.
“Would you like to dance?” Astoria asked, one hand out.
Her face was unreadable. She’d shed her jacket at some point, and the sleeves of her dress shirt were rolled up her forearms, revealing a neat constellation of small, jagged scars.
Her hair was set off beautifully against her warm skin.
Her eyes were thickly lashed and exquisitely hazel, and she was so tall that Joan felt positively weak in the knees.
Astoria Wardwell, legendary fighter, heir to the Wardwell estate and future Head and High Witch of California and LA.
She wasn’t just hot, she was beautiful. Like, Owl’s-Head-Park-at-sunset beautiful.
Like, the-Met-at-night beautiful. Gorgeous enough that her face belonged in magazine ads.
She had a perfect little beauty mark above her lip and there was a tiny curl fluttering by her forehead.
“Shit,” Joan said. Fifteen seemed so long ago. Had Astoria always been so good-looking? Impossible—Joan would have developed a violent crush as a teenager if so.
Astoria’s hand receded. “No, then.”
Joan grabbed it, despite herself. “Definitely yes,” she said, and winced. Her desperation was surely showing. She saw a beautiful woman and her brain became a nonsensical place.
There was a scar in the corner of Astoria’s mouth that tugged it down slightly in a perpetual frown. She led Joan onto the dance floor, and the two assumed the position of a waltz.
“Who’s leading?” Joan asked, trying to remember how to waltz.
Astoria responded by taking the lead, moving them into the first steps as they joined the fray. The music was live and mostly violins, a band tucked away in the corner. Astoria had a couple of inches on Joan, but not too many, and the pair slotted together easily.
Too easily. Joan’s breath was getting a little wispy, and her thoughts were definitely running away from her. “How are you liking New York?” she asked, scrambling to find something to say.
Astoria was analyzing Joan, her gaze scrutinizing. Joan hoped she didn’t have something in her teeth.
“It’s cramped,” Astoria said. “And I’ve only arrived. I heard the same is true for you, that you’re freshly back in town.”
Joan stumbled a step, and Astoria held tight, sweeping her along. Her Greenwood body remembered enough to hang in there, but only so long as she didn’t actually think about the dance.
“I just finished grad school,” Joan said.
They kept gliding. “At the same time this new magic popped up?”
Joan’s brain hit a brief dial tone before she could form a reply. “Is there an accusation in there?”
“More of an observation.”
“You must have heard I can’t cast,” Joan said, “much less spellmake. You think I wrote and cast a spell on someone against their will?”
“Is that the Greenwood theory? That the human is an involuntary participant, not themself the source of anything?”
Oh shit. Joan was not excelling at this subterfuge. There wasn’t a specific reason to keep this information from her own family, except for the fact that she accidentally had.
Astoria’s grip on Joan tightened. “More than a theory? Do you know for sure?”
Maybe this was for the best; maybe this would get people more focused on Mik’s torturer than Mik themself. Word spread fast in the witch world. “That’s my personal theory.”
Astoria stopped looking directly into Joan’s face, which was helpful, because Joan couldn’t think when Astoria was looking at her. “You had an argument with your aunt.”
Joan fumbled another step but caught herself this time. She had the sinking feeling she was being pumped for information.
Astoria nodded her chin toward the French doors. “I saw you two walk out. You came back in looking upset. Am I right, then? You argued? What about?”
“Private family matters,” Joan said through clenched teeth.
“Private family matters, in a family you’ve only just returned to after seven years out of state,” Astoria said.
Joan very deliberately stepped on Astoria’s foot.
Astoria’s attention snapped back down to Joan, mouth a tight line.
“Next time you ask me to dance, Wardwell,” Joan said, “you had better want to dance with me, not my family name.”
Joan let go before the song ended and darted back to the edges of the crowd.
This was not the most disastrous party she’d been to, not by far, but after seven years of freedom, it was wearing her down faster than ever before.
She was tempted to try some origami again and see how these witches fared against a storm of vicious paper balls.
“Sorry, did she come on too strong?” Joan looked down to find the other California witch standing next to her, a friendly smile on her face. Yeesh. These people appeared out of nowhere.
Joan should have said, How about you both leave me alone, and instead asked, irresistibly curious, “Does she do that a lot?”
The woman laughed. “She’s very to the point. It’s one of her best qualities, but I think it makes it tough for her to make new friends.”
Astoria was now in a discussion with Merlin, her brow furrowed.
“Was that her trying to make friends?” Joan asked.
The woman stuck out a hand. “Wren Dahl-Min,” she introduced, as Joan paused for long enough to be rude, then shook the hand. “I’m here as Astoria’s sidekick.”
“I thought she’d been sent solo.”
“We’re a package deal,” Wren said.
Joan raised an eyebrow.
“Not like that,” Wren said. “Just best friends, which I know sounds juvenile, but it works for us. Joan Greenwood, right?”
“Is this where you attempt to pump me for information too?” Joan said.
Wren’s face fell into a frown as she looked at Astoria. “No, that’s not why I’m in New York.”
“Right.”
“I mean it, I’m here for her,” Wren said with a tilt of her head. “Trust me, my only interest in this new spell is its application to Moon Creatures.”
Cherry on top of the godsdamn sundae. “And that’s supposed to make me trust you? I doubt I make the news too much, but my best friend—best friend like it seems Astoria is your best friend—is a vampire. I have no interest in further worsening the power divide in the magic world,” Joan snapped.
“You’re misunderstanding me,” Wren said with an apologetic smile. “My focus isn’t on keeping this magic from Moon Creatures; it’s on giving them the ability to cast.”
The ability to cast… spells. The thing Valeria had said was liable to cause a magical civil war. Well.
That was new.