WILLEM (The Witches of Wimberley Book 1) (13 page)

A big paw landed on my shoulder hard.

“Hey, hero.” I turned and found myself at eye level with Raider’s larynx. I had to tilt my head back to see his face. Nodding at the oysters, he said, “Flown in from Alaska this morning. This month may not end in an R, but these babies are goo-ood.”

I looked at the oysters again. “They look good.”

“Yeah,” he said. “They are. Just like life here.”

Raider was wearing a black Henley, olive-colored cargo pants and black biker boots. At least one guy was
more
casual than I was.

“Looks like,” I agreed.

“You know the way to the ballroom?”

“Uh, no.”

“Come on. I’ll take you. Least I can do for the guy who tried to save my life.” He laughed at that and slapped me on the shoulder again, hard enough that I almost lost my footing.

Thinking that saying no to Raider was a bad idea, I let him show me to the ballroom. We passed a few more rooms with mega food displays, each display of opulence trying to outdo the one before. It was clear they wanted to impress somebody.

Raider turned to the left down a hallway that appeared to be taking us to a different wing. The music from the entrance had faded away and I was beginning to hear strains of medieval wind and wire coming from ahead. Apparently it called to my subconscious because I realized I’d quickened my steps as we approached.

We passed windows that looked out onto an immense greenhouse built on a tier a few feet lower than the main house.

“That’s where they grow herbs and, you know, stuff. Some flowers, too. You know,” Raider said.

No. Not sure that I did know anything except that I didn’t want to argue with Raider.

“That’s nice.”

He chuckled. “So. Not into horticulture, I guess. Me neither.”

We were nearing a pair of big double doors, six feet wide, eight feet high. As we approached they swung inward in front of us as if they were feather light, like magic. But that magic couldn’t begin to compare with what was inside.

Three dozen crystal chandeliers lit the rectangular room, which actually formed a separate wing of the house. The forty-foot ceiling was covered in murals of mythological creatures most of which I could identify. Broad terraces, romantically lit by gas lights, were built on both sides of the room, with a series of French doors. Since the night was nice, the doors had been left open so that guests could come and go.

Wait staff moved smoothly between conversational clusters offering various drinks and all manner of hors d'oeuvres from light to heavy, common to exotic.

The music was even more compelling inside the ballroom. A four-piece ensemble, wearing medieval costume, were playing dulcimer, flute, Celtic harp, and fiddle. I thought I’d never heard anything so enchanting.

It’s hard to explain how I was able to take all this in and process it well enough to tell you what I saw, because nothing I’ve described could begin to compare with, what I assumed were, the witches.

There were about twenty, each wearing a cocktail dress the same value of red as my shirt. People in L.A. like to tell themselves constantly that no other city has so many beautiful women. All I can say is that those fools have never been to a Witches’ Ball in Wimberley.

“So, you’re one of us!” said a bright voice from behind me.

I turned to see a woman with mahogany hair and deep blue eyes. Her lipstick was the same color as her dress and only one description fitted her. Stunning.

“Excuse me?”

She nodded at my chest. “Your shirt. You seemed to know the exact right thing to wear.”

I looked down at my shirt stupidly as if I’d forgotten what I was wearing. “I was actually worried about the choice until just now. Thank you for the reassurance.”

She laughed. “You shouldn’t need reassurance, Willem. You’re all that. Don’t you know? I’m Harmony.”

“Hi. I’m… well, I guess you already know…” I trailed off.

She laughed again. “Don’t be nervous, Willem. You have no reason to be.”

She took my arm in hers and began walking toward the center of the room. I had no choice but to let her guide me. Well, I suppose that’s not true. I could have jerked away and said, “Keep your hands to yourself, bitch”, but going along seemed like a much better idea. And besides I was curious as to what was going to happen next.

“Are you one of the, um, prizes?”

She smiled up at me. “We’re not supposed to say. Only those of us who are close to debutante age attend these events. It works on two levels. The contestants don’t know who’s coming out and there are enough of us to form a quorum.”

“A quorum?”

“A body of sufficient number to make a decision for the extended group.”

“So any of the lovely ladies might be…”

She nodded. “So you met my little sister.”

“Destiny? She’s your sister?”

“Yeah.” Harmony chuckled. “You made an impression.”

“I made an impression?!? Whatever my impression was, it doesn’t come close to the illusion she cast. I thought I saw a black bear vanish from the middle of the street and reappear on the hotel porch as a shame-faced Beagle.”

Harmony shook her beautiful head. “So you met Izzy, too. She didn’t tell me that. He has a bear fantasy.”

“She said that.”

“And it wasn’t an illusion. If you win, you’re going to have to get used to seeing reality from a different perspective.”

I stopped. “How different?”

“You like your life right now?”

“That’s kind of personal.”

“It’s a personal night. Answer.”

“No.”

“Do you want to like your life?”

“That’s a stu… I mean, of course. Everybody wants to like their lives.”

She turned and faced me. “No, Willem. Everyone doesn’t. Lots of people are satisfied with the misery they know.”

I wished I could say I had no idea what she was talking about, but the truth was that I knew exactly what she meant.

“People can change.” I stopped, having just added two and two. “Destiny said her sister was coming out tonight. Since you’re her sister, does that mean that…?”

“No, but nice try. It’s another sister.”

“Oh.” I’m sure I looked disappointed. “Does she look like you?”

She grinned, ignoring my question. “Now here’s what you’re going to do.” She patted my captive arm with her free hand. “Mingle. Chat with all the women. At midnight, the two who have summoned husbands will announce their choices and the ceremony will be tomorrow.”

“Ring the bell, snuff out the candle?”

Her blue eyes opened wide. She was surprised, but she didn’t seem angry. “That is part of the ceremony. How did you…?”

“Harmony. Who have we here?” One of the other witches was standing close and demanding to be introduced.

“Lyra, this is Willem.”

“Oh, yes. Willem. Are you having fun?”

“I, ah, yes. I just got here.”

“Have you had something to eat? We wouldn’t want you to be hungry and there’s
so
much food!”

“I’ll never forget the food.”

She barked out a laugh. “You hope!”

It took me a second to catch up and remember about the memory wipe thing.

“Well, yeah, I guess I do hope I remember. You could hide a body under the oysters.”

Her grin resolved into a smile. “So tell me what you’re going to do with your life if you win, Willem.”

“You know, that still sounds like one of those what-would-you-do-if-you-got-a-million-dollars questions. It feels too unreal to take seriously.”

She nodded. “A good solid honest answer. I like that.” After studying me for a few seconds, she said, “Okay. You passed my test. Let me introduce you to Lilith.”

She turned me around when she took my arm and, as she did, I happened to catch a heated look exchanged between Harmony and Raider. It was an, “Ah ha,” moment immediately followed by an, “Oh, crap,” moment when I realized that, if I won Harmony’s sister, Raider would be my brother-in-law. I understood why he was happy enough to star in the Orientation video and babysit inexperienced canoers on the river. She was a catch and he knew it.

I decided there were worse things than being in Raider’s family. He didn’t actually
finish
drowning me in the river, but at the time it felt like he was trying. On the other hand, he insisted on showing me to the ballroom. And he called me ‘hero’.

Who couldn’t get used to that?

I was ushered from one beautiful woman to the next and each took measure of me in her own way. It was an interview, or audition, but it was the most pleasant I’d ever experienced. Or ever would, I was sure.

Still, after an hour or so, I was getting hungry. When Bless tried to walk me to another chat, I balked.

“Hey, could you maybe give me a couple of minutes to partake of some of the amazing feast stations? I haven’t eaten and that guy in the other part of the house carving that prime rib really spoke to me.”

Bless had a laugh that didn’t exactly sound like tinkling bells, but reminded me of them just the same. “Certainly, Willem. Would you like me to accompany you?”

“That would be…” I happened to look away and notice that most of the conversational groups in the room consisted of clusters of contestants, not a witch in sight. I realized that was what I’d been seeing the whole time whenever I looked away from the woman I was talking with. “Bless, I hope this isn’t an inappropriate question, but am I getting special treatment?”

She treated me to an extra big helping of her tinkling bells laugh. “Willem, you’re quite perceptive. And you’ve passed my test.”

“You know, you’re the sixth or seventh person to say that to me. Is this a gauntlet of gorgeous women in sexy red dresses?”

Again the laugh. “I love that description. You’re quite a character, Willem. You would fit in around here.” As she smiled at me, she grabbed the elbow of another beauty passing by. “Glory, this is Willem.”

When Glory smiled, I knew how she came by her name. “Hi, Willem.”

“He’s hungry and headed in the direction of prime rib.”

“Of course he is. I don’t see a man like this eating watercress.”

“Yes, well, perhaps you’d like to accompany him while he dines.”

Glory seemed as ecstatic as if she’d won the prize herself. “Of course! Willem. I’d be honored.”

She slipped her arm in mine and walked me to the prime rib. “What would you like with that?” she asked. “While Raleigh is slicing your rib just the way you want it, I’ll gather up something to go with it.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, you know.”

“Okay, then. Caesar salad. And did I see au gratin potatoes?” She nodded. “That should do.”

She pointed to a table at the rear of the room. “I’ll meet you right there.”

She was there with salad and spuds before I arrived with a hunk of prime rib that smelled so good it was all I could do to not face plant into the plate and tear into it with my teeth. The promise of Bearnaise sauce on the side helped me keep it together so that I managed to preserve enough dignity to sit and take a few bites of salad before digging into my current reason for living with fork and knife.

Out of nowhere a waiter appeared on my right pouring red wine into my glass. That was followed by a delivery of ice water seconds later.

“You’ve eaten?” I asked Glory, who sat smiling with her legs crossed as if there was nothing in the universe she’d rather be doing than watching me eat.

“Much earlier.”

Someone appeared with a mint garnished drink that I hadn’t heard Glory order.

“I’ve decided that Wimberley must have the best service in the world. I’m certain the Queen of England is envious.”