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I point to the invitation in my hand. “I just was. And it says, ‘all witches of New Orleans’. That’s me. It also says I get a plus one.”
“That’s me,” Rune chimes in.
“Not if that plus one is a member of the fanged undead.”
“There is nothing barring a witch’s date from being a vampire,” Elara interjects, that sweet customer-service smile of hers still in place. “Unless I’m mistaken?”
I grin at her tactic.
Elara is being nothing but pleasant while still essentially telling Francine to fuck off.
“Great.” Rune’s smile matches mine. “I’ll text Bas and Finn and let them know our plans have changed for the night.”
Our unhappy customer purses her lips, but after a moment, grabs at the large drawstring bag hanging from her arm and pulls out her wallet to pay for the order. “There may not be anything official barring vampires from coming, but it is simply not done. Consider that if you’re hoping to earn a spot in our coven, Josephine.”
Elara accepts a small stack of bills, and turns toward the register.
Francine stretches her bag open with one hand, the other swirling a finger in the air towards her mountainous order. The heavy boxes of flowers tremble, and then shoot into the waiting purse.
Leaning over the counter, I watch as each cardboard box sinks inside the small bag that shouldn’t be big enough to hold even one of those boxes. The fabric doesn’t even bulge.
So cool. I’ve never seen a bag of holding in person before.
When the entire order is stuffed inside, Francine yanks the drawstrings tight and ties it shut. I wonder what kinds of things would come tumbling out if she accidentally dropped it. “Thank you again for the amazing flowers, Elara. I can’t wait for you to see them tonight.”
Elara shakes her head. “I won’t be at the ball.”
“Why not?” I ask.
Francine looks like she wants to hear the answer, but with a glance at the shiny gold watch on her wrist, decides against it. “Well, have a good evening then, Elara. And Josephine, I’ll see you—hopefully without your vampire entourage.”
She casts a disapproving glance at Rune before strolling out of the shop and off to decorate for the witches’ masquerade ball.
“She seems nice,” Rune says when the door swings shut.
Elara shrugs, unfazed, still her usual cheery self. “She has her days.”
I wonder if there’s anything that could actually get under her skin. I doubt it.
“You really aren’t going tonight?” I ask her.
“No. I’m not even technically part of the coven. My family has no ties to New Orleans. I moved here from Wyoming three years ago to become Adelaide’s apprentice.”
“Three years and they haven’t made you part of the coven yet? What’re they waiting for?”
She shrugs, but it’s clear there’s some hurt there. “I always planned on moving back home when my apprenticeship was over.”
“And now?”
“No way. It’s going to be way too much fun running this place with you.”
I still don’t want to crush Elara’s heart, so I switch topics instead. “How about you be my plus one tonight instead? We’ll leave the boys at home.”
“Hey!” Rune cries, looking thoroughly rejected. “I wanna go to the ball, too.”
“No, no,” Elara declines quickly. “I did get an invitation. I just don’t know if I can handle being there. Adelaide was a great mentor and pretty much my only friend while I’ve been here, and now…” she trails off, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling.
Merde. How could I have been so dense the past week? I’m a horrible friend. A horrible, terrible, no-good friend. “I’m so sorry, Elara. I didn’t even—it must be hard. I could stay home tonight. We could have a girl’s night; wine, cheesy rom-coms, and whatever junk food you want—we’ll go all-out slumber party.”
