Page 4

We move into a smaller side room, which has more chairs than bodies in it. A few witches drift in after us, laughing softly beneath jeweled masks. Ezra drops into a chair and flicks his wrist. His crow mask vanishes. He has a baby face, pale skin, obsidian hair falling loose across his forehead, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. If he weren’t such a pain in the ass, he’d be on the cover of Vogue.

“When did you last throw a party this size?” I ask. “Special occasion?”

“The Silver Witches are hosting.” He leans back. “A few important people came from the West Coast, some from Europe. Mostly a political flex, but I don’t like where this is going. The Silver Witches have been way too cocky lately, and everyone sees it. I guess this city has been too peaceful for too long.”

I laugh out loud. “It was never peaceful, Ezra.”

He smirks. “At least our part of the city was.”

I shake my head and lay two lines of stardust on the table, one for each of us. Ezra pulls a pack of cigarettes from his inside pocket and sets a fold of cash beside them. He has the personality of a grandma, with some weird habits, complaining about everything and smoking old cigarettes.

“Take it. It’s on me.” He tilts his head and slides the money back into his jacket without argument. “Besides, I’ll make three times that before I leave tonight.”

Ezra does his line. Exhales slowly.

“Fucking finally. Some clearance.” He lights a cigarette and savors the first drag. “You know how annoying it is having five generations of dead witches trying to talk to you at the same time. Speaking of money.” He taps ash into the empty glass. “I’ve heard someone is looking for you, a guy from Europe. Asked for you specifically.”

That doesn’t sound good. I don’t like being asked for by name.

“What does he want?”

“Stardust, probably. Everyone knows yours is the best in the city.”

He watches me from behind the smoke. I do my line, and the tension that caught me dissolves. We stay here a while longer, gossiping and talking shit about people at the party, until a massive bald guard approaches the table. Face tattoos. Prison energy. The kind of man who probably enjoys hurting people.

“Miss Voss. If you’d be so kind.”

Formal. I like it less by the second.

Ezra turns his lighter over and over in his fingers. I catch the seriousness in his eyes and shake my head. I know he’d protect me by any means necessary, but neither of us knows what this is about yet. The last thing we need is a magic fight breaking out in the middle of a party this size.

The bodyguard moves us through corridors, the music fading behind us, and the guy leads me into a study. A man sits behind the desk. Dark suit, black shirt, and a full gold mask covering his face. There’s no expression to read, no features, nothing, just dark eyes watching me across the room.

“Miss Lara Voss.” British accent. Smooth. “Please, sit.”

I walk slowly on my heels and lower myself into the chair across from him.

“How can I help you?” It’s not a real question, just hope in my voice. “Stardust?”

“I’m not here for stardust.” The dark eyes don’t move. “I’m here for your other services.”

Every muscle in my body goes tight. Without moving my head, I notice two guards standing beside the door.

“What services?”

“We don’t need to play games. I know what kind of information you’re capable of obtaining. I need those services. And their discretion.” A pause. “Who is more discreet than the stardust girl.”

I let the smallest smile surface and kill it immediately.

“Sorry to disappoint you. I don’t do that anymore. You’ll need to find someone else.”

“Turns out there aren’t many people who can do what you do.” His fingers turn a glass on the desk, slow rotations. “And I pay very well. Thirty thousand. For a body.”

Fuck. That’s a lot of money. Money that would fix a lot of my problems.

“You know, there are other ways to get information from people,” I say.

“True. But they usually work better on the living.”