“Up to my room,” I tell them, and Cap’s enchantment sends them on their way.
Now, where is everyone?
“Hello? Anyone ho— Whoa, what’s with all the cameras?”
At least three people with shoulder-mounted video cameras swing my way, the dark lenses training on me like eyes. Eerily, the camera operators say nothing.
I raise an eyebrow. “Um, don’t I need to sign a release form or something?”
“Cat? Honey, is that you?”
I turn at the sound of my mother’s voice. She enters the room, preceded by the click-click of her signature stiletto heels. She’s tall and stunning, with sleek black hair, golden brown skin, and dark eyes that hold all the secrets of death.
She is, after all, a necromancer.
I take after her, minus the death-eyes part. My powers lean more toward enchantments and alchemy. And much to Mom’s chagrin, my wardrobe these days tends toward New York City black.
She totters over in a blood red bodycon dress, which, for her, is casual wear. She leans in to kiss my cheek and I catch the scent of her perfume, reminiscent of tropical flowers after a soaking rain.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Cat, I’m so glad you’re finally here. You’re going to have to work double time to get enough footage.”
I scrunch my face in confusion. “Footage for what?”
“The wedding video, of course!”
“Mom, don’t you think this is overkill? There’s what, three, four, five cameras? How many angles do you need?”
Mom laughs. “Oh honey, this is only the first-floor team. There are more cameras upstairs!”
“More? What are you filming, a documentary?”
“We just want to make sure every aspect of Caro’s big day is recorded.”
“But the wedding isn’t for three more days. How long have the cameras been here?”
Mom’s voice gets distracted and dreamy. “Hmm? You know what, I can’t quite recall. Maybe your father will know. Benito!”
A roiling thunder cloud appears beside her. There’s a loud crack and suddenly my father is there, with wisps of fog dissipating around him. He’s wearing a blush pink guyabera shirt and white pants with leather sandals. His dark hair is slicked back and his moustache is perfectly groomed, as always. He slings an arm around my mother’s waist and hugs her close.
“Sí, Rosalinda, mi amor? Oh Cat, you’re back! How’s New York been treating you?”
He releases Mom and moves in to hug me. He smells comfortingly of rum and incense.
“The label just finished another successful Fashion Week,” I tell him. “I’m looking forward to unwinding while I’m here.”
He pats my hair like he used to when I was a child. “Qué bueno, mija. That’s good.”
His narrow hazel eyes are usually sharp, but today they look a little unfocused. He hasn’t quit patting my head, so I duck out from under his hand and stand next to Mom.
“Cat has a question to ask you, Benito,” she says. “Cat, what was your question again? I can’t remember.”
She has the same dreamy look in her eyes. Is wedding stress getting to them? Are they on drugs?
“Uh, right, my question. How long have these cameras been here?” I ask.
Dad blinks. “Cameras? Oh! Uh...yes, the cameras are here. You’ll need to record enough one on one interviews, okay?”
