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It was weird. And wonderful.
“You’ll be good,” Ethan said, nipping at my ear. “Or I’ll be bad.”
I’m pretty sure that was a win-win.
CHAPTER TWO
THE GOOD WORD
“Well,” I said, staring at the white stretch limo that sat at the curb, “at least you didn’t get the one with the hot tub.”
“Only ’cause it was booked,” Lindsey said. She’d worked soft waves into her hair and squeezed into a short black bandage dress that looked absolutely phenomenal. She glanced at me, gestured with a finger in the air. “This was a good call.”
We all wore black dresses—that was the rule Lindsey had set for us—and I’d been decked out in a knee-length number with a square neck and cap sleeves. The fabric was snug and stretchy and left very little to the imagination. Thank God for my forgiving vampire metabolism, since dealing with Helen and my mother, who’d become a united front, had me raiding the kitchen’s chocolate stash a lot more than usual.
We were sharing the limo with Margot, the House chef. Margot had dark hair and plenty of curves, and she’d opted for a fit-and-flare dress.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” There was clipping down the sidewalk as a petite woman with blue hair ran toward us. “I’m late!”
Mallory’s LBD was knee-length, sleeveless, and flowy, which she had the petite frame to pull off. She’d styled her ombre blue hair so it curled across her shoulders, and wore enormous silver earrings in the shape of flowers.
She reached out and squeezed me, smelling faintly like lavender and herbs. Probably something she’d concocted in her craft-slash-magic room. “Happy Darth Sullivan Eve!”
I couldn’t help but snort. “Is that the official title?”
“It is,” Mallory assured me, and pulled a satin sash out of her tiny clutch purse. It read FUTURE MRS. DARTH SULLIVAN in glittery letters.
I’d been prepared to say no to any “Future Mrs.” or “Bride-to-Be” sashes, but I decided I couldn’t pass up glitter and snark together, so I let her pull it over my head.
“Oh, that turned out nicely,” Lindsey said, hands on her hips as she surveyed it, then smiled at Mallory. “Is your house just covered in glitter now?”
Mallory stepped back, adjusted my sash carefully. “It’s every-freaking-where. It’s probably the perfect vector for worldwide contagion, should any bad guys figure that out.”
The tall, lean, liveried driver walked around the car, raised two fingers to his strawberry blond hair. “Ladies, I’ll be your chauffeur for the evening.”
“Hi, Brody,” said those of us from Cadogan House to the guard who’d also become our occasional transporter. He had solid moves behind the steering wheel.
Lindsey’s gaze narrowed. “You weren’t on the list as driver. Are you playing hall monitor?”
Brody held out his hands, and his expression looked innocent enough. “I’m just here to drive. I’m not a nark.”
Lindsey stepped up to him, gave him her fiercest look. Which was actually pretty fierce. “If one word of what happens tonight gets back to anyone, I will know that word came from you.”
“And that would be bad.”
Lindsey’s eyes gleamed silver. “It would be the most possible badness. Did I mention Merit and I have been practicing with the throwing knives?”
Brody swallowed visibly. “Are you good at it?”
