That made more sense than I wished it did, but it fit what had happened between us.
At eleven-thirty, Sam and Liam started hauling the cheap champagne and plastic flutes up from the basement. That was the champagne we were giving away. One thing I always loved about Sam’s Victorian chauvinism was that, while my magic gave me the strength to carry kegs and cases around, he never asked me to.
A friend of his who was an illusionist stepped into the center of the main room and cast the most incredible illusion I had ever seen. Suddenly, the roof disappeared. Two hundred feet above us, a huge glittering ball appeared against a backdrop of stars. It hung there, twirling and sparkling.
At eleven-forty-five, the five of us behind the bar started popping corks and filling plastic flutes set out on serving trays, and ten minutes later the waitresses began circulating, passing out the champagne.
“Can we get a couple of those?” a familiar voice said from across the bar. I looked up to see Frankie Jones and Cindy Mackle standing there between Lizzy and Jolene.
“Of course. Hang on a second.” I pulled out five glass flutes and set them on the bar. Then I pulled out one of the two bottles of the expensive French champagne I had hidden away and popped the cork. Filling the five flutes, I set one in front of each of my friends and kept one for myself.
Leaning across the bar, I said to Frankie, “There’s still another bottle of this stuff I saved for Jordan. Stop by before you leave and pick it up.”
Frankie smiled and gave me a ‘thumbs up’ sign. Blair was still recuperating at an undisclosed location, and no one had been able to visit him, although I called to wish him a happy New Year earlier in the day.
“Wait for it,” Jolene cautioned, looking up. The next thing I knew, people started counting backwards, “Ten, nine, eight…” When they got to zero, everyone shouted, “Happy New Year!” and the ball dropped from the sky like a meteor, growing larger and larger. It hit the floor of the bar like a feather landing, filling all of the space and lighting the entire room with prismatic colors. All of Liam’s balloons burst at once, showering everyone with confetti.
The five of us toasted each other and drank. I was about half-lit already—what with people buying me shots all evening—but I was still able to appreciate the smooth taste of the champagne.
The ball illusion gradually faded away, and then Sam came over and stood by the bar, then turned to face the room.
“Thank you all so much for coming,” he shouted. “And now, I want to announce the winner of the costume contest. The first prize of one hundred dollars goes to,” he paused for dramatic effect, “Miss Erin McLane. Both of her.”
Lizzy barked out a laugh. I stood there stupidly blinking at him, feeling my face go from warm to burning.
Jill urged me out from behind the bar, where Lizzy and I stood together while everyone cheered. Then Sam handed each of us a hundred-dollar bill and said, “Absolutely incredible.”
The party continued until dawn. First Lizzy, and later Jolene, approached me and told me good night, then each left with a man they had picked up. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about Lizzy still wearing the glamour in my image.
Around sunrise, I was sitting at the bar having breakfast and a mimosa when Michaela sat down beside me.
“Need a ride home?” she asked.
I looked around and saw that her sisters were all gone. Only a few stragglers were left, and the breakfast crowd had yet to arrive.
“Everyone got lucky but you?” I asked.
She chuckled. “And you. I imagine you had your chances, the same as I did. I find I’m getting pickier in my old age.”
“Yeah, I can relate to that. Sure, if you can wait for me to finish eating.”
“Take your time. Helluva party. I think I might like living among the living.”
Chapter 27
I had always known there was a back stairway outside that led to the apartment on the second floor over the bar, but I had never known anyone to use it. My first day back at work after New Year, Sam came downstairs and told me to come with him and led me back up the stairs. I had no idea what was going on or that anyone else would be there.
I walked into the parlor and found it full of people sitting around, looking expectantly at me. Franklin Jones and two other members of the Columbia Club; the alpha of the South Bay Pack; Eileen Montgomery; Michaela; the leaders of the two largest covens in Westport; a witch I didn’t recognize—a man with white hair and a clerical collar who was introduced as Reverend White; and another witch—a man—sitting with Roisin and holding her hand. It was possibly the most unusual a gathering as I could have ever imagined.
“We wanted to talk to you about the problems we’ve encountered the last few months,” Sam said as he gestured for me to sit in a chair that completed the circle. He sat down beside me.
I suddenly felt like a trainee in front of an Illuminati tribunal, a supplicant awaiting judgement.
“As I’m sure you’ve figured out,” Franklin said, “Westport is fairly isolated from the rest of the country’s paranormal and supernatural communities, although the number of residents of the Otherworld who reside here is larger than normal. That left us vulnerable to the plots of outsiders coming in to impose their own ideas of what our future should be.”
I didn’t know what to say. Yeah, that was my assessment of the situation in the city, but other than tell people in power what I thought, I wasn’t in a position to do much about it. Were they going to blame me? Hell, I was only the messenger. They were all hundreds—in Roisin’s case, a thousand or more—of years older than me. I didn’t bring the Hunters to Westport; they just took advantage of the situation.
“What we’ve learned,” the Reverend White said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, “is that we need a true Otherworld Council to govern the non-humans who live here. A council that has some bite, some enforcement power. So, we’ve come together to create that council.”
“What we’ve done,” Sam said, “is agreed to create, and fund, a true governing body, with an enforcement arm—a paranormal-supernormal police force, if you will—to keep the peace and investigate crimes in Westport. It’s overdue, but we’ve all been stuck in the past, and it took a threat from outside to show us that we need to deal with modern realities. You’ve really helped with that. Most of us rarely see or talk to each other, but you seem to create bridges between different kinds of people, and we’d like to thank you.”
I was confused when I walked into the room, and nothing anyone had said clarified things.
“I don’t understand. I thought the Columbia Club acted as the paranormal council for this area.”
Several of the people in the room chuckled.
Franklin leaned closer and said, “No, though I’m sure many of our members thought we did. The club is all mages. We got together sometimes and pontificated, sometimes put some money together to pay someone to solve an immediate problem, but outside of our little circle, no one paid attention to us, or even knew we existed. Then you showed up and exposed us as a bunch of rich, blowhard busybodies.”
“We’re formalizing the council and setting up the funding to create an Otherworld police force,” one of the witches said. “Frankie’s unit at the DA’s office will act as a liaison for us to the norms, but we’ll be recruiting enforcers and investigators from all the Otherworld communities to staff a true Otherworld enforcement arm. Along with that, we’ll set up a court to enforce our decisions. A clear set of rules for behavior will tell everyone what is expected of them. We can’t afford the kind of recent issues that have exposed us to humans.”
“Okay,” I said. “That’s good, I guess?”
There was a titter of laughter around the room.
Franklin leaned forward and said, “We want to say thank you for giving so many of us a kick in the pants. I’m not sure if we would have ever figured it out and come together except for your indignant self-righteousness at our failure to see and take appropriate action on things that were right in front of our noses.”
I felt my ears burn. I didn’t realize I sounded self-righteous.
“I understand that you have a goal to go to college,” the witch with Roisin said. I suddenly realized that he must be Lizzy’s father. I glanced at Sam, and he nodded.
“Uh, yeah. I’m going to try and start at the community college in the fall.”
“And what do you plan to study?” one of the witches asked.
“Hospitality management. It seems like the best choice.”
Sam looked down at me and asked, “Is that what you want to do? Run a bar all your life? Hell, you don’t need a degree to do that.”
Roisin shook her head. “What do you really want to study? What is your dream?”
I looked into her eyes, and she pulled the truth out of me.
“I looked into studying architecture at the university,” I said, “but I can’t afford the tuition. It would be crazy to borrow that much money.”
Franklin stuck out his hand with a piece of paper in it. I took the paper and unfolded it. At the top was a logo for the Westport Metropolitan Communal Council, whatever that was. I read down, and the letter said,