Darkangel - Christine Pope (most important books to read txt) 📗

grinned back. Behind her, the Grim Reaper lifted his scythe in greeting. Sydney saw where I was looking, noted Tobias’s costume, and said, “Well, that’s cheery.”

“But comfortable.”

“True. I doubt the Grim Reaper has his feet shoved into four-inch stilettos.”

“You could’ve worn something lower.”

“But these ones matched my dress.”

I couldn’t really argue with that. Besides, Lara, the lead singer for the band — not a McAllister, or a witch, but a longtime Jerome resident and someone who knew the score and wasn’t fazed by it — had just stepped up to the mic.

“Hello, Jerome!” she called out, and the crowd started clapping and cheering. “Are you ready to get this party started?”

More cheers and whistles and clapping. I wondered if everyone stomped and pounded the floor hard enough whether it would start Spook Hall sliding down the hill the same way so many of the town’s other buildings had done over the years.

“Then let’s do it!” She turned toward the drummer, and he started in, the lead guitarist playing some twanging chords along with the beat.

I recognized it half a bar in and had to grin. “Bad Moon Rising,” by Credence. Well, that was one way to kick things off.

Immediately couples started to crowd onto the dance floor. Adam turned to me. “You want to dance?”

Maybe I should have said no. But dancing was harmless enough, right? Especially a fast song like this one. No way was I going to slow dance with him. I wasn’t that crazy.

“Sure,” I said, as Sydney cocked an eyebrow at me. I stood up and followed Adam out to the dance floor, and squeezed past one of the ghostbusters, who had the sexy nurse as his partner.

Not that Sydney had much time to get judge-y, because one of the other ghostbusters came up to her and invited her out to the dance floor as well. He wasn’t bad-looking, either…maybe a few years older than we were, with sandy hair and dark eyes. She sort of shrugged and then got to her feet, squeezing out there with the rest of us.

Adam turned out to be a decent enough dancer, and since it was a lively song I didn’t have to worry about him reading much into it except that it was a dance, after all, and so it would have been kind of silly to go and then not, you know, dance. Even so, I couldn’t help glancing past him and through the crowd of dancers to the table where I knew Zorro was sitting. He hadn’t gotten up to dance, although several of the members of his group had. So maybe neither of the girls at his table were his girlfriend after all.

Like it really mattered one way or another. Yes, he was extremely good-looking, but so what? I doubted he could possibly be my soulmate. It was dark enough in the hall that I hadn’t been able to tell what color his eyes were. Maybe if I got close enough….

I shook my head at myself and refocused on the dance, on the rhythm of the music and the guy in front of me. It wasn’t really fair to Adam to be staring off at someone else while we were on the dance floor together.

The song ended, and we all headed back to the table. I was glad that my own borrowed shoes had sensible heels of around two inches, so my feet might actually last the night. Sydney already looked a little wobbly on her stilettos. I had a feeling by the end of the evening they were going to end up kicked under the table.

But that first song had gotten things going, and although I sat out the next one, I went ahead and danced to “Witchy Woman” with one of the ghostbusters — if he only knew how apropos that song was — and the one after that with Tobias, while Adam gallantly partnered with my aunt. In between dances I kept stealing surreptitious glances at Zorro, but he never seemed to look in my direction. Actually, he didn’t seem to be dancing at all, but just watching his friends as they came and went. Like me, he was drinking red wine, but he seemed to be careful about it, and only took a sip every now and then. Well, if he had to drive back down the hill after this, I could see why he might be watching it.

A little after nine, Anthony appeared, flying solo this time. I guess he’d learned his lesson about bringing his friends along. Or maybe Sydney had told him we’d have Adam with us, so things would come out even on the whole guys/girls front. We’d saved a seat for Anthony but let a saloon girl and her gunslinger boyfriend take the remaining two chairs at the table. They weren’t locals — it turned out they’d driven in from Winslow and were historical reenactors, which explained their costumes — but it seemed that sharing tables was the thing to do if your own party wasn’t big enough to take up all the seats.

While the band was taking a break, Anthony and Sydney went to get a fresh round of drinks. I’d offered to get them, but Anthony wasn’t hearing of it. He did seem like a nice guy, even if his friend Perry was an asshat, and I hoped Sydney might be able to make this one last longer than a month…or at least not completely break his heart once she got tired of him. Once again I stole a glance at Zorro’s table, but he wasn’t there. My heart sank a little. Maybe he’d gotten bored and left already. He didn’t seem that into the party.

But then I saw him come in from outside as he slid a cell phone into his pants pocket. I didn’t exactly allow myself a sigh of relief, although I felt the tension in the back of my neck ease up a little. So he’d just been making a phone call. It made sense, since even though the band was taking a break, the recorded music they were playing was loud enough that you’d have to scream into your phone to be heard.

I sipped my wine and attempted to return my attention to the people sitting around me, but it wasn’t easy.

“…Fun?” Adam was saying.

“What?”

He raised his voice slightly. “Having fun?”

I was, more or less, even if I couldn’t help being distracted by that gorgeous Zorro. “Oh, yeah,” I replied, and lifted my wine glass in sort of a “cheers!” motion.

Adam lifted his beer bottle in return. That was his third, if I’d been counting correctly. Oh, well, he didn’t have to drive home at least. His parents had a big Victorian on the same street as Aunt Ruby’s house, but he’d moved out this past summer, getting himself an apartment over the ice cream store on Main. Like the rest of the McAllisters, he had his own stipend to live on, but he was also pretty handy and helped out with the various renovations and repairs that seemed to be going on around town at all times. He’d mentioned getting his contractor’s license, but I didn’t know if he was actively working toward it or not.

On my other side, Anthony and Sydney were sort of hanging all over each other…not kissing, but they might as well be. I didn’t really appreciate the PDA, since I didn’t want them giving Adam any ideas. However, I figured a “get a room” remark wouldn’t go over very well, either, so I sighed and took another sip of wine, and hoped the band would start up again soon.

I didn’t know if my wishing had anything to do with it, but Lara and her bandmates returned to the stage a few minutes later. “We thought we’d ease into this set,” she said, her voice a teasing growl. When she sang, she sounded like she’d spent the last ten years smoking cigarettes and drinking whiskey in every back-road saloon within a hundred-mile radius…which was actually a good thing.

The bassist started, a slow succession of notes, and Lara snarled into the mic, “I put a spell on you….”

A voice said from somewhere over my right shoulder, “Do you want to dance?”

I looked up. Zorro stood there, smiling down at me. Dumbfounded, I could only gape up at him, until Sydney kicked me — sans stilettos, luckily — and I said, “Um…sure.”

He held out a black-gloved hand and I took it, rising to my feet as Adam glowered from the seat next to me. I supposed I couldn’t blame him too much, since I’d steadfastly refused to slow dance with him, yet here I was taking off with the first stranger who’d asked.

But he wasn’t just any stranger….

His hand still holding mine, he led me out onto the dance floor and to a spot somewhere close to the middle. Feeling more than a little awkward, I put one hand on his shoulder and my right hand on his left. He pulled me close, but not too close. At least in that position I was able to look up into his face, to get a better glimpse of the eyes half-obscured by the mask.

Brown. Dark brown.

Disappointment stabbed through me, even as I told myself not to be an idiot and to just enjoy the fact that he’d asked me to dance out of all the girls here…especially since he hadn’t danced with anyone else all night.

“So are you a local?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah. Born and bred. Well,” I added, “not born, I guess. I was born in California.”

He smiled. “That’s cool.”

“Not really. My mother brought me here when I was less than a month old.”

A nod. “Have you ever gone back?”

There was a loaded question. At least, it was loaded to me; he probably thought it was innocent enough. Just making conversation. “No. I don’t get out much. What about you?”

“Well, if you’re a local, then you know I’m not.”

“True. I’d definitely remember you.” Oh, that