Kirsten chuckled. “Nope. Welcome to Candy Land.”
I looked around again. “Ohhhhh.” That explained the plastic squares. I took another look at Kirsten too. It had been a long time since I’d played Candy Land, but there was one character card that I’d always hoped to get, just because she was so pretty. “You’re Queen Frostine.”
Kirsten curtsied, which would have looked ridiculous on me, but she made it look kind of regal. “You did all this with six hours’ notice?” I asked incredulously.
She straightened, shrugging modestly. “I had all the supplies already, and some of my witches came to help.” She pointed to the hallway. “They’re still here, setting up in the kitchen. Let me show you where I think you should hang out.”
I asked her to talk to Kevin first, and she nodded, grabbed a handful of candy from a nearby dish, and popped out to the front porch. She returned a second later with empty hands. “He understands. He won’t mention you.” She frowned as she started down the hallway. I followed. “I suppose someone at the party could text their friends who aren’t here yet, and one of those friends could be Olivia’s partner. But I find it hard to believe the conspiracy is that big.”
I shrugged. “There’s also the thing where none of us had any better ideas.”
“Yes, there’s that.”
I followed Kirsten down the hall, past a small den with a fireplace, and through the dining room. I felt a couple of low-intensity hits on my radius as we passed the kitchen. Nothing to worry about there. Whatever the witches were making did smell wonderful, though: sort of like cupcakes and almonds.
Finally, Kirsten stopped at a patio door that opened onto a sunken sunroom. The space had been done up like Queen Frostine’s kingdom: rolls of white cotton hung over tables, bearing an uncanny resemblance to snow. Paper snowflakes dangled from the ceiling, and tufts of silver garland, like the kind you put on Christmas trees, dangled from a slow-moving ceiling fan. It was beautiful.
“We usually gather in here to talk,” Kirsten explained. She pointed toward a sofa that had been covered in a white sheet with blue embroidery. “If you hang out there, everyone who comes down the stairs into the room should pretty much pop into your radius, I think.”
“Let’s try it.”
We did a bit of experimenting with Kirsten coming in and out of the doorway, and ended up moving the sofa six inches farther into the room. When she was satisfied, Kirsten nodded to herself and moved back toward the doorway. “I need to get back to hostessing duties, but I’ll try to make sure everyone heads in here at some point. Usually people like to see all the decorations, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Are you keeping track of who doesn’t show up?” I asked. Kirsten nodded. “Okay, then.”
She vanished back into the kitchen, and I plopped down on the couch, wishing I had a magazine or something. Now that I was here, this plan was beginning to feel rather stupid. Yes, I could tell how powerful witches were, especially with Kirsten around as a litmus test. But we were counting on an awful lot of luck too: that the right witch would show up, that she wouldn’t hear about me being here, that she’d come close enough. On the other hand, there were only a few more hours until midnight. We were fresh out of better ideas.
People began trickling in, carrying appetizer plates and chattering. Kirsten was right—just about everyone came into the sunroom to admire the decorations. Most of them were women, but a few of the women had brought their husbands along. Some of the guests were dressed fairly casually in street clothes, like I was, but plenty had turned up in costume: either Candy Land themed, like Kirsten (I saw one detail-intensive Gloppy costume, which I hoped to drive out of my memory someday), or as famous witches: Harry Potter was a popular theme, as was Wicked, and I saw two witches who’d dressed up like Tilda Swinton from the Narnia movies.
As they came and left the sunroom, I stayed where I was. As long as nobody tried to use their magic, I was pretty much invisible. A few people sat down on my couch and made small talk for a few minutes, but it was obvious that everyone there knew everyone else, and after a few minutes the small talker always wandered off to find someone more interesting. Kirsten popped in to hand me a plate of hors d’oeuvres and a soda at some point, and I took my time working through the snacks, watching the witches talk and laugh. A few of them seemed troubled rather than celebratory, and I figured they were probably talking about Erin and Denise.
In two hours, I only got caught twice: once when a young redhead in green Elspeth makeup tried to demonstrate a levitation spell, and once when a middle-aged witch in a perfect Grandma Nut costume tried to clean up a spilled glass of wine with magic instead of paper towels. Both times the witch looked around, confused, and spotted me curled up on my couch. I met her eyes, challenging, and got a glare before the other woman looked away. If I was here, Kirsten knew I was here, and that meant I was invited. None of the witches in Kirsten’s society were going to question her in front of everyone.
By 9:00, no more new people seemed to be arriving, and I was getting bored and restless. Jack had texted to say he was waiting at the gate, so at least that was one less person to worry about. But tonight’s mission was tanking: there was nobody at Kirsten’s who was anywhere near powerful enough to challenge her, much less muck around with animation spells. We were wasting time that we didn’t have. I kept checking my phone for texts, figuring Jesse must be getting even more impatient out in the car. At 9:15 I stood up, stretched, and headed for the sunroom doors. It was time to find Kirsten and figure out a plan B. Maybe she knew of some witches who hadn’t shown up at the party, and Jesse and I could go track them down. That seemed even thinner than this plan, but at least we’d be doing something.