Mira poked her head out of the driver-side window of her Miata and smiled charmingly at the security guard. “I’m Mira Jahani. This party is for my dad, Neal Jahani. And these are my friends, Divinity Florescu and Aysha Rodriguez. We’re on the guest list.”
“Right, I see your names here. Go on through.”
Div watched with interest as he spoke quietly into a headset, then pressed a button to open the gates. She wondered why the Jessups had a security guard. Mira proceeded onto a driveway flanked by two lines of glowing paper lanterns.
“You told me the Jessups were rich, but you didn’t tell me they were that rich,” Aysha said.
“Yeah, they kind of are. But they don’t act super-rich, if you know what I mean.”
“How is having a security guard and electronic gates not acting superrich? Also, that house,” Aysha added, pointing.
Just ahead of them, past a grove of pine trees and at the end of an enormous front lawn, was a large Victorian mansion. An estate. A line of BMWs and Mercedes and other luxury cars were lined up in a semicircular driveway.
“What kind of party is this?” Aysha asked, leaning forward and resting her chin on the back of the driver-side seat.
“I told you. It’s a fund-raiser for my dad’s mayoral campaign, so Mr. Jessup probably invited all his super-richest friends. To, you know, raise funds.”
“Huh. Must be nice,” Aysha remarked.
Gazing out the window, Div wondered why Mr. Jessup hadn’t canceled the party in light of his son’s girlfriend’s death. But maybe political fund-raisers didn’t work like that? Div herself had little interest in politics, except maybe national politics because of the new (and Antima sympathizing) president.
As they neared the house, she noticed a large marble fountain inside the semicircular driveway, ringed by neatly trimmed rosebushes. In the center of the fountain was a statue of a winged angel, wearing a crown of stars.
When they reached the front of the line of cars, a valet opened the doors for them and took the keys from Mira. The three witches proceeded inside and found themselves in a huge, beautifully decorated entryway. An ornately carved wooden staircase rose up to the second-floor landing. A crystal chandelier glittered overhead. Gold-framed paintings, mostly portraits, covered the walls. A big vase of dark pink Asiatic lilies sat atop an antique table, giving off their heady scent. A dozen or so guests milled around, sipping champagne and eating canapés. From somewhere in the house, a jazz band played and a woman sang: “Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I…”
Two twentysomething women with iPads greeted Div and her friends. “Hello, welcome! Could I get your names?” one of them said.
Mira gave her the information, and the other woman handed the girls some name tags. As Aysha pinned hers on, she whispered to Mira: “Do we have to pay? It’s a fund-raiser, right?”
“We don’t have to pay; my dad took care of that,” Mira whispered back. “Otherwise, it’s a hundred dollars per person, can you believe it? They’re expecting about a hundred people, which means like ten thousand dollars total. Mr. Jessup donated the food, drinks, music, decorations, staff… all of it. So it’s pure profit for my dad’s campaign.”
Div considered this. Ten thousand dollars… that was a lot of money. So probably, the Jessups wouldn’t have wanted to cancel the evening and risk losing that amount, even with a recent tragedy like the death of their son’s girlfriend.
She reached up to pet Prada, then remembered that she wasn’t there. Div felt a brief pang; she missed her familiar’s presence. Although she would never admit it to anyone, Prada always gave her an extra jolt of courage, especially in uncertain and potentially high-risk situations (such as walking into the home of a possible Antima leader). But ever since the disappearance of Gofflesby, brief as it was, Div had been too nervous to bring Prada out of the house. Right now, Prada was in her cage under a heat lamp and under a special protective spell that Div had dug up in Crowe’s book last night and tweaked to her satisfaction. (She reminded herself to teach it to Mira and Aysha for their familiars… and maybe Greta, too, although Greta was not likely to take advice from her. She could offer it to Ridley; that might help to win her trust? As far as she knew, Binx didn’t have a familiar, and neither did the annoying Iris girl.)
Mira led Div and Aysha to a large living room, which was jam-packed with people. Conversations and laughter rose in the air, mingling with the music from the jazz band, which was playing another Cole Porter song. (Div’s father, who lived in Bucharest, was a major Cole Porter fan.) A JAHANI FOR MAYOR banner was draped across one wall, and there were clusters of red, white, and blue balloons everywhere.
Div scanned the crowd. She didn’t see Orion or Brandon or Axel. Maybe they hadn’t arrived yet. She made a mental note to look for the three who’d posted hate videos on Whatznow: Sarabeth Lash and Keemo Malifa and Essie Tranh.
After a moment, Div spotted Mira’s dad holding court with a small group of men. Div had been to Mira’s house many times since they first became friends; she’d met Mr. Jahani but didn’t know him that well. She also recognized Mrs. Jahani, who was speaking separately with half a dozen women.
Mira’s brother, Nick, who was a freshman at the university, stood near the fireplace with two other guys. One of them was Colter… and the other one must be his brother, Hunter? They looked alike and had the same broad build. They both had wavy hair, although Colter’s was blond and Hunter’s was brown.
“Come on, there’s Colter,” Div said, steering Mira and Aysha toward the fireplace. “Mira, you know what to do.”
“Yup. Got it!” Mira plucked a canapé from a passing server and ate it in one quick bite. “Mmm, you guys have to try these! They’re like little caviar and
