Dance Around - Susi Hawke Page 0,11

as big as his hands and feet.

Moving on before I got caught staring at the man's junk, the woman beside him was obviously a witch. She stared off into space, stroking a black cat. The single other female council member sat next to her. When she noticed me looking, a flash of gold ran through her eyes as she sized me up, so I strongly suspected she was a shifter.

The man alongside her was definitely a mage, a human hippie with a scraggly goatee and long, greasy hair. The stretched-out T-shirt and faded jeans weren't doing him any favors, either. And they didn't need to. His power spoke for itself, even if he hadn't been amusing himself by pressing his palms together, then pulling them apart, to display different 3-D constructs. A burst of fireworks was followed by a jumping fox. Next came a swarm of butterflies. Then a pair of hummingbirds, performing an aerial ballet before attacking each other midair.

I was interested to see what else he might do, but his hands dropped to his lap when the witch brought a hand to her mouth and coughed the word "loser" without glancing his way.

The director was a warlock, based on his Merlin-looking velvet robe and matching hat, complete with embossed silver stars and moons. Considering the mischievous glint in his eye, his outfit was ironic and worn with the precise intention of meeting the stereotype.

After the director came the Gandhi and Tolstoy-looking mofos. The next dude past them had to be a dryad. He was tall and lanky with pale green skin, frankly reminding me of pistachio ice cream. His dark hair was done up in dreadlocks, and bits of dried leaves were woven in with the hair. Otherwise, he was totally hairless, which I knew because dude-bro was naked as hell except for a small codpiece shaped like an oak leaf.

Another tiny entity sat beside him, and with his sparkling lavender skin and large iridescent wings, he could only be fae. He was nearly as tall as the dwarf, but his body was so slender he came off looking much tinier.

The final person—if person was the correct word—had to be a Sasquatch. I couldn't think of any other category, given his hairy, Chewbacca-esque body and huge bare feet with human-looking soles.

All in all, it was definitely a magical council. Morty finally acknowledged we were standing there and motioned for us to come forward. "Hello, gentlemen. Allow me to introduce our esteemed council director, Sir Alfred of Edor. We have already heard the testimony in the case of Salvador Dominguez, except for a few questions Sir Alfred has for Isaac. I promise this won't take long. Isaac, if you would be so kind as to step into the golden circle?"

Morty gestured to a round circle of gold right in front of the center of the dais. How had I missed it in the first place? Nash kissed Isaac's temple and murmured words of encouragement in his ear. With a smile and a confident nod, Isaac walked forward with more courage than I would've had.

He stood tall and proud, slightly bowing before straightening his spine and lifting his chin. "Good afternoon, Sir Alfred and other unnamed members of the council. I'm Isaac Powell. I believe you had some questions for me?"

With a delighted grin, Sir Alfred leaned forward, stroking his long silver beard as he studied Isaac. "Hello there, young man. I was personally acquainted with your aunt, much to my chagrin. No offense, but she wasn't always the nicest person in the room."

Isaac's voice was filled with the laughter he was visibly restraining, judging by his shaking shoulders. "Don't worry, Sir Alfred. I wasn't a particular fan of her myself."

Sir Alfred's roaring laugh caught me off guard. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "And here I was about to offer my necromancy services, lest you missed her too much. My friends Leo and Mahatma are living proof of my skill, if you think I speak in jest."

"No, thank you." Isaac shuddered. "Besides, her unfortunate return might bring her accidental death into question. It's probably best to let sleeping dogs lie, don't you think?"

Sir Alfred laughed again, booming off the far corners of the room and echoing back at us. "Accidental death and sleeping dogs. Perhaps we should consider you for a future council seat, young man. What a very political way of saying you wouldn't want your friendly neighborhood assassin to have to kill the