The Rose Witch - Chandelle LaVaun Page 0,18

“Chloe, you look lovely this evening.”

“Thank you.”

“Though it appears we have a bit of proper catching up to do.” He winked and wrapped his arm around Carole’s waist, then spun her around. “But later. If we don’t start dancing now I may make another trip to the buffet.”

Carole squealed as he spun her all the way to the middle of the dance floor.

“And this is Chloe Lancaster.”

I turned to my right at the sound of my name just as Louis, my cousin who worked the guard gate out front, came strolling up to me with a gorgeous blonde. My eyes widened. Louis was an average looking bloke, took more after his father’s side, so I was a tad surprised to find him with her. It was horribly mean of me. Louis was a lovely man. It was just that this girl could have been a supermodel, gracing the covers of vogue and walking runways.

Her pale blonde hair was styled up off her neck, which gave a perfect view of the string of diamonds wrapped around her throat. She wore dark makeup on her eyes that made the royal blue irises pop. Her lips were painted bright red like my mother’s. To my surprise she was actually taller than my own five-foot-nine, and judging by the length of the tanned leg sticking out the slit on her dress, that had nothing to do with high heeled shoes. Her gown was a deep navy-blue satin, like the color of sapphires. The straps hung off her shoulders, and I wondered if those were already driving her mad.

“Chloe?”

I flinched then shook myself. “Bugger, sorry. I was just standing here gawking at the poor girl, wasn’t I?”

The girl’s cheeks flushed a deep pink and I realized with a start that she couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen.

Louis cleared his throat. “I said, this is Chloe Lancaster. The fellow at All Souls College in Oxford that I was telling you about.”

“Right. Yes, that’s me.” I shook my head and was sure I looked a real nutter. “Sorry, I am not right in the head this evening. Been bit of a day.”

The girl laughed and it made her eyes sparkle. She nodded. “Oh, trust me, I’m right there with you.”

“I bet.” Louis chuckled, then gestured between us. “Chloe, this is Bettina Blair. She’s a witch from America and a friend of Jackson’s. She was on the quest with him to find Michael’s sword—”

I gasped. “Oh my bloody hell, were you really?”

“You sounded just like Arthur Weasley just now.” Bettina grinned. There was a wild edge to it that kind of scared me, like perhaps she was unpredictable. “But yes, I was really. Though Jackson did most of the work. He was amazing. I haven’t seen Jackson at all tonight, have you?”

“Um, no I haven’t, actually—”

“Oi, there he is right there!” Louis practically yelled with a toothy grin. He pointed behind me.

Bettina gasped and followed his point. Her eyes widened and her cheeks turned bright red. She licked her lips as goosebumps spread over her skin. I turned to look and spotted my young cousin on the other side of the dance floor surrounded by a herd of people I knew were all desperately trying to talk to him. Poor Jackson. He was ridiculously handsome and ever charming, yet he loathed the spotlight even more than I did. Every time he was back in town, the family fawned all over him, though I supposed now I knew why.

At the moment he stood there in his tuxedo beside his father, who was really just an older version of him. He looked utterly exhausted and there was something not quite right about the way his arm just hung there like that.

“Oh, Jackson!” One of the older aunts waved at him from a table ten feet away. “Jackson!”

He smiled and waved, then ducked behind a waiter carrying champagne—and froze. His eyes widened and glistened. His cheeks flushed. I frowned and glanced back to see what he was gawking at – and found Bettina. I glanced back and forth as it clicked. Ohhhhhh. She’s a friend. Right. I believe THAT. The two of them were staring at each other like there was no one else in the room.

Jackson’s dad gave him a little shove and he stumbled a few steps toward us. Bettina took this as invitation and started for him. They practically ran for each other, meeting halfway in the middle of the dance floor. I grinned.

“Can you believe

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