Witch’s corpse. Witch’s ticket. Witch’s party. As a counter-boy at a high-end men’s boutique, Charlie Jessup’s life consists of little more than work and sleep. That, and enough flirting to help guarantee his commission on sales will pay his rent. So when a twist of fate, and some behavior unbecoming that of a Ganymede employee, leaves him in possession of a dead man’s pass to a mysterious Club 669, Charlie has no desire to waste it. Every seventeen years, the House of Witches throws a party like no other. It’s invitation-only, and for centuries it has helped ensure peace between the covens. It’s the last place Caspian wants to be, but with the death of Queen Avel, and his own imminent rise to the throne, it’s more important than ever that he attends. The stability of the House depends on it. In four days a new king will be crowned, but when Charlie unintentionally crashes a gathering of the most secretive of all the Great Houses, he sets in motion a series of events that could disrupt the transition of power, and threaten the future of the House of Witches forever.

Club 669

Instead of climbing back inside the waiting car, I knocked on the driver’s passenger window and he worked the crank to lower it.


He shook his head. “Heard nothing.”


“I’m in the right place.” I reached into my wallet and handed over his money. “Thanks for the ride.”


“No problem.” He was frowning, his wrinkled face looking concerned, hesitant to drive off and leave me here. “You sure about this?”


“I am. Thank you.” I stepped away from his squat yellow car and waved as he made a U-turn and drove back the way we’d come.


It felt like I’d stood on the sidewalk for ages waiting for that burst of music again when another car drove up to the curb and a pair of intoxicated women in very high heels all but fell out of the back seat. They paid their driver—a true feat when one of them could barely stand—and waited, helping to keep each other upright, until the car had disappeared into the distance.


Chapter 7