A circle had been inscribed on the carpet with what smelled like salt. In its center sat a slight man with long, nimble hands and eyes that spoke of the dead. This had to be the mage, John. Gideon had seen too many men like him in his existence to be wrong. There were a variety of herbs and pots in front of him, none of which Gideon recognized, and a pretty blond man sitting just outside the circle. Emma stood off to the side with another man, this one gray-haired though not old, while a stout middle-aged woman hovered opposite.
None of them smiled.
“These were your ideas for party guests?” he muttered to Jesse.
“Jonah would probably be up for a good time,” Jesse said under his breath. “Besides, you scared away all the really fun people.”
“What is he doing here?” the middle-aged woman asked. It must have been Michelle. He couldn’t think of the last time anybody referred to him with such disdain.