The Copper Gauntlet

“Is Tamara here?” Call asked. “I have to talk to her. I’m one of her friends from school and —”

“I am very sorry,” Stebbins said in a clipped way that made it clear he wasn’t sorry at all. “But there is an event going on. I can check to see if your name is on the list, but otherwise, I’m afraid you’ll have to come back later.”

“I can’t come back later,” insisted Call. “Please, just tell Tamara I need her help.”

“Tamara Rajavi is a very busy young lady,” Stebbins said. “And that animal needs to be on a leash or you need to remove it from the premises.”

“Excuse me.” A tall, elegantly dressed woman with completely silver hair stepped out of a Mercedes and came up the steps behind Call. She flashed a cream-colored invitation in one black-gloved hand and Stebbins was suddenly all smiles.

“Welcome, Mrs. Tarquin,” he said, swinging the door wide. “Mr. and Mrs. Rajavi will be delighted to see you —”

Call made a break for it, darting around Stebbins. He heard the man shout after him and Havoc, but they were busy racing down the huge marble hallway, lined with gorgeous carpets, toward wide glass doors that opened onto a patio and the party.

Fancy-looking people covered a square of lawn surrounded by high hedges. There were rectangular pools and massive stone urns full of roses. Hedges were cut into the shapes of alchemical symbols. Women wore long flowered dresses and beribboned hats, while the men were in pastel suits. Call couldn’t pick out anyone he knew, but he slid past a bush in the shape of a large fire symbol and tried to get away from the house, to where the knots of people were thicker.

One of the servers, a sandy-haired kid holding a tray of glasses filled with what looked like champagne, hurried to intercept Call.

“Excuse me, sir, but I think someone is looking for you,” the waiter told him, jerking his head back toward the doorway, where Stebbins stood, pointing right at Call and speaking angrily to another server.

“I know Tamara,” Call said, looking around frantically. “If I could just talk to her —”

“I’m afraid this party is invitation-only,” said the waiter, looking as if he felt a little sorry for Call. “If you could come with me —”

Finally, Call caught sight of someone he knew.

A tall Asian boy was standing in a small group of other kids about Call’s age. He was dressed in a crisp cream-colored linen suit, his dark hair perfectly styled. Jasper deWinter.

“Jasper!” Call yelled, waving his hand around frantically. “Hey, Jasper!”

Jasper looked over at him and his eyes widened. He headed toward Call. He was carrying a glass of fruit punch in which chunks of real fruit floated. Call had never been so relieved to see anyone. He started reconsidering all the bad things he’d ever thought about Jasper. Jasper was a hero.

“Mr. deWinter,” said the waiter. “Do you know this boy?”

Jasper took a sip of punch, his brown eyes traveling up and down Call, from his tangled hair to his dirty sneakers.

“Never seen him before in my life,” he said.

Call’s positive feelings about Jasper evaporated in a whoosh. “Jasper, you liar —”

“He’s probably just one of the local kids trying to get in here on a bet,” Jasper said, narrowing his eyes at Call. “You know how curious the neighbors tend to get about what goes on at the Gables.”

“Indeed,” murmured the waiter. His sympathetic look was gone, and he was glaring as if Call were a bug floating in the punch.

“Jasper,” Call said through his teeth, “when we get back to school, I’m going to murder you for this.”