Cripes! What if people bring their familiars? Don't panic. Don't panic. I have herring, tuna and Vienna sausages, which should cover a number of bases. Ooh. And sunflower seeds. I can put all the animal food on my sushi plates, maybe in the sun room.

Music? Ack. Don't worry about it. If my CDs don't cover it, my guests can make their own. I wonder if I should have made more vegetarian food?

I think I'm done. The place looks quite pretty with all the cushions and the fairy lights. I, on the other hand, look like hell. I quickly hide my work clothes and the laundry basket and fling my teal silk tunic over my black pants. The new beaded Persian slippers I got this morning fit perfectly, as if my feet have grown into them. I try not to think about that.

Just in time. The first guest has arrived.

"Dammit," Bob complains, "where is everyone?" The obnoxiously dexterous vampire circles me on his ice skates and even skates backwards for a little as he scans the half empty ice rink.

Fortunately he's staying in reach so I can grab onto his sleeve to gain momentum whenever I find myself slowing down. "You do know that mosh pits aren't approved of in skating rinks. It's generally considered rude to run into other people."

"Yeah, all the cool folk are somewhere else. Did we miss a paper airplane invitation or something?"

"I don't think so. Help me to the side, I want to check something." OK. so his help looks more like we really planned to do a bit of tango, but it felt nice so I won't complain. I had no idea the guy had a secret urge to play Scott Hamilton--or, more likely, that absolutely scrumptious Russian skater that stripped down for a worldwide audience at the Olympics last years.

Once I'm securely holding on to the railing, I reach into the pocket of my polar fleece jacket and pull out my Palm Pilot (ss). A few taps of the stylus on the screen, and it's updating itself off the wireless network.

"Oh, that's where everybody is! Housewarming at Penny's."

"Who's Penny?" Bob asks as he practices spins. Gosh, it's too bad the skating federations have those pesky rules about passing genetic screenings, the guy's good. Stupid speciesists.

"You know, I know I'm supposed to know, but I think your butt in those pants has caused my short-term memory to fragment on me again." Damn it, I said that out loud. The grin I get does not help matters. "But I'm pretty sure she did a lot to help clear up the mess in the Late Disturbance."

"So let's go party crash and meet the lady. Should we take weapons?"

Fair question, it is a Sang Sacre party. "Small ones, I think, the invitiation doesn't say anything about any particularly lively party games. You are your own weapon, and I've got a dagger in my bag, that should be sufficient. But we do need a present."

"What do you take to a housewarming? I'm assuming this is not just another word for firebombing the place."

"You're very strange. Why don't you leave the present to me."

"OK." But before we go, I let him off the protect-the-person-who-falls-on-her-butt-alot leash and watch him do a couple of turns around the ice without encumberance. Yep, a quadruple toe-loop. And it's my bed those cold feet hang out in. It's a good life.

or, more likely, that absolutely scrumptious Russian skater that stripped down for a worldwide audience at the Olympics last years.

(Alexei Yagudin. Who should totally play Spike if Joss ever does Buffy on Ice.)

A lot of people I didn't expect have shown up, which is all to the good. I hope DX isn't too embarrassed when he gets his party favour. Maybe it smacks of self-promotion to give everyone an InstaGolem (TM), but they are handy for spring cleaning, and at least I've sweetened the pot with the chocolates. As I explained to the penguin, if you eat one before bed, you have flying dreams. Unless you can fly, in which case you have car-driving dreams. He seemed interested.

Ah, there's Connie. Oh. My. Dog. Who is that stunning man with her? I think I'll just open this new bottle of wine and then take a break. I really should mingle more.

(Alexei Yagudin. Who should totally play Spike if Joss ever does Buffy on Ice.)

(I happened to be taping the skating exhibition, so I got his strip-tease on tape. I just have to find and preserve the tape)

Jilli... I'm leaving the sleigh ride to you. My brain's been eaten. If you like, we'll just turn up at the housewarming together, led by the Evil Bunny and Bear Alliance, but I'm cool with it if you have any other ideas.

feeding Am-Chau virtual espresso.

Thanks, Penny. Though a virtual Martini is probably more in order.

Penny answers the door in a silk tunic and black pants. Staring's not chivalrous, so I try to maintain eye contact. I hope I'm not blushing.

"Apologies for my tardiness," I say.

"No worries," she says, smiling. "What's that you're hiding behind your back?"

"Hm. If you've already spotted it, perhaps hiding isn't the right word." I bring the plant into view. "A small housewarming gift."

Penny doesn't say anything at first. The plant is three feet high with glossy, violet-tinged leaves and what looks like a drooping blossom. "Thank you," she manages to say. "I'm not familiar with this particular plant . . ."

"It's known as Audrey Mark VII. I acquired it from the Home Security Horticultures Greenhouse at my new job."

"You got a job?"

"Yes. I am now Professor of Earth Magic at the Dogtown Elemental and Industrial Arts Community College."

"Wow. Sounds prestigious."

"Well, there was a Help Wanted sign on the lawn."

"So . . . this is a magic plant?"

"Well, you won't have any trouble with unwanted intruders. It won't bother friends or anyone you invite inside, and it doesn't require blood like some of the earlier prototypes. Water it every three or four days and keep it near a window. It can live off one burglar for a year. And while it's digesting, it exudes a scent of lavender. You're not allergic to lavender, are you?"

"I don't know," I mutter to Bob, "I'm a services kind of present person, myself. I hate shopping for people, they always smile sweetly then hock the thing on ebay."

"Well, I don't know what to give her, either. A reliable vampire-be-gone spell?"

"There is one?"

"Not that I'd let you get near, there isn't."

Darn cheeky Black Irish git.

I take a look at the InstaGolems wandering around serving. "I might have an idea. Other-Bob mentioned it when I was up visiting while you were, um ..."

"Escorting your uninvited guest off the premises?"

"Something like that. Well, we can offer, it's something she'd want to approve of."

We wend our way through the crowd, trying not to step on various familiars and small guests. Penny's looking happy but a tad frazzled.

"Hi, Penny, great party. We, um, really didn't bring a present, because I don't know if you'd really want to accept it." A golem thumps by on his way to reload his hors d'ouerve tray. "I was wondering if you might like a pet? A decorative kind of pet, they don't make a mess, and they're cute."

"A pet?" Penny says cautiously.

"Yeah. I've got a line on a couple of baby gargoyles that need a good home."