A thousand of the best Disney animators couldn’t make it look cooler, more seamless. It’s like she flows from one appearance to another.
My own breath goes out. “Holy…” I mean, I knew she could do that, but I’ve never actually seen her do it.
“It’s called seeming. You can use your Glamoury to seem like someone else.” She turns me toward the mirror. “Your turn.”
I straighten. I don’t care that this is a learning moment. That power is totally awesome and I want to master it.
“Breathe in and hold it,” she tells me, and I do. “Now imagine how you want to look.”
I make a picture in my mind—I want to look like her, all cool and sleek in black leathers and a motorcycle jacket. I feel the breath held in my lungs begin to burn, but I shove the pain aside and concentrate.
Her voice is hypnotic. “Imagine it. Down to the last detail.”
The scuff mark on the jacket’s right arm, the metal on her boots…
“Breathe out and will it.”
I breathe out. For a moment, nothing happens, and then a sensation begins at the top of my head. My hair prickles and my Glamoury slides over me like silk, shimmering as it comes, leaving me encased in black leather.
A rush of excitement flashes through me, and my skin tingles. “Whoa…”
The wonder of it makes me giddy and excited. I don’t care what tonight holds—Fiann, Agravaine. I’m high on sleeper-princess power.
I turn to her, still giddy. “I have an idea for our costumes.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rouen
Fall into the spell
Of my Glamour
Of my Glamour
My Glamour girl
- Euphoria, “Glamour”
It’s dark by the time we put the finishing touches on our costumes and head out, just Minnie Maven and Susan Scurry, out for an innocent high school Halloween party.
Nothing to see here, folks.
The streets in Fiann’s rich neighborhood—Syl tells me it’s called “the Fan” because the streets spread out like a literal fan—are jam-packed with kids in costumes. Pirates and witches, Disney princesses and ninjas, zombies and the occasional vampire. I spot a girl in gauzy faerie wings.
Well, damn. That’s ironic. I could’ve gone as myself this Halloween. A dark Fae would have gone completely unnoticed in this mob. Just another freak among freaks. Only, my freakiness is real. I don’t get to take it off at the end of the night.
But who wants to be ordinary, anyway?
As it is, our costumes are part real—ball gowns and zombie makeup—and part Glamoury layered over it to make us look even more intense and scary.
It’s a good combination, if the kids running away screaming are any indication.
I slowly guide my Harley—in the Glamoury, it looks like a scooter, my poor bike!—around a group of creepy killer clowns with their glowing jack-o’-lantern flashlights. Ahead, Hanover Avenue is all hazy streetlamps and the glimmering lights from crazy over-the-top house decorations. From here, I catch a glimpse of a giant pirate ship, its prow sweeping up over the top of the house. Next door is an Alice in Wonderland house, complete with suit-card “guards” and a giant inflatable White Rabbit.
And that’s just for starters. Every house is decked out to the nines. It’s like A Nightmare before Christmas threw up out here. Everything seems magical and hazy and unreal.
For one night in this mortal realm, I might actually fit in.
And that’s just it… I glance over my shoulder at Syl.
With her, I always feel like I fit in. No matter where I am.
The ache blossoms inside my chest like a poisonous flower. A…what? Bloody bones. Looks like new Rouen is going to be as emo as old Rouen. Gah!
I maneuver the Harley into a tiny spot between two cars and put down the kickstand. “We’ll have to park here.”
The entire street is blocked off by police so the kids can do their trick-or-treating. I slip my leg off the Harley, a bit glad to get off the bike, considering the ball gown and all its many layers. How did I let her talk me into this again?
Oh, right. She’s adorable. And I’m a total sucker for her.
Syl gathers her own skirts, and I give her a hand getting off the bike. As soon as her fingers brush mine, I realize it’s all worth it. Wearing a ball gown, getting “dressed up” in our Glamoury, going to Fiann’s party, even risking Agravaine Commanding me.
It’s all worth it because I’m with her.
Plus, it’ll give us a chance to scope out Villain Headquarters.
Fiann’s a total control freak, so I’m sure we’ll find some kind of evidence in her house—something to clue us in to what their next move is.
Syl takes my hand. “So we don’t get lost,” she says, but I know it’s mostly an excuse. I can tell by the flush on her cheeks and the way her pulse beats in her wrist.
It’s okay. I like holding her hand too. “Ready?” she asks me as we stand on the edge of Hanover Avenue.
“Tell me again how to get the free candy.”
She laughs as we enter the throng of costumed kids and parents, and indicates our own gown-and-Glamoury, zombie-and-prom gown costumes. “I guess if we’re skipping training tonight, you deserve some free candy.”
“Who said we’re skipping training?” I deadpan, cocking an eyebrow at her.
“You’re…impossible.”
“And yet, still amazing.”
She snickers at my not-so-serious self-assessment and tucks her head close to me so only I can hear. “I can’t believe that I’m taking Euphoria to a Halloween party, and I can’t even tell anyone about it.”
“Don’t you mean you can’t believe you’re taking a dark Fae to a Halloween party and you can’t tell anyone about it?”
Syl’s face falls. “The fair Fae really hate the dark Fae, don’t they?”
I blow out a breath. That is a seriously loaded question, way too complicated to explain in the short time it’ll take us to get to Fiann’s house. I answer simply, “Yes.”
She stops in the middle of the street, trick-or-treaters swarming around us. “So we’re going to end up enemies?”
No! My heart cries out against that thought. I step in and take her face in my hands carefully, so as not to ruin her makeup. She looks up at me, those grey eyes piercing my soul, making me ache to the core of my being.
I want to kiss her right here in the middle of the street, sweep her up in my arms and show her that I could never, ever be her enemy…
And then two little boys dressed as Ninja Turtles bump into us and break us apart. They turn, take one look at our zombie faces, and run screaming into the crowd.
I meet Syl’s gaze across the space separating us. She’s chuckling, a pretty blush on her face, and I laugh with her.
She takes my hand again, and we continue walking, our laughter subsiding.
In the awkward silence between us, I say, “The only ones that can decide if we become enemies is us.”
“I won’t be your enemy.” Syl’s face is grave as she says it, and then she smiles radiantly. “Besides, we’re too good a team.” Her gaze is heated, her voice teasing. “After all, I actually got a dark Fae to wear a gown instead of black leathers and motorcycle boots. I mean, if that’s not testament to my sleeper-princess powers, I don’t know what is.”
Her teasing breaks the seriousness. In answer, I hike my dress up a few inches to show her my New Rocks. “Still wearing the motorcycle boots, princess, but yeah, I don’t get into a gown for just anyone.”
She smiles, all cat that got the cream. “I know.”
Of course she does. I’m totally into her, and no Glamoury could ever hide it. I’m only dark Fae. And she’s gorgeous—even in zombie makeup.
“That one’s Fiann’s, right there,” she says, pointing to a huge mansion with about a gazillion carved pumpkins out front.
By the Hunt, all those candles must be a fire hazard. Then again, given that Fian
n’s family is old money, her dad probably owns the fire department.
I sigh and try to look at the bright side. “At least they’ll have full-size candy bars. None of that snack-size nonsense.”
We enter the gauntlet of scarecrows, hay and fallen leaves crunching under our feet, and I get a sudden whiff of autumn—that dead-leaf, earthy-clean smell of dying things. It strikes me how short-lived everything is in the mortal world.
A blink of an eye to a dark Fae, and soon, to Syl too. Once she fully Awakens, once she becomes fair Fae.
They’ll come for her, Roue.
I tighten my grip. Maybe. No one’s seen a fair Fae in a hundred years. With their sleeper-princesses mostly dead, they’ve lost a lot of power. Maybe they’ve gone into the fair Fae version of Winter’s Sleep, like my people.
Syl tugs on my hand, jolting me out of my distraction. “Fiann’s loaded, so we’ll probably bob for apples and eat donuts on strings and stuff like that.”
I force a smile to my face. “Well, if there are donuts, I guess I can put up with Miss Fancy Feast.”
She grins, dragging me through a small crowd of preschoolers and parents and onto the giant porch to ring the doorbell.
Fiann’s dad, aka Principal Fee, answers the door, holding a bowl of—yup. Full-size Snickers bars. He’s wearing a Dad-cula outfit with a bathrobe and fake fangs, and when he sees the two of us, Minnie Maven and Sue Scurry, two geeks standing on his doorstep, he falters a bit.
“Fiann? Fi baby,” he calls back over his shoulder.
I help myself to a Snickers bar and pass one to Syl. Fi baby? Wow, that’s just bloody awful. I shove the candy bar in my face to keep from making a snarky comment. Instantly, the sweet, blessed chocolate gives me a bit of a sugar high. Good. I’ll need it to survive this night.
Downstairs, I hear a door open, and music blares out.
“It’s fine, Daddy!” Fiann’s voice floats up from the basement. How does she even know it’s us? Cameras in the pumpkins? I look accusingly back at the scarecrow.
That’s it. No brains for you, buddy-boy.
“Come in, come in.” Principal Fee ushers us through the house, into a huge kitchen that would put Martha Stewart to shame. He’s got the sallow-eyed, hollow look of a mortal infected with the Moribund.
I give a side-glance at Syl, and she nods almost imperceptibly. Her Fae-sight is showing her that, yup, he’s infected all right.
A pang of guilt spears me. He doesn’t seem like too bad a guy. I almost regret coming here solely to spy on his daughter.
Almost.
“Go on down,” he says, and I usher Syl ahead of me.
I know one of the reasons Fiann got Agravaine to make Syl bring me— Well, to make Susan bring Minnie. Fiann wants Agravaine to Glamour me into throwing the half-time show at Thanksgiving. She wants the band to screw up so she and her cheerleader cronies can win the day.
Fat chance.
I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve too.
“Go on.” I wink at Syl. “I’ll catch up in a sec.”
“Ooookaaaay.” Syl gives me a suspicious look, and I respond by putting on my most innocent face.
Well, as innocent as a dark Fae dressed up as a zombie can look.
“I don’t want to know, do I?” she says, biting into her Snickers, her voice adorably muffled.
“Nope. Shoo.” I wave her away teasingly.
Shaking her head, she goes down into the basement.
I turn to Principal Fee. “So, I hear there are some boys who are going to show up?”
“Boys?” A frown creases his face. I mean, what self-respecting dad wants boys at his teenage daughter’s party? “Well, there aren’t any yet, but Fiann said that a few might show up.”
I step in, look him in the eyes, and hit him with a double dose of Glamoury. “You don’t want any boys coming to this party. Any boys at all.”
“Any boys at all.” His intonation is correct, but given that a) he’s infected with Moribund and harder to Glamoury, and b) my clever girl pulled a fast one on Agravaine this afternoon, I check Fee’s eyes. Yup. They’re all dilated. Black as night.
“You’ll send them away.”
“I’ll send them away.”
Good. Agravaine won’t cause a scene. He doesn’t get anything out of helping Fiann win the halftime show. And without him here, we’ll be able to scope the place out, look for clues. “Thanks.” I pat Fee’s shoulder. “You’re the best.” I snag another Snickers out of the bowl and head down stairs.
Goth music floats up from the basement, and I hear the familiar strains of my violin in “Breathtaken.” Well, at least Fiann’s got good taste in music.
I barely hit the bottom step when I see Fiann. She and her minions have Syl cornered. My protective instincts go on high alert, but I tone it down. No need to snap any necks. They’re just teen girls.
Which means their evil level is just somewhere south of Darth Vader.
Fiann’s dressed like some kind of sexy…cat, I guess—kitty ears and kitty paws and a black tail bobbing from her backside. Her makeup’s on point, though, and it looks like a stylist did her face and hair. Danette and Maggie and Jazz flounce up. They’re wearing mice costumes with dark glasses.
“Rats on parade!” Syl guesses, and I can tell she’s messing with them.
“No.” Danette fluffs her already fluffy hair. “We’re three blind mice. What the hell are you?” She looks over her two-hundred-dollar Ray-Bans at Syl.
I take her cue to swoop in and put my arm around Syl, flaunting the torn ball gowns, the blood, and the zombie-ness of our outfits. “We’re Deadutantes.”
Syl smiles at me, and it’s all worth it, wearing this silly ball gown, just to see her smile and all of them stunned to silence for like a half second.
Fiann’s gaze roams over the fake blood and white zombie makeup, our ripped-up ball gowns. “Okay, whatever. Just come on.” She sighs like she’s just so put upon.
Syl and I sneak grins at each other.
I mouth the words, Best party evar and roll my eyes, and she giggles.
But I have to admit, the place looks pretty swank. The basement is all decked out in purple Christmas lights and tiny bobbing orange jack-o’-lanterns. Blacklights and mirrors distort the room and make it look bigger. Cobwebs and fake bloody curtains hang everywhere, and there’s just a touch of fake fog rolling in.
Mostly the guests are cheerleaders with a few popular-girl exceptions like Lennon and Jazz. Lennon waves at Syl from the snack table. Syl and I head over.
“Hey, Lennon.” Syl hugs her.
Lennon’s decked out like a marionette, complete with top hat and cute Lolita-style skirt and bodice. Her makeup accentuates her doll-like features, and she has her usual giant glowing cat-ear headphones atop her head. “Hi,” she says breathlessly.
While they chat, I take stock of the snack table. It’s like the junk-food version of a Game of Thrones feast. “Catered?” I throw the question out there.
“Of course.” Fiann flounces by. “What do we look—poor?”
I just snort. Catered. Good. That means no one in this house prepared this food. Which also means, eating it is not the same as breaking bread with them. Ha! I snag a handful of Cheezy Bitz and munch away, wondering just how long we have to stay before we can bail.
Syl glances at me, and I give her an arch look.
“No donuts. That’s it, I’m outta here.” I turn in mock outrage to leave (i.e., find an excuse to roam about the house unattended), but Fiann’s there.
“We’re going to play Truth or Dare,” she announces. “Come on, girls.”
Everyone gathers around Fiann on the floor. “Everyone,” she emphasizes, and Syl and I get reluctantly dragged in.
“Okay,” Fiann says. “I’ll start.” She looks around, clearly loving it as everyone squirms. “Dani, truth or dare?”
Danette squeals, and the girls around her giggle. “Truth!” she says amid the good-natured groans and teasing.
> Fiann looks like she’s thinking. “Okay, if you could date any guy in school, who would it be?”
I roll my eyes, and Syl giggles.
Dani milks her moment in the spotlight. “Oh, I guess it’d be Mikhail Despres.”
The quarterback. Duh.
I tune out as the girls go around. Syl seems kind of interested, but I know it’s more about being included than anything else.
When her turn comes, she calls truth.
“If you could kiss any girl here, who would it be?” Maggie asks.
Syl turns a pretty shade of red. She glances up at me. She’s lovely—even through the zombie makeup and fake blood. “Minnie,” she whispers.
Her admission is an arrow to my heart.
She wants to…kiss me?
I’ve felt it every night, the connection between us growing stronger, stronger, the heat between us wild and scorching, the number of times we’ve almost kissed on the rooftops, or that time in the alleyway, or that time in the street like two seconds ago—
“Truth or dare, Minnie?”
Fiann’s voice jolts me out of my thoughts.
She looks at me and waves a hand in front of my face. “Hello, Earth to Miss Maven. Truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
The girls erupt into giggles and excitement.
“Fine.” Fiann’s eyes are bright with malice. She looks at Syl. “Kiss me.”
My stomach drops out. Ugh. Of course Miss Mean Girl Extraordinaire would choose that. I just cock an eyebrow at her. I could Glamoury her right here, but the other girls would notice.
“You chose dare.” Fiann clearly senses I’m reluctant.
Yeah, if reluctant is the word for no friggin’ way.
Syl’s tense. She’s wringing her hands.
I look Fiann in the eye. “I’m not kissing you.”
Fiann turns purple. “You have to! It’s the game.”
I stand up. There’s no way I’m hurting Syl. Not for a game. Not for anything. “No thanks.”
Fiann jumps up with me, and the next thing I know we’re all on our feet, Fiann in my face. “You have to. It’s my party, and I said that’s your dare.”
Moribund Page 19
