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CHAPTER THREE

I hail a cab one street over from the library and head back to my home on Saber Lane.

Once there, I race past the gray lampposts that stand at the entrance to the lane and I hurry up the front steps of the brownstone that sits on the corner. I inherited my home from my grandmother, who raised me after my mother died.

I used to call the assassins my enemies, afraid of the violence they brought with them, but now we protect this street and all of the magical beings who live here.

Still, I told no one about my plans today, fearing the explanations I would have to give if I failed. I grimace as I push open my front door. I have many flaws. Not being able to share my inner thoughts is one of them. But life taught me that to love means inviting pain into my life.

I closed my heart to love a long time ago, and when I finally took a chance and opened it…

Stormy gray eyes rise in my memory, the elusive scent of sandalwood aftershave, and arms that swept me off my feet and held me for mere seconds before the truth in his eyes shattered my hope.

With gritted teeth, I push away the memory of the only time that Alexei Mason nearly kissed me. Nearly. Until he realized that my power allowed me to see into his heart—to see that he could never love me.

That was when he let me go.

I shake off the memory. I have work to do.

If there’s a chance I’m going to The Monster Ball, I’ll need a dress. I can’t go out and buy one because the assassins will notice and ask questions. They see everything and have spies everywhere in Boston—even in dress shops.

I race upstairs and rummage through my closet to find a simple black dress. It’s nearly impossible to conjure something out of nothing, but I’m certain I can make a more elaborate dress out of this one.

Carrying it back downstairs to the parlor, I lay it over one of the chairs before I open the spellbook that sits on a pedestal in the center of the room.

“Pictures, not words,” I murmur to myself as I flip through the book. It’s my mantra, the trick that Alexei taught me to try to remember spells. I wasn’t going to take any chances with the angel in the library, but I’m willing to take leaps of faith within the safety of my own home.

I scan the beautification spell, taking in the words and picturing what I want inside my mind before I close the book, holding firmly to the image of the dress I want to create…

Power rises within me, and it’s like a dewdrop sliding from my shoulders to my outstretched hands.

The dress rises into the air in front of me, slowly turning.

Pictures… pictures…

As my power wraps around it, the entire dress morphs from opaque to diaphanous, layers of tulle taking shape into a sleeveless, plunging V-neck, tight waistline wrapped in a wide black ribbon, and gauzy folds falling to the floor.

The skirt splits from the hem to the waist to form a high slit on the left side.

There are enough layers that it will conceal my lady parts, but my silhouette will be clearly visible.

Just to be sure nobody could dare to try anything, I conjure fine black vines, as thin as threads, to twine across the front and back of the bodice.

Delicate vines also form inside the inner layer of the dress from the waist down.

Those will wrap around my upper thighs when I put the dress on.

A flower in the shape of a large, ruby-red rose forms, petal by petal on the dress’s right shoulder, finishing off the neckline.

I approach the dress and run my fingertips along the vines, golden threads of power shimmering into it at my touch.

Then I step back with a wicked smile. The dress now has an inbuilt system of protection. If anyone tries to grab me, thorns will form along the vines and give them a nasty surprise.

If the stories are true, I won’t be allowed to take weapons into the Ball, but the vines count as decoration, so I’m hoping The Proprietor will allow me to wear them.

I’m not done yet. I spend the next few hours carefully copying out the spells I might need onto slips of paper that I turn into black flower petals. The handwriting on them disappears but will reappear at my touch in the shape of golden threads if I need it.

It’s unlike me to dress so provocatively, but The Monster Ball is not a place for the faint of heart.

So many monsters in one place.

I have no doubt I belong among them.

Just as I put the dress safely away in my closet, ready for the moment when I might receive that elusive ticket to the Ball, a knock sounds at my front door.

I recognize Hunter’s knock, but the heaviness in it immediately puts me on alert.

Hurrying back downstairs, I open the door to find her dressed in her assassin’s suit, the material conforming to her six-months-pregnant tummy.

“Hunter?”

She tucks a few loose strands of her mahogany hair back behind her ear. “I have news.”

My stomach instantly plummets and all thoughts of the Ball vanish. If it’s about what I think it is…

Quickly, I usher her inside, taking note of the dark rings under her eyes. “Good or bad?”

She gives me a brave smile that lifts some of my dread. “Both?”

Well, that might be better than I feared then.

“Come. Sit down.” I urge her over to the two-seater lounge chair and sink into it beside her. “Give me the bad news first.”

She takes a deep breath. “It’s true: One of Typhon’s bones is still out there.”

No, not better after all.