Once Bitten (Shadow Guild: The Rebel #1)(38)

We reached the mirror and gazed at our reflections.

Mac screeched with indignation. “Those bitches!”

Holy crap, I did look hot. Like, hot in a men’s magazine kind of way. Wavy auburn hair and an impossibly perfect face, complete with impeccable makeup.

“I can’t believe they did this,” Mac muttered, rubbing at her green skin.

“This is one of their pranks, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” She glowered. “And I’m going to get them for it.”

“Man, we’re going to draw some attention.”

“No kidding.” She dragged a gnarled hand over her face. “This is almost worse. We don’t even look like real people.”

Quinn looked between the two of us, seemingly delighted by the drama playing out in front of him.

“I look kind of real,” I said.

“No, you don’t, honey. No one looks like you in real life. You look like you’ve been photoshopped. You should see your waist. You’re basically a Barbie doll.”

I looked down, surprised to see that she was right. I should be wearing a corset to get a waist like this. And did my feet look pointed? Like I should be perpetually forced into tiny plastic heels?

I tugged up my hood, shoving the mass of red underneath.

“You’ve got to give me five minutes,” Mac said. “I need a hood, too.”

“Okay.”

She hurried toward the hallway to go back to Guild City.

“Can I get you something, Miss January?” Quinn asked.

I shot him a look and gestured to my new Barbie body. “Oh, you like this, do you?”

“Actually, I prefer the real you.” He leaned over the bar and shot me a charming grin. “A lot. So, when you’re back to normal, if you’d like to get dinner or something, I’d be delighted to be your Ken.”

I didn’t want him, but I did like him. And warmth suffused me at his words. “Thanks. But I think…well, I’m going to have a lot on my plate.”

“That’s okay.” He winked. “I’ll try again later.”

Mac returned a moment later with a hoodie. She tore the tag off it and tugged the garment over her head. Suddenly, her face was cast in shadows, nearly impossible to see. I could get glimpses of her, and she still looked like hell, but the magic in the hoodie seemed to soften her features, making them hazy. Her green skin looked slightly sallow now, and she only sort of resembled a frog.

“What’s up with that hoodie?” I asked.

“Magic. I still look like me—or like Frog Me—but the hoodie makes it hard to get a good look.”

“We should have just bought some of those.”

“No. If you can be recognized, they’d still recognize you if they looked for a few seconds.” She glowered. “Me, though. I tried to tell them I didn’t need a potion.”

“They just wanted to turn you into a frog,” Mac said. “Joke’s on them, though. You make a hot frog.”

She laughed, a sound more like a ribbet than laughter. “Let’s go, Barbie.”

I looked at Quinn. “See you later. And thanks for the backup.”

“No problem.”

Carrow and I exited the pub, making our way out through the alley and back into Convent Garden. The toilet roll shop was closed, as usual, but the street itself had a few more people.

“Okay, pal,” Mac said. “We’re on your turf, and I’ve got no idea where to go.”

“I’ve got this.” Confidence suffused me. This was my turf. And I might not have been completely happy here, but I sure as hell knew my way around. “Come on. We’ll catch the Tube.”

“The Tube?”

“It’s the Underground.”

“Oh, right. The train that goes under the earth. You humans are crazy.”

“You really don’t come here much?”

“Why would I?” Mac asked. “You saw Guild City, it’s great.”

“Yeah, it was.” I tugged on her. “Now come on.”

We hurried to the nearest station, passing bustling bars and pubs and full flower boxes. Musicians played in front of the green and glass market building, and a wagon filled with flowers sat in the middle of the street as an art installation. It was one of my favorite parts of London, and I was glad that Mac got to see it when it was at its best.

We were nearly to the Underground station when I caught sight of a flyer in a pub window.

My face, staring straight out.

It was my College of Policing photo.

Oh, that burned.

Banks. That bastard. With the serial killer now in the news, he was under more pressure to catch someone, and he was trying to get me for it.

“You’re on wanted posters?” Mac asked.

“Yeah.” My stomach pitched. We had to fix this. Now.

I dragged Mac toward the sign over the stairs leading to the Underground. I reloaded my Oyster card to get us through the barriers, then found our platform, tapping my foot impatiently as I waited for the train to arrive.

When it did, we crammed in with everyone else. The ride itself was uneventful, besides the fact that Mac couldn’t stop muttering, “Mind the gap,” in different funny voices. Combined with her frog face, it was a real trip. One lady stared too long, and I explained that Mac was a makeup artist.