Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Why the Moon?” Gabriel asked.
After the nearly endless two-hour drive, they’d parked Gabriel’s BMW in a nondescript public garage about a block away from the club, hidden in the shadows on the bottom floor.
The Moon card sat on the center console between them, a spectral vampire woman in a white lace dress and veil, clutching a bloody scythe. A full moon hovered behind her, massive and luminescent, casting its light on the ruins of an ancient cemetery.
“The Moon is often associated with illusion and deception,” Jaci said, “which makes it the perfect conduit for glamour magic.”
“I’m beginning to think Aiden was right about you.” Gabriel laughed, soft and intimate in the small space of the car. “Youarea bit spooky.”
“More than you know. Now hold still, and don’t say a word.”
“Will it hurt?”
“Only if you don’t shut your sexy mouth.”
Gabriel bit back another smile, and Jaci got to work, envisioning new appearances for them both, drawing on the energy of the Moon card to bring the illusion to life.
Taking Gabriel’s hands in hers, she chanted her spell.
By the magic of her light
The moon shall make our shadows bright
When daylight fades and darkness gleams
Nothing now is what it seems
Silver mist filled the car, enveloping them both in its cool touch. Gabriel’s eyes widened in surprise, but true to his word, he didn’t speak. Just sat in stunned silence as the mist caressed his skin, slowly transforming him from the sexy vampire she knew to a slightly more understated, slightly more blond man who could easily pass as a mage. When he met her gaze again, his eyes were a soft brown, no trace of the green left.
The mist tingled across Jaci’s skin, turning her silver hair dark, her blue eyes hazel, adding new wrinkles around her mouth. When she’d conjured the image in her mind, she’d hoped adding a few years to her face would make her look a little more experienced, a little more wise.
A little less naive.
Shewasn’t, of course, but that didn’t matter. Glamour magic was all about the illusion, and this one was damned convincing.
If not for the familiar glimmer of mischief in Gabriel’s brown eyes, she might not have recognized him at all. And judging from the way his jaw hit the floor when the mist finally retreated and revealed her new form, he didn’t recognize her either.
Transformation complete, Jaci shoved her purse beneath the passenger seat, taking only the essentials with her—a tube of lipstick and a Tarot card, the Lord of Scepters. It was a fiery image, a horned king brandishing a flaming scepter, his fire-breathing stallion carrying him through a storm of blood and lightning.
Her demon friend had told her the Keepers of the Dark Flame used it as a sort of calling card. She hoped he was right. The fact that he badly wanted to fuck her—and hadn’t yet—was the only reason she was trusting his word.
Never underestimate the power of a desperate dick on a feeble mind…
The moon had already risen as Jaci and her “mage” companion walked the short distance to the club, its bright face winking at them over the ocean. The plan was fairly straightforward—while Gabriel waited at the bar in case of trouble, Jaci would charm her way into the meeting, sniff out clues about Renault’s whereabouts, and slip away long before the mages suspected a thing.
“Remember, little moonflower,” Gabriel said now, stopping just outside the doors. He leaned in close, the low vibration of his murmured warning sending tingles across her scalp. “You can work your mysterious ways on these mages all you’d like, but at the end of the night, you’re coming home withme.”
“Still with the possessiveness, Prince?” Jaci laughed, doing her best to hide his effect on her. “Maybe you should get a cattle prod and brand my tits with your initials—Property of GR. Oh, but wait. You should do them backward, so when I look in the mirror I don’t get it mixed up and go home with the wrong dickhead. Reginald Green, perhaps? Renato Goldsmith?”
Gabriel shot her a warning glare, but that mischief still sparkled in his now-brown eyes. “Save the fireworks for the show, witch.”
“And you, Prince… Lose the accent. Anything that can peg you as a Redthorne gets left at the door.”
“Perhaps I won’t speak at all.”
Jaci grinned and opened the door, the opulent white light of the club washing over them both. “Even better.”
