Oh gods, this hurt.
“Keep your hands down,” she snapped.
Tears raced to my eyes as the blistering sensation spread, but I lowered my arms, clenched my hands into fists as myhead burned and burned, until the strands of hair around my face lightened, dark curls turning gold.
Not the pale, icy shade of an aristocrat, but a warm, honey color, threaded with lighter streaks, catching the candlelight. The color of a lesser empire to the north.
“Eyes next,” Emilia said, just as I managed a shaky breath.
The world blurred, agony drove spikes up into my head, my warped vision going black before clearing, tears pouring down my cheeks. The vampire in the mirror blinked back at me with hazel eyes instead of rich espresso—green and gold swirled together.
“How much more?” I asked breathlessly.
“Jaw,” Emilia said thoughtfully. “Cheekbones. We don’t want to change your bone structure too much, or the glamour will fail faster. Small adjustments last the longest, perhaps even until tomorrow. Let’s roughen up that DiRavello elegance just a bit.”
The moment her fingers brushed my cheek, a faint pressure built under my skin, and then, before I could brace myself, skin and tissue twisted painfully, like my face was being ripped off my skull. The sharp angles rounded out, dotted with freckles—pretty, but unremarkable, the kind of face you would immediately forget.
“And your voice,” she added with a grin, and razor blades clawed up my throat, as if she was carving out my voice box with a knife.
I panted, hands on my knees, glaring up at a totally unrepentant Emilia.
“Ididwarn you. Lastly, your scent has to go,” she added. “Citrus and lavender are a memorable combination. Luca and your uncle would know you by that alone. This will betricky since you will be in an enclosed space with vampires who know you.”
Just the idea made me twitchy.
“Something plain, then,” I told her, wanting to go curl up in a sobbing little ball somewhere.This was definitely the worst idea I’d ever had.
Every muscle in my body clenched when she pulled out a small vial and flicked a few drops of dark liquid onto my collarbone, then traced three sigils in the air around me. The smell of my own magic—lemons and lavender—receded, wrapped in something cloying and unfamiliar.
I swallowed, my shoulders sagging in relief.At least that last part hadn’t felt like I was being torn to pieces.
“There. I do good work, if I do say so myself. No one will recognize you,” she said as she stepped away.
I turned to the mirror, and a stranger stared back.
If I squinted, there were still similarities—slight build, rigid posture—but the details had blurred together into a smear of mediocrity. Light hair, muddy eyes, softer features, a mouth more prone to smiling than biting.
I almost looked… happy.
“What is your name?” Emilia asked.
“I’m not going there… to make… friends,” I pressed my hand to my throat.Oh, my gods. I sounded so strange.My voice was pitched higher, the tone clearer.
I tried again. “I’ll slip past the security and use the party as cover. None of that requires a name.”
This would take some getting used to.
“Someone will ask,” she replied, shrugging her narrow shoulders. “Giovanni has invited all of Venice, Rome, and Florence as well. This is his chance to solidify his alliances while Marcello is weak.”
“And using my murderto do it.”
“Youralmost-murder, but yes. I heard Lord Blackwood from Rome and Don Rosetti from Florence will both be in attendance.” She clicked her tongue. “Feathers in your uncle’s cap to have them both there. Security will be especially tight. Someone will want to know who you belong to.”
The Rosettis were Florence’s version of the Dominicos, and Lord Blackwood was evil to the core. I’d only met him once, but… I tried to ignore the chill creeping up my spine, that hard knot of doubt growing heavier in my stomach.
This is a bad idea.
Then I thought of Dante, suffering somewhere far away.
