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Kim impersonation.
"Wel , hop in the shower; maybe you can scrub some of the skunk scent off. Meanwhile, I'l see what I can find out. I've never had to deal with this before-
-no one I've ever known got skunked. Not that I remember." She headed out of the bathroom, muttering to herself.
I grimaced, then looked at myself in the mirror again. I'd always loved the combination of my emerald eyes and golden hair, but now I looked like I'd gone punk. Bad. Very bad. Splotches of pink to orange dappled the gold, and even where it hadn't, my natural color had become brassy. And not only my hair up top had decided to turn calico, but everywhere on my body. Eyebrows, razor stubble on my legs, and . . . oh yah, I had a burning bush, al right. For the first time in my life, I foresaw begging Camil e to teach me how to go Brazilian.
"Crap. One more thing to deal with." But right now, I needed to focus on getting the stench off me.
"Here we go," Iris said, coming back with a basin fil ed with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a box of baking soda, and some dish soap. "Fil the bathtub."
Mutely, I did as she ordered, backing off as she poured a cup of the baking soda into the churning water. Then she added the quart of peroxide and about a quarter cup of dish soap. I stared at the briny bath and gingerly stepped in when she gave me a little shove.
Far from a nice, fresh, minty bubble bath, which I'd wil ingly take, this felt more like she was scrubbing off the last seven years of skin. By the time we finished washing me and my hair, I was bright pink from the vigorous use of the loofah. As I rinsed off under the shower spray, I could stil smel the skunk, but at least it was muted. A little.
"Oh, dear," she said, looking up at me.
Wordlessly, I peeked in the mirror. Now, in addition to pink, orange, and brassy blonde, I had platinum patches from the peroxide. Down below, too.
"Crap," I said again, shaking my head. "What can we do about my hair?"
Iris bit her lip. I'd never seen her look quite so remorseful. "I'm not sure. I have no idea how hair dye would react on you, given your half-Fae heritage.
Especially after the peroxide bath . Let me do some research on spel s. Maybe there's something we can do magical y."
"Forget about asking Camil e to touch my head," I muttered. "I remember perfectly wel what happened when she tried to make herself invisible. She was nekkid for a week and couldn't do a thing about it. And didn't even know it until somebody told her that her clothes were invisible."
A knock on the door interrupted us. I wrapped the towel around me, and Iris answered. It was Vanzir.
"Delilah--it's Luke, from the bar. He wants to talk to you."
Luke? Luke was a werewolf who worked at the Wayfarer Bar & Gril , owned by my sister Menol y. He occasional y came over to dinner, but if he was here instead of on duty, there must be something wrong.
I stared down at my towel-wrapped torso. At six one, I was lean, though not gaunt by any shape of the imagination. You couldn't see my bones--they were al covered by a nice layer of muscle.
"He'l have to deal with me being half-dressed. I'm not climbing into any of my clothes til I find something that wil prevent the skunk smel from spreading to them."
Wandering out into the foyer, I nodded at the tal , lanky werewolf who slouched against one wal . Luke could be mistaken for a cowboy except for the scar that laced its way down his cheek. A faint smile flickered across his lips. The ponytail that hung down his back was tidy but gave me the impression that his hair was fly-away and tousled by nature.
He touched the hat he wore. "Miss Delilah, how you doing? Ran into a skunk, did you?"
"That obvious?"
"Between your . . . perfume, and the new dye job up top, yeah. I bet Iris used tomato juice to no effect?" A lazy smile took the place of the worried look as he flashed a wink at Iris. She blushed.
I nodded. "Yeah, something like that. And then some quasi-crazy peroxide mix. You don't happen to have a cure, do you?"
"Maybe," he said. "At least for the scent. I'l have to go back to my apartment to get it. Learned to make it years ago when I was stil running with the Pack. We found out firsthand that tomato juice did a number on light-colored fur. But first, I need your services, if you're wil ing."
"My services?" I started to bristle, suddenly al too aware of my semi-naked state.
"You're a PI, aren't you?" He was doing his best to keep his eyes on my face, though I saw them drop a couple times, then swiftly scan back up to look me in the eye. Kind of cute, actual y. He was blushing. And, mingling with the skunk, the tomato juice, and the chemical scent of the peroxide, I could smel his musk, though not so thick as to indicate arousal. But he liked women, that was for sure.
"Oh. Um . . . yeah." I edged into the living room and nodded for him to fol ow me. "Have a seat. What do you need?"
Luke edged onto the sofa while I curled up in the rocking chair, making sure nothing was showing that shouldn't. Before I could sit down, Iris slipped in and spread a grungy sheet beneath me. Great. I was beginning to feel like Typhoid Mary.
"My sister's missing."
