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I raised my eyebrows. "But the full moon is three weeks away, not two."
"Yes. And two nights ago, Dia left a message for Gautier saying the timetable has been stepped up to February fifth."
Which was one month away. "Do we know what timetable they're talking about?"
But even as I said it, I knew, if only because of the premonition I'd had earlier. Gautier would try to kill Jack that day.
Which is exactly what Jack said. "And while we have no idea why the timetable has been stepped up," he added, "it means we have less than a month to stop Starr."
"Is that going to be enough time?" Christ, Rhoan might know what he was doing, but I was a novice, and it would take me longer to uncover information for that reason alone.
"It's going to have to be." Jack reached past the computer and gave me a folder. "Your new identity."
I opened the folder and looked inside. "Poppy Burns?" I looked up at Jack. "Do I look like a Poppy to you?"
"You will by the time I've finished with you," Liander said, voice dry.
I poked my tongue out at him, and kept on reading. Poppy apparently was the result of a horny werewolf and a human groupie encounter, with neither parent being intelligent enough to realize they were fertile at the time of their brief liaison. The mother didn't want the resulting child, didn't know where the father was, so poor Poppy was shoved onto various relatives until she ran away at fifteen. She'd had a multitude of jobs since then, but thanks to her temper and her attitude, hadn't been able to hold on to anything for very long. She supported herself in between with thieving, and the occasional spot of prostitution. She'd gotten into Melbourne three days ago, after having ripped off the wrong house in Sydney and having the owners place a large reward for information on her whereabouts.
Charming. I'd just become a wanted criminal. "Poor Poppy's had a bitch of a life, hasn't she?"
Jack grinned. "Read that until you know her off by heart." He hesitated. "And make sure you start reflecting her attitude."
I nodded. "I won't have a problem with that part of it."
"Which is why we put that in. Liander, you want to start in on her? Rhoan, here's your profile."
Liander grabbed my hand and led me into the bathroom. As he sat me down, I saw the scissors.
"How short are we going?" I said instantly.
"Very short."
"No," I said, my hands going to my hair. I loved it just the way it was - I could put up with it being dyed, but cut short? No way. I mean, I cut it to shoulder length every summer, but I didn't really consider that short. Not in the sense Liander was talking about, anyway.
He sighed. "Darling, your hair is luscious, I admit, but it is so out of fashion at the moment. Hell, even your brother has more style than you, and that's saying something."
"That's because my brother raids the bank account to go shopping, and I'm the one that worries about where the rent and food money is coming from."
"Yes, but lack of money doesn't excuse lack of style. I have been offering free haircuts for years."
"I like medium to long hair. Anything wrong with that?"
"Normally, no. But long hair doesn't suit the shoes you're stepping into. She's trendy. With it." He flicked the end of my hair. "This is not."
"I know, but - "
"Trust me," he said. "You'll look divine. And your hair will grow back, regardless."
I blew out a frustrated breath, but gave in to the inevitable. I was being ridiculous and I knew it. Besides, I wanted my life back, and if doing that meant cutting my hair extremely short, then surely that was a small price to pay. "If it doesn't look good, I'm going over to your place and destroying all your makeup."
He grinned. "Warning heeded. Now shut up and let the master create."
For the next three hours he had his wicked way with my looks, and I had to admit, the end result was startling. He'd dyed my skin a dark gold, covering the smattering of freckles scattered across my cheeks and shoulders, and giving me the rich glow of a sun worshipper. My hair was as short as I'd feared, the ends barely brushing the bottom of my ears, but had been layered so that it framed my face, giving me a cheeky, yet extremely sexy, look. He'd also streaked it with blonde, which played amongst the natural gold highlights in my red hair and gave the overall effect of three-toned hair. Breathable, bright green contacts completed the transformation.
"Wow," was all I could manage to say. I didn't look like me, even though he hadn't changed all that much.
He gave me a pleased smile. "One more touch, and we're finished."
