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I shuddered and grabbed Marco’s sleeve.
If Jules had been human, he’d have been dead by now, deprived of oxygen at the very least, since he no longer had openings to breathe through. And that was assuming worse changes weren’t going on inside. But he wasn’t human. Which was probably why that sightless face suddenly moved. And slowly, so very slowly, turned.
To look at me.
I stepped back a pace, staring at the grape-shaped lumps of flesh where eyes should have been, before telling myself to get a grip. He wasn’t looking at me. He couldn’t know I was here. It was random—
“It wasn’t some shoplifting spell they ran into,” Caleb said roughly. “It was one of the special orders Augustine has been doing for the Corps.”
“Special orders?”
“Weapons, essentially.”
I looked up at him. “Augustine designs dresses.”
“And you’ve seen some of the mods he’s put on your gowns. Think that’s standard?”
I tried to process that for a second; then I pushed it away. I didn’t care about explanations right now. “Just call him!”
“I already did. But he can’t help us. The spell wasn’t finished and he doesn’t have a counter for it yet.”
“He doesn’t have—” I stared at him. “Then why the hell did he leave it lying around?”
“He didn’t. It was in his private workroom, which was locked and warded and where no one has permission to go. And he was supposed to be the first one back tomorrow—”
I shook my head violently. I didn’t care. “Caleb! Just reverse it!”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you; I can’t.”
“You—then what happens?” I demanded, gesturing at Jules.
Caleb’s massive arms crossed. “You can try a necromancer, but the whole point of a war spell is that it be debilitating. If it was easy to undo, it wouldn’t help us.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I just stared at Jules, and it felt like the bottom of my stomach fell out. I’d told him he would be okay. I’d told him it was no big deal. I’d told him—
There was a commotion behind me, and I turned to see the Valkyrie pushing her way through the ring of vampires. She walked over to Jules and bent down for a better look. She remained expressionless, but her lips all but disappeared.
“Nasty bit of work,” she said, looking at Jasmine, who was kneeling on his other side.
Jasmine had been reaching out, as if she’d planned to touch him, but her hand stopped just short. “That is one word for it,” she said softly.
“Can you break it?” I rasped.
They glanced at each other, and then at something behind me. I turned to see a rustle in the ring of vampires near the lounge, and then several jumped aside suddenly, possibly to avoid whacks from the stick the third little witch was using to clear herself a path.
“Why are you all so big?” she groused. “You’re vampires. Size doesn’t matter. Why do they never turn normal-sized men?”
Fred, who was standing across from me, started to say something, but then shut up. Maybe because she’d finally pushed through the forest of designer-clad legs and stopped by Jules. Who she proceeded to poke with her stick.
“What are you—”
“Hush,” she told me, and swatted my hand.
The poking recommenced. And then she nodded. “Thought so. Clever boy. He’s perverted a brownie spell, inverted it to harm rather than help.”
“Fey magic,” the Valkyrie explained, seeing my expression. “That’s why the Circle pays Augustine to help them. He’s part fey.”
“Fey?”
