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How did you convince someone your life was terminally uncool when you got a private helicopter ride to the Grand Canyon to perform divine magic on television while wearing a designer gown probably worth thousands?
You couldn’t. Even to me this was too outrageous to be believed, and I was the one living it.
My genius plan had been totally obliterated. I’d never get rid of her now.
I doubted she cared which god she was a cleric for at this point. As far as Sawyer was concerned, this was the most badass job in the world.
I found myself smiling at Sawyer in spite of myself. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad when we figured out where she belonged. She seemed so lost. Finding a new home as a cleric might actually be the thing to give her the sense of purpose she was so desperate for.
I handed my coat off to Teddy, who gave my appearance one final head-to-toe scan. There was nothing salacious about his gaze. I might as well have been a mannequin for whatever heat his eyes gave off. He did, however, seem satisfied with what he saw, because he smiled and gave me a single nod of approval.
“Very good, Ms. Corentine. Very good.”
“Yeah, I clean up okay.”
The wind plucked at me, but the lace was stiff enough the dress only ruffled slightly, and the satin rippled beneath the lace like water. I bet it would look downright magical on camera.
I pushed my hair behind my shoulders, hoping the wind would keep it back there and out of my eyes. Not that I needed to see anything in order to do my work, but it was still really annoying to have hairs twisted up into my eyelashes.
Teddy and his assistant withdrew, leaving me all alone on the platform, facing a sea of indistinguishable faces.
I wished Cade were here.
The last thing I needed was bad luck, but I wanted him nearby all the same. His presence made me feel safe no matter how much danger lurked in the periphery. On a totally vain level, I also wanted to see his expression when he saw me in this dress.
Our whole time knowing each other I’d been a T-shirt-and-jeans girl. He’d gotten the best of me once this week, showing up in that suit. This dress would be the exact kind of revenge I wanted.
I hoped they let me keep it.
I wasn’t wearing a watch, but it had to be getting close to show time. While I’d been changing, someone had set up speakers closer to the audience. Soft classical music started to play.
The crowd fell into a collective hush. Every eye was on me. A dozen different national news crews had shown up as well. I spotted cameras bearing the labels of CNN, NBC, BBC. The whole alphabet seemed to be out there.
There wasn’t usually this much scrutiny on me when I worked.
My breath hitched, and I realized for the first time what this unfamiliar sensation in my chest was.
I was nervous.
Me.
It was enough to make me laugh, which probably just made me look like a psycho.
I pushed that idea out of my head because it made me think
of my would-be killer again.
See you tonight.
Not if I see you first, asshole.
My palms itched with the first flare of power. Yes, rage was good at a time like this. Anger was one of those intense emotions that could help fuel me through this. As long as I didn’t let it control me, I could make it do my bidding, and this show would be nothing short of historic.
We’d put the dream god to shame.
This would be the display they talked about for the next fifty years as being the one to top.
It would be my public legacy.
