“Not those old goats. They’re not your people.” She pointed to some laughing women who looked mostly normal as they sat at an outdoor cafe drinking wine. “They are. Or maybe the old dudes playing cribbage over there.” She laughed.

“You know, I’m not bad at cribbage.”

“Maybe you can give old Larry and Watson a run for their money one day.”

“I’d like to try.”

As we passed through the main city gate and walked down the darkened tunnel to the other side, I felt a prickle of attention that made my heart race.

The Devil was watching. I could feel it in my soul, in the way the gaze felt like a caress over my skin.

“Can the Devil see inside here?” I asked.

“It’s safe to assume he can see almost anywhere,” Mac said. “Either through magic or through a secret hiding place. That man has eyes everywhere.”

I rubbed the back of my neck uncomfortably. “Cool, cool, cool.”

We reached the other side, and when we stepped out into the light, the ether pulled me in and spun me through space. A moment later, we appeared in the empty, darkened hallway of the Haunted Hound.

Quinn, the handsome bartender, stood near the shelves of liquor, adding another bottle. He looked at us, and his brows rose. “Come to cover your shift, Mac?”

“Ah, no. Can you?”

His eyebrows lowered, but his glower did nothing to obscure his handsome face.

“I’m helping Carrow,” Mac said.

Quinn’s face cleared again, and he seemed to be considering. “I could help Carrow. Be delighted to.”

“You don’t know what we’re doing. She’d be better off with me.”

“I’m not so sure of that.”

“We’re going to get our hair done.”

He scowled. “Liar. But I’ll still cover for you.”

“Thanks a million,” Mac said. “You’re a hero.”

“Seriously,” I added. “Thank you. I could really use the help.”

“Need a second person?” Quinn asked.

“We’ve got it,” Mac said with a grin. “You’ll have to flirt with her later.”

“I’ll count down the hours,” he replied, charming as hell.

Unfortunately, it didn't do much for me. Sure, he was hot and nice, but he was no scary vampire with mind control. Which seemed to be the only guy I was interested in right now, which was insane, because I was also freaking scared of him.

“Actually,” Mac said. “We could maybe use some bailout help later.”

“Bailout help?” I asked.

“Hopefully not. But there’s no point having friends if they can’t bail you out of trouble.”

“What are you up to?” Quinn asked.

“Breaking into the city morgue,” I said.

“And if we get in trouble, we might call you,” Mac said. “We’ve already got the witches as an option, but they’re unreliable. You’re not.”

“That’s true. But why are you giving me a heads-up? Normally, you wait until you’re up shit creek to ask for a paddle.”

“Because we’re going to look different.” Mac dug into her pocket and held up two little potion bottles. “And we need you to know which two damsels to come rescue.”

“You’ve never been a damsel.”

“Damn right I haven’t.” She grinned.

She handed me a tiny vial of potion. “This one is for you. Specially formulated by the witches.”

“Thanks.” It was warm in my hand—unusually so.

“Same time?”

“Yep.” I uncorked the vial and raised it, waiting for Mac.

Together, we swigged them back. Mine tasted disgustingly sweet and syrupy, and a shiver went through my whole body, followed quickly by a shaft of pain. I doubled over, the pain turning to agony.

Were the witches trying to kill me?

Mac groaned and nearly collapsed.

Scratch that, they were trying to kill both of us.

As suddenly as it had arrived, the pain departed. I gasped and stood. Mac did the same, and I gasped.

Quinn started to chuckle, his gaze moving between the two of us.

Mac looked different. Like, way different.

And not in a good way.

In fact, she reminded me of a toad—green skin and all. The only good part was that she was still standing on two legs and not four.

“Wow, you’re hot!” Mac said.

“What?” I asked.

“Yeah. Totally hot. What do I look like?”

“Uh…”

“Come on,” Quinn said. “There’s a mirror behind the bar.”

We followed him out. The place was half full, but no one paid us any mind.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. There were some looks, a few cringes, but they didn’t point and laugh, so I considered it a win. Apparently, frog girls were normal in the Haunted Hound.

We reached the mirror and gazed at our reflections.

Mac screeched with indignation. “Those bitches!”

Holy crap, I did look hot. Like, hot in a men’s magazine kind of way. Wavy auburn hair and an impossibly perfect face, complete with impeccable makeup.

“I can’t believe they did this,” Mac muttered, rubbing at her green skin.

“This is one of their pranks, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” She glowered. “And I’m going to get them for it.”

“Man, we’re going to draw some attention.”

“No kidding.” She dragged a gnarled hand over her face. “This is almost worse. We don’t even look like real people.”

Quinn looked between the two of us, seemingly delighted by the drama playing out in front of him.

“I look kind of real,” I said.

“No, you don’t, honey. No one looks like you in real life. You look like you’ve been photoshopped. You should see your waist. You’re basically a Barbie doll.”

I looked down, surprised to see that she was right. I should be wearing a corset to get a waist like this. And did my feet look pointed? Like I should be perpetually forced into tiny plastic heels?

I tugged up my hood, shoving the mass of red underneath.

“You’ve got to give me five minutes,” Mac said. “I need a hood, too.”

“Okay.”

She hurried toward the hallway to go back to Guild City.

“Can I get you something, Miss January?” Quinn asked.

I shot him a look and gestured to my new Barbie body. “Oh, you like this, do you?”

“Actually, I prefer the real you.” He leaned over the bar and shot me a charming grin. “A lot. So, when you’re back to normal, if you’d like to get dinner or something, I’d be delighted to be your Ken.”

I didn’t want him, but I did like him. And warmth suffused me at his words. “Thanks. But I think…well, I’m going to have a lot on my plate.”

“That’s okay.” He winked. “I’ll try again later.”

Mac returned a moment later with a hoodie. She tore the tag off it and tugged the garment over her head. Suddenly, her face was cast in shadows, nearly impossible to see. I could get glimpses of her, and she still looked like hell, but the magic in the hoodie seemed to soften her features, making them hazy. Her green skin looked slightly sallow now, and she only sort of resembled a frog.

“What’s up with that hoodie?” I asked.

“Magic. I still look like me—or like Frog Me—but the hoodie makes it hard to get a good look.”

“We should have just bought some of those.”

“No. If you can be recognized, they’d still recognize you if they looked for a few seconds.” She glowered. “Me, though. I tried to tell them I didn’t need a potion.”

“They just wanted to turn you into a frog,” Mac said. “Joke’s on them, though. You make a hot frog.”

She laughed, a sound more like a ribbet than laughter. “Let’s go, Barbie.”

I looked at Quinn. “See you later. And thanks for the backup.”

“No problem.”

Carrow and I exited the pub, making our way out through the alley and back into Convent Garden. The toilet roll shop was closed, as usual, but the street itself had a few more people.

“Okay, pal,” Mac said. “We’re on your turf, and I’ve got no idea where to go.”

“I’ve got this.” Confidence suffused me. This was my turf. And I might not have been completely happy here, but I sure as hell knew my way around. “Come on. We’ll catch the Tube.”

“The Tube?”

“It’s the Underground.”

“Oh, right. The train that goes under the earth. You humans are crazy.”

“You really don’t come here much?”

“Why would I?” Mac asked. “You saw Guild City, it’s great.”

“Yeah, it was.” I tugged on her. “Now come on.”

We hurried to the nearest station, passing bustling bars and pubs and full flower boxes. Musicians played in front of the green and glass market building, and a wagon filled with flowers sat in the middle of the street as an art installation. It was one of my favorite parts of London, and I was glad that Mac got to see it when it was at its best.

We were nearly to the Underground station when I caught sight of a flyer in a pub window.

My face, staring straight out.

It was my College of Policing photo.

Oh, that burned.

Banks. That bastard. With the serial killer now in the news, he was under more pressure to catch someone, and he was trying to get me for it.

“You’re on wanted posters?” Mac asked.

“Yeah.” My stomach pitched. We had to fix this. Now.

I dragged Mac toward the sign over the stairs leading to the Underground. I reloaded my Oyster card to get us through the barriers, then found our platform, tapping my foot impatiently as I waited for the train to arrive.