I wondered, if he stopped eating it now, would he revert to fully human, or, after a certain point, was it too late, and the transformation couldn’t be undone?

How I wished I’d let him walk into the Dark Zone that day! I couldn’t fight him here and now, in the middle of rush hour. “Get out of here,” I stabbed air again, “and if you see me on the street, run as fast and as far as you can.”

He laughed. “You stupid little cunt, you have no idea what’s coming. Wait till you see what the Lord Master has in store for you.” He ducked into the car, and glanced back at me, with a smile of malevolence and . . . sick anticipation. “Trick or treat, bitch,” he said, then laughed again. I could hear him laughing, even after he’d closed the door.

I tucked the spear in my harness then stood on the sidewalk, gaping, as he drove away.

Not because of anything he’d said, but because of what I’d seen as he’d settled back into the supple, camel-colored leather seats.

Or, rather, who I’d seen.

A woman, beautiful and voluptuous, in the way of aging movie stars from a time long gone by, when actresses had been worthy of the title Diva.

My “volume” was on high. She was eating Fae, too.

Well, now I knew: While Barrons might have killed the woman he’d been carrying out of the mirror, he hadn’t killed Fiona.

I opened Barrons Books and Baubles at eleven on the dot, with a new ’do. I’d colored it two shades lighter than Arabian Nights this time and looked closer to my age again (black hair makes me look older, especially with red lipstick), then run down the street for a quick cut, and now a few longish wedges of bang framed my face. The result was feminine and soft, completely at odds with how I felt inside. The rest of it I’d twisted up and stabbed with a hair pick. The result was flirty, casual elegance.

My nails were cut to the quick, but I’d brushed on a quick coat of Perfectly Pink, and glossed on matching lipstick. Despite these concessions to my passion for fashion, I felt drab in my standard uniform of jeans, boots, a black tee under a light jacket, with spear holstered, and flashlights tucked. I missed dressing up.

I sat back on the stool behind the cashier counter, and eyed the tiny jars of wriggling Unseelie flesh lined up there.