Peter’s eyes danced. “Fix your hair. It’s a mess.”

Shape-shifting is an instinct for a succubus or incubus, practically subconscious. It’s like tightening a muscle or taking a deep breath. You barely think about it, send the message from your brain, and it happens. So, I thought about my hair, willing it to smooth out and tidy itself into a ponytail. There was usually a slight tingle when that happened, resulting from the burn of using up a piece of my stored energy. And of course, there was always the tangible evidence—the actual change of my appearance.

This time, there was nothing. No tingle. No hair movement.

Peter leaned forward. “Ooh, it did happen to you! You’re the same. None of us are working.”

“No,” I said frantically. “That’s not possible.”

I tried again, willing my hair to change—to turn a different color, grow short, restyle itself . . . but there was nothing. I tried to shift my clothes, urging my jeans and Henley to become a slip dress. Or maybe a track suit. I even attempted to make my clothes disappear altogether.

Nothing happened.

Nothing.

In pure desperation, I did the unthinkable: I tried to give up the unconscious hold I always maintained in order to keep a form that wasn’t my natural one. I let go of all control, allowing my body to shift back to the one I was born with, the one my essence always wanted to return to—the one I fought very, very hard to hide from the world.

Nothing happened. I stayed the same.

I couldn’t shape-shift.

It was like having my arm cut off. Until that moment, I didn’t realize how much of my self was tied into shape-shifting. As a mortal, the power had been unimaginable. After having it for a millennium and a half, it had become part of me, and its absence was now unbearable. I didn’t have to see my face to know I wore pure panic. Peter and Cody were still laughing.

I shot up, incredulous. “This isn’t funny,” I cried. “We have to talk to Jerome. Now. There’s something seriously wrong with us!”

“Or right,” suggested Cody.

“Why do you think this is a joke?”

“We don’t,” said Peter calmly. Underneath his mirth, I saw the tiniest bit of concern in his eyes, concern he was clearly trying to ignore for now. “We just think it’s cool. You don’t think Jerome already knows about this? Whatever it is, they’ll fix it soon enough. Nothing we can change.”