Chapter One

“Beautiful in is beautiful out; that’s what they taught us at Carrie Fay, and I absolutely believe it’s true. I mean, think about it—the sort of person you are doesn’t just stay inside you, now, does it?”

Before I could sort through that odd bit of logic, a cold, wet blob smelling of earth and minerals was slathered across my mouth. “Mmm-hmm,” I contented myself with answering.

“I’ll wipe off your lips, but no talking, sugar. We can’t have you moving your mouth as the mask dries. Anyway, it’s absolutely true. Just look at you, for instance!”

The petite, blond, perky woman in front of me who had been applying an olive green clay mask to my face stepped back to consider me; she held a small bowl in one hand, and her other hand was sheathed in a latex glove covered in the same gloop. She waved at me with the bowl. “You don’t look evil in the least, and yet here you are, about to wed a demon lord!”

“Sally, I’m not marrying Magoth—” I started to say, but she cut me off with a frown.

“No talking, sugar! I just told you that! Where were we? Oh, yes, how appearances can be deceiving.” Her frown deepened somewhat as she eye-balled me. I squirmed in the chair, never comfortable being the center of anyone’s attention . . . with one notable exception.

My heart gave a little quiver as a familiar ache started within me at the vision that rose in my mind’s eye—a man laughing with utter delight, dimples set in his beautiful latte-colored skin, his eyes flashing like quicksilver. Just the thought of him had my heart speeding up even as I mourned the fact that I hadn’t seen Gabriel in more than a month.

“You look like a normal woman—although I have to say that the 1920s flapper hairstyle you seem to enjoy is a bit less than mainstream. But other than that, you look perfectly normal, kind almost, not at all like you were to become Mrs. Demon Lord.”

“I’m not marrying Magoth,” I said, trying not to move my lips.

“Oh, well, consort, marrying . . . it’s all the same thing, isn’t it? Just a smidgen more on your forehead, sugar. You need a lot of exfoliating there. Whatever have you been using on your face? No, don’t answer; let the mask dry. Here, do you want to see yourself?” Sally put down her things and peeled off the glove, admiring her handiwork for a moment before offering me a mirror.

I kept my jaw clamped shut as I said slowly, moving my mouth as little as possible, “No, thanks. I’m a doppelganger. We don’t have reflections.”

“You don’t? I never noticed that.”

“It’s not something that most people know.”

“Must make plucking your eyebrows difficult.” She admired her own image in the mirror for a moment, fluffing up a strand of extremely styled blond hair before setting down the mirror and giving me a big, sharky smile. “Even if you can’t use the mirror, you have to admit that all this is awfully romantic.”