Curse of the Moon by Beth Trissel

Author:Beth Trissel [Trissel, Beth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Paranormal, Fantasy, Witches, Vampires and Shapeshifters
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2016-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

The Belle of the Ball

What had Morgan done now? She must’ve been out of her freakin’ skull to turn Dilly loose on her hair and makeup in preparation for the big eve. Wafting the potent ‘Take me now’ musk Dilly had misted her with, she sat rigidly on the chair in her bedroom, white knuckling the wooden arms.

Had it been an hour? Two? Time crawled while Dilly separated each section of her hair with the pointy end of a comb and used the curling iron mercilessly. She’d fry every strand, and Morgan had a lot of hair.

Wapicoli Lodge possessed a generator for limited electricity, although candles and hearths were favored, and burned in the bedroom now. Dilly located an outlet for her wand, and laid the tools of her trade on the rustic stand. An odd blend of old and new.

Multiple clips found their way into Dilly’s evolving creation. If these weren’t adequate to hold the elaborate ‘do’ in place, the amount of spray she’d used could withstand a gale force wind. Then she started on Morgan’s face.

Lord have mercy. The zealous girl was applying enough makeup for three women.

Crap, not false eyelashes, too. “Seriously, Dilly. I don’t think we need—”

She brushed aside Morgan’s protest. “You want to slay Jackson, don’t you?”

He wouldn’t know her from Effie Trinket of Hunger Games fame, at this rate.

On went the lashes, with Morgan blinking and Dilly insisting she ‘hold still’ until they were cemented in place. She’d probably have them for life.

If she swore, she surely would now. “Dilly, I’m hungry. And tired, and—”

“Whiner.” Her attendant popped a peppermint in Morgan’s mouth. “They’ll have plenty to eat at the party. Now, sit!”

Sucking the mint, Morgan did as Dilly bid, but the ooohs, ahhhs, and awesomes in her running commentary, with no accompanying visual, had her ready to crack. Maybe it was just as well she couldn’t view Dilly’s endeavors. The possessed artiste wanted to surprise her at the end with a great reveal.

Would a dead faint be an adequate indication of her astonishment?

Dilly spritzed on more sparkle, because, heaven knew, Morgan didn’t have enough already.

Another blast of glitter descended over her like fallout.

For cripes sake. Surely, Dilly must be done by now.

“Nearly finished?” Morgan prompted, in what would’ve been dry mouthed apprehension, except for the moisture from the mint. “How do I look?”

Dilly paused with the compact she’d lightly pressed over Morgan’s skin, to ‘set the makeup’. “Drop-dead gorgeous.”

“Really?” She perked up. Would normal people agree?

“Come and see.” Dilly laid the compact in the case on the stand, and assisted Morgan to her feet. Not as easy to rise in billowing skirts as one might think. The hem brushed the floor as she ventured hesitantly to the mirror.

“Score!” Dilly flung up a triumphant hand dusted with sparkles. “Jackson won’t recognize you.”

What the…? Who the…? Morgan didn’t recognize herself.

Shock parted her dusky rose lips, outlined in a deeper shade of rose. A touch of gloss was the most she’d ever added before. Not that Dilly had neglected the gloss; a layer glazed the lipstick.

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