Page 107 of A Shade Too Far
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How could sucha thing be possible? The vampire didn’t possess the ability to create an artifact that would cause people to go mad and rip their skin off, and yet, there was no way the name was a coincidence or belonged to some other Zev.
The more I thought about it, the more confused I got. Assuming he did have the ability to curse the gloves, why not go curse another pair? Why risk Tatiana dying? There was a major piece of this puzzle missing, but I couldn’t figure it out. Nor could I call Zev, since I didn’t have his direct number, if the vampire was even awake.
My phone rang, startling me, and I warily checked the screen as if I’d invoked the ravening wolf himself, but it was Emmett saying I was to pick up Tatiana and him for the meeting. Such fun.
After shooting back an extra cup of coffee for fortification, I texted Sadie that I hoped she was having a good day and that I loved her. She immediately sent me a heart emoji back and I almost kissed the screen.
I spent the drive to Tatiana’s steeling myself to receive the cold shoulder from her, but she flung the door open at my knock with a shake of her head.
“You’re not going to my death battle dressed like that.” Her shirt, leather pants, and leather duster were all black. Only her stilettos and glasses were bright red.
“Listen, Bubbe McBadass, I can’t fight in leather or heels.”
She snorted, but I’d caught her smile.
“Told you she’d make some wussy excuse.” Emmett joined us, wearing an old-fashioned pinstriped suit, a fedora dangling from his sturdy clay fingers. With the hat on, he’d probably pass for human at a quick glance.
If he kept the brim down low over his face.
And the viewer was a half-blind pirate with an eyepatch.
I peered at his feet. “Are you wearing spats?”
The golem extended a foot. “You bet your sweet patootie I am. Get changed. You’re letting down the team.”
“Have you two been planning your outfits for this?” I checked my phone. We had time until we had to be at the Bear’s Den.
Tatiana gave a weary sigh. “Obviously. Now get in here and put on yours.”
This woman refused to be cowed. She truly was my badass role model. Still, I voiced protests the entire way to the guest bedroom upstairs, since my wet-blanketness seemed to be expected.
I changed into the garment that lay on the bed. “It’s comfy. Can we go now?”
“Oh good, Miriam. I’m delighted that this exquisite work of tailoring merits the same adjective as the rest of your unfortunate wardrobe.” Tatiana applied lipstick to my mouth, cutting off my response. After a quick head-to-toe scan, she refastened my ponytail to sit high on my head and motioned to the mirror. “Voilà.”
I gave my reflection a cursory glance. “Looks gre—” I tilted my head really looking.
The jumpsuit, like my lipstick, was the color of freshly spilled blood. The soft fabric fitted my torso perfectly, its deep V giving me a long neck and, frankly, fabulous cleavage, while the outfit nipped in at my waist before cascading out in wide legs that gave me plenty of room to move and fight. They also hid most of my sandals. I needed shoes that wouldn’t cause me pain and I wasn’t shoving my feet into heels, but my plain black ones looked better being paired with this jumpsuit.
This wasn’t clothing made for bad period days or being a couch potato. There was something viciously glamorous about it, the cut and the material screaming money. I even held myself differently, my spine straighter, and a sparkle in my eyes.
Yaas, queen.
Tatiana nodded, pleased. “There’s the woman I knew was inside you.”
Even Emmett whistled. “Hello, MILF.”
I boffed him across the top of his head, drinking down the sight of this take-no-prisoners woman. “Let’s do this.”
The three of us strutted downstairs like the weirdest Charlie’s Angels trio ever, my high dented when I saw my sensible sedan and sighed.
Tatiana tossed me a set of keys, pointing at a red vintage convertible with chrome accents parked across the street. “We ride in style.”
We left the top down, the car streaming through the sun and the warm breeze like a yacht sailing the Mediterranean. My passengers didn’t even fight my choice of disco from an oldies radio station or my singing along to “I Love to Love.”
Tatiana bobbed her head to the music while Emmett danced in place in the back seat with a surprising amount of groove.
