Page 50 of She is the Darke

“Her.”

Callum cast a quick glance over his shoulder, but he couldn’t read the emotion on Liam’s face. This would affect his life, too.

The pack hadn’t been shaken up in a very long time, but if Alex had truly found her…if she’d found the one…their entire world was about to get dumped upside down.

Chapter Three

Stacia pushed the door to Wendell’s open and had to take a moment to appreciate the effort that had been put into this costume shop. Up on the wall were rows of costumes, and filling the center of the room were at least a dozen round racks of them. Another wall was covered in shoes, but not the cheap kind you would never wear again after a Halloween costume was done. Instead, there were quality leather wedges, high heels, and boots. She eyed a pair of black, professionally scuffed wedge booties, because after that three-block stroll here, her heels were already rubbing painfully against her feet.

She walked past a scarecrow sitting on a bench and it jumped, its eyes lighting up as it yelled, “Welcome to your demise!”

She jumped hard and then gripped her bodice as she laughed.

“Hello, hello!” A man called from where he was sorting through a pile of costumes at the check-out counter on the back wall. He was shorter than Stacia, with a pinstripe suit and mobster hat sitting atop his dome. A handlebar mustache adorned his upper lip, and a grin had transformed his entire face.

“A ringmaster, eh? I have a lion, monkey, bear, tiger, and an elephant costume if you want to keep the theme this week.”

“Ha, that is something to consider! I was recommended your shop,” she said as she approached the counter.

“By Miss Alex Ashbrock. I know. She called and said to take especially good care of you.”

“I feel special,” Stacia said, her cheeks catching the heat of a blush.

“Alex says you are, and since she’s never asked for a favor in all the years I’ve known her, I’m going to take you straight back to the VIP room.” He gestured around the sizeable room. “These costumes are good, but you will see them on other festival-goers around town.”

“What’s the VIP room?” she asked, following him through a set of doors behind the counter.

“These,” he said, gesturing grandly to the bright, sparkling room of beautiful costumes, “Are all one-of-a-kind costumes, hand-sewn by yours truly. You won’t find these anywhere else. Ever.” He made his way back to the door and told her to, “Ignore the price tags. For you, I’ll only charge a hundred dollars a costume.”

Before she could point out that these costumes were clearly worth much more than that and she wanted to pay him fairly for his work, he waved to her and disappeared around the corner.

The entire room seemed to sparkle with sequins, rhinestones, crystals, and yards upon yards of beautiful fabric in every color imaginable. She gingerly walked over to the rack that advertised her size and touched a Marie Antoinette dress, then flipped over the price tag on the sleeve. “Nine hundred and forty-three dollars,” she whispered. “And includes full petticoats, the wig, a make-up kit, and shoes.” Shoes? She knelt down. Situated just under the hanging dress was a shoe box, and in it was a pair of bejeweled suede shoes in a mauve shade that matched the dress.

It was the most beautiful costume she’d ever seen.

She had to try it on, but she swore to herself she would pay more than a hundred dollars if she chose this one. The details, down to every last stitch, every change in fabric, every subtle color shift, and every button were incredibly well done. This belonged on some runway at a historic romance movie premier, and here Stacia was, holding it in her hands.

There was a single large dressing room against the back wall of the room, and she brought both costume bags of the dress and its petticoats, including hosiery. In the shoe box was a set of costume jewelry, and in a separate box was a platinum blonde, curls-piled-high wig. She had to make two trips for everything, and it took a good ten minutes for her to get into the dress, but Mr. Wendell was a genius and had made the ties in the back and all the fastens and buttons easily tightened by her.

The mirror in the dressing room was full-length but the lighting in here was very dim, so she pushed open the changing curtain, lifted her skirts, and made her way to the towering three-way mirror just outside of the dressing room.

When she saw herself in the mirror, a small gasp escaped her. A feeling of déjà vu consumed her, like she’d been in this exact place trying on this exact fashion before.

In the mirror, the light played tricks on her, softening both of her eyes to a light brown instead of the hazel and blue bi-colored eyes she really possessed. Strange.

The dress had a light blue bodice with delicate ruffles at the wrists. There were full, cream-colored skirts that cascaded all the way to the ground, the hem ending at the perfect length. She could see the tips of her matching shoes, and wouldn’t trip on this length. The wig would look better when she had time to put her dark brown curls into a cap underneath, but for now it looked decent enough.

“It looks beautiful on you,” a deep, rumbling voice said from behind her, and her eyes darted to a man in the mirror reflection.

Startled, she turned fast to face him. He was tall, much taller than her, and clearly worked out. He wore a black shirt that hugged the curves of his shoulder muscles, and he’d clasped his hands formally behind him. Long, powerful legs filled out his dark pants, and though his boots were scuffed, they were quality.His tanned skin was perfect, and his bright blue eyes held her frozen. He had blond hair, messed up perfectly on top, and lips that were full, but formed a thin line.

“You look just like…”

“Maria Antionette, but my head is still attached?”

A slight frown marred his blond brows. “Yes.” He turned and looked out the open doorway, then back to her. “Wendell has asked me to help you shop.”

“Oh! You work here?”

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