Page 48 of The Malevolent Eight

You’re terrified of the Pandoral, aren’t you, oh great and wise divinities? And now you expect us to see him off for you so that you can proceed with your idiot crusade against one another on your own timetable. But since you’re too proud to admit your fear, you’re holding back the information I need about the Spellslinger in exchange for getting us to steal the Glorian Banner because somehow that’s the key to hunting down the Pandoral and his doomsday cult. So, fine, we’ll steal your stupid banner, but we’re damn sure not laying hands on it ourselves.

‘Well?’ Corrigan asked, giving me a shove. ‘Are you going to explain your brilliant plan to steal the bannerwithoutstealing it and then handing it over to the Lords Devilish without using ouractualhands? Or are you just going to stand there looking like you’re having what I assume must be a really boring conversation with yourself until the parade’s over and the banner’s locked up somewhere we can’t get it?’

I smiled. I didn’t have a flawless plan to make all that happen, but Ididhave a plan that Corrigan would hate.

I turned to Shame, now looking much like those angelics I’d seen when I was a Glorian– which was oddly apt, given what I now needed from her. ‘Would you mind lending your unique talents to the improvement of the Mortal realm by metamorphosing something mean and ugly into something majestic and beautiful?’

‘What is this “ugliness” that you wish me to transform?’

I pointed to Corrigan’s face. ‘That.’

Chapter 25

Step 1: The Disguise

There’s an art to disguise: expensive hair dyes, exotic pastes and paints and a great deal of technical knowledge of faces, bodies and movement – all those subtle details our eyes usually gloss over, but which arouse suspicion if they’re notexactlyright. I imagine mastering those traditions is the vocation– nay, thepassion– of a lifetime. Fortunately, I’m a wonderist and I don’t give a crap about vocation when a good spell gets the job done quicker. Also, convincing a thunderer to shave off the atrocious indigo braids of his beard would be a nigh-impossible feat foranyoneto achieve– well, except maybe an angel.

‘Stop fidgeting,’ Shame said, betraying rare irritation as she batted Corrigan’s hand away from his now-smooth jaw. ‘I’m not used to working this quickly without threads of desire to guide me.’

‘Well, I sure as hell don’t desirethis,’ Corrigan complained, trying to turn his chin away from the angelic’s probing fingers. ‘It’s uncomfortable.’

‘Odd,’ Aradeus observed, watching utterly entranced as his two comrades were transmogrified. ‘Brother Cade didn’t experience any discomfort whilst Lady Shame was sculpting his features.’ He shot me an approving wink. ‘I must say, Brother Cade, you cut a more dashing figure than ever with those honeyed curls and golden skin.’

I’ve never been clear on why thick locks of golden hair with just the right amount of curl comes with the blessings granted the Lords Celestine to their Glorian servants. That shade never went well with my natural complexion, even with the sun-kissed glow that’s also a by-product of said blessings. Glorians were recruited to arouse the admiration of our fellow human beings and represent the perfection the Celestines want for all humanity. We were propaganda as much as holy warriors.

Aradeus peered closer at my face. ‘I do believe your jaw is squarer than before and your nose no longer broken. Was the altering of your bone structure painful?’

‘Not a bit,’ I lied.

Of course it hurt like hell, but complaining would’ve lent credence to Corrigan’s whingeing and dissipated my own amusement at his current tribulations.

‘It’s not so much a physical pain,’ he said defensively. ‘That, I could handle.’ He winced as Shame’s forefingers passed across his forehead and the bushy hairs of his eyebrows withdrew into his skin before subsequently emerging as far more elegant golden ones. ‘I’m not entirely convinced there isn’t something racist about all of this.’

‘Your people come from the north, do they not?’ asked Galass.

‘So?’

‘I didn’t know black skin was common there.’

‘Well, it—Okay, fine, it’s not especially common.’

Galass leaned in closer, watching as Shame’s palms painted a sheen of gold over the ebony of his features. ‘I’ve never seen anyone with such a pure black skin. It’s almost like. . . onyx.’

Corrigan shot her a grin, which looked somewhat unnerving coming from a man whose face was changing colour as he spoke. ‘The captivating skin tone comes from my attunement to the Tempestoral realm. It’s actually a kind of black glass that formsunderthe skin and protects me fro—’

‘So, you’re saying that you don’t actually look like the people on whose behalf you’re offended?’

The big thunderer had a point, although not the one he was trying to make. I’d always thought there was something insidious about the Aurorals believing that righteousness had a particular ‘look’. I suppose if one is obsessed with the idea of the light of the sun as the perfect representation of spiritual purity, then gold hair and skin might seem apropos. In real life, however, it looks kind of creepy.

Corrigan harrumphed while Shame finished re-sculpting his face. The process is unnerving, but it’s hard to find a more effective disguise than having an angelic literally change you into whoever you’re pretending to be.

‘Probably won’t be able to change us back,’ Corrigan muttered.

Now thatwasa troubling thought. In all her own physical transmogrifications, I’d never seen Shame reproduce the exact same look twice. Mostly, I’d chalked this up to her not being particularly interested in how she appeared to others now that she was free of the Celestines’ compulsion to fulfil the image of beauty held in the minds of those she’d been sent to. But what if she wasn’t all that good at returning those she’d transformed back to their original appearance?

‘Why would either of youwantto go back to looking as you did?’ Alice asked with an amused sneer. ‘Neither of you were much to look at before.’

‘Laugh it up, demon girl,’ Corrigan said, pushing Shame away now that she had finished. ‘I’ve always wondered what would happen to those stupid bat-wings of yours once they were struck by lightning.’

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