Page 15 of Newly Undead in Dark River

“Okay, get out of here. Ella's expecting you.”

I blinked a few times.

“Huh?”

“I'm giving you the day off. Think of it as a belated turning present. A makeover is just what every girl needs at such an important turning point in her life. Now, skedaddle!”

I wandered across the square to the boutique, greeting the vaguely familiar townspeople as I passed. The lights of the boutique lit up the mannequins in the front window, all dressed in the most recent styles. A little brass bell dingled over the door when I walked in.

“Hello?”

I could hear Ella moving around at the back of the store. “I'll be with you in a minute, Raine.” I looked around the store to see who she was talking to before I remembered that I was Raine. It was going to take some adjustment. I still thought of myself as Mika. Now I knew how my pet dog Buddy had felt when we had gotten him from the pound at the age of six or so. We'd call him, and he'd look at us like we were strange. Obviously, he'd had an entirely different name for all of his life. But he eventually learned, with the help of dog treats and belly rubs.

Maybe I could get Judge to rub my belly while yelling out my name.

Ella appeared from between the racks. “Heya Raine. How're things?” She bustled around, straightening items on clothes hangers, putting them in order of size and color. She was a constant hive of activity.

“Angeline said you were expecting me.” I trailed around after her as she moved through the shop.

“Oh, yeah. We decided after you left last night, that you might need a day to find Raine in the ashes of Mika. I know my own turning was difficult, and I found it hard to reconcile myself with who I was now. I wasn't the slave girl from Athens anymore. I was a powerful predator. This was a long time ago, and well before I came to the town. Back then, you could keep your name for the first hundred, two hundred years.”

Holy crap. Ella looked twenty if she was a day. She had long, dark, curly hair that hung down her back in ringlets and deep brown eyes. Her skin was a golden bronze, and now that she'd told me, I could see her Greek ancestry.

She led me to an antique chaise lounge. She looked me up and down intently, staring at me as if she was trying to judge the very nature of my soul.

“Okay, get undressed.”

“Excuse me?” Apparently, I'd woken up in the twilight zone. Or a high-class brothel, if all this velvet was anything to go by.

“Not here, silly. In the change room. I think I’ve got a grasp on a style that will suit the new you. I'll hand you some outfits, and you tell me which ones you really like. And I meanreallylike. There is no room for politeness in a wardrobe makeover.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the chair with ease that belied her small frame. She shoved me towards a dressing room with heavy velvet curtains and was out amongst the racks before the curtain had closed behind me. I sighed and slipped out of my jeans and t-shirt. If you can't beat them, join them.

Outfit after outfit snaked its way through the curtain and I obediently tried on every single one. There seemed to be something from every era. Long flowing dresses in the softest chiffon, with beaded empire waists. A pencil skirt with a pretty peach-colored blouse, then a bohemian style skirt and peasant blouse, followed by a floral dress with a full skirt and pretty purple petticoats. I tried them all on and paraded myself out of the dressing room at the end of every outfit change.

Ella didn't say much, just eyeing me like I was a masterpiece that wasn't quite right and then disappearing back amongst the racks of clothes. I was starting to get weary, as the next outfit popped through the opening. A pair of black jeans, a tank with tiny cherries all over it and a neckline that plunged dangerously low, and a short black leather jacket with intricate gold buckles. I knew, before I even put it on, that this was it. I slipped into the jeans that molded to my body like a second skin, and the tank scooped deep to showcase the tops of my breasts.

I never would have worn this back home. Back then, I followed the trends, the ugly pastels, the blinding neon of the early '00s, pretty feminine sundresses in the summer, and blue jeans and sweaters in the winter. I was a truly All-American girl.

This girl looked like a rock goddess. She didn't take any crap, she drank what she wanted to drink, ate what she wanted to eat, and screwed who she wanted to screw. She – no I – was unapologetically me. I walked out of the dressing room into Ella’s waiting gaze.

“Spin.” I turned on my toes like a ballerina. When I'd finished my three-sixty twirl, Ella was nodding. “This is it. How do you feel?”

I grinned. “Strong, kickass, and if I do say so, pretty goddamn sexy.”

“Perfect!” She rushed away and reappeared with a pair of black combat boots. They had a series of tiny gold studs in swirling patterns. The insides were lined with some kind of faux fur. “These will finish it off just nice. I love it when fashion and practicality collide.” I slipped on the boots and the jacket and gazed at my reflection in the mirror. I looked hot, but not just sexy hot, I looked mysterious and confident.

“Come back in when you can tolerate the light a bit more, and I'll get you the cutest pair of Ray-Bans with specialty lenses.”

She bagged up all my old clothes and sent me out the door. “Head on over to Cresta's. She's expecting you. I'll put your new purchases on your tab. You ever see anything you like in the magazines, let me know, and I'll get them in.” The woman hustled me to the door and then back onto the street. She was like a tiny whirlwind.

Cresta's Beauty Solutions was two doors down from the boutique. I could smell the coffee brewing from the front of the boutique.

Warm air rushed against my face as I pushed open the heavy wooden door. The salon was in a narrow building. A long leather couch ran along one wall, and an old scarred oak desk sat in front of the door, a laptop propped open on its top. At the back was a single partition wall with a huge gilt mirror, that took up most of the wall space. A leather hairdresser’s stool on wheels sat beside a tall, scarred wooden stool in front of the mirror. Cresta stumbled around the partition wall, yawning.

“Raine! It's good to see you. Wow, I see you've been to Ella's place. You look smokin' chicky!” I didn't know if she was naturally loud, or if my new, improved hearing was just ratcheting everything up a notch.

I slid the gift voucher out of my pocket and onto the desk. She just pulled me over to the leather chair. “I tell you, seventy years I've been running this store, and I still hate having to start so early. I swear, my brain doesn't even kick into gear until midnight. Want a coffee? I'll make you a latte.” She went back behind the partition, and she continued to talk without even pausing. “I bought one of those state-of-the-art coffee makers last year, and I swear, I am in love. It does everything short of making me scrambled eggs in the morning. The problem is, now I drink way too much caffeine. I must have ten cups a day. Oh well, it isn't like it's going to give me high blood pressure, right?”

I didn't know if she wanted an answer to that or not, so I just hummed agreeably. Given the rate she could burn through words, she could probably lay off the caffeine.

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