And yet… this didn’t entirely stamp out the irrational temptation she was feeling to push past the guardrails he’d erected for her. She knew she really shouldn’t trust him, and yet, for some inexplicable and possibly foolhardy reason, she did.
“I’ll be waiting for you beside the tower gate,” Cosimo assured her. “Be there before dawn. Please don’t take any unnecessary risks, Zani. It’s better to get out with your life than to die with the bloodstone.”
“I intend to get out with both.” Zani huffed.
“Then make haste,” Cosimo warned. “Your hosts will only grow hungrier as the hours pass. You shouldn’t keep them waiting for too long.”
Item No. 614-D | For when your face could use a touch-up of diplomacy
The Chameleon’s Compact
I came into possession of the Chameleon’s Compact during a rather fraught diplomatic soiree in Vienna. A countess with an expression as unreadable as fog slipped it to me beneath a linen napkin, moments after I visibly winced at a diplomat’s tasteless joke about yak shifters.
The compact itself appears Ordinary. Subtle engravings, which shift when not viewed directly, decorate the brushed silver exterior. But the iridescent powder within contains pure emotional alchemy. A gentle dusting can transform even the worst case of RBF into a blank canvas of serene neutrality, regardless of inner turmoil.
I’ve survived my great aunt’s thinly veiled criticisms, endured conversations with clients who “forgot” to pay for my services, and soldiered through a fellow witch’s pitch to join a nudist coven–all without betraying what I really thought.
The true brilliance of the Chameleon’s powder isn’t simply masking irritation. It also works wonders on impostor syndrome and feelings of inadequacy. The powder masterfully translates inner panic into a visage of composed confidence.
A word of caution: The compact cannot camouflage expressions of pure joy; therefore it should not be relied upon to appear serious whilst receiving extraordinarily good news.
Chapter2
Chapter Two: Zani the Vampire Slayer
Zanfira hummed to herself as she kicked the castle door open.
Zani banani, pudding, and pie, kissed a vamp and made him die.
Barely two hours had passed since she’d met Cosimo in the alley. Her breath poured steam in the air. It was cold out. Far colder than when she’d left the boarding house. But the cold didn’t seem to touch her. Her blood ran hot, and she was invigorated by her success. Victory coursed through her unharmed veins like a potent drug. She felt strong and incredibly alive as she strode away from the scene, twelve pounds lighter than when she’d arrived. She still had the one spare stake strapped to her thigh.
It had been easy. Almost too easy.
“Let me tell you, these Carpathian leeches are notoriously slow moving and yet they’re so cocky, they don’t even bother to ward their colonies,” Zani had cockily said to her friend Maida when describing the mission. “I swear they all have a touch of age-related dementia, along with serious iron deficiencies.”
But more realistically speaking, she’d known there were a thousand things that could go wrong, starting with the greedy Madame. She might have been canny enough to bite one of the coins, checking its veracity.
But the Madame had marked her for a fool and, Zani suspected, was expecting richer rewards from her wealthier patrons. Surely the gentlemen paid her well for her help in finding them suitable dining “companions.”
Plus, there was always the chance that the Madame was not their only resource for sourcing their prey. Cosimo had urged her not to dally for good reasons. This was not a party one should arrive fashionably late for. Not only was it poor manners, which wouldn’t sit well with such old-fashioned types, but faux pas aside, the gentleman might have invited someone else at the last minute. If she had arrived late, the party might have started without her. She had needed to be the center of their attention. She didn’t want to vie with pretty appetizers.
There had been four of them. Far older than she expected, and far less handsome than advertised. Their nest reeked of dust, death, and mothballs. Everything beyond the grand reception area was filthy and decayed, shrouded in cobwebs and neglect.
Why bother with decorating the place when so few guests made it past the mesmerizing entry?
Who wouldn’t be dazzled by a chandelier that was the size of a compact car? The wallpaper was an optical illusion, a series of crescent moon shapes that inexplicably alternated between concave and convex the longer you stared at them. She’d kept her eyes averted. Had she not plugged her ears, she might have heard the music being played on the grand piano. Something classical, she suspected. A lullaby? Off to the side was a cloakroom full of far, far too many coats.
She shuddered at the memory, hoping it wouldn’t be one to haunt her dreams. Zani was not usually squeamish, but it would be as hard to forget the coats as it would be to forget the piles of bones that littered the ballroom floor.
It would all be dust by morning. When the sun shone on the sills and the wind blew through the doors and windows she’d left open, daylight would reclaim what was stolen by darkness. This was the best she could do for them.
Zani crept stealthily past the shuttered homes full of somnolent villagers. Part of her hated them for sleeping so soundly with such monsters in their midst. But they were Ordinary folk and accustomed to turning a blind eye. Particularly when their monsters served a purpose. Parasites on parasites. Everyone in this town had a role to play.
“Ordinary issues are none of your business!” Zani’s great-aunt Minodaura liked to say. Rather hypocritical for a witch who lived in and ran a lighthouse that saved Ordinary ships daily, but Zani hated to quibble with the old grand dame of her family. Minodaura would be furious if she knew the true extent of Zani’s extracurricular activities. Conspiring with vampires? The horror!
“You want to hunt artifacts, Zani?” Minodaura had said. “You want to chase down cursed objects? Fine. I can’t stop you. But I will not approve of your disgraceful harum-scarum ways! Your rightful and responsible place is here in the lighthouse with your family, working the wards that have kept us safe for generations.”
Like her rebellious parents, who perished during an archaeological mission in South America, Zani had never been great at following orders. And she’d never seen eye to eye with her outspoken, overprotective aunt who was the matriarch of the family. Growing up in a lighthouse full of opinionated witches, she’d rarely had the time or space to hear herself think. It was why she’d done the unthinkable: attended an Ordinary university before pursuing an advanced degree in Arcane Artifacts.
