Bitter Demons

6. Myself, But Better

Today was my first day back at school, and I woke up excited to get back into my routine. It had been almost an entire week since I'd seen most of my friends. Unfortunately, I was also way behind on my assignments. I hoped the teachers would go easy on me.

I showered and stood wet in front of the mirror. With the corner of my towel, I wiped away the steamed part of the mirror and studied my reflection. The scar on my left shoulder was pink and tender. It was healing slower than I thought it would. There would probably always be a mark where the ritual dagger sank into my skin, but it was a small price to pay for Jackson's life. And my own.

I leaned in close to the mirror and paused. Was my face clearer today? I could have sworn I had a pimple on my jawline yesterday, but today it was completely clear and smooth. I ran my hand across my skin and thought it felt awfully soft. I shrugged and wrapped the towel close around my body.

The closet was where I spent the next twenty minutes. I had absolutely nothing cute to wear for an afternoon with Jackson. All I had were my typical jeans and tank tops or t-shirts. I shuffled through the hangers. One black skirt with lace, which I thought was super cute, but Brooke didn't like. She'd told me it was too "emo" and didn't "fit in" with the cheerleading squad's idea of good fashion. I had the dress I'd worn to homecoming, which was definitely not school-appropriate.

It was too bad I couldn't keep a glamour going for hours. I could have any wardrobe I wanted if I could create it from my mind every morning. I wouldn't even have to spend a dime to look like a celebrity in the latest fashions.

I glanced at the magazine on my bedside table. What if I did have the energy to create my own look for an entire day?

The orb last night had been extremely easy to conjure. I bet it took only a tenth of the energy it normally took. Maybe a glamour would be the same way. Of course, running out of juice in the middle of class and reverting suddenly to jeans and a t-shirt would be a little embarrassing, but it was almost worth the risk just to look good for Jackson after school. If I had to be home by seven, I wanted to make the most of it.

I opened the magazine and flipped through the pages. I needed to find something cute but not too expensive. Showing up in Gucci boots would be hard to explain. Sure, Lark and Brooke were from families that could afford those kinds of things. A girl with no parents and no job, however, might have a tough time explaining herself.

The perfect outfit jumped out at me as I turned to a page near the middle. My stomach fluttered. Could I really pull this off?

Skinny jeans. A black tunic top that fell slightly off the shoulder. Black boots that came up over the jeans at the bottom. And just for a touch of style-a pair of giant gold hoops. Not too expensive or flamboyant, but definitely sexy and definitely my style.

I quickly dressed in my basic jeans and a long sleeved black t-shirt with my scuffed black boots. Then I sat down on the floor of my room and placed my hands palms up on my knees. I closed my eyes and invited the energy into my body. Immediately, I could feel the flow of power begin to course through me like a river. It was strong and pulsing. I tapped into that power, like drinking from a fountain.

In my mind's eye, I imagined myself wearing the outfit from the magazine. I pictured my blonde hair dry and falling in soft curls down my back. For makeup, I pictured just a touch of black eyeliner and soft, glossy lips.

The change took place quickly and without any real effort. I didn't even need to look in the mirror to know it was perfect. Of course, I looked anyway, just to admire the work and make sure nothing looked strange or out of place. I could feel that I was still tapped into some power river deep in my soul, but it ran in the background of my thoughts and didn't take much concentration to continue.

I looked like myself, but better.

Hopefully I can keep this up all day and into the afternoon.

If I felt myself about to change back or noticed any imperfection, I could excuse myself to the bathroom and give some excuse about spilling ketchup on my outfit. But something told me I wouldn't need any kind of excuse. Whatever power the council's demons had given me, it was strong and constant.

The Shadowford van honked out front. With one last look in the mirror, I grabbed my backpack and headed to school.