“NO,” I shouted, launching myself across the room and swiping the scissors from her hand. As I sprinted away, she was on my heels. “Stop,” I ground out with a wad of her hair in my hand and the scissors poised to destroy her look.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed.
I was not one to pass up a dare and hacked the entire right side of her long curly locks off of my head.
It was her turn to scream. Again. We both looked like Hell warmed over.
She held her hands up in surrender. “Truce.”
I dropped the scissors and nodded curtly.
“Okay,” she said, looking hopeful. “We still have our magic.”
I raised a brow and waited.
“We can fix this,” she insisted.
“You mean we can go back into our own bodies?” I demanded.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. But… we could try.”
Subverting one of my mother’s spells was tricky business. The chance of it backfiring was astronomical. I walked to the staircase and sat on the bottom step.
“Close your legs,” Astrid said. “I don’t sit spread eagle.”
I did as she requested, but kept a running favor-log in my head. No favor would go without a return deed. “As much as I’d LOVE to be back in my own body, I’d say going against Mother Nature could be more catastrophic than the situation we’re in.”
She sat down next to me. It was comforting sitting beside myself—even in those hideous shorts.
“You make a good point. Let me at least fix your hair,” she said, waving her hand in a circular motion over her head.
It didn’t work.
“Wait,” she said, touching the bald spot. “What the heck?” she tried again.
It failed.
My ass puckered. However, I was more powerful than her. I would fix it. With a snap of my fingers, I focused on both of our heads. The result was the same as hers. It was looking like we were going to be stuck with whatever we did to each other during this unfortunate trial. I silently cursed myself for the red lipstick move. I might not be me, but I despised looking bad.
“Fuck,” I growled. “It’s clearly part of the spell.”
“Double fuck,” she agreed, pressing the bridge of her nose. “Okay. Fine. Ground rule. No disfigurement. Neither one of us want to be armless, legless or bald for however long this takes for us to sort out. Cool?”
I nodded. Keeping myself in check wasn’t one of my stronger points. Sogdroth had pointed that out. I’d threatened to kill him, but the Demon had just laughed. “Yes,” I conceded. “Cool.”
She turned to me and smiled. It was difficult not to focus on my fucking bald spot, but if she could overlook that she only had half a head of hair and a face covered in lipstick, I could reciprocate. Or, I could try.
“I don’t think I can touch your ween, Uncle Fucker,” she admitted with a wince of distaste. “No matter how bad I might have to pee.”
“Cock or dick,” I corrected her. “Not ween. Never ween.”
“Whatever,” she said. “I can’t do it.”
“May I speak?” Lizard requested.
“Be my guest,” I said with a shrug. With Lizard, speaking was a risk. The man had no filter. However, Astrid looked like she was going to lose her cookies. As much as I enjoyed admiring myself, I wasn’t too keen on observing myself throw up.
“While there ain’t no specific term for sitting when you pee, I might be able to solve the problem of you having to touch your uncle’s wank,” Lizard began.
