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Layne smiled wickedly. He liked it when I took charge. “With pleasure.”

He drifted behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. His breath grazed the shell of my ear. “Close your eyes.”

My brow furrowed. “Is the mysterious setup really necessary?”

“Trust me, little siren.”

I pressed them shut with a slight reluctance.

“Now…the glamour listens. Its magic feeds off your thoughts and emotions. You just need to focus on what it is you need.” He paused, his voice dropping lower. “Picture the kind of person Preston Willows would invite to something like this,” he murmured into my ear. “See it in your mind.”

I quieted my thoughts, even though deep down my blood was boiling thinking about Preston.

The memories of his weekly harassment I’d put up with for so long made me cringe, but they also jogged my memory of all the entitled faces I’d seen with him in Dad’s shop.

Sleek men in tailored suits, sharp angles, and even sharper smiles. They were the kind of people who measured your worth in dollar signs. Women draped in designer labels, dripping in jewels. While beautiful in appearance, their cold and practiced laughter would always cut through the noise of the nearby docks when they came in. Every time, I saw them for who they truly were: people who had never fought for anything in their lives.

Honey-blond hair, loose waves.

Big doe-like eyes, hazel.

Sharp cheekbones and a delicate upturned nose.

Tan, fresh from some overpriced vacation.

My body gleamed with the familiar sheen of magic that slicked across my body when I went on land, but controlled in a way I’d never done before. Every time, it was always under the hunger’s control and not my own volition.

I found myself surprised at Layne actually teaching me something. Helping me—just like he said he would.

Maybe he really is changing, I thought with a sense of renewed hope and affirmation.

As I pictured the woman in my mind's eye, my skin tingled in response. The magic was working, weaving and unweaving my features, shifting me into someone else’s features entirely.

Layne's hands tightened on my shoulders, and I didn't need to see him to know he was smiling.

“Perfect, darling,” he whispered, sliding his hands down my arms. “Now let the magic flow. Don't force it, just guide it.”

The transformation was usually a painful process, the twisting and reshaping of my body. Now, it felt as simple as slipping into different clothes. Except this time, it was another person’s skin.

The tingle of magic spread from the crown of my head down through my torso. I practiced stopping the transformation at my waist, keeping the lower half unchanged.

“Open your eyes,” Layne whispered in my ear.

A shadowy ball of magic was gathered in his hand, teeming with fractals of golden light. He threw the magical projectile forward as it exploded into the billowing darkness, leaving behind a gilded mirror suspended before us.

Inky shadows rippled around the mirror's edges.

I opened my eyes, staring at the reflection in front of me. It wasn't the familiar iridescent gleam of black scales and pale skin, nor with the icy blue glow of my own gaze that I saw.

Instead, a stranger looked back at me—beautiful, but definitely not myself.

Sharper cheekbones, a delicate upturned nose, long, honey-blond hair that floated around me in waves. Sun-kissed skin that any Seattleite would envy this time of year.

The woman from my mind, perfectly rendered before me.

“This, my dear—this woman—is who will be boarding Preston’s yacht,” Layne said, as his golden gaze blazed over my shoulder in the mirror's reflection.

Holy shit. It actually worked.