Deirdre could feel the woman’s jealousy as though it was a tangible gust. She stumbled backward, but she was too late. The possessed young woman had lunged, and her fingers extended like claws at her mask.

Freya yanked it down and revealed bandages covering half of Deirdre’s face. She was almost enraptured—as though she had stumbled upon a secret treasure trove. “I knew it! I knew it! The lower half of your face is not done yet! It’s still as ugly as sin! That’s why you had to wear a mask. You