Fallen University: Year One

I shrugged. “Don’t see any way around it. She’s the only person I can find who even talks about removing demons. Apart from Catholic sites anyway, and I don’t think showing up to church like this would do us any favors.”

Her honey eyes widened further, and she went pale. At least, I thought she did. It could have been a trick of the light on her new skin tone.

“Oh… I don’t want to do that.”

“Neither do I.”

She swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut. “Okay. Occultist it is.”

Chapter Three

Hannah and I stood looking at ourselves in my little bathroom mirror. Her lower lip began to tremble and her eyes shone with unshed tears. Watching her try not to cry made a combination of pity, terror, and my own sadness well inside me—a mix of emotions so strong they threatened to drag me into a full-on panic attack.

Nope. I wasn’t having it.

“All right then, let’s get human!” I said loudly, clapping my hands together before rubbing them vigorously.

She shot a startled glance at me and choked on a laugh. “What?”

I pulled my makeup box out from under the sink. “I mean, unless you want to be stared at the whole time. We could probably get away with that in Portland, but in Seattle? The population here isn’t quite weird enough to roll with our new looks, I don’t feel like getting chased down the street.” I paused for a moment, recalling the night before. “Again.”

She winced. “Okay. Um… how?”

“We’ll start with the basics.” I whipped out a stick of cover-up and began applying it. Hannah made a choked noise, and at first, I thought she was crying again—but then I realized the sound had been a stifled giggle.

“What?” I pulled a face.

“You’re orange. Like… really orange.”

I frowned at myself in the mirror. It was better than bright red, but my skin still wasn’t even close to a human color. “Goddammit. Maybe foundation on top of it?”

Hannah shook her head, making her blonde hair swish in waves. “I don’t think so. We need to balance the color first. Here, let me.”

I was skeptical. I hadn’t let anyone else do my makeup since middle school, and it wasn’t like we were at a slumber party about to do a pajama fashion show. But she was already rifling through my makeup.

“Sit down,” she ordered. I never knew someone could bark an order sweetly, but Hannah managed it. I did as she said, perching on the closed lid of the toilet. After wiping the cover-up off my face, she pulled out a thick, round brush and a pallet.

“Is that eyeshadow?” I jerked away from her hand. “Is that blue?”

“Trust me,” she said patiently. “Blue for you, red for me.”

“So we’re disguising ourselves as different colored monsters.” I frowned at her skeptically. “I’m not sure that’s going to keep people from running from us—or attacking us.”

She laughed and dabbed the brush into the pallet. “No, silly! This is just a base coat. It’s like art. The idea is to bring the color back to neutral, and we can’t do that without balancing what’s there. Now hold still and let me do this.”

“I guess.” Still dubious, I closed my eyes and let her brush blue all over my face and neck.

“Now the foundation.”

“Hold on, let me see.” I stood up and peeked in the mirror, then burst out laughing. I was a lavender devil. “You really think that’s going to be easier to cover?”

“Trust me,” she said slowly as if talking to a child. “This is what I’m good at. The only thing I’m good at.”

I raised an eyebrow and she hissed through her teeth. I put it back down with an apologetic grin.

“Hm… contour yes, eyes and lips no.”

“Why?”