Author: Jake Bible
Date: 2017-10-20 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Urban Fantasy; Fae; Zombies; Paranormal; Humor; Horror; Supernatural
Description: Need to hide something from the fae?Got a tricky trans-dimensional delivery to make?Need a big ball of magic that can destroy the world?Call Black Box Inc.The world as we know it is gone. Since the “extradimensional happening,” every creature, monster, and fairy tale goblin has turned Asheville, North Carolina, into their personal playground. An uneasy truce exists between the races, but Chase Lawter’s unique ability puts him squarely in the crosshairs of treachery, feuds, and monsters looking to make a buck on black market goods. Chase is the only known being who can pull material from betwee
Publisher: Bell Bridge Books

Table of Contents

Praise for Jake Bible

Other Jake Bible titles from Bell Bridge Books

Black Box Inc.

Copyright

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3

4

5

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11

12

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16

17

18

19

20

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22

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Please visit these websites for more information about Jake Bible

About the Author

Praise for Jake Bible

“It’s fast. It’s fun. It’s colorful, and it’s one hell of a good time. This was my first experience with Jake Bible, but it won’t be my last.”

—The Royal Library, spychocyco.blogspot.com on Stone Cold Bastards

“. . . fantastically amazing . . . I don’t even know what to say. I was completely blown away . . . one of the best zombie books I have ever read.”

—ContagiousReads.com on Little Dead Man

“Morty and company burst to life in your mind’s eye. As tension builds and the violence becomes almost non-stop, it’s impossible to put down.”

—SciFi and Scary.com on Stone Cold Bastards

Other Jake Bible titles
from Bell Bridge Books

Stone Cold Bastards

The Black Box Inc. Series

Black Box Inc.

Blood Ghast Blues

(Coming Spring 2018)

Black Box Inc.

by

Jake Bible

Bell Bridge Books

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.

Bell Bridge Books
PO BOX 300921
Memphis, TN 38130
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61194-824-0
Print ISBN: 978-1-61194-839-4

Bell Bridge Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.

Copyright © 2017 by Jake Bible

Published in the United States of America.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

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10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Cover design: Debra Dixon
Interior design: Hank Smith
Photo/Art credits:
Man (manipulated) © Captblack76 | Dreamstime.com
Background (manipulated) © Ig0rzh | Dreamstime.com

:Ebib:01:

1

I DIG TAPAS.

However—and I don’t feel like I’m alone here—I do not dig tapas when a goddamn severed head is plopped down in the middle of those small plates. The carne asada with ramp pesto (sounds fancy, but ramps are a local thing in Asheville) stopped being appetizing as soon as a small bit of severed-head-neck-gristle flew up to join the meat on the fork that was halfway to my mouth.

“You gotta hide this for me!”

I sighed and slowly put my fork down.

“Hey! Lawter! Are you listening? I need you to hide this!”

Chappy Reginue was a two-bit hustler who got himself into trouble pretty much every other day. Not our usual clientele, but then usual isn’t our gig.

I leaned back against the bench seat of my favorite table in my favorite restaurant—Taps & Tapas. The menu had everything I needed, including a thick, dark stout and bread that’s even darker. Everything was farm-to-table, handcrafted, inspired by centuries of culinary masterpieces that span the globe, and priced accordingly. All of which is great (except maybe the pricing), but I liked the place because I needed a stiff drink and something tasty to go with it.

Severed head is not tasty.

“Chappy, you look upset, pal.”

“Fucking A right I’m upset!” He practically shouted.

Several of the patrons turned toward the disturbance. Asheville was known for its characters and personalities, but they were tolerated out on the streets. Once you got inside a nice joint like Taps & Tapas, folks tended not to be quite as accepting. They expected their money to insulate them from the weird that they’d experienced outside. Chaos was for the street corners, not their dimly lit tables holding appetizers that cost as much as any entrée in town.

Chappy, not one to care much for the nuances of tourism’s socioeconomic strata, stared the gawkers down and flipped them off. “What the hell are you looking at?”

Lassa was also eyeing Chappy. He could break Chappy in half if I let him. Lassa’s a seven-foot-tall, three-hundred-and-sixty-pound yeti. But shaved bald so he can blend in. We don’t ever tell him he doesn’t blend in. He hates that. The guy has pride. And he doesn’t like his dinner interrupted any more than I do.

“Chase?” Lassa asked, seated to my right. My favorite table was a booth in the back corner, situated perfectly so our backs were against the wall and protected while we kept an eye on the entrance.

“Not yet,” I replied.

“He should lose an eye for being so rude,” Harper Kyles said from Lassa’s left as she twirled a steak knife between the fingers of her right hand.

Then the knife was in her left hand. I never saw the switch. No one ever does. She used the steak knife to tuck a stray dreadlock of her raven black hair behind her ear and glared at Chappy with violet eyes. Her deep brown skin allowed her to fade into the shadows of the restaurant’s low lighting, but she’d leaned forward so Chappy could get a good look at the scars that filled her face like age lines. Except she was only in her twenties and far from old.

She’s human. We think.

“Maybe both eyes.” Harper made a stabbing motion with the knife. “Pop, pop.”

“Sharon?” I turned to my right. “Chappy is upset. He’s in a hurry. He ruined our dinner. And he needs us to hide a severed head.” I studied the head for a second. “Dwarf? Goblin? Kobold? What the goddamn hell is that, Chappy?”

“Kobold,” Chappy said. “Royal blood. Worth more dough than I can even count, man.”

“So that would be more than two, then,” Sharon said.

Lassa and Harper snorted, then continued eating what was in front of them; blood, gristle, and whatever else had fallen onto it be damned.

“Chappy has only ruined your dinner, Chase.” Sharon Spaglioni frowned at the man standing at our table. “I do not eat this cuisine, of course.”

Being a zombie, Sharon doesn’t eat what the rest of us eat. Not that the place couldn’t accommodate her. All the restaurants in the area have learned to adapt since the extradimensional happening. It was either that or close up shop. Tourism was no longer limited to the usual brainless human idiots looking for the hip good time they were promised in some pretentious top-ten list.

Nah, Sharon would have been eating with us, but the executive chef had wrung his hands and informed her that the latest shipment of artisanal pig brains had been delayed due to chupacabra attacks or some crap. Personally, I think the chef, despite his incredible talents, is a fall-over, piss-his-whites drunk. He probably forgot to order the brains. I’ll have to talk to the owner.

“What’s the fee?” I asked Sharon. “Considering.”

“Considering?” Sharon mused. She rubbed at her rotten chin and hummed along to the Cuban jazz playing softly over the restaurant’s fine stereo system. “Minimum of five thousand. But that is only to hide. The charge triples if there is any type of transportation. That’s the base fee. Mileage and expenses would apply as well.”

“You want a hide job?” I asked Chappy.

“I ain’t got five thousand!”

“What do you got?”

“Two and some change.”

“So you have the five,” I replied, locking eyes with the loser. “Come on, Chappy. I can smell a lowball when one’s standing in front of me.”

“You mean slimeball,” Lassa said.

“Pusball,” Harper added.

“Hairball.”

“Shitball.”

“Lintball.”

“Lintball?” Harper frowned. “Lame.”

“I couldn’t think of another one, dude.”

“You two done?” I asked.

They shrugged as a loud noise came from up front. Some commotion at the hostess station. Since we were all the way in the back corner, we had some time for me to squeeze Chappy some more before whatever was on his tail reached us. If Sharon said five grand, then the fee was five grand. We all had our roles in the company; hers was keeping us operating and solvent.

“Listen, Chappy, I think you’re scum and have zero respect for you, but if you need me to do a job, then I will treat you like every other client.”

“For five thousand dollars,” Sharon added.

“What the lovely lady said, pal,” I said and hooked my thumb toward Sharon.

Despite the necrotic state of her body, she was actually quite lovely. I could only imagine what she looked like back in her dimension when she was alive. She would have been a looker. Before she was chased down by the undead that ruled her world and turned into one of them. But that was the great thing about the extradimensional happening. It not only allowed specific pockets of humanity on Earth to get a glimpse into other places, but afforded those from other places the opportunity to come here and start a new life.

In her dimension, Sharon had been another rotting, shuffling brain junkie. But here she was a brilliant, beautiful undead businesswoman with a knack for keeping me, Lassa, and Harper from getting into too much trouble. She credits her intelligence to all those brains she ate in her dimension, which didn’t do shit for her intellectual capacity there, but seemed to kick in and up her mental game exponentially in our dimension.

You are what you eat.

“Five thousand dollars and that dinner interrupting head goes good-bye. Never to be seen again until you give me the order to bring it back,” I said.

“Sweet Jesus, Lawter.” Chappy looked over his shoulder toward the four very large men scanning the restaurant while an alarmed hostess tried to tell them to get lost.

The great thing about Asheville, North Carolina, was you could go into the fanciest restaurant dressed in cutoffs and flip-flops and no one would bat an eye, but if you were a dick, you’d be tossed out on your ass first thing.

The fact that portals were now opening into other dimensions didn’t change the unbreakable rule of service in our wonderfully weird corner of the world. We were weird—and liked it that way, even before the portal. We had the ubiquitous tourist-town street performers and buskers. But being Asheville, we also had plenty of hippies with their nightly drum circles, men dressed as nuns and riding ten-foot-high bicycles, free hugs and free love. A slice of the 1960s, reimagined in the 1990s, then updated for the twenty-first century.

All of that brought money. Tourism dollars that began to change the face of Asheville. Greed started to overtake weird, and everything was going south fast.

Then the portals to other dimensions opened, and the weird came back with a vengeance.

Now, if you’d ever read about a creature in some fairy tale, it existed and could probably be seen walking Pack Square or by the Flatiron Building. The monsters were real, and they wanted to buy overpriced grilled cheese sandwiches and even more overpriced pints of craft brew, just like every other damned human tourist.

And if the creatures were dicks, they’d be tossed out on their asses, the same way anyone else would.

“Tickety tockety, Chapster,” Harper said as she chewed a green olive, then spat the pit out into a small dish set halfway across the table. The pit landed dead center with the other pits. Harper didn’t miss. She also never lost a fight. Like never. Winning fights was her thing.

The deceptive part of our group was that Lassa may have looked like the muscle, but Harper was the real danger. Lassa handled transportation and logistics. Harper handled security and protection. Having a seven-foot-tall yeti next to her made Harper’s job easier. Everyone expected the attack to come from Lassa, and they never saw Harper coming until the blade had already pierced flesh.

She stared at Chappy like a house cat stared down a baby bird outside the living room window. Except there was no window between her and Chappy.

“Fine, fine, five thousand,” Chappy snarled at us. I knew he was well aware of Harper’s role, and I had to applaud his sense of self-preservation, which was about the only amount of sense the scumbag possessed.

“Do you have the money on you?” Sharon asked. She opened her purse and pulled out her phone, then a handheld printer. Always prepared. “We need payment upfront.”

“Yeah, I have the cash on me,” Chappy said and shoved his hand into the front pocket of his jeans.

He yanked out a wad of cash and threw it at Sharon. I held up my hand as both Lassa and Harper started to get up from their seats.

“We’re good,” I said. “Chappy is upset. I’m sure he didn’t mean any disrespect. Right, pal?”

The four men up front caught sight of our table and shoved the hostess out of the way, then marched toward us, ignoring the chaos and disruption swirling in their wake.

“Chase?” Harper asked. “What’s the call?”

We held equal shares in our little company—Black Box Inc. But they’d gotten into the habit of looking to me to make the call when necessary. Reminding them that we were a team of equals had absolutely no effect on their behavior. I was the de facto boss whether I wanted to be or not.

“No fighting,” I said. “We talk this out. I’m not getting blacklisted here. Not happening.”

“Hurry up!” Chappy barked.

“Not until payment is counted,” Sharon said, her gray fingers busily facing and sorting the wad of cash that had fallen into her lap. “Give me a moment.”

I leaned in close to her and whispered, “We don’t have a moment. Guess.”

“I never guess when it comes to payment,” Sharon whispered back.

“Give Chappy the benefit of the doubt. If he’s short, we’ll get the rest from him later. With interest.”

“Twenty-five percent,” Sharon said to Chappy.

“Twenty-five percent what?” Chappy asked. There was a crash of plates hitting the floor, and Chappy turned to watch the men charging toward our table.

“Twenty-five percent interest on any amount you are short of the five thousand,” Sharon stated.

“Better listen to her,” I said.

“Fine!” Chappy said.

“Then we are good,” Sharon said and began typing into her phone. “I’ll prepare the invoice while you make the box, Chase.”

“Order another round of food and six pints of stout,” I said to Lassa. “Rush jobs always make me hungry.”

Lassa raised his hand to get the waitress’s attention. Wasn’t too hard since all eyes were turned our way. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to see where the toughs were headed as they slowly wound around the maze of tables crammed into the space to maximize profit. Another reason I liked the place, no easy way to get from one end to the other quickly.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. It wasn’t hard to pull from the Dim when in a hurry, I only wanted to put on a show for Chappy. I mean, I only needed a small box. A head-size box. Piece of cake. Simply reach into that space between dimensions and grab me some of the Dim to play with.

Boxes weren’t all I could do with the Dim. I had a few more tricks. But, for the moment, it was box-crafting time.

I opened my eyes, held my hands out palms up, and proceeded to shape the box. Smoke of the deepest black drifted up from my hands and took form. A thin panel about one foot square was joined by a second and third panel as more smoke came from my palms. Then I added a fourth and fifth panel.

“Sharon?” I asked.

The lovely Sharon gingerly picked up the kobold head and dropped it into the box. I created the sixth and final panel, sealing the box right there, and the head was gone. The box landed on the table like it was made of nothing. I scraped a nail across the top and tore off about an inch of black. I held the inch up as the four men arrived at the edge of the table. Two lifted Chappy off his feet by his arms and the other two faced me.

“Give us that key,” they said in unison.

Dopplers. Ugh. I hate dopplers. They don’t look exactly identical like you’d think they would, which is one reason I hate them. The name was derived from doppelgänger. Doppelgängers should be identical. But dopplers aren’t. Close, but there are enough slight differences in appearance that it becomes distracting. Maybe they’re called dopplers because they share a brain via a psychic link? Mental doppelgängers? Sometimes I want to punch whoever comes up with these terms. But they came through the portals with the name attached, so nothing to do about that shit.

Whatever the origin of their name, all dopplers were moronic muscle of the worst kind. The One Guy uses them exclusively, and I am not a fan of that gentleman.

“Sharon?” I asked.

The quiet sound of a laser printer ejecting a receipt was all that could be heard over the Cuban jazz and the faint sounds of kitchen activity coming from the very back of the restaurant. The entire dining room watched us.

Sharon held up the piece of paper the printer ejected and said, “Could you hand this to Mr. Reginue, please?”

The two dopplers stared at her for a second, then one reached out, took the receipt, and gave the piece of paper to Chappy.

“Thank you,” Sharon said. “We are done here.”

“Hear that, boys?” I said to the dopplers. “We’re done here.”

“Give us the key,” the two said.

“No,” I replied. “The key will belong to Chappy and Chappy only. He has a receipt to prove it. Once I hand it over, the key will only work for him. When he gives the key back to me, then I’ll retrieve the box and open it.”

“You open it now,” they said.

“Listen, pals, I wouldn’t be in business for long if I went around opening boxes clients pay me to make to keep stuff safe that they don’t want guys like you to get their hands on, now would I?”

It was a long sentence. It confused them. So, instead of answering, the two lunged for the box in the middle of the table. But I was faster. I snapped my fingers, and poof—gone. The dopplers’ hands landed in the mess that Chappy had started. I ended up with a good amount of goat cheese-smeared crostini with wild blueberry jam on my face as one of the small plates was flipped end over end.

“Dammit,” I muttered as I lifted my napkin off my lap and wiped my nose and cheeks. “I hadn’t gotten to try that yet. Assholes.”

“There was kobold on it,” Harper said.

“We’re getting more anyway, remember?” Lassa waved at the waitress again.

She looked frightened at first, then resigned, as she walked to our table. A person had to get used to the unusual when living in this town. At least if that person wanted to make any kind of living. And especially if that living relied on tips.

“Yes?” she asked, trying to ignore the dumbfounded dopplers sprawled across our table and the ones still holding Chappy. “Can I get you anything else?”

“If you could bring us one of everything again, that would be super,” Lassa said.

He flashed his sharp-fanged grin and gave the waitress a wink. She pretty much melted. When he’s shaved, Lassa is possibly the most attractive being on the planet. He may have been an extradimensional being, but the guy set panties, and boxers, on fire.

So, in spite of those scary fangs (possibly because?), she melted.

“Are the gentlemen staying?” the waitress asked, eyeing the two dopplers splayed across the table as she managed to tear her eyes away from Lassa.

The dopplers looked so sad and lost as they blinked at the spot where the black box had been only a finger snap before.

“You guys hungry?” I asked. “Thirsty?”

“Thirsty, right, my bad,” Lassa said and reached out to pat the waitress on the forearm. She shivered from head to toe. “Six pints of stout for Chase and I’ll have another whiskey sour. Harper?”

“Bloody Mary, extra bacon,” Harper said. “Two.”

“Two portions of extra bacon?” the waitress asked.

“No, I meant two Bloody Marys, but yeah, two portions of bacon per.”

“I’ll eat some of that,” I said.

“I figured,” Harper replied.

“I’ll take a Bloody Mary also, if you have any congealed blood left behind the bar,” Sharon said. “If my last drink, which is now dripping off the table, used the remainder of your blood stock, then nothing for me.”

“I believe we received a new batch of blood this afternoon.” The waitress didn’t even shudder as she mentioned the congealed blood. A true professional. I liked that. “I’ll get the food order in and then have the bartender work on the drinks. And a towel. I’ll bring a towel.”

“A couple towels,” I said. I stared at the dopplers. “Guys? Are you staying or what? The nice waitress . . . ?”

“Brynn,” the waitress said.

“Brynn is trying to do her job, and you two acting mute is not helping.”

“No,” the dopplers replied.

“Nothing for them,” I said to Brynn. “Just our order, please.”

“And the towels,” Sharon added.

“And the towels.” I smiled as I spread my hands out. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of this mess.”

“I appreciate that, but I can get a busboy to handle it. As for . . .” Brynn eyed the dopplers again. “Should I call someone?”

“They are leaving,” I said. “Right, gentlemen? You don’t have any reason to stick around, do you?”

The dopplers on our table finally pushed back and stood upright. They tried to wipe the food off their suits, but only smeared the crap around more.

“Good job,” Harper said.

“They should make a sitcom with only dopplers,” Lassa said.

“I’d watch the shit out of that.”

“Watch the shit out of a sitcom.”

“Shitcom.”

They chuckled together, but their eyes were on the still-uncertain dopplers, and their bodies were tensed, ready to do what needed to be done even though I’d said no to fighting. They knew that my no was conditional. We were far from being pacifists.

“Guys?” I said to the dopplers as Lassa and Harper continued to grin. “You can go. Really. We got a good mood right now. Don’t turn the mood into a bummer, okay?”

“We want that head,” the dopplers said.

“What head?” I replied.

That fried their psychic link. You could almost see the thoughts feverishly trying to connect across their shared brains. But they couldn’t quite process the question.

“We want the head,” they said again. “Tell us how to get the head.”

I sighed.

“Guys, listen, I don’t talk about client business with strangers,” I said. “I’m a professional. No one would hire me—.”

“Eh hem,” Sharon coughed.

“No one would hire us if I went around blabbing confidential information to every moron who came drooling up to me,” I continued, giving Sharon a pat on the leg. “My apologies, Sharon. Us.”

“Apology accepted,” she replied.

“We want the head,” the dopplers repeated. “Now.”

Lassa and Harper stopped grinning.

“And the mood is gone.” I shook my head and stood up.

So much for not fighting. Too bad.

Smoke shot from my palms and formed into thick, two-foot-long rods. Rods that were good for the cracking of doppler heads.

“No!”

I sat my ass back down, as the main reason I liked this restaurant flung open the kitchen door, letting the thump of the door against a wall punctuate her order to stand down. My Dim rods poofed out of existence, which confused the dopplers even more.

Iris Penn could only be called a force of nature. The owner of Taps & Tapas was dressed in a black pencil skirt and black silk blouse, buttoned perfectly so men noticed and women were slightly jealous, but not so jealous they didn’t want to come back. Five foot six with gray eyes, black hair pulled back into a simple ponytail, and more energy than a herd of pixies hopped up on cotton candy, she was something to behold.

She was the main reason I insisted that the place be our hangout when we weren’t at the office. The food was great, but there was a lot of great food in Asheville. There was only one Iris.

“You do not shit where you eat, Chase!” she yelled.

And that mouth was the coup de grace for me. I hate to use the word, but I was smitten. Smitten bad.

Iris? Not so much. I tended to be trouble, and Iris did not like trouble. She liked order. She liked organization. She was a lot like Sharon in that way, except Sharon preferred not to be the focus of attention. Iris was always the focus of attention. Always.

“Does that need to be said?” Lassa asked. “Do humans have a habit of shitting where they eat?”

“If they’re on the toilet,” Harper said.

“People do that? Eat on the toilet?” Lassa replied. “Dude, that’s gross.”

“You two! Sit the fuck down!” Iris yelled as she stormed over to our table. “I said sit!”

Lassa and Harper looked at each other, confused.

“We are sitting,” Harper said.

“Stay that way!” she snarled. “Move an inch and I rip you a new one!”

“Iris,” I said. “These guys were on their way out. I wasn’t going to do anything. Lassa and Harper weren’t going to do anything. I promise.”

“Yeah, you were,” Harper said. “So were we.”

“I was intending on splitting open at least one skull,” Lassa said. “Perhaps disembowel two of them. Maybe all of them. I haven’t performed a good disembowelment in weeks.”

“What about the Boulder gig last Thursday?” Harper asked.

“That was hardly a disembowelment,” Lassa said. “I barely cut into that man’s belly fat. Dude, a proper disembowelment has to include the ripping out of entrails.”

“Good evening, Iris,” Sharon said. “My deepest apologies for all of this. Please add whatever you see as fair to our bill. We’ll invoice Chappy for extra.”

“Me?” Chappy cried.

“Really, Chappy?” I said. “You want to argue the point? Here?”

“How much we talking?” Chappy asked.

“I want these thugs out of my restaurant. Now,” Iris snarled. “Now, Chase.”

“Okay,” I said.

I gave Iris my warmest smile. She gave me her coldest frown.

“Guys, let Chappy go,” I said to the dopplers. “He doesn’t have what you want.”

“He can get it,” the dopplers said.

“Not right now, pal. I still have the key. I’m not going to give him the key unless I know he’s out of your hands. After that, if you can catch him, he’s all yours. Hand him over to the One Guy for all we care.”

“Once he pays the invoice I’ll be sending him in the morning,” Sharon said.

“Yes, we’d appreciate he pay that first,” I said. “But after that, you can rip him limb from limb or whatever your boss wants done to him.”

Chappy made a sound between a yelp and a squeak. A squelp?

The dopplers thought hard on what I’d said. Man, it looked like they were in agony as that one thought worked through them.

Then they let Chappy go, turned, and stomped out of the place.

“Sorry, folks,” I called out to the other patrons. “Round of drinks on me.”

There was some cheering, a little bit of grumbling, and a raspberry noise in response. At least I knew one local was in the joint. Locals expected two rounds of drinks gratis. It was one of many unspoken rules locals have.

“Chase?” Sharon asked.

“We’ll bill Chappy for the round of drinks,” I said and decided what the hell. “Two rounds on us.”

“Damn right,” a voice from the opposite end of the restaurant responded.

“Excellent,” Sharon made a note in her phone to bill Chappy for the drinks.

That only left Chappy to deal with. I held out the key.

“They’re gonna grab me, man,” Chappy said.

“Then run. Fast,” I said. Chappy looked like a lost puppy. A mangy, disgusting, creep of a lost puppy. “You want the key or not? We can hang on to it, but I’m pretty damn sure we will have to charge you.”

“Let me calculate the amount,” Sharon said.

Chappy’s hand shot across the table, and he snagged the key. “No more fucking charges.”

“What do you say, Chappy?” I asked.

“I ain’t saying thank you,” Chappy snarled, then fled. Out through the kitchen. Smart choice.

“Owner lady is still here,” Lassa said sotto voce as we watched the kitchen door swing closed behind Chappy’s scrawny butt.

I dig that term. Sotto voce. Pretty damn sure Iris didn’t. The glare she gave Lassa proved that. Not that the glare was on him long. Hard to stay too mad at Lassa. He had that casual ski-bum vibe going for him. So, she rounded on me pronto.

“Right, Iris, I am so sorry for all of this,” I said as a busboy came up and started to clear away the mess.

Yeah, not so much a boy as a ghoul. They were a short, hunched-over race. Gray skin, ropy muscles. Stank of carrion. Hard workers, though. You could pay them almost nothing, and they didn’t care. They pretty much worked for leftover rotten meat. The meat had to be at least two weeks old, so payday was a bit stinky, but you couldn’t beat kitchen scraps as wages.

Iris was a master of the hard glare. Man, she was giving it to me good.

“How about I make it up to you and take you out to dinner tomorrow night?” I said. “You name the place. Doesn’t have to be here in town. I can get us to Charlotte in ten minutes. I know a guy.”

“He knows a guy,” Lassa said.

Lassa was the guy. Transportation logistics and all that.

“Kiss my ass, Chase,” Iris said and stormed off.

“This is the time you pick to ask her out?” Harper said. “Chase, Chase, Chase.”

“Oh, Chase, sweetie,” Sharon added.

“Want me to go talk to her?” Lassa offered. “Warm her up a bit? I flash the pearly fangs and she’ll be a little more receptive.”

“No,” I said.

“I don’t mind, man,” Lassa said.

“Drop it.”

Our replacement food started showing up. The drinks were right behind, and I downed two stouts before the other four pints had been set on the table. Six pints wasn’t gonna cut it. I knew that already.

2

MORNING. FUZZY. Headache. Sticky.

Sticky?

Shit . . .

“Guys?” I whispered because that was about all I could manage. Everything hurt.

I didn’t remember getting that drunk. Yeah, I had a dozen plus pints of stout, but my metabolism could handle twice that without any hint of a hangover. Blackout drunk should never have entered the picture.

“Guys?” I said, a little louder. I also opened my eyes. Both of those actions made the “everything hurting” hurt even more.

Time to assess.

Red. Dark red. That filled my vision as I lay facedown on the floor, my cheek stuck to what could have been tile. Hard to tell. I lifted my head, tried not to cry out from the holy-crap-my-head-is-gonna-fall-off pain, and stared at the large pool of red I found myself in.

Blood? Yeah. Blood.

A lot of blood on hardwood floors.

My first thought was I’d been stabbed. It happens. More often than I’d like. But a quick mental inventory of the pain told me that wasn’t the issue. Stab wounds tend to make themselves known.

So, not my blood? I wasn’t jumping to any conclusions yet.

I pushed up onto my hands and knees and struggled to focus on where I was. I also struggled not to puke. Adding puke to blood would not make the morning any more fun.

Was it morning?

I turned my head and glanced at the long row of windows to my left. Yes, it was morning. A gray, rainy morning. I was facing east because the clouds were bright enough for the sun to be hiding somewhere behind them. Most definitely morning.

Despite my ability to guess the time of day, I still had no idea where the hell I was.

First job was to get out of the blood, though. I could figure out the where after that crucial step.

My clothes were soaked through. I stood, very carefully, and unbuttoned my shirt. It was a black-and-green flannel that I dug and was sorry to see go. No salvaging it with that amount of blood. The shirt fell from my hand, and I hugged my chest, feeling the draft in the room for the first time.

The room.

Loft apartment. Old wood, old steel beams above, lots of old exposed brick. Old building. From the view of the skyline outside, I was still in Asheville—downtown somewhere. I could see the outlines of all the new hotels going up. Goddamn hotels.

Greed-fueled gentrification has been threatening the wonderful weird of Asheville for the past decade. Human or monster, tourist heads wanted expensive pillows to sleep on, and enterprising entrepreneurs were great at catering to that want while disregarding the needs of the actual people who lived in the city they were tearing down and building over.

Okay, still downtown . . .

I didn’t make it far from Taps & Tapas, then. A slow circle, very slow, and I could see a kitchen on the opposite wall from the row of windows, a ratty couch in the middle of the room, and a single mattress tucked into the corner. No lamps, lights, anything else.

“Good, you’re awake,” a voice said from behind me.

I spun about, came close to vomiting and falling over, then steadied myself and stared at the source of the voice.

“Travis?” I asked, seeing a short, muscular man walk into the loft with a cardboard tray of to-go coffees balanced on top of a take-out box of something that smelled so good. I was starving despite the obvious nausea. Like really starving. I added that to the list of info. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You’ve always been a classy one, Chase,” Travis replied as he made his way to the kitchen counter and deposited the coffees and food. He turned and gave me that wide bullshit smile of his. Then he looked me up and down. “Nice look for you. Half-naked and blood soaked. At least you were classy enough not to track blood everywhere.”

“Didn’t intend to be classy,” I said, watching him carefully. If I was trouble, then Travis was trouble’s big brother. We had a complicated relationship. There’s a life debt. The debt is his to owe. “I just woke up.”

He didn’t respond.

Travis wasn’t from around Asheville. The same as Sharon and Lassa, he was from one of the other dimensions. For millennia the dimensions were apart, except for some weak spots here and there. Those weak spots were what shamans, witch doctors, psychics, mediums, and other paranormal explorers could tap into and catch glimpses of other realms outside our own. Those weak spots also let magic, good and bad, seep into our reality now and again.

You know the places. Boulder, Austin, Portland and Eugene, Burlington, Santa Fe and Taos, the entire Bay Area, and other funky spots in the US and across the globe.

Asheville.

Then a shift occurred, and the secret held by the religious elite, mad folk, and hippy-dippy cults was out.

We were not alone. There were many dimensions. An infinite number. The veils had fallen, and not only could we see into other worlds, we could travel to them. And they could see and travel into ours.

Think of the travel like crossing the borders between countries, except the border crossings were suddenly left wide open. People didn’t need rituals, spells, trances, or blood sacrifices anymore to pierce the veil and spy on another dimension. If they had the will and the power, they could walk right through. Both ways. Plenty of people, and other things, so many other things, had come sauntering into our dimension ten years ago, and everyone’s definition of normal changed.

Almost everyone. The powers that be on Earth weren’t too keen on letting the cat completely out of the bag. The vortex points like Asheville and the other cities each got their very own Grand Hex. An all-encompassing spell that allowed folks to enjoy, or not, the strangeness while inside the borders of each portal’s geographic area, but as soon as they left, their memories became fuzzy and that sasquatch they’d seen hiking on the Appalachian Trail became a recollection of a really hairy, tall man that had snapped, not growled, at them.

Until the federal, state, and local political and law-enforcement apparatus could fully get a handle on things, what happens in Ashevegas stays in Ashevegas.

And, apparently, I was staying in a pool of blood in some random loft in Asheville with a guy who was nowhere even close to human, despite his appearance, who was busy humming to himself as he smiled at me and sipped his coffee.

I’d be lying if I said it was an unusual morning for me.

“Care to find me a towel, pal?” I asked.

“There isn’t one,” Travis replied. “I looked. You may want to put that shirt back on before you freeze to death.”

“The shirt coated in blood?”

“Yeah, that shirt.”

“I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“You could give me your shirt since you’re not soaked in blood and shivering.”

“My shirt? Too small,” Travis said. “You’re a lot taller than me.”

“Right now,” I said. “You could probably morph and add another foot to your height if you wanted.”

“Conservation of mass, Chase,” Travis said. “I add a foot to this body and I’d be skinny as a rail. I prefer the muscles when I’m in your land. Humans are so violent, it’s good to have a way to defend myself. And I like this shirt. Sorry.”

Travis was a shapeshifter. I had zero idea what his real form was, but he always maintained the same face and body when he came to visit. Which was usually only when things were about to get weird. Trouble’s big brother . . .

“Travis?” I asked. “You gonna clue me in or what?”

“You don’t remember?” he asked.

I could tell by the look in his eye that he knew I didn’t remember.

“No, I don’t. Where are we? Whose place is this?”

“No clue whose place this is,” Travis said. “I came looking for you and found you in this loft last night. You looked like you had finished working the Dim and tucking something big away. All I saw when I came in was you sweating bullets in the middle of that pool of blood. Then you collapsed and passed out. I didn’t have the heart to wake you so I let you sleep and crashed on that mattress.”

“You let me sleep in the pool of blood while you slept on a nice, soft mattress?” I replied. “Gee, thanks.”

“And clean,” Travis said with a smirk. “The mattress is brand new with new sheets. Someone put it here and hadn’t even used it yet. Lucky for me. You sure you don’t know where you are? This is your town.”

“I’m clueless,” I said. “You know more than me.”

He knew a lot more than me; that was obvious. The trick with Travis was getting to that knowledge in a roundabout way. If he knew I desperately wanted the knowledge, he’d spend the day toying with me.

Started a few years ago. Right after I’d figured out I could work the Dim. He’d gotten into some mischief, and I pulled him out of it. The mischief happened to involve a coven of vampires that had been tracking him, since shapeshifter blood was like crack to those bloodsuckers.

Travis was pinned down in one of Asheville’s many ignored, nontouristy alleys, six vampires standing over him. For some reason, I decided I wanted to help. I’d recently begun crafting the Dim rods and wanted to try them out. I didn’t have Harper around that night to talk me out of being rash, so I marched down the alley, formed myself some rods, and stabbed a few vampires in the backs.

I missed every single heart. But the misses got their attention away from Travis. They did come after me, though. It was a good thing some of Asheville’s finest, who also had been wanting to test out some new armaments, happened to drive by. One standoff and a SWAT team later, Travis and I were fast friends.

I didn’t learn about him being a con artist and total scammer until later. But he was one of those people you have in your life that you can’t quit no matter how much you know you should. There was something about Travis that held me back from booting his ass. Complicated relationship.

My stomach rumbled, and Travis grinned that shit-eating grin even wider.

“Croissants,” he said as he nodded to the coffees and food. “I visited that café you like up in Weaverville.”

“Haute Café? You got croissants from Haute Café?”

“Yep.” Travis handed me a coffee and opened the container.

The sweet, buttery smell of fresh croissants smacked me upside the head. Haute Café killed it when it came to pastries.

“How’d you get up there?’ I asked as I sipped my coffee and took a bite of the fresh, hot flaky dough. “That’s fifteen miles. You driving now?”

“I popped in and out. It’s only two blocks if you know the right weaknesses in the right dimensions to exploit. A few easy shifts and I was outside their front door. Scared the crap out of some tourists, but they got over it and thought it was a hoot.”

“A hoot? Did you use the word hoot?” I asked, then stuffed the rest of the croissant in my mouth. I was so goddamn hungry.

“I like the word hoot,” Travis said, leaning against the counter as he blew on his coffee. “It’s a fun word to say. Hoot.”

I nodded, not really caring about the word hoot anymore, and eyed the five other croissants in the ubiquitous recycled paper take-out container.

“Eat up, I’m only having coffee,” Travis said.

I wolfed down two more croissants before I remembered to breathe. Then I took a seat right there on the floor with my coffee. Right in front of the pool of blood. I was too exhausted to care about making a bigger mess. Not like I was going to miraculously stop being blood soaked. I needed to sit, so I sat.

“My phone,” I said. It wasn’t in my pants. Good thing, or it would have been ruined. No phone survives that amount of blood. I know from experience.

“I checked the place,” Travis said. “No phone or wallet. No talismans, no nothing. Just you, that nasty couch, the mattress, and the pool of blood.”

“That’s not like me,” I said. “I don’t lose my phone.”

“No, you don’t, which is why I worked a little mojo to track you down. You weren’t picking up. I’d bet your entourage is losing their collective minds right now. When you find your phone, you’re going to have at least thirty voice messages from Sharon alone. Care to wager how many texts you have from Harper?”

“The human brain can’t count that high,” I said. “Especially not a brain that hurts as much as mine does.”

“Yes, you are a limited species.” He looked past me, and I could tell he was eyeing the blood. His face shifted, losing some of its distinct features, but only for a split second.

“What?” I looked over my shoulder at the nasty pool. “You sense something?”

“Not really,” he said and sipped his coffee again. “Weird that I found you last night and Harper didn’t.”

“Yeah, that is kind of weird.”

It was. Harper was very strict about my security since there were more than a few extradimensional entities that would love to get their hands on my specific skill set when it comes to the Dim.

“How’d you ditch her?” Travis asked. “Need another croissant?”

“Yeah.”

He tossed me another, and the pastry was gone before he began to speak again.

“You slipped Harper’s eye somehow. What do you remember?”

“Nothing. I was at Taps & Tapas—”

“As usual.”

“Shut up. I was there and then . . . Nothing. Not until I woke up here feeling like hammered shit.”

“Because of a Dim hangover?”

“You said I had finished working the Dim. Something big.” I narrowed my eyes, which hurt like hell. “Right?”

“I assumed you had. I said that it looked that way, but when I got here you were all sweaty and in the pool of blood. That’s all I can say for sure.”

“Huh.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah . . . huh.”

We watched each other for a long while. He gave nothing away. Easy to have a poker face when you can morph your face into any shape you want.

“So, besides the Dim hangover,” he said, finally finishing our little standoff. “Other than that, you feel healthy?”

“Yeah, I guess so. I could probably eat an entire cow right now, I’m so goddamn hungry, but yeah, I feel healthy.”

“Good, good . . .”

“I think so.”

“You should probably call your peeps,” he said and pulled a burner phone out of his pocket and tossed it to me. Travis exclusively used burners. Con artists’ stock-in-trade. “I only bought a hundred minutes this trip, so don’t use them all up.”

I fumbled the phone, since my hands were greasy from buttery croissant, and it almost got past me and dropped into the blood, but I managed to get the slippery phone under control and dial a number I knew I’d get the least amount of yelling from. Not that I deserved to get yelled at. I was the victim in all of this.

“I won’t use all your minutes. Only calling Sharon. I need the crew over here to figure this place out.”

“Exactly.” Travis perked up. “Lassa too?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Lassa too.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Nice.”

I typed in Sharon’s number and waited. Then I looked about. “Shit, I don’t know where we are. Did you see the address?”

“I’ll go outside and look,” he replied.

“Oh, and while you’re out, could you pick me up more food?” I asked. “Like a lot more. I’ll pay you back. I ain’t figuring out shit until I fill this hole in my gut.”

Travis chuckled. “Sure thing.” He paused at the door. “Good to see you, Chase.”

“Fuck off and get my food.”

The phone picked up as he left the loft, laughing. I got Sharon’s voice mail.

“Shar, it’s me. Call me back at this number. I borrowed Travis’s burner, so the line is safe.”

I hung up and listened to my stomach growl. Working the Dim always made me ravenous, but the hunger in my belly was way beyond bad. And it hurt. More than usual. Did the loft have a bathroom?

I don’t know what I did with the Dim, but it had to have been big.

The burner rang, and I answered it.

“Hey, Shar,” I said before Sharon could start in on me. “Will ya listen, okay?”

3

HARPER CAME bursting into the loft with weapons drawn and eyes raging. She Seal Team Sixed the shit out of that loft before declaring the all clear. I could have told her that, but I wasn’t going to make the situation worse.

Lassa and Sharon came in, and I gave them a nod as I chowed down on one of the cheeseburgers Travis had gone out to get me. But no towel. He got me cheeseburgers and fries, but only a couple of napkins. Pretty sure he thought he was being funny.

Joke was on him, though. Not like being drenched in blood was gonna stop me from eating everything he brought.

“What the hell, Chase?” Harper snapped as she put the very large pistol back inside her jacket. “Care to tell me how you got from your place to here?”

“That’s a lot of blood, all right,” Sharon said as she made a beeline for the blood and leaned over the pool that had become a sickly dark brown. Blood was a bit of a draw for Sharon. “Twelve pints, at least. Oh, most certainly.”

“It’s gone off, dude. I can tell that from here,” Lassa said as he leaned against the wall by the door. He waved a hand in front of his face.

“Yes, I noticed that, as well,” Sharon said. She circled the pool as she jotted notes into her phone. “Very old blood. Hasn’t been stored properly.”

“Shut up, both of you,” Harper snapped. “Chase? Talk. I dropped you at your place, double-checked the security hexes, then . . . what?”

“No clue,” I said around cheeseburger number five. “Like I told Travis, I was at Taps & Tapas, then I woke up here.”

“You don’t remember any of the ride home?” Lassa asked.

“Not off, exactly,” Sharon said, in her own little blood world. “Something else. Perhaps not human? No, it smells human. Strange . . .”

“I remember only what I’ve said,” I said to Lassa. “Taps & Tapas. Here. Asking a ton of questions isn’t going to—”

“Asking a ton of questions might jog your memory,” Harper snarled.

She was taking the situation personally. Heads of security don’t like it when the person they are supposed to secure ends up not being so secure.

“Sorry,” I said as I wolfed down my sixth cheeseburger. The fries were long gone. Harper glared, then began to walk the perimeter of the loft again. “Ask away.”

“What’s the last memory you have of Taps & Tapas?” She ran her fingers along a windowsill and sniffed the tips. “The very last.”

“I had to pee,” I said and belched. The burgers had filled that gnawing hole, but they weren’t settling so great. “I went to the bathroom.”

“No one’s come in or out of these windows,” Harper said. “No trace of any essences. After the bathroom?”

“We left,” Lassa said. Harper stopped in her tracks, but didn’t look back at Lassa.

“Sorry,” he said. “Continue your Sherlock thing.”

“That’s right. You bailed on me,” I said, remembering that fuzzy detail. “I came out of the bathroom and you guys had left. I was going to call you to see what the hell was going on, but I got distracted when I started saying good-night and apologized to the staff again . . .”

Another memory floated by.

“Left?” Lassa asked. “What are you—”

“Don’t interrupt. Let him think,” Harper said. “Chase?”

“Hold on,” I said. “Iris. Iris came out to talk to me.”

“Yell at you, more like,” Travis said from his leaning spot in the kitchen. He’d been very quiet as soon as everyone else had gotten there. “Unless you and Iris have a different dynamic now. You ask her out yet?”

Lassa snickered. Asshole.

“You did?” Travis asked.

“Not the time,” Sharon said, letting me off the hook as she finally turned her attention away from the blood.

“You’re probably right, she came out yelling,” I said as I struggled to recall the conversation. Nothing returned to me except for a brief double image of her face. My stomach lurched, and I bent over, ready to throw up the cheeseburgers.

“Chase?” Travis asked.

“Chase? Are you all right?” Sharon asked.

All eyes were on me as I stood up. I closed mine and let the pain and nausea pass, then pointed at Sharon.

“Call the restaurant,” I said. “Something’s wrong.”

She didn’t even hesitate. She had her phone out and was dialing Taps & Tapas instantly.

“Yes, hello, is Iris in?” Sharon asked when someone picked up. She nodded. “This is Sharon Spaglioni with Black Box Inc. There might be a—”

She stopped talking as her eyes went wide. Someone was upset on the other end of the conversation. Very upset. I couldn’t hear the exact words, but the tone was coming through loud and clear.

“Oh, oh, I see, yes, yes, please give him my number,” Sharon said. “Oh, I know. This is very troubling. No, no, we’ll cooperate one hundred percent. Yes, the number I called with. Yes, I look forward to hearing from him. Good-bye.”

“That sounded bad,” Harper said.

“Didn’t sound good,” Lassa agreed.

“Iris was last seen talking to you last night,” Sharon said to me. “When the kitchen crew went looking for her to lock up, all they found was blood on the sidewalk. You were gone, Iris was gone.”

All eyes went to the pool of blood on the floor.

“This is goddamn messed up,” I said as I rubbed my forehead, smearing burger grease across my brow. “Why can’t I remember what happened?”

“Could be a spell,” Harper suggested.

“But he doesn’t smell hexed,” Travis said, giving Harper a look that I couldn’t decipher.

“Can we get back to the fact that Chase thinks we ditched him?” Lassa asked. “Because that is not how it went down.”

Sharon’s phone rang. We shut up.

“Black Box Inc. Sharon Spaglioni speaking,” she answered.

Her already ashen face went even more gray. She locked eyes with me as she nodded and listened.

“Yes, Detective Willitz,” Sharon said. “I completely understand.”

“Oh, damn,” Lassa mumbled. “The big boy is in town.”

“Shhh,” Sharon hissed. “What? No, not you, Detective. One of my colleagues was making noise. Right, right. No, of course. Yes, he is here. I am standing right in front of him. He would be more than willing to come in and speak with you, but I suggest you come meet us first.”

She cocked her head as she listened to Willitz’s response. Her left cheek kept twitching, which meant Willitz was being less than nice on the other end.

“Detective Willitz, you know us,” Sharon said. “Have we ever not cooperated in an investigation before?” More cheek twitching. “Okay, I will give you that one. Yes, and that time, as well. Oh, come now, no need for that kind of language. The Sylva incident was a local screwup and not our doing. The record will show that was all sorted out, thank you very much.”

She winced and pulled the phone away from her ear for a second. A little piece of skin came with it.

“Uh, you have—” Travis began to say, but stopped when Lassa coughed and shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Detective!” Sharon yelled. We all jumped. “I am sorry I raised my voice, but you will most certainly want to meet us at our current location. A reason? How about several pints of blood? Is that reason enough?”

Her entire demeanor changed. Sharon loved having the upper hand. She smiled and gave us all a wink.

“Yes, I will text you the address as soon as we hang up,” Sharon said. “I look forward to seeing you.”

She ended the call and typed out the address, then tucked her phone into the pocket of her crisp business slacks.

“Willitz, huh?” I said, then belched. The burgers were still threatening a revolt. “Things escalated quickly if the state police are involved.”

“This all happened last night,” Harper said. “Why would the NC Department of Extradimensional Affairs be in Asheville this fast?”

“Unless the dude was already here,” Lassa said. “Different investigation?”

“Or this is part of something bigger,” Sharon said.

“All great thoughts and musings,” Travis said as he clapped his hands. “Sounds like you have this in hand. I’ll be leaving now.”

“You’re going?” I asked. “You just got here. You came to Asheville for a reason. You said you went looking for me.”

“I did,” Travis said. “But it can wait. I’m in no hurry this trip.”

“You really should stay,” Sharon said. “You found Chase. I am positive Detective Willitz will want to interview you.”

“Oh, I am sure he would,” Travis said and laughed. “But there is no way I’m getting sucked into this. There are nightmare dimensions that are more enjoyable than dealing with the bureaucracies you have here. I’ll be taking my leave and call you later.”

“Travis,” I said, my voice hard.

“I said I’ll call you later,” Travis said. “You deal with this.”

He walked to the door and gave Lassa a pat on the chest.

“I’ll definitely be calling you,” he said as he left.

“That guy has always had the hots for you,” Harper said to Lassa once Travis was gone.

Lassa shrugged. “I am who I am. Yetis are known for our animal magnetism.”

“And slutty behavior,” Harper said. “Not judging. More power to you, you omnisexual stud.”

“Can we discuss Lassa’s sexual exploits later, please?” Sharon said. “Or, better yet, not discuss them? We have to get our stories straight here.”

Harper stopped what had to be her fourth security sweep of the loft and stared at Sharon.

“What stories?” she asked. “None of us know anything. We’ve been here an hour and are as clueless as when we got here. There are no stories to get straight.”

“I mean about last night,” Sharon said. “Detective Willitz will be asking us each where we were and what we did after we left Taps & Tapas.”

“You guys will have to be the experts on that,” I said.

“You came out of the bathroom,” Harper said, crossing her arms over her chest, her focus on me. “Sharon had paid the bill and was trying to apologize to Iris, but Iris wasn’t having any of it.”

“She was royally pissed, dude,” Lassa said.

“Yeah, I have my own memories of that,” I said.

“We left, went to the parking garage, I undid the hexes on the car, and we drove you home,” Harper said to me. “That’s the end of your story, apparently.”

“You also took me home, then what?” Sharon asked. “We need to have these details locked down, people.”

“I went home,” Lassa said. “Had a satisfying bowel movement, then fell asleep reading the latest Vogue.”

“The one with Einstein’s ghost on the cover?” Harper asked, her brow furrowing.

“That was last month’s,” Lassa replied. “This month is an exposé on Nessie and her involvement in the Scottish crown’s rise and fall over the centuries.”

“I hear she’s a real bitch,” Harper said.

Lassa shrugged. “She has an attitude, yes, but so would you if you were trapped in a damned loch for hundreds of years because of some punks screwing up a fertility ritual.”

“Good article?” Harper asked.

“Please!” Sharon shouted. She smoothed her blouse and took a deep breath. “Please. Can we focus?”

“Yeah, guys,” I said. “Sharon is trying to save us all a lot of headaches, and mine is finally going away, so cut the banter, will ya? I mean, it’s great you two are chill enough that we aren’t all DEFCON two and shit, but let’s not break Sharon before the cops get here.”

“I am glad you are feeling better, Chase,” Sharon said to me as Lassa and Harper each gave me a snotty sneer. “Now, we know your story.”

“Not much of a story,” Harper said.

“And we heard Lassa’s story.”

“Is that all?” Harper asked him.

“Yeah,” Lassa said. “I drooled so much that I totally ruined three pages of the magazine. Not that it matters, they were ads for gryphon hide boots.”

“What designer?” Harper asked. “I need new boots. These are getting worn out.”

“The boots do not matter,” Sharon said. “Harper? Where were you last night after you left us?”

“I hit the South Slope after dropping all of you early night losers off. Short Coxe Alley,” Harper said. “I took about six hundred bucks off some leprechauns in craps.”

She pulled up her shirt sleeve and showed us several long scratches.

“They weren’t very happy about losing,” she continued. “Killed two of them before I could get out of there. The little bastards are lucky they regenerate.”

“If only we could all be so lucky,” Sharon said as she patted the very expensive strawberry blond wig she wore. You’d never know it wasn’t her real hair. Sharon was very proud of her wig collection. You kinda had to be when you were undead in a world of the living. “And after that?”

“Closed down Horrible Hops,” Harper said. “The bartender downstairs hit on me for like an hour, so he can corroborate my alibi. He can also corroborate where I was this morning. His place.”

“Nice,” Lassa said. “Get it when you can, right?”

Harper responded with a knowing nod.

“Good-looking?” Lassa asked.

“You haven’t seen him? Oh, yeah, very good-looking,” Harper said. “But he doesn’t swing both ways like you, big guy. Sorry. He only goes for the vag.”

“Oh, my God!” Sharon yelled. “Why does this have to be so hard?”

“If it was easy, Shar, we wouldn’t need you managing things,” I said. “And please, stop goddamn yelling, okay?”

“He’s right,” Lassa said. “We need you to keep our collective shit together.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Harper agreed.

“Okay, okay,” Sharon said more to herself. “Harper? What’s the bartender’s name?”

Harper stared at Sharon for a couple of seconds.

“Nice,” Lassa said once more.

“Harper, as the person in charge of security, how could you go home with someone and not know their name?” Sharon asked, aghast.

“I don’t need a name to defend myself,” Harper said.

“Or to get off,” Lassa said.

“Guys,” I warned as I watched Sharon twitch. “Quit with the goddamn BS. Game time, got it?”

Harper pulled out her phone. “I’ll call the brewery and ask. Give me a second.”

By the time she was done chatting with the day manager of the Horrible Hops Brewery, there was a knock at the door.

Lassa reached out, opened the door, and Detective Carl Willitz, clichéd rumpled suit and all, came in with four state troopers behind him.

“Chase Lawter? You are under arrest for the murder of Iris Penn,” he announced.

“What?” I exclaimed as I wiped burger bun crumbs from my chest. “What the goddamn hell are you talking about?”

“Her body was found an hour ago in a dumpster behind the federal building,” he said.

“Oh my God,” Sharon gasped as her hands went to her mouth.

“What?” Lassa, Harper, and I chorused in unison.

The troopers came at me, and I held out my hands, warning Lassa and Harper off. Last thing we needed was to get in a fight with the cops, especially state cops.

“Why do you think I did it?” I asked as my hands were yanked back and cuffed. “Me being the last person she was seen with is not enough evidence to arrest me. And since when do you have dibs in Asheville? This should be handled by local homicide.”

“Then you admit it was homicide?” he asked. “And you admit you were the last person she was seen with?”

“I admit you can kiss my goddamn ass,” I snapped.

Willitz was middle-aged, with olive skin and a receding hairline that could be fixed with a decent haircut. Instead, he was going for the skullet look. He was in horrible shape, but that was expected for someone who spent life going from desk to car and back again. He was probably going to die of a heart attack within the decade, but maybe not.

He held up a small evidence bag. Inside was a bit of Dim. A key.

“This was found on her body,” Willitz said. “That’s why it’s my case.”

“That is not evidence of murder,” Sharon said, fetching her phone from her pocket as the troopers marched me toward the door.

“No, but her dying words are,” Willitz said. “If you are calling your lawyers, Ms. Spaglioni, then have them meet me at my office. I’ll be waiting.”

I looked over my shoulder and locked eyes with Harper, then Lassa, and finally Sharon. She frowned at me, then began talking fast as someone from our lawyer’s office picked up on the other end of her phone.

Then I was outside the loft for the first time that morning and being led downstairs to a waiting police cruiser. Willitz didn’t say a word to me except to read me my rights. I didn’t say a word to him except to acknowledge those rights.

Not my first time in cuffs.

Willitz grumbled about me getting blood all over his car, but that didn’t stop him from shoving me into the back seat, a state trooper taking a position on either side of me. My hands were cuffed behind my back, so it wasn’t like I was going to be effective working the Dim or anything.

But with what the world had become, I didn’t exactly fault them for the overabundance of caution, so I didn’t argue, only leaned my head back and closed my eyes. What a morning . . .

4

WILLITZ TOSSED a damp towel at me. Now with hands cuffed in front, I barely caught it and gladly wiped at the blood on my face. Nothing to be done about the pants or rest of me, but it was good to have the blood off. And the burger grease, too.

“You’re not going to answer my questions, are you?” Willitz asked, sitting down for another useless round of question and no answer.

“No,” I replied. “Gotta lawyer up, pal. Sharon would rip me a new one if I started talking.”

“Well, I guess if you have something to hide . . .”

I didn’t take the bait, simply leaned back in my chair and gave Willitz a blank stare as I let the soiled towel fall to the floor.

“I could go for some snacks,” I said after a few silent seconds. “I saw that snack machine in the hall. I’ll take five bags of chips, at least four candy bars, a soda, no, three sodas, and maybe an apple if you have one that isn’t mushy. If the apple is mushy, then a banana will do. But not a mushy banana, either.”

I raised my cuffed hands.

“I can write it down if you undo these,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere and we’ve known each other long enough that you know I’m not a threat, Willitz.”

“Shut up, you’re not getting anything to eat, Lawter,” Willitz replied.

“Come on, pal,” I whined. I didn’t mean to whine, but I was goddamn hungry. “Working the Dim makes me famished and apparently I worked it hard last night.”

“Did you, now?” Willitz asked as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table that separated us in the interrogation room. “Tell me more about last night.”

I made a zip-the-lip motion and went back to the blank stare.

“Fine, then tell me about the Dim,” he continued.

“Pal, we’ve had this conversation,” I said. “You know all . . . about . . .”

I stared at the one-way glass behind him, the mirrored side facing into the room, of course. Like no one knows they’re being watched.

“Who’s in there? You got your boss here today? Brass breathing down your neck so you have to get me to do my song and dance to show you’re in the know?”

“You love talking about yourself. So talk about yourself.”

“I don’t love talking about myself.”

“But you love talking about that Dim shit.”

I wouldn’t say love was the right word. I talked about the Dim because discussion gave me a chance to work everything through my brain. The whys and hows were still a complete mystery, even to me. All I know is that after the extradimensional happening, I could reach into the Dim.

As far as I know, I’m the only person that can. I haven’t heard of anyone else being able to manipulate Dim. It was sure as hell a surprise to me when it happened.

Things were a little chaotic when the portals opened. People were freaking out before some semblance of order and understanding was restored. The Grand Hex was great for those who didn’t live in the Asheville area, but for the rest of us, it was hard times. The world outside the vortex points could live in ignorance, but we had to live with nightmares come to life.

Walking home one night, possibly a little too tipsy for my own good, I was stopped by what I now know was a troll. A troll who was even drunker than me. He shouted something in drunk trollspeak. I shouted something in drunk Chasespeak. He lunged. I shot Dim from my hands and wrapped him in black.

We both sobered up fast.

He talked me down before I could accidentally hurt him and said he knew someone who might be able to help. I took a few deep breaths, and the Dim dissipated until it was gone. We exchanged info, which was a trippy thing to do in and of itself, and I sought him out after I had a couple days to think.

He pointed me in the direction of a being who had a more than passing knowledge about how the portals and dimensions worked. With Harper in tow, I found the being and picked his brain. He had never heard of anyone able to manipulate the Dim before, but he at least knew what Dim was. Despite the mystery origin, I learned to control the Dim, and drunk trolls no longer had to worry about accidentally being sent into limbo without hope of return if I freaked out.

“Come on, Lawter,” Willitz pressed. “What harm can it do? It’s nothing you haven’t explained before.”

“But I’m not a fan of making bureaucratic jackholes happy,” I said and nodded at the one-way glass. “Ten to one there’s a whole bunch of bureaucratic jackholes in there.”

The look on his face said I was right. The look on his face also said he couldn’t let it drop.

Not that I didn’t sympathize. I wasn’t a Willitz fan, but the guy had a shitty job. And it was a shitty job that he couldn’t talk about to anyone who wasn’t authorized to have knowledge of the Grand Hex or the vortex points. Not that anyone would believe him if he started jabbering about portals and extradimensional beings.

“The Dim. The space between the dimensions.” I started with what I thought was the most obvious definition.

“Space between dimensions?” Willitz asked. “How is that possible?”

I rolled my eyes, but decided to play along. He obviously needed me to get into the details, and brownie points with a cop never hurt anyone.

He cocked his head back, gesturing at the one-way glass, and waited for me to expand the definition. “Not a space. More like negative space,” I said. “There are few beings who can describe it properly in scientific terms, I’m not one of them. I guess you could say it’s like two blankets lying on top of each other. The blankets are dimensions and the space between them is the Dim.”

“You’ve been there?” Willitz asked.

Despite his cool detective act, he was struggling to not look over his shoulder. Whoever was watching us was giving him the creeps. That meant it wasn’t only some state police bureaucratic jackholes standing behind that one-way glass.

My guess was that Feds were in there. Possibly a senator or congressperson come to Asheville to witness the weird. Despite the obvious initial panic that would occur, I was all for letting the cat out of the bag and having the world see exactly what was going on. But, first the truth had to go through ten subcommittees in Washington, DC, so the big reveal wasn’t happening anytime soon.

Willitz glared when I didn’t answer. “Have you been there, Lawter? Simple question.”

“The Dim isn’t really a there.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the one you’re getting.”

“Okay, smart-ass, what do you have to do with the Dim?”

I scrunched up my face in thought. It was mostly for show, but I wasn’t being completely disingenuous. That was a good question. That part was still a mystery to me.

“Somehow, and no one, I mean no one, can say why, but somehow I can manipulate the Dim,” I said. “Trust me, I’ve asked a lot of people and beings. Wizards, witches, demons, an angel-looking chick, faeries—don’t get me started on faeries—elves, which are not the same as faeries, what I think was a vampire, but could have been a guy with a Kool-Aid fetish and stained teeth, three werewolves, a hot little—”

“I get it, move on,” Willitz grumbled. “How do you manipulate the Dim?”

“I draw it out and shape it into whatever I want,” I said. “Turns out I’m really good at making boxes. So I make boxes, mostly. But you—all of you—know this.” I glared at the one-way glass. “Or you wouldn’t be here.”

“Why boxes?”

“Anything can go in a box,” I said. He started to grumble some more, and I shook my head to stop the next question. “Then the boxes go back in the Dim until I pull them out again.”

He held up the evidence bag that contained the piece of the Dim.

“So you made this? This is your handy work?”

“I’m not commenting on evidence that could be used against me, pal.”

“But you do create these, what are they? Keys?” Willitz asked. “How are they keys?”

“In order to keep track of the boxes, I tear off a piece of each. Each piece is unique to a specific box. If a client hands me a key, I can use the piece to retrieve their box and voilà, job done. It’s a simple business model. Ask Sharon the details about billing and all that. I only make the boxes, pal.”

“That’s it?” Willitz asked. “You make the boxes?”

“Yeah, that’s it. I make the boxes. And doing that makes me really goddamn hungry,” I replied as my stomach growled. “Working the Dim ups my metabolism like a thousand percent. If I don’t replenish the calories, then I die.”

“You aren’t going to die,” Willitz said.

“I could and it would be your fault. Ethical treatment of prisoners with special needs. Look it up,” I said. “Seriously, Willitz, I’m goddamn starving here.” I mouthed “police brutality” at the one-way glass.

“You’d been wolfing down burgers when I walked in on you in that loft,” Willitz said.

I looked at my wrist, which did not have a watch on it.

“That was two hours ago,” I said. “I have no idea what happened last night, and I say that freely because it’s true, but it’s left me so hungry I could eat a dozen dragon eggs.”

“Jesus, Lawter, don’t say that,” Willitz snapped. He instinctively looked up. “Last thing we need is a dragon problem here in North Carolina.”

I would have told him that there was already a dragon problem up by Mars Hill, but I didn’t want to ruin his good mood. And screw him—he and his Fed buddies could find out on their own the hard way.

“Tell you what,” I said as I leaned forward. He didn’t shrink back, so points to him. “Get me something to eat and I will answer any question you ask me.”

The door to the interrogation room opened, and in walked my lawyer. Or floated. She floated into the room. Well, not really floated. Hard to describe exactly how banshees move. My lawyer’s a banshee.

She tossed her briefcase onto the table in front of me, then executed a series of hand gestures. She must have been busy all morning if she was only then performing the hexes promised to other clients. Not good. She hated it when my drama interrupted her other clients’ cases. Also, sometimes when she opened her mouth, a banshee-wail accidentally slipped out that could burst eardrums, so I was grateful she remembered to perform the hexes when coming to see me.

Carefully she opened her mouth and said, “Mr. Lawter, I hope you haven’t been answering any questions.”

One thing you didn’t want in my line of work was your lawyer annoyed with you. They tended to let you sit in jail cells longer than needed when annoyed.

“Nope. Haven’t answered a damn thing about the case,” I said. “Although, I was going to answer one question if Willitz got me something to eat.”

“What would you like?” she asked.

“Everything,” I replied.

“Ms. Sullivan, please,” Willitz said as my lawyer, Ms. Teresa Sullivan, pulled out her phone and began texting furiously. I couldn’t even track the speed of her fingers. “Ms. Sullivan?”

She held up a hand that constantly straddled the realm of ethereal and corporeal. Banshees were strange ones. Willitz growled, then leaned back in his chair.

The sound of a text being sent whooshed, and Teresa looked at me.

“Four large pizzas are on the way,” she said. “I assume there are sodas in a vending machine here?”

“There are,” I said. “I saw them. Detective Willitz refused to get me one. He’s mean.”

“Don’t be cheeky, Mr. Lawter,” Teresa said. She smiled at Willitz. “What did I miss? I hear you would like to charge my client with the murder of Iris Penn? Is this true?”

“It is,” Willitz replied, but his voice didn’t sound too confident.

“I see. May I see the indictment?” Teresa asked.

“We are still working the evidence,” Willitz replied.

She began to text again. Another whoosh.

“What was that?” Willitz asked.

“I changed the delivery location to the Black Box Inc. offices,” Teresa said. “My client is leaving. You are dropping the charges. Chase Lawter is a free man who is about to enjoy some piping hot pizza.”

“Mmm, piping hot,” I said. “Hear that, Willitz? The pizza is piping hot, pal. Yum.”

“Mr. Lawter? No more cheek,” Teresa said.

“I have twenty-four hours to hold Mr. Lawter,” Willitz said. “You care to tell me how you got around that?”

“Care to tell me how you thought you’d get away with arresting my client without any substantial evidence?” Teresa replied.

“This is substantial—”

He started to lift up the evidence bag with the key, but Teresa interrupted him and turned her eyes to the one-way glass. “No. It is circumstantial and you are well aware of that, Detective. Anyone involved should be well aware of that.”

There was a knock at the door. Willitz glared as an officer came in and handed the detective a sheet of paper. Willitz’s skin turned from olive to red as he struggled to keep his anger under control. Slowly, he balled up the paper and nodded at me.

“Banshees,” Willitz said to me. “They always know a judge.”

“Good lawyers always know a judge, Detective,” Teresa said, returning her attention to Willitz. “No need to bring race into this.”

She picked her briefcase up off the table and snapped her less-than-corporeal, but more-than-ethereal fingers. The handcuffs around my wrists fell away and clattered to the floor.

“Come on,” Willitz protested. “Don’t do that. We have keys for those things.”

“I hardly see why it matters,” Teresa said as she float-walked back to the door, then out into the hallway. She was laying it on thick.

I stood up and followed.

“See ya soon, Detective,” I said.

“Why do you say soon, Lawter?” Willitz asked.

“Uh, because Iris is dead and I want to know who killed her,” I replied. “Even if I have to find the asshole myself.”

“Mr. Lawter!” Teresa yelled from the hallway. “Stop talking!”

I glanced at the one-way glass and flipped off whoever was behind there. “Tell your boss, and the other Peeping Toms, that next time I want to see him or her or them face-to-face. The hiding behind glass thing is chickenshit, pal.”

“Mr. Lawter!” Teresa yelled again, and both Willitz and I winced.

“Ouch,” I said as I stuck a finger in my ear and wiggled it. “I better go before she really turns up the volume.”

I left Willitz sitting there looking halfway between enraged and dejected, as only a longtime law-enforcement officer could look.

We were outside the precinct and hopping into Teresa’s firm’s limo before she said another word to me.

“Did you kill her?” she asked when the doors were shut. I could see the anti-eavesdropping hex go up around the doors and windows. “Mr. Lawter?”

“Nope,” I replied. “I like Iris. A lot. You know that. I would never hurt her. Never. You know that too.”

“Do you know who would?”

I cocked my head and gave Teresa a quizzical look. “You don’t usually ask these questions. The less you know, the better. Isn’t that what you always say?”

“This is different,” Teresa replied. She leaned forward and tapped the divider. It slowly rolled down. “The office. Try not to stop, if possible. Keep an eye out for tails or other suspicious vehicles.”

“Yes, mum,” the ghoul driver grunted, and the divider went back up.

“Your office? I thought we were going to my office,” I said.

“That’s what I told Willitz,” Teresa said as she relaxed into her seat. Her back partially slid through the leather upholstery until she adjusted and solidified enough to get comfortable. Out came her phone, and the texting started up again. “I’m having your colleagues brought to us, as well.”

“Okay. Harper will be happy to know that she’ll be around to keep me safe.”

“None of you are safe.”

“Oh. Well, that doesn’t sound good,” I said. I watched her text. “How do you do that with spirit fingers?”

A whoosh, and Teresa turned her banshee stare on me. She didn’t answer my question. She never does.

“You woke up in a pool of blood, but you aren’t harmed,” she said, sticking to the subject. “Iris Penn, a woman everyone knows you have romantic feelings for, is missing and all that is left is some of her blood on the sidewalk and a changeling in a dumpster. What good were you hoping for?”

“Changeling?” I exclaimed, holding my hands up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Faeries are involved?”

“Specifically, the Fae.”

“Shit. Since when are the Fae involved in this?”

“I don’t know,” Teresa said. “I have the paralegals on it. They in turn have our best investigators looking into this matter. We’ll all be briefed when we reach my office.”

“While we eat,” I said. “We’ll be briefed while we eat, right? You actually have the pizzas going to your office, yeah?”

She sighed, and the sound was like a teapot whistling at full volume.

“Sorry,” I said. “I’ll shut up.”

“I highly doubt that,” Teresa replied and began texting at least eight people at the same time.

Banshees have a lot to say.

5

ALL BANSHEES. The entire law office. Nothing but banshees for lawyers.

The paralegals were gnomes, and the secretaries and interns were mostly human with a mix of various other extradimensional beings here and there, so there was some diversity. Ghouls, of course, did the grunt work.

But all the lawyers were banshees.

The limo pulled into the garage under the firm of Mulkahey, Delaney, and Sullivan—Attorneys at Law, and stopped directly in front of the elevator doors. Parts of the concrete wall around the elevator came free and morphed into two very large creatures. They looked like badly shaped gorillas. You could call them golems, but that wouldn’t be quite right. They were earth elementals of some kind, but no one at the firm would ever tell me what exactly. Lawyers are so secretive.

The ghoul driver got out and opened the limo door for Teresa and me.

“Should I tip him?” I asked. “I never know if I should tip him.”

“Do you have rotten flesh in your pockets?” Teresa asked.

“Not today, no.”

“Then there’s your answer.”

The concrete gorillas flanked us as the elevator doors opened. We hurried inside. The guards stayed outside the elevators, their faceless heads swiveling back and forth, scanning the parking garage for danger. Not sure what danger they were expecting, since I knew this garage had more hexes on it than a Wiccan virgin’s crotch on prom night.

Teresa pressed her palm against the elevator wall, and it began to ascend. There were no buttons in the car. “Partners only” elevator. The plebes had to take the stairs.

“Changeling, huh?” I said as Teresa took her phone out and began texting like mad again.

Teresa didn’t respond. I shrugged and whistled along with the soft jazz bordering on Muzak that came from the speakers in the ceiling. I don’t like soft jazz, but the whistling gave me something to do.

Twenty seconds later there was a chime and the doors opened. Sharon was waiting for me with a small pair of earplugs in her hand. I knew the drill. I took them from her and stuck them in my ears before stepping out of the elevator. Law firm full of banshees. Earplugs are a good thing to have.

Of course, the plugs were designed to filter out only the make-your-ears-bleed volume. Normal conversation could be heard at normal volume even though the plugs were jammed halfway up to my brain. You wanted those plugs to be very, very snug. Even a little leakage meant a three-day migraine.

“I’ll meet you both up there in a minute,” Teresa said, her face buried in her phone. “You know the way.”

We did.

“Did they feed you?” Sharon asked as she escorted me to the stairs that led up to the second-floor conference rooms.

“No,” I replied. “Willitz was his dickish self. He’s got some serious heat breathing down his neck from higher-ups, so there was extra dick today.”

Two-foot-tall gnomes, complete with their pointy hats and gold-buckled black belts, scurried here and there. Gnomes had their own language, as most extradimensional creatures did, so I had no idea what they were saying to each other as they rushed from one room to another. But, goddamn if they weren’t worked up. A few shot glances at me, and they did not look happy.

Sharon opened a door, and the delicious smell of pizza hit me like a freight train. I had to wipe my mouth with the back of my hand to stop the drool from leaking out.

“Starving,” I muttered and went straight for the food.

“Good to see you too, Chase,” Lassa said from a chair at the end of the long conference table. “So glad you could invite us to this party. Doesn’t cramp my style at all.”

“Good to hear,” I replied as I grabbed pizza.

After a few minutes, a side door opened and Harper came into the conference room.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said as she shut the door.

“You just getting here?” I asked as I grabbed a couple of slices. “What were you up to?”

I glanced at Lassa, and he shrugged.

“I had a couple things to take care of,” Harper replied. “Needed to be done.”

“Anything business related?” Sharon asked. “If so, please submit the invoice right away so I may bill the party. I know everything may seem to be in chaos, but I certainly do not want the billing to get pushed aside. We must remain—”

“It was personal,” Harper snapped. “Drop it, Sharon.”

Sharon looked like she’d been smacked, but she put a fake smile on her rotting face and nodded. “I will not pry anymore.”

“Gee, thanks,” Harper said and all but fell into the chair next to Lassa. She was starting to look as exhausted as I felt.

“So, how were your mornings?” I asked Lassa and Harper around a mouthful of two slices of meat-laden pizza. They stared at me. I chewed, swallowed, and repeated the question.

“Fine until a pack of gnomes showed up,” Lassa said. “Creepy buggers. One second I’m alone, the next second I’m not and six faces covered by white beards are staring up at me.”

“I only got a text, no in-person visit,” Harper said. “I think the gnomes have a crush on Lassa.”

“Everyone has a crush on Lassa,” I said. “Sharon?”

“I’ve been here all morning,” Sharon said. “I came here as soon as Willitz drove off with you.”

“And what do you know?” I asked as I sat down and pulled an entire pizza box to me, ignoring the whole concept of a plate. A plate would only slow me down. “Teresa mentioned that the body in the dumpster was a changeling and not Iris. That true? I’d really like that to be true.”

Lassa sat up straight, his entire attention on me. He looked over at Harper, and she was staring daggers at me, then turned her attention to Lassa and shook her head.

“That’s not good,” Lassa said to Harper.

“Changelings never are,” Harper replied. “Tell us what’s up, Chase.”

“Yeah,” Lassa said. “No one mentioned a changeling to us.”

“Is this confirmed, Sharon?” Harper asked, switching her gaze to Sharon.

“It is what is being said around the firm,” Sharon replied.

“Changelings are serious business,” Harper said, looking angry. “The Fae aren’t messing around when they start switching folks out.”

“I know, I know. We should probably wait for Teresa to get here before we go into too much detail,” Sharon said.

I nodded in agreement as I continued to devour the pizza before me. There was only one piece left by the time Teresa joined us. One piece out of all the pizzas.

“You people have stepped in it,” Teresa said, closing the door tightly behind her. At least eight security hexes flashed active before she even took her seat at the head of the table. “Get comfortable. None of you are leaving here until all of my questions are answered.”

“Any chance of being more specific on the time frame?” Lassa asked. Sharon gave him a sharp look. “What? I have a date tonight.”

“Of course you do,” Harper said. “Travis?”

“Nah,” Lassa said. “A river sprite I met on Tinder.”

“Your romantic life is not a priority, Lassa,” Sharon snapped.

“Why isn’t Travis here?” I asked. “He’s as involved as any of us. Someone needs to track his ass down.”

“I have my people working on that,” Teresa said. “He is not an easy one to find due to his shapeshifting abilities.”

“Soooo, about that time frame?” Lassa asked.

“More than an hour, less than infinity,” Teresa said.

“Yeah, the infinity part has me worried,” Lassa said.

“Lassa, please,” Sharon responded.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Teresa said. “We all have commitments.”

She snapped her fingers, and a small door in the wall opened. A gnome came in holding an hourglass as big as he was. He set it on the table, then left through the same small door. Teresa turned the hourglass.

“There we go,” Teresa said. “A time bubble has been created. We can take as long as needed and it will be as if no time has passed outside this room.”

Her cold banshee eyes studied us. They blazed with a blue fire that must annihilate witnesses on the stand.

“Start at the beginning,” Teresa said.

“Well, my mother and father met on a blind date set up by a cave witch,” Lassa said.

Sharon threw a look at him that was as hard as a slap.

“Last night,” Teresa said, ignoring Lassa’s comment. “You all ate together at Taps & Tapas. There was an incident?”

“Chappy Reginue,” Sharon said, wrinkling her rotten nose.

Teresa made a face that matched Sharon’s disdain.

“Why in all the dimensions would you entertain that . . . person?” Teresa asked.

“We did not entertain him,” Sharon replied and explained the events of the evening.

“The head was from a kobold of the royal family?” Teresa asked. “Did he give you the exact lineage?”

“We didn’t get a chance to go into that kind of detail,” I said. My stomach rumbled. “Uh . . . ?”

“Chinese takeout is on the way,” she said. “Enough for all of us.”

“Not the way he’s eating,” Harper said. “How much Dim did you manipulate last night?”

I shrugged, then looked at Teresa.

“How is Chinese takeout on the way with a time bubble in place?” I asked.

“Takeout waits for no time bubble, dude,” Lassa said.

“Or I prepared ahead and the food is ready and waiting,” Teresa said, sending a text. “A gnome will deliver it shortly.”

“I would like to explore this time bubble more,” Sharon said. “A device like that would certainly help me catch up on administrative work when quarterly tax statements are due.”

“Mr. Lawter?” Teresa said, ignoring Sharon. “I’d like to know the answer to Harper’s question. How much Dim did you manipulate?”

“I don’t know,” I said. She tried to give me that banshee stare that has terrified victims for centuries, but she could stare all she wanted. “I don’t.”

I explained everything I could, telling the same empty story I told back in the loft. I had nothing new to report.

“That’s all I know.”

“And the rest of you?” Teresa asked. They gave their same stories. “But no key?”

“Not on me,” I replied. “The cops have one, but I don’t know what it goes to. Maybe it’s the key to whatever box I made last night. Maybe not.”

“We should get that key,” Harper stated.

“A heist? Oh, I’m in,” Lassa said.

“No heists!” Sharon snapped.

“I’ll see what I can do about getting us access to the key in their possession,” Teresa said. “Although, it will be tricky until they formally charge Mr. Lawter.”

“Will they?” I asked. “The evidence seems sketch.”

“The evidence is sketch,” Teresa agreed. “But this is big. My sources say this is the worst timing for state officials. More than a few federal representatives are in town. So, if Willitz wants to keep his career intact, he will have to pin this mess on someone soon.”

“Me being that someone,” I said.

“Let’s return to the kobold head,” Teresa said. “Can you access it?”

“Not without the key,” I replied. “Chappy has that.”

“I’ll have him brought to the office,” Teresa said.

Text and whoosh.

“He had dopplers all over him last night,” Harper said.

“He could have gotten away,” Lassa said and looked at me. We started laughing.

“Which means he’s probably with the One Guy,” Harper continued. “You’ll want to send your best gnomes.”

“I always do,” Teresa said. “Now, the blood.”

“I’m really sick of blood,” I said as my stomach started to revolt again at the thought of what I woke up in. “Can we get on with this?”

“I am getting on with it, Mr. Lawter,” Teresa said and glared. “Calm yourself.”

Snap of fingers, and a gnome appeared with a thick file. Could have been the same gnome as before. Impossible to tell them apart sometimes.

Teresa opened the file and flipped through the papers inside.

“It is your blood, that much has been confirmed by everyone,” Teresa said.

All eyes were on me.

“My blood?” I gulped. “Wouldn’t I be dead?”

“Do you feel dead, Mr. Lawter?” Teresa asked.

“I don’t feel too alive considering the night and morning I’ve had,” I replied, rubbing at my churning gut.

“I’m sorry, but when you say confirmed by everyone . . . ?” Sharon interrupted. Teresa raised an eyebrow, and Sharon gave her a shy smile. “I would like to contain this as much as possible. Our company has a reputation to uphold.”

Lassa snickered.

“Well, we do,” Sharon huffed. “Despite last night’s interaction with Chappy, our clientele does expect a certain amount of discretion.”

“The police and our private lab,” Teresa said. “Those are the only parties that are authorized to know about the blood. If others do, then the leak came from the police, not from our end. That type of breach is not tolerated by my firm.”

“You already had a lab process an analysis?” Harper asked. “That was fast.”

“It is why you pay us so much,” Teresa replied.

Sharon made a small noise and closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then reopened her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, we were worried,” Harper said.

“Twelve pints,” I said, getting back to the damn topic at hand. “That’s too much. Couldn’t have come from my body.”

“I agree,” Teresa said. “I have a theory, but we’ll circle back to that. The other blood tested, the blood found on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, matches Ms. Penn’s changeling.”

“What?” we asked.

“The blood found outside Taps & Tapas is not Ms. Penn’s blood,” Teresa said. “I made sure to have it tested against the body found. They matched exactly.”

Pieces of the puzzle clicked inside my head, and I sat up straight. My hunger and intestinal unease warred with each other, but I pushed the gnawing and discomfort aside.

“Iris may not be dead,” I said.

“That is what I believe, as well,” Teresa said. “However, the police prefer the narrative that the body is actually Iris Penn’s and the blood on the sidewalk outside Taps & Tapas is hers because you attacked her there.”

“Then decided to go to some random loft and bleed myself dry after. While adding four more pints than a human body can hold.” I rolled my eyes. “They aren’t so great at the logic on this one, are they?”

“Or the math,” Lassa added.

“They don’t care about math,” Teresa said. “They also do not care about logic, unfortunately. They care about a quick arrest. As I said, Detective Willitz is under a great deal of pressure to close this.”

“Chase . . .” Sharon’s voice was pregnant with meaning.

“I know.” I blew out a breath. “Changeling blood goes off fast when exposed to air. A dead ringer for Iris in a dumpster. Me waking up in a pool of twelve pints of my own blood, which is about what changeling bodies hold. The blood matches mine because they don’t have a changeling to compare the sample with.”

“Very nice, Mr. Lawter,” Teresa said. “You circled back to my theory on your own.”

“Oh, dear,” Sharon said. “This is not good.”

“I think we know what I put in a box last night,” I said. “My changeling.”

“Why the blood?” Lassa asked.

“Changeling,” I said. “Only one reason to drain a changeling. Exsanguination ritual.”

“That’s dark stuff,” Lassa said.

“Really dark,” Harper agreed. “But what ritual?”

“There’s the big question,” I said.

“Too many rituals to count,” Harper said.

“We don’t know that a ritual was performed or that a changeling was put inside the box. What we do know is that we must retrieve the box. Hopefully with the key from police evidence,” Teresa said. “Once we have access to that key’s box, then we will know more.”

“Key or not, it has to be. It makes sense, right?” I said. “A changeling that was supposed to replace me, but I bled the changeling totally dry, may or may not have performed a ritual, then stuck the body in the Dim because . . . ?”

“Excellent question,” Teresa said.

“Got another one,” I said. “Why replace me?”

“Don’t know, but last night now fits,” Harper said. “We were with your changeling when we left Taps & Tapas. Not you.”

“One answer, ten more questions,” Lassa said.

“Changelings are a bitch to deal with,” Harper said. “Especially if threatened. The changeling must have gone looking for you, Chase, and you two had yourselves a tussle.”

“Chase won. Yay for Chase!” Lassa grinned.

“Yes, and what a lovely prize I got,” I said, looking around the room. “Go me.”

“Dealing with a changeling would explain your exhaustion from creating the Dim box,” Sharon said.

“Maybe,” I said. “But what about Iris? The real Iris. Willitz said that Iris’s last words were one reason I was brought in.”

“I will find out about that as well,” Teresa said. “Perhaps the last words were not from her mouth, but a recorded message, text, or voice mail. Did he say they came from her mouth directly?”

“No,” I answered.

“Then they could have been a changeling’s dying breath. The last of the magic being expelled. That does occur with changelings. If that is the case, then the words mean nothing. They are gibberish.”

“She’s right,” Harper said.

“Ms. Kyles,” Teresa said, turning her full focus on Harper. “You have had extensive dealings with the Fae. Might you still have a contact or two you can communicate with?”

Harper did have extensive dealings with the Fae. If by extensive Teresa meant being kidnapped as a child and raised in their nightmare extradimensional crime culture. Faeries have been switching out changelings for humans forever, but they stopped a couple centuries back. Except for the Fae. They saw something in Harper and took her for whatever nefarious reasons.

Harper doesn’t talk about it much. Not even to me.

But she got some badass fight training and security skills out of the deal, so I don’t pry. Teresa really shouldn’t either.

“Ms. Kyles?” Teresa pressed.

“I don’t deal with the Fae anymore,” Harper said in a tone that made Teresa raise an ethereal eyebrow.

“Very well then,” Teresa said. “Despite Ms. Kyles’s reticence to help with the Fae aspect of this case, I believe we have more than enough to start.”

But we didn’t. Something else nagged at me. My hunger was too extreme for the amount of work it would have taken to craft a box big enough for a changeling corpse. That was a-few-bags-of-chips-and-dip hunger. What my belly had going on was eat-a-whole-hog hunger.

I held up a finger, but didn’t have to say a word.

Teresa smiled at me and nodded as if she’d been waiting to see that look of deduction on my face. Banshees can’t read minds, but she was an excellent lawyer. A lawyer’s job was to get inside her clients’ heads. “A changeling’s corpse wasn’t all you hid. There was more. We need that key.”

“Heist!” Lassa exclaimed.

“No heist!” Sharon barked.

“No heist needed,” Teresa said. “Not when a court order will do.”

6

WE WEREN’T IN that conference room for eternity, but it goddamn felt like we were.

Once Teresa had sent off the request for a judge to issue a court order allowing us to examine the piece of Dim the police had in evidence, she had us all retrace our steps for the past few weeks. She didn’t take a single note. Banshees don’t have to. Their memories are perfect. One reason why they hold such strong grudges against those that have wronged them, haunting the poor bastards until they died. The bastards, not the banshees.

When Teresa had everything she wanted from us, she sent for one of the secretaries to show us up to the top floor of the law offices. Looked like Lassa was gonna miss his date with the river sprite.

There were several suites up top for special clients. With the Fae involved, we couldn’t actually leave the building until the gnomes discovered exactly how much danger we were in.

The Fae. Goddammit.

They’re like the faerie mafia.

All the crazy crap written about faeries and their trickery is nothing compared to what the Fae pull off. They are the worst part of the faerie dimension. Fae are to faerie what La Cosa Nostra is to Sicily. Most faeries are happy to lure wanderers off a forest path and trick them into losing a year or two of their lives. The Fae aren’t happy unless the wanderers lose body part after body part followed by their eternal souls.

And always for a goddamn profit.

The secretary left us in the large suite after promising to have some groceries brought in. As soon as she was gone, we sat down and did our own postmortem of events.

“Travis is in town,” I said. “Why?”

“You think he has something to do with this?” Lassa asked.

“You know my policy on coincidences,” I replied.

“Coincidences are imaginary,” Sharon said.

“But, Travis? You’ve known the guy for years.” Lassa watched me closely. “You don’t trust him?”

“I’ve known the form he’s shown us. Trust him? Might be an overstatement.” I rubbed at my temples. “Do not get me wrong, I like the man, but his showing up at this time does not sit well with me.”

“Me neither,” Sharon said.

“The gnomes are looking for him.” Lassa crossed his arms over his huge chest. “You can’t hide from gnomes.”

“Will you all forget about Travis and gnomes?” Harper growled. “We’ve got Fae to deal with.”

We all trusted Harper with our lives, lives she’d saved a hundred times over the years, but she only trusted us with so much information regarding her past. My past and her past intersected at a time that was a low for both of us. She’d finally escaped the Fae, although she never said how, and I’d escaped a house filled with drug abuse and a hefty dose of physical abuse to go with the meth.

Harper and I found each other on the streets of Asheville. Two kids making their way on their own. There was never anything romantic with us, we simply watched each other’s backs. Watched them for other street kids, the crack dealers, the cops, the well-intentioned social workers.

Or, to be honest, she watched my back. We’d been hanging out for less than a week when some pimp tried to get Harper to turn tricks for him. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, so Harper almost turned him inside out. With her bare hands.

“I took some classes,” was all she said at the time.

Later, she told me about being abducted by a crime syndicate as a little girl and that was how she got her training. When the extradimensional happening changed the world, I learned the truth—that the “syndicate” were the Fae.

She said the Fae kicked her out. She never explained why. One thing I’ve learned over the years is you do not push Harper to talk unless she wants to. Especially if you value keeping all body parts attached.

Except that now we needed answers, and she was our only link. Time to risk some body parts.

“Don’t ask,” Harper said to me, heading me off at the pass.

“I have to.”

“I was exiled, dammit.”

“You were with the faerie, specifically the Fae, for most of your life, Harp.”

“Chase, don’t push her,” Sharon interrupted.

I held up a hand. “There’s a reason she’s in charge of security. She’s goddamn fearless. If not, then what good is she in her job?”

“Bit harsh, dude,” Lassa said.

“Harp, I love you, but Iris is in—”

“No, you’re right.” Harper sighed.

Stunned was an understatement.

“But being right doesn’t change the fact I was kicked out of that dimension, Chase.”

“What contacts can you call?” I pressed.

“You aren’t going to drop this, are you?”

“No.”

“Okay, then. I don’t know,” she said. There were a few raised eyebrows. “I don’t, so stop looking at me like that. I was trained to fight, not to perform faerie magic. Changelings are outside my expertise and outside the expertise of the few contacts I do still have in the faerie dimension. As for the Fae? None of them will speak to me. Ever. So, I am not bullshitting you or being difficult when I say I do not know if I have any contacts left over there.”

“But you know a guy that might know a guy, right?” I asked. “Maybe that guy knows a guy that knows a guy. And that guy will speak to that guy that knows the guy in the Fae. We have to do something and this is how this shit works, Harp. The only reason Teresa let it go was because she knew I wouldn’t. You’re the closest we have to a way into the Fae.”

“They hate me more than they hate you. And they must hate you a lot if they are going to this trouble to frame you. Two changelings wasted? That is some serious magic they threw away.”

“Are you sure there is no one you can call?” Sharon asked. “Your old boss? You are difficult, but an exceptional worker. I know if you’d worked for me I’d be willing to give a great recommendation. Perhaps if you tried reaching out?”

“Ha! No. Not her,” Harper said. “I’m numero uno on her shit list.”

“Harper, come on,” Lassa said. “There’s always—”

“No,” Harper stated in a voice as hard and cold as dwarven iron.

“Do you want us to be stuck in this suite forever?” Lassa asked.

“That question was about your date, not figuring out what’s happening,” Harper growled.

“I’m hurt,” Lassa said. He didn’t look hurt. He pulled out his phone, then looked hurt. “No signal. Where’s the landline?”

“No outside phone calls,” a gnome said as he came out of the kitchen, a tray of freshly baked cookies in hand. “Cookies?”

“Yes,” I pretty much shouted.

“No outside phone calls?” Sharon asked. “Oh my, but I do have some client calls I need to make and several texts to return.”

“No outside phone calls,” the gnome said again as he set the tray of cookies down on the coffee table. “Tea?”

“Peppermint,” I said, rubbing my belly. “And some Tums, too.”

“Maybe lay off the cookies, dude?” Lassa said. If looks could kill, I would have murdered him right there. “Or not. Eat all the cookies you want.”

“Miss?” the gnome asked Harper. “Coffee? Tea? I make a lovely chai latte.”

“Chai latte? Yeah, sure. Make that two,” Harper said. “Lassa? Chai is like your thing.”

“Yeah, I’ll have a chai,” Lassa said, addressing the gnome. “Any other way to get a message out?”

“No,” the gnome said. “Not until Ms. Sullivan gives the okey dokey.”

“You’re gonna have to stand that river sprite up,” I said. “Sorry, pal.”

“It happens, I guess.” Lassa got heavily to his feet. “Gonna go take a whiz.”

“The plumbing is insulated and filters all magic,” the gnome said.

“Yeti piss isn’t magic,” Lassa said.

“No, but if you are trying to get a message to a water sprite, using the sewage system would be one way,” the gnome said. He cocked his pointy hat back on his head and put his hands on his hips. “Do you think we gnomes are stupid?”

“Ouch,” Harper said. “Smacked down by a gnome.”

“And that would mean what?” the gnome asked.

“I think we got the clever gnome,” I said.

“I take the time to make cookies and this is what I get,” the gnome muttered as he walked back into the kitchen.

“Are we still getting the chai?” Harper called after him.

“Yes!”

“Cool.”

“No landline or cell service,” Sharon said. “That limits what we can accomplish. However, with that said, there is still one communication technique that can be used. I suggest we return to our earlier dilemma.”

“Oh, for dragon’s sake,” Harper said. “If I make the contact, will you guys lay off me about the Fae? This is it. If no one picks up, then we drop it.”

“I knew you’d cave,” I said.

“Dude,” Lassa said, sotto voce. “Playing with fire.”

“What? Me?” I said and gave Harper an exaggerated wink. She did not acknowledge the wink. “Sorry, Harp. I know this is hard for you.”

“I do this and that’s the end. No more Fae. You never ask me to deal with faeries again unless it’s part of my normal, everyday job protecting your ass like I get paid for, Chase,” Harper stated with a look in her eye I couldn’t quite place. Pain, but . . .

“I’m cool with that,” I said. “No more special requests when it comes to the Fae.”

“Or faeries in general.”

“That’s kind of a big—”

“We only ask that you do what you can,” Sharon said, giving me a look that said I was pushing it and needed to shut up. I shut up.

“Lassa? No bringing it up anymore,” Harper said, turning her attention on him.

“What? Yeah. Sure, I don’t care,” Lassa said as he sulked about his missed date.

Harper sighed and produced a knife from somewhere on her person. The blade was polished to a mirror’s finish. Harper produced a second, smaller knife and pricked her thumb, then spread the blood across the first knife’s blade.

“A blood calling?” I asked. “Okay, I didn’t know you’d have to do that. A blood calling is hard-core mojo, Harp.”

“None of you were going to ever let it drop, so this is what you get.” She stared at her reflection, rolled her eyes, and said, “Hey, asshole, we need to talk.”

The knife leapt from her hand and landed on the floor, blood-smeared side up. There was a shimmer, then the blood began to bubble. We watched with rapt attention as a figure emerged from the blood. The form was tiny, then quickly grew full size until we were staring at a very handsome naked man of about five and a half feet.

He wasn’t exactly lacking in a certain department. That perked Lassa up.

“Hello,” the man said.

But we all knew it wasn’t a man. He was a faerie. A greedy, self-serving, deadly-as-shit faerie.

“Put these on,” Harper said as she stripped off her jeans and threw them to the man.

“Modesty,” the faerie said. “Quaint.”

“What was that noise?” the gnome asked as he came out of the kitchen with a tray of steaming mugs. He stopped and his jaw dropped. Then his mouth snapped closed, and he tossed the mugs to the side and came screaming at the faerie with the tray raised over his head. “Faerie!”

“No,” the faerie said. He held a hand out, palm facing the gnome, and the little guy froze in place. The faerie shivered with disgust. “Gnomes.”

The faerie slid on the jeans, then fully faced us all. He gave a short bow.

“Aspen at your service,” the faerie said. “Who do you need me to kill?”

“Aspen, it’s me,” Harper said.

“Yes, I see it is you,” the faerie, Aspen, said. “And you are?”

Harper frowned. She stood there with only her underwear and a T-shirt on and stared at the faerie. The faerie stared back, a bemused look on his face. They stayed that way for a good ten minutes. We all knew enough about faeries not to interrupt the process.

Finally, the faerie chuckled and flipped Harper off.

“A well-met stare,” Aspen said. “It is not good to see you, Harper.”

“Suck it, Aspen,” Harper said. “I have questions.”

“So no one to kill, then?” Aspen asked.

“I don’t need Fae help when it comes to killing,” Harper stated.

“No, I suppose you don’t,” Aspen said. He snapped his fingers, and one of the broken and spilled mugs of chai reassembled and flew into his hands. He took a sip and sighed. “Gnomes are annoying little shits, but they do make delightful tea.”

“How many questions can you answer?” Harper asked.

“Oh, that depends,” Aspen said as he took another sip of tea. “How much more blood can you spare?”

“None,” Harper said. “I’m not playing around. Give me a number.”

“Two?” Aspen replied.

“Five,” Harper countered.

“Three and that’s that, my love,” Aspen said.

“Three will do,” Harper said.

“We have more than three questions,” Sharon said. She couldn’t stay out of it.

Aspen turned his attention on her, and to her credit she didn’t flinch. Being already dead certainly helped, but even Sharon knew there was “eternally undead dead” and “forever and finally dead dead.”

“Have we met?” Aspen asked.

“Hey, eyes on me,” Harper nearly shouted. “I’m the one you talk to. Not her. Not any of them.”

Aspen smiled at Sharon, gave Lassa a cursory look, then focused on me.

“Oh, Harper, my love, have you made my day,” Aspen said.

I knew what was going to happen. I could see the violence in the asshole’s eyes. Harper was right. The Fae hated me. Not so much because of anything I’d done, but because of what I represented. Something outside their sphere of influence. The Fae like to think they own a little piece of everything, but they can’t own a piece of the Dim.

The Fae aren’t the only ones that don’t dig me. I’m not exactly liked by many of the other extradimensional races and cultures. Tolerated? Sure. But liked? Not so much.

“The defiler of dimensions,” Aspen said. “Just who I was looking for.”

Ugh. That name. I’m not a fan. Not only because it’s hard to fit on a name tag at mixers, but because it’s more of a description than a name. No one says defiler of dimensions with capital Ds. Lower case all the way.

Beings, no matter what dimension they are from, spend a lifetime, sometimes longer, perfecting the art of communing with the Dim. There are human monks that try to find that bliss of nothingness. Same thing. The Dim is there, but not there. Across the dimensions, the Dim is sacred space. Or non-space.

Turns out, I’m the only one that can do what I do. As far as I know. And that ticks off the high mucky-mucks of every single extradimensional religion, spiritual sect, and church group. I’m the defiler of dimensions because my nasty, dirty, human hands play with something that others say no one is supposed to play with.

Fuck ’em. I’ve never been one for rules. They want to call me that, then bring it. I didn’t ask to be able to manipulate the Dim. As far as I’m concerned, the Dim picked me and me alone, so until the Dim and I have some sort of bad breakup, I’ll keep being me and they can suck it.

“Looking for me?” I replied to Aspen. “Not sure what that means. Not sure I care.”

I spread my hands out, and the black began to pour from my palms. No point in making rods. Fighting a faerie of the Fae was a losing battle, anyway. I had maybe one second before I was ripped apart by the faerie’s true form. Their true forms have lots of teeth and claws. The black became squares, the squares became a box, and I thrust the box out as Aspen came at me.

He was locked inside and screaming before he made it two steps.

I promptly fell on my ass and started to retch.

The gnome unfroze and charged to the spot where Aspen had been, the tray slamming into the floor. He stopped and blinked a couple of times, then looked over at me and the Aspen-size box of Dim that hovered in the air.

“You’ll be wanting more cookies and tea,” the gnome said and left the room.

7

EVEN TRAPPED IN the Dim box, Aspen made quite the racket.

Technically, nothing, not even sound, should escape a box made of Dim. But, faeries are faeries, and breaking rules is what they’re about. Pisses me off any of them have the gonads to get on me for being the defiler of dimensions. Bunch of hypocritical dicks.

As new mugs and cookies were served, we all took seats around the coffee table and stared at the box. The gnome went about cleaning up the mess he’d made when he’d tried to attack Aspen. He continually kept an eye on the noisy black box as well.

“I’m going out on a limb here,” I said, with my mouth stuffed full of snickerdoodle. “I think I pissed off the Fae big-time.”

“You think?” Lassa chuckled.

“You did more than piss them off,” Harper said. “Aspen is one of their top killers. He’s the best of the best.”

“I’m sorry,” Sharon said as she cleared her throat. She wasn’t having tea or coffee or cookies. Not a good idea for a zombie’s digestion. “Did you say he was a killer? As in an assassin?”

“Yep,” Harper said. “Who did you think I was contacting?”

“Well, certainly not an assassin for the Fae,” Sharon said. The contempt in her voice made both Lassa and me cringe. “All we needed was information. Someone less deadly would have done fine.”

“Less deadly would have meant less informative,” Harper said. “You wanted info, right? He’s the guy.”

“He said he was looking for me,” I said. “To kill me?”

“I don’t know,” Harper said. “Could be.”

Again with that look I didn’t quite recognize.

“May we revisit the fact that our head of security invited a Fae assassin here when we clearly did not need another complication?” Sharon said. She was getting a little worked up. “Perhaps this should have been discussed beforehand. A company meeting would have been appropriate.”

“Uh, Sharon, maybe ease off,” Lassa said. “We asked her to call him.”

“Did you know she was calling a faerie assassin?” Sharon replied.

“Yeah,” Lassa said. “She only knows faerie assassins. That’s the crowd she ran with when she lived in the faerie dimension.”

“Well, I knew she had extensive training in the deadly arts, but I didn’t think she solely socialized with killers,” Sharon said. “If that was the case, then I wouldn’t have suggested she try to contact anyone on that side.”

“All faeries are killers, Sharon, so deal,” Harper said. “Cold-blooded killers. Every last one. Some have more formal training. Aspen also happens to have a right-hand place in the Fae hierarchy. If we are going to get any answers as to why the Fae are coming after Chase, then we have to ask one of the top Fae directly. Aspen was the only one I figured would pick up a call from me. And I wasn’t even sure he’d pick up.”

“He thought it was a booty call,” Lassa explained to Sharon.

“As if,” Harper said.

“Oh, that’s exactly what he thought,” Lassa said. “No faerie could pass up a sexy time chance with the stolen child turned deadly prodigy turned exile.”

“I wasn’t a prodigy. You can’t be a prodigy in a dimension that isn’t yours to begin with,” Harper said. “And no human is a prodigy among the Fae.”

“You know exactly what I mean,” Lassa responded.

“Hey, guys. Focus,” I said as I washed down my dozenth cookie with the last of my peppermint tea. The tea helped with the IBS-like torture going on down there, but only a little. “Are we asking him any questions or not?” They turned and stared at me. “What? In for a penny, in for a pound, right?”

“He has a point,” Lassa said. “And now that I’ve seen him move, I’m pretty sure I can take him if he gets snippy. He’s a little guy. Well, not totally little.”

“Oh, dear me,” Sharon said.

“Pretty sure isn’t good enough, Lassa,” Harper said. “Aspen eats pretty sure for breakfast.”

“Eh hem,” the gnome said from the kitchen door. “May I make a suggestion? I am a gnome, after all. And with gnomes being the sworn enemies of faeries, especially the Fae, I might have a solution.”

“You do?” I said. “Lay it on us, pal.”

“Glitter,” the gnome said. “A perfectly formed circle of glitter will contain him.”

“That’s not true,” Harper said. “None of the circle rituals work. Not ash, not salt, not any of them. That’s a myth spread by the faeries so idiots waste time trying to protect themselves right before they get their guts ripped from their bellies.”

“Is that so?” the gnome said, his short arms folded across his little barrel chest. “Then excuse me for helping. You folks go along with your day. I’ll be in the kitchen plating the Chinese food that was delivered.”

“About goddamn time,” I said. I waved off the ugly look the gnome gave me. “I didn’t mean that at you personally. What’s your name?”

“Flip,” the gnome said.

“Okay, Flip, why are you so sure the glitter circle will work?” I asked. He began to speak, but I held up a hand. “Sorry. Out of line here, I know, but can you bring in the food first, then answer?”

Flip fetched the food. I was gracious and swore I’d owe him forever.

“Grab a plate, Flip,” I said to him once all the platters were set on the coffee table. “Take a load off. Then give us the glitter scoop.”

He loaded a plate with some fried rice and a healthy portion of the Vegetable Delight. I’d never met a gnome who wasn’t vegetarian. I made room for Flip on the couch between me and Sharon, while Lassa and Harper kicked back in two of the overstuffed chairs that faced us.

After he’d taken a bite and chewed slowly, Flip explained. “Gnomes hate faeries so much that our hatred corrupts the glitter. Faeries hate us right back with the same intensity. It creates a mutual hatred bond that’s as strong as any magic. If any of you tried to trap him in a glitter circle, it wouldn’t work, but if I, or any gnome, does, well, then you have a very effective prison.”

“Nice tidbit there, pal,” I said. “So you make a glitter circle of hate, I let Aspen out of the Dim box, and he’ll be trapped long enough for us to ask our questions. Good plan.”

“Not a good plan,” Harper said. “If he’s trapped in that circle, then I can’t banish him back to the faerie dimension if he tries something. In order to do that we have to break the circle, which will set him free.”

“Good point. Breaking the circle is bad,” I said. “But I thought of something even worse.”

“And that would be?” Sharon asked. She looked exhausted. Too much chaos for her. “What’s worse?”

“I’ll have to open the box to let Aspen out. Which means I have to be inside the glitter circle. Being inside the glitter circle is way worse than breaking the glitter circle.”

“Good call,” Lassa agreed. “Inside the glitter circle of hate is bad.”

“A distraction is needed,” Flip said. “I have just the thing.”

Flip set his plate down and hopped off the couch. He hurried into the kitchen and was back in seconds, a bag in his hand.

“Now you’re playing with fire,” Harper said. “You want to dangle a full bag of sugar before one of the Fae? You do not value your life.”

“I value my life very much, thank you,” Flip said. “I also value Mr. Lawter’s life. This will distract the faerie long enough for Mr. Lawter to retreat from the circle.”

“Ah, come on, Flip, we’re eating Chinese food together,” I said. “Call me Chase.”

“I would except I am on duty, Mr. Lawter,” Flip said. “The firm would not appreciate me taking so informal a tone with a client.”

“Totally get that,” Lassa said. “I’m Mr. Formal when I’m in the office too.”

Harper threw a fortune cookie at Lassa’s head.

I ignored them and clapped my hands together. “So, are we doing this or what?”

“Can we have an official vote at least?” Sharon asked.

“Of course,” I said. “All in favor of the glitter circle of hate and sugar distraction strategy?”

I raised my hand.

Lassa raised his hand, followed reluctantly by Harper. Sharon shook her head and kept her hands in her lap.

“Fair enough,” I said. “Dissent is good for a healthy working relationship. But the motion is carried by majority vote. Glitter circle powered by gnome hatred it is, then.”

“I’ll get the glitter,” Flip said and rushed into one of the bedrooms.

No idea why the law firm kept glitter hanging out in the suite, but hey, to each their own.

There wasn’t much to it after that. Flip poured an almost perfect circle of glitter around the black box then stepped back to study his handiwork. He made several adjustments, even starting from scratch twice, before he was satisfied.

“The task is complete,” Flip said as he picked up the bag of sugar and tore open the top. “When you are ready, Mr. Lawter.”

I was more than ready to crack open that black box. It took a lot of energy to make a box out of Dim, then throw it back into the Dim. It took even more energy to keep a made box at the ready in our dimension. Especially one holding a really pissed-off Fae assassin. Every second the box sat there on the floor, it sucked some juice out of me. Figuratively speaking.

I stepped over the glitter circle, careful not to move too quickly and disturb any of it, then put my hands on the box. Aspen had quieted down, but I could feel him tense and waiting on the other side of the black. He was coiled like a snake ready to strike. I gave the others a heads-up, and Flip moved closer with the sugar while Lassa and Harper readied themselves for a fight, if needed.

Sharon hid behind a chair in the far corner of the room. None of us faulted her for that. Her flesh was so soft that she’d be nothing but pulp if Aspen got ahold of her.

“Might as well get this shit done with,” I said as I tore the sides of the box open.

I jumped back, Flip held up the sugar, Aspen started to go for me, then saw the sugar, changed directions, and slammed into an invisible wall.

“You glitter-wielding little shit!” Aspen roared. He bunched up his fists and beat the invisible barrier. “Damn gnomes!”

“Be nice to Flip,” I said, taking a couple cautious steps back. “He’s good people.”

“Not people,” Flip said quietly.

“No offense meant,” I said.

“None taken,” he replied. “Much.”

“Really? I thought we had a rapport going, pal,” I said.

“Focus,” Harper snapped.

“I’m focused. Chill,” I said and returned my attention to the enraged Fae killer stuck in the glitter circle. “You made a deal for three questions. That deal still stands.”

“Not with you, it doesn’t,” he snarled.

“I give him my questions,” Harper said.

“Son of a bitch,” Aspen mumbled, then took several deep breaths before slapping on the fakest of fake smiles. “Chase Lawter, defiler of dimensions, what are your three questions?”

I cleared my throat.

“Why did the Fae create a changeling of Iris Penn?” I asked.

“Because we wanted to,” Aspen replied.

“Goddammit,” I snarled. “That’s not an answer.”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” Aspen said. “That most certainly is an answer.”

“You want me to take over?” Harper asked. “I know faeriespeak better than you do.”

“I know bullshit better than anyone, though.” I kept my attention on Aspen and asked, “Why did the Fae want to?”

“To frame your sorry ass,” Aspen said. Oh, he was goddamn loving it. “Last question, Chase Lawter. You think you can handle it?”

I paced for a few seconds, then stopped. I was being an idiot and playing his game. What I needed to do was change the game entirely.

“Last question,” I said. “What are all the secrets of the Fae that you know?”

“What?” Aspen replied, stunned. “That has nothing to do with you. I refuse to answer that.”

“Yeah, but you have to,” I said. “Three questions. There were no ground rules on what the questions had to be about. You assumed I would ask them all about me and my current predicament. That’s on you, pal.”

“You have to answer,” Flip said.

“Shut up, gnome!” Aspen barked.

“I have to admit, that was a good one, Chase,” Harper said as she relaxed and sat on the arm of the couch. “Aspen? You know what happens if you break a deal made from a blood calling.”

“Yes, Aspen, don’t break a blood calling,” I said. “Even Fae can’t get out of that shit.”

“I will not answer,” Aspen growled.

“Listen, pal, a blood calling is ancient universal magic,” I said. “Being a faerie, you’re used to being the one that does the outsmarting. Tough shit. A blood calling binds you to this dimension and compels you to answer. You break that and the magic will break you.”

“This! This petulance! One of many reasons why the Fae hate you so much, Chase Lawter! All the power of the Dim in the hands of an infant child that barely knows how to use it!”

“Which one am I?” I responded. “An infant or a child? Saying infant child is redundant. And no one knows how to use the Dim. I’m the first. A singular entity. Deal, bitch.”

“You aren’t helping your rep, dude,” Lassa said.

“I will not answer your question!” Aspen yelled. “Do you know what the Fae will do to me if I utter even one of the secrets I know?”

“It’ll be worse than breaking a blood calling, but not by much,” Harper said. She enjoyed watching him squirm. No way to hide that kind of happiness.

“You called me here, Harper, so I will be sure to tell everyone that this is your fault,” Aspen said with a sneer. “Your skills cannot match the wrath that will be brought down upon your head.”

“Blow me,” Harper said. Lassa snorted.

“I’ll give you one more chance,” I said. “Only because I’m such a good guy. What are all the secrets of the Fae that you know?”

“This breaks a thousand extradimensional protocols,” Aspen said.

“You know what? I don’t care,” I said.

“Chase, extradimensional protocols are something we should all care about,” Sharon cautioned from her spot behind the chair. “Breaking them could have serious repercussions on our ability to do business.”

“Listen to the undead lady, Chase Lawter,” Aspen said.

“I want an answer,” I said. “To the question I asked.”

Aspen threw one hell of a hissy fit inside that circle. He utterly lost it. A good half an hour went by before he tired out and finally let his shoulders slump in defeat.

“Fine,” he said. “I will answer the question.”

“There is no need for that,” Teresa said as she came into the suite. She had three other banshees behind her and about a dozen gnomes. “As much as I would love to hear every secret you keep, I cannot in good conscience allow my client to make such a catastrophic blunder.”

“Oh, thank you,” Sharon said.

“However, you are not off the hook, Aspen Littlestick,” Teresa said as she was handed a very thick stack of papers. She in turn handed the stack across the glitter circle to Aspen.

He stared at the papers with distrust, then took them.

Littlestick? Every ounce of control. Every ounce in my body not to say something. I could see Lassa struggling too. We struggled in silence together.

“What the hell am I reading?” Aspen asked as he flipped through the papers. “What is this?”

“It is your way out of this mess without breaking a blood calling,” Teresa said. “You sign that and it absolves you of the previous promise you made to answer three questions. That nullifies your duty to answer Chase’s final question. In return, you will do no one in this room any harm of any sort for the rest of your existence upon all planes and dimensions.”

“Sure. Fine. Where do I sign?” Aspen asked. He held out his hand. “Pen me.”

“I’m not finished, Mr. Littlestick,” Teresa said. “The final stipulation is you will tell us everything we want or need to know regarding the changeling and the situation Mr. Lawter seems to have found himself in.”

She nodded at the papers. “And believe me when I say that any possible avenue you may think you have that will allow you to circumvent the truth has been covered in that document. We are very good at our jobs, Mr. Littlestick.”

“Banshees,” Aspen growled. “And once I’m done telling you what you want and need to hear? Then what? I go free?”

“You go free,” Teresa said. “Please. Take your time and read the document.”

A gnome stepped forward and turned an hourglass. Inside the glitter circle, Aspen appeared to speed read the document, but that was only our perception. Time bubble. Had to have taken him at least an hour to read the whole thing. When he was done, the gnome stepped forward and picked up the hourglass.

“You know we invented lawyers,” Aspen said.

“We banshees appreciate that,” Teresa said. “Will you sign?”

He held out a hand. She gave him a pen, and he signed, then handed the stack of papers back to her.

“Excellent choice, Mr. Littlestick,” she said.

“The glitter?” Aspen said, pointing at the circle.

A gnome kicked the circle apart, and Aspen lunged. Then he froze.

“Sorry,” he said with a wicked smile. “I had to try.”

“I expected nothing less,” Teresa said. “Hence paragraph thirty-seven, page sixty-eight.”

Teresa looked at all of us and smiled.

“Get comfortable. It will be a long night.”

She wasn’t kidding.

8

“I’M SORRY, BUT I did what?” I asked for like the seventieth time. “I swear I haven’t ever been to that dimension. Sharon? Back me up here. And what is this guy’s name again?”

“Lord Beelzebub,” Aspen replied through gritted faerie teeth.

“Yeah. Him,” I said. “Really?”

“Even without consulting our files, I can say for certain Black Box Inc. has never performed a job in that dimension,” she replied as she hurriedly scanned her phone. “Yes, yes, I am correct. I have no records here regarding that dimension or a Lord Beelzebub. We have not been there.”

“No, I didn’t say you had been there, I said you will go there,” Aspen said. “Lord Beelzebub—”

“Of Hell,” I interrupted.

“It’s not Hell,” Aspen snapped. “You humans and your itty-bitty little minds. There is no such thing as Hell! There is no such thing as Heaven! There are only dimensions that approximate your mythology. Some of your people were given glimpses into them, so, as everyone in your idiot race does, they wrote books. What is it with humans and having to put everything in a book?”

“Forget the books, will ya? But you’re talking about Lord Beelzebub, which is the Devil, and—”

I was interrupted by Lassa. “He’s not the Devil, dude. Stop saying that. Have you even read your Bible? He’s serious shit.”

“But, that name . . . How do I take it seriously?”

“I advise you take all of this seriously, Mr. Lawter,” Teresa said. “Despite whatever connotations the name may have in your dimension, humorous or not, Lord Beelzebub is not a being you take for granted or joke about.”

“I stand corrected,” I said. “No need to get all schoolmarm pissy on me.”

“I wanted you to understand the gravity of this situation.”

“Gravity understood.” I returned my attention to Aspen. “Lord Beelzebub says I stole his soul?”

“You will try to steal his soul,” Aspen said. “You will try to steal it and put it in one of your stupid boxes. Then you will send him a ransom note.”

“I send him a ransom note,” I stated. “That’s got to be the lamest thing I have ever heard.”

“You’re telling me,” Aspen said. “But we faeries don’t judge.”

“You judge all the time,” Harper said.

“Yeah, we do,” Aspen said. “We lie a lot too.”

“Beelzebub then hired the Fae to do what? Kill me?” I asked. “To stop me from doing something I haven’t even done yet?” I looked back at Teresa. “You’re the goddamn Beelzebub expert. Talk.”

“This is why he must be taken very seriously,” Teresa said after a quick glare in my direction. “The Lord works outside normal temporal streams.”

“He’s temporally fluid, then?” I replied.

Teresa sighed. “If you must insist on putting it that way, then yes. He is temporally fluid.”

Aspen’s turn again to get my grilling.

“I didn’t steal his soul,” I said. “You were hired to kill me because I stole his soul. Doesn’t reality negate the contract?”

“I’m faerie. Reality does not play into it. I’m also of the Fae, and if a contract is taken out, then a contract is fulfilled,” Aspen said.

“Despite time being out of whack.”

Aspen hesitated, then grinned. Such sharp teeth. Jesus . . . “No, no, because of the potential time shift. That gave us a lot of leeway to get creative on our end. A plan was put into motion and that is one reason I am here.”

“A plan put in motion? That plan included creating a changeling? Of me?”

“Yes. A good friend of mine came up with the idea to kidnap the Iris woman you lust after and use her as leverage against you. Your changeling was simply to distract your . . . security.”

Aspen sneered at Harper; she growled at him. He blew her a kiss. To her credit, she didn’t get up and try to kick his ass.

“So why the Iris changeling?” I asked once I was sure shit wasn’t going to go down between them.

“Decoy. By the time anyone figured out you were missing as well as this Iris woman, it would be too late,” Aspen replied. “I’d have you, your Iris would be safely tucked away, and you’d do what we wanted. I’m guessing you will cave and do whatever we ask if you know your little crotch dream of a woman is threatened, right?”

“I wouldn’t call her that again. And I don’t cave,” I said. “I also don’t know what you’re goddamn talking about. I have never been to Hell and I have no plans to go to Hell despite how many times people tell me to.”

“It’s not Hell!” Aspen shouted.

I was needling him. It felt good.

“All right, we have covered all of this,” Teresa said. She’d changed out of her flowing banshee gown and into a pair of sweats and a light sweater as the night had worn on. She sat with her legs tucked up under her on the couch and yawned. “Tell us where Ms. Penn is and what you want. We can go from there.”

“Ms. Penn is safe. Very safe,” Aspen said. “As for what we want, well, that is not for me to say. Not in your dimension.” He leaned forward and tapped his ears. “Too many entities monitor this dimension.”

“You want us to go to the faerie dimension?” Harper asked. “No way.”

“Yes, I must agree,” Teresa said. “I believe the next step is to set up a meeting here at my firm instead and get this all straightened out. We can guarantee the meeting will be free of extradimensional, and intradimensional, eavesdropping.”

“Who are we setting up a meeting with? Head of the Fae? What’s her name again? It’s not the Fae Godmother, is it?” I asked. More needling of Aspen, but Harper stepped in.

“No,” Harper said. “Never call her that. Not unless you want her to feed you your nuts.”

“I don’t.”

“Her name is Daphne,” Teresa said. “I advise you address her as such. And you are not taking this as seriously as I have already asked you to, Mr. Lawter. Please start.”

“Good advice, but makes no difference. Daphne is certainly willing to discuss removing the hit, but she will never take a meeting with you here,” Aspen said. “She hasn’t set foot in this dimension in over two million years. There is no way she’s coming to talk to you over something this trivial.”

“Not trivial,” I said. “Really, really not trivial, pal.”

“To her, it is,” Aspen said and shrugged. “This is a faerie that deals with gods, you simpleton. Your little wet dream of a woman means nothing to her. You will go to Daphne or the Iris woman dies.”

“I think I’ll kill you,” I said as I started to work the Dim.

I was hungry, my guts hurt like I’d been constipated for ten years, and I was exhausted, but goddamn I was gonna smack the shit out the Fae asshole.

The temperature in the room dropped by a few degrees as I produced two Dim rods.

“Chase. Dude,” Lassa said.

“Put them away, Chase,” Harper said.

“Yes, please put them away,” Teresa said. “Now. Mr. Lawter. I will not ask again.”

“Better do what the banshee says, defiler,” Aspen said.

I came close to going at him, but Lassa was close enough that he put a hand on my shoulder and stopped me right where I was.

“Chase,” he said quietly.

“Fine,” I said. “Fine!” I shook my hands, and the Dim rods disappeared. “There. Gone.”

“Excellent choice,” Teresa said. She clasped her hands and looked at Aspen. “If she will not come here, then we’ll have to go to the faerie dimension and speak with her, of course. Which I assume was the true reason you took Ms. Kyles’ call. Is that true, Mr. Littlestick?”

Aspen actually looked uncomfortable, but I broke in before he could say anything else.

“Whoa! Go where, say what now?” I said. “Can we get back to the going to the faerie dimension part? Not cool with that.”

“Nor am I,” Sharon said.

“Sweet,” Lassa said.

“What?” I snapped.

“Faeries can be fun, dude,” Lassa said, then scratched his chin. “But, now isn’t the time for fun.”

“Ya think?”

Harper glared at Aspen.

“How’d it go wrong?” Harper asked the faerie.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Aspen mocked.

“Yes, you do, Littlestick,” Harper said. “The Chase changeling was supposed to throw me off, then double back and grab him, am I right?”

“Maybe.”

“And the Iris changeling was supposed to put away the real Iris where no one could find her, then take over her life so no one raised an alarm,” Harper continued. “We’d miss Chase, but even if we reported it, he is unique. Chase going missing was bound to happen at some point in the authorities’ eyes.”

“And you all live such dangerous lives, so they wouldn’t knock themselves out looking.” Aspen was dripping with confidence.

“But the Iris changeling is dead. Tossed in a dumpster,” I said, taking up the thread. “That part went way wrong. So did taking me, obviously. How the hell do I know you actually have Iris?”

“Oh, I know exactly where she is,” Aspen said.

“Because you had to come here and clean up the changelings’ mess,” I said. “But that still doesn’t explain the blood—”

“Something sent you back to the faerie dimension and you knew I’d end up calling,” Harper said. “Teresa is right. You wanted this face-to-face.”

“Did I? I can’t say for sure,” Aspen replied, all smug as shit. “But I suppose now I get the whole Black Box Inc. team instead of only the defiler of dimensions. More bang for our kidnapping buck. Now you all get to take a trip to my beautiful dimension. You are welcome.”

“No one is thanking you. But I will have arrangements made,” Teresa said. “It’ll take a day to get the proper travel documents in order, but we should be able to leave by tomorrow morning.”

“Tell me you’re kidding,” I said.

“That’s not much time to put affairs in order with the business,” Sharon said.

“Don’t worry yourself about Black Box Inc.’s operations,” Teresa said. “You’ll be staying here, Ms. Spaglioni. I’ll have Flip assist you with day-to-day operations while your colleagues are gone. He’s excellent at handling client relations and can ward off any angry calls you get for jobs that end up behind due to these unfortunate circumstances.”

“Go where, do what now?” Flip asked.

“I like this guy,” I said, hooking a thumb at Flip. “Seriously. Flip? You ever want to leave the world of banshee law, you let me know.”

“Banshee law? It’s just the law, Mr. Lawter,” Teresa said.

“Chase, we do not have the cash flow right now to make any new hires,” Sharon said. “And I am not so sure how I feel about a stranger having access to our confidential client files.”

Sharon was wringing her hands so much I thought she’d slough off all her dead skin.

“Shar. Chill, it’s all good,” I said. “I was kidding about hiring Flip.”

“You were? Oh, yes, of course,” Flip said.

“We’ll need weapons,” Harper said. “Magic weapons. I have some, but not enough to take on the Fae.”

“No one will be taking on anyone,” Teresa responded. She stood and stretched. “This is not an assault. This is a meeting, pure and simple. We do not want to fight, we want to talk.”

“You ever been to the faerie dimension?” Harper asked.

“I’m a banshee,” Teresa said. “That’s like asking someone from New York if they’ve ever been to Jersey.”

“Your dimension is New York, right?” I asked. “The faerie dimension is Jersey?”

“It was an analogy, not a judgment,” Teresa said and nodded at Aspen. “You understand.”

“Completely,” Aspen replied. “Banshees and faeries have been neighbors forever. Our homes are what, two dimensions apart?”

“Yes,” Teresa said. She pulled her phone from her sweatpants pocket and began texting furiously.

“Weapons or we don’t go,” Harper said. “There is a reason I’m in charge of security and protection for our company. I don’t compromise on either of those things.”

“Please,” Aspen said. “Bring all the weapons. You’ll need them.”

“We’ll see,” Teresa said. “I am not committing my clients to this extortion plan of yours until I understand all aspects.”

“Oh, they’ll be committed,” Aspen said and smiled at Harper. “Bring the weapons.”

“My turn. Transportation?” Lassa asked. “How are we getting there?”

“Company limo, of course,” Teresa said. “With Mr. Lawter’s assistance. It is quite remarkable what he can do. I’m surprised Black Box Inc.’s bottom line isn’t quadruple what it is.”

“I’m only one man,” I said. “I can only do so much.”

“Then charge more,” Teresa said as if I were a total moron.

“I do not think this is the time nor place to discuss our business strategy,” Sharon said, obviously offended at the inference that her managerial skills weren’t top notch. “But we have considered branching out. I would like to set up an appointment to discuss legal ramifications of large transport operations across extradimensional jurisdictions.”

“Yes, of course,” Teresa said as she moved to the door. “Another time. I advise you all get some rest. Sleep in. We can get back to work around lunchtime.”

Aspen raised his hand. “Am I done here?”

“I still have some questions for you,” I said.

“We’re done with him,” Harper snapped. “We’ve got the answers we need. Anything else he tells us will be designed to confuse the situation.”

“I agree with Ms. Kyles,” Teresa said. “Return him to his dimension.”

“I want my pants back first,” Harper said, then paused. “No. Never mind. Keep them.”

“I will have someone bring you new pants, Ms. Kyles,” Teresa said.

“Okay, we’ve sorted the pants situation,” Aspen said. “Can I leave now?”

“Yes,” Teresa said. “You are officially released. However, per the Do No Harm clause in the contract you signed, you must leave immediately and cannot sabotage our proposed trip to your dimension nor engage in any plans for others to commit sabotage. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Aspen said. The corners of his mouth twitched.

“Mr. Littlestick? Even though you are not my client, I will give you some advice: do not mess with me,” Teresa said. “What you signed is, and always will be, binding until all of this business with Mr. Lawter and Black Box Inc. is concluded. Are we clear?”

“Like Crystal Pepsi,” Aspen said. “Another one of our inventions, I might add.”

“Shut up and get out,” Harper said.

“Yeah, gonna need an assist on that,” Aspen replied, his mouth twitching, then turning into a full-blown smirk. “Your blood brought me, your blood has to send me back.”

“Walk,” Harper said.

“That could take centuries,” Aspen said. He turned up the smirk. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

“Walk,” Harper said and began to reach for one of her blades.

“Eh hem,” Teresa said from the doorway. “We will arrange your return, Mr. Littlestick. That way we know for certain you are going home and not staying in this dimension to cause trouble.”

“Moi?” Aspen replied. He winked at Harper. “See ya later, babe. That’s a promise.”

Lassa was up and holding Harper back as Aspen followed Teresa out of the suite.

“Not worth it,” Lassa said.

The door closed, and Sharon started looking everywhere at once. “Mr. Flip? Where did he get off to? Oh, Mr. Flip! We must talk this instant!”

“I’m in the kitchen,” Flip called out.

Sharon hurried that way and was already giving orders and directions about day-to-day operations and open client accounts before she reached the doorway. She got over her client confidentiality clause. I’d wager she was going to stay as busy as possible over the next few days to keep her mind off what we were about to try to do.

“You good?” I asked as I turned to face a still-restrained Harper. “Harp? Can you keep your cool?”

“No,” Harper said.

“Was that a no to you not being good or a no to you not keeping your cool? Because you were good for a while there. Now you’re all whacko. Can you chill?”

“Yes,” she said and yanked free of Lassa, which was not an easy thing to do.

“Come on, Harper. That’s not chill,” Lassa said.

He sat down and stared up at Harper. I stared at her, as well. She grumbled for a couple seconds, then started to pace like a caged cat. I stood there and watched her, my palms itching. My instinct said to bring the Dim, but it was Harper. Which was weird. Not gonna bring the Dim against Harper.

“Transportation isn’t a problem,” Lassa said as he watched Harper move back and forth. “Teresa’s limos are already outfitted for extradimensional travel. You’ll need to protect it from here to the portal. That is, if you have the energy to handle a Dim box that size.”

“Do I need to?” I asked. “Gonna be damn exhausting.”

“It’s a short drive, but we don’t know what to expect. I’d rather the limo was wrapped up nice and safe from here to there. Maybe Beelzebub already knows things didn’t work out with the hit. He could send someone else for your ass. Harper? Back me up.”

“Yeah,” Harper snapped. “Wrap the limo in Dim. More secure that way.”

“Fine, I can do that,” I said and yawned. “But Teresa was right, we all need our sleep.” I lifted my chin and turned my head toward the kitchen. “Flip!”

“Yes, sir?” Flip asked as he came out of the kitchen with Sharon right behind him, still jabbering about Black Box Inc. operations.

“I will need a lot of food when I wake up,” I said. “Plus some provisions for the road.”

“Road snacks!” Lassa said. “I love road snacks.”

“I will have arrangements made,” Flip said. He turned and hurried back into the kitchen. Sharon didn’t even pause in her recitation of company rules and regulations.

“Excellent. Road snacks,” Lassa said. “I’ll do a once-over on the vehicle before we go, but like I said, it should be shipshape. I’ll call my truck guy in the morning to haul us to the portal. That all for tonight?”

“That’s all I can think of,” I said. “Harper?”

“I’m bringing weapons,” Harper said. “All that I can carry.”

“No,” I said. “Not that many. I know how deep those pockets are.”

She had quite a few outfits with hexed pockets. I’ve seen her carry half an army’s worth of firearms before without breaking a sweat.

“What’s your most powerful magic item?” Lassa asked.

“Powerful or destructive?” Harper asked.

“Powerful. We don’t want to destroy a dimension,” Lassa said. “The goblin sickle maybe?”

“No,” Harper said and grinned. “My .500 S&W Magnum.”

“A pistol?” I replied.

“A hand cannon,” Lassa said. “Doesn’t matter because everyone knows gunpowder doesn’t work in the faerie dimension.”

“I have a way around that,” Harper said. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“Are you gonna be okay with going back to the faerie dimension?” I asked her.

Harper nodded.

“That isn’t very reassuring,” I said.

“What fucking choice do I have?” she snapped.

“You always have a choice,” I said. “You don’t work for me, we work together. Black Box Inc. is all of ours. I can’t order you to do shit, Harp. You have to go of your own free will. I can’t drag you along.”

“You’re only saying that because a reluctant passenger is a drain on your energy,” Harper said. “You don’t want me to be an anchor.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Also because you’re one of my closest friends and to hell with all this bullshit. If this is hurting you, then we all stay. Teresa can negotiate something.”

“Yeah,” Lassa said. “You need to stay, then we stay, Harp.”

She sat there in thought. We left her alone until she stirred and looked each of us in the eye.

“No. Daphne will not let Chase out of this,” Harper said. “Our only choice is to go and let Teresa negotiate the best terms so we all get to keep our heads.”

“Especially Iris,” I said. “I’m doing this because of her.”

“We all are, dude,” Lassa said.

“I do have one condition,” Harper said. “Can I bring the goblin sickle too?”

“Hell yes,” Lassa said. “I freaking love that sickle.”

“The Magnum and the sickle,” Harper said.

“That’s two conditions,” I replied.

“And my knives.”

“Three conditions and the knives go without saying.”

“And I get to kill Aspen when he turns on us.”

“Ooh, I may call rank on that one.”

“We’ll see. We have to live through this first.”

“Yeah, that Aspen guy’s so going to turn on us,” Lassa said.

“It’s what faeries, especially the Fae, do,” I said. “We’d be goddamn idiots to think otherwise.”

“I for one refuse to be a goddamn idiot,” Lassa said. He stretched and yawned. “I’m out, y’all. Time for this yeti to get his beauty sleep.”

“You do that,” I said.

He stood up and held out a fist. Harper gave it a bump, and then he was gone, off to occupy one of the suite’s bedrooms. That left me and Harper alone in the living room.

“You tired?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Gonna go crash?”

“No.”

“Too wound up?”

“Yes.”

“Me too.”

I was asleep on the couch within a minute of saying that.

9

STORING CRAP FOR clients in black boxes is only part of what we do. There is the entire courier portion of our business too. At times, I create boxes that I don’t return back to the Dim. As good as I am with the Dim, there are forces at work that can get in the way. Some dimensions make it hard to retrieve a box from the Dim. Some clients don’t trust the Dim and want the box present at all times. In those cases, we physically deliver the box.

It’s a simple thing of creating a black box and then transporting that black box from Point A to Point B. Sometimes Point B is in another dimension, sometimes Reno. Doesn’t really matter. Lassa knows everyone in the transportation business. If we can’t handle the gig alone, we subcontract with the Teamsters.

Faeries may have invented lawyers, but trolls invented the Teamsters. And I don’t mean that in a derogatory way.

There are over two thousand species of trolls. Some are dumb as rocks while others make Stephen Hawking look like George W. Bush. Depends on the species and the individual troll.

Regardless of variations in troll intelligence, if you need something moved across dimensions, you call a Teamster troll.

I woke up to Lassa on the phone negotiating a deal with his guy, who was our local rep.

“Where’d he get a phone?” I asked as I rubbed my eyes. I had no idea who I was asking, but I figured someone was in the room.

“Teresa lifted the hex so we could get some work done,” Sharon said as she poured me a cup of coffee and set it on the table, then went back to jotting notes in her phone. “Good afternoon.”

“How far into the afternoon?” I asked, swinging my legs off the couch and wincing as a pain shot through my lower back. “For the money we pay this firm, they should have a better sleeping couch.”

“They do. They’re called beds,” Harper said as she came out of one of the bedrooms.

She was only dressed in her bra and underwear, and was busy scratching her ass, as she pushed me out of the way and took my coffee. Her body was more scars and tats than bare skin.

“Oh, dear,” Sharon said, averting her eyes from Harper’s half-nakedness. “Can we act professionally, please?”

Harper downed the coffee and burped. “Gonna shit and shower, then head to the office to get my weapons so we can get this show on the road.”

“Not professional,” Sharon said under her breath as Harper found the bathroom door and disappeared inside.

“She’s in a better mood, at least,” I said and tried to stand up. That lower back pain was not letting me, and I collapsed back onto the couch. “Ow?”

“Not like you to crick up after one night on a couch,” Sharon said. “I’ve seen you sleep in a cardboard box before.”

“I remember that cardboard box,” I said. “That was a good box. Reminded me of mine and Harper’s street days. What a life.”

Sharon poured me another cup of coffee, then set her phone aside.

“Shirt off,” she said.

“Now who’s not being professional,” I replied. “I mean, I know we’ve gotten close after all these years, but I see you more as a big sister, Shar.”

“Shut up,” Sharon said, her gray face blushing.

Nothing weirder than seeing a zombie blush.

“I want to see your back,” she stated, her hands on her hips.

I slurped some coffee, then pulled my shirt up over my head. It was agony the whole way.

“Turn,” she said.

I turned. Sharon gasped.

“Holy shit!” Lassa exclaimed. “Uh, I gotta go. Call you right back.”

“What?” I asked, twisting to get a look at my back. I couldn’t see shit. “Mirror.”

I got up, my worry overriding the pain, and stumbled to the bathroom.

“Hey! What the fuck, Chase?” Harper yelled as she jumped into the shower and pulled the curtain. “You got a death wish or what?”

“I don’t give a good goddamn about your boobies, Harp,” I said and stood in front of the vanity, turning at the best angle to see my back in the mirror. “Oh.”

“Oh, what?” Harper asked as she ducked her head out from behind the shower curtain. “Listen, you perv—Holy shit!”

“That’s what I said,” Lassa said from the bathroom door.

“Flip?” Sharon called, standing right behind Lassa. “Could you come here, please?”

“Yes, how may I help?” Flip asked, appearing next to Sharon.

“What would you call that?” Sharon asked and pointed at me.

“Well, isn’t that something,” Flip said and wriggled between Sharon and Lassa so he could get closer to me. “It appears you have a leech.”

“That ain’t no leech,” Lassa said. “Dude, that’s a face.”

“Yeah. My goddamn face,” I said.

“Yes, yes, a leech,” Flip said. “Do you have a doppler?”

“No, I do not have a goddamn doppler,” I said, turning back and forth. I was trying not to freak out over the fact there was a warped version of my own face staring at me from my lower back. Keeping my cool was not easy.

“No, well, have you angered a witch lately?” he asked.

“Not that I know of,” I said.

“You would know,” Flip said as he scratched at his bearded chin. “Killed a changeling?”

“Bingo,” Lassa said.

“We do not know if Chase killed the changeling,” Sharon said.

“I woke up in twelve pints of its blood, Shar,” I replied. “Safe to assume I might have killed it.”

“Yeah, but where’s the body?” Harper asked, having pulled the shower curtain tight again so she could get on with her shower.

The mirror started to steam up, so I wiped it clear and continued to study my back face.

“What do you want?” the face said. “Stop staring at me.”

“I’m out,” Lassa said and bolted.

“I need a drink,” Sharon said and left as well.

That meant it was me, Flip, and a showering Harper left in the bathroom.

“Good afternoon, may I inquire as to your name?” Flip asked the face on my back.

“Chase,” the face said. “Chase Lawter.”

“Yes, most definitely a changeling,” Flip said. “If you accidentally ingested some of its blood, then part of its essence would have been able to burrow into you and manifest as a face on your back. Rare, but not unheard of.”

“I haven’t heard of it,” I said.

“Me neither,” Back Chase said.

“Can the face be killed?” Harper asked as she shut off the water. “Answer that when I’m done toweling off. First, get the fuck out.”

We left the bathroom and shut the door.

Lassa was pouring both him and Sharon very stiff drinks at the small bar in the corner of the living room.

“You want one?” Lassa asked.

“I’m good,” I said. “Sharon? Is drinking that a good idea?”

“Having only the one,” Sharon said as she downed her drink and shivered. “I’m going to pay for it since it wasn’t mixed with blood, but it’s worth it.”

She set the glass down and faced me.

“All right, we have to solve this,” she said. “You cannot go around with a copy of your face on your back.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “At least now I’ll always have someone to talk to.”

“Don’t count on it,” Back Chase said. “I’m you. You really feel like talking to you?”

“Fair enough,” I said.

“Flip?” Sharon asked. “How do we fix this?”

“I’ll consult the library,” Flip said. “Be right back.”

He was gone through a small door in the wall before any of us could say a word.

“Can I leave too?” Lassa asked, pouring yet another drink. “That face has me skeeved out, dude.”

“Well?” Harper asked as she came out in only her underwear again, a towel wrapped around her head. “Can the face be killed?”

“Flip went to find out,” Lassa said.

“He went to see how it can be fixed,” Sharon said. “That does not mean it has to be killed.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t kill me,” Back Chase said.

“I’d prefer if you get off my back, pal,” I said.

We both chuckled.

“There’s two of them,” Harper said and walked away to her bedroom. “I’m getting dressed. Stab it if it gets weird.”

“Already weird,” Lassa said.

“And no stabbing while it’s on my back,” I said.

“I am not an it,” Back Chase responded.

“Yeah, pal, you are,” I said. “You are very much an it. You are the definition of an it.”

“You’re a dick,” Back Chase said.

“You’re an ass,” I replied.

“Not quite,” he said. “A hair north, though.”

We chuckled again.

“Kill it now before they think they’re funny!” Harper called from the bedroom, then came back out, pulling a T-shirt over her head, her cargo pants undone and her belt buckle clanging as it thwacked against her thigh. She straightened her shirt, zippered her pants, buckled her belt, then pulled a knife. “I can cut it right off, just say the word.”

“No cutting into my back, goddammit,” I said, jabbing a finger at her. “Get that out of your head.”

There was a light knock at the door, and Teresa came in with three banshees behind her and a gaggle of gnomes following in their wake.

“Let’s see,” Teresa said, twirling her finger in the air for me to turn around. I did. “You are one of the most high-maintenance clients I have ever had in my entire career.”

“I doubt that,” I said.

“Don’t,” she replied. “But, billable hours are billable hours.”

Sharon began to cough and choke. I’m sure she was also rethinking our rates at the thought of the legal bill we’d be getting.

“Flip!” Teresa yelled.

“Coming,” Flip said as the small door in the wall swung open and he hurried back into the suite with a book in hand almost as large as he. “I think I have something here.”

He shut the book and looked up at me.

“You have to burn the changeling body on a full moon while drinking your own urine,” he stated.

The room went silent. Silence was an ominous sign when there were four banshees standing there.

Then Lassa and Harper burst out laughing. They both stumbled to chairs and fell into them, tears streaming down their faces.

“I hate both of you,” I said.

“Surely he will not have to drink . . . that,” Sharon said.

“The book is very clear,” Flip said. “It should be fresh urine, preferably warmer than ambient temperature.”

Lassa and Harper laughed harder. Harper fell out of her chair. Lassa gripped his crotch.

“Gonna pee!” he shouted and dashed for the bathroom. It was like hearing a firehose go off in there.

“Yeah, so very funny,” I grumbled and fumed. “Laugh it up, guys. You’re forgetting we don’t know where the body is.”

“I do,” Back Chase said.

“You do?” I asked.

“Has no one thought to question the face?” Teresa asked.

“We were a little busy coming to terms with my face on my back,” I said.

Teresa sighed. “Excuse me, Mr. Lawter’s face, can you tell us where your body is?”

“Sure,” Back Chase said. “This guy stuck it in that huge box with the girl.”

“What girl? Iris? You know where Iris is?” I asked.

“Yeah, that Iris girl,” Back Chase said. “The one the other changeling was made for.”

“Woman,” Sharon corrected.

“Please, humans live such short lives that they die as boys and girls,” Back Chase said.

“I hear that,” Lassa said as he came out of the bathroom. “Yetis live for centuries.”

“And zombies live forever,” Sharon said. “This is not a longevity contest. What else can you tell us?”

“Yes, please elaborate on the other changeling and what happened after you got here,” Teresa said.

“Oh, sure, you bet,” Back Chase said. “We were summoned and sent to this dimension to replace the originals. It was an easy assignment. Everything had been laid out for us. I made my switch in the Iris woman’s restaurant bathroom when Chase came in and the other changeling was to make the switch later.”

“We know all this,” I said. “What happened to Iris?

“Chase? Be quiet. Please continue, Mr. Lawter’s face,” Teresa said, glaring daggers at me.

“Do you know about the loft?” he asked.

“Yes,” Teresa said.

“Okay, so I’m back at the loft, waiting for the Iris changeling to show up with the real Iris so we could get on with the rest of the plan, but instead this other guy showed up with the real Iris,” Back Chase said. “He knocked me cold. Next thing I know, I’m waking up on the floor of the loft and my belly is split open. Is the Iris changeling all right?”

“She’s dead. Tossed in a dumpster,” I said. “Who’s this other guy that showed up? What’d he look like?”

“I don’t know. You’d call him a what? A pretentious douchebag?” Back Chase said.

“Jesus, that doesn’t narrow it down in this town,” I snapped.

“Belly split open . . . ?” Teresa prodded, eyeing me.

“Yeah, so my belly is split open and Chase is standing over me working with that black smoke,” Back Chase continued.

“Chase is? Not the other gentleman?” Teresa asked.

“No, it was Chase. Your eyes were really weird, man. Black as the smoke you were playing with.”

“That would be a control trance,” Flip said. “If you were under one, that can factor into the creation of a leech.”

“Do you have to call me that?” Back Chase complained. “Rude much?”

Teresa cleared her throat.

“Right, so Chase here is making this huge box and I mean huge,” Back Chase said. “It was filling half the apartment. The guy that brought the real Iris was busy shoving furniture and supplies into the huge box. He was shouting something, but I couldn’t tell what it was. Things were getting hazy because of the whole belly split open and blood loss thing. I do remember a girl shouting back at the killer guy. I couldn’t see her, but it was obvious she was shouting at him and not Chase. She was pissed. Capital P, pissed. Then everything went black. I was dead.”

“Interesting,” Teresa said.

“Shit,” I said. “Iris. I put Iris in a box. Furniture, supplies. The loft. Travis. He killed the first changeling and then helped get the box ready so we could hide Iris.”

“Makes sense,” Lassa said.

“Yeah, it does,” Harper said.

“Except for the control trance,” Lassa said.

“No, that doesn’t make sense,” Harper agreed.

“It makes sense as to why I can’t remember jack shit,” I said. “Travis. The guy had to be Travis.”

“Not cool,” Lassa said.

Lassa wasn’t all flirty sounding that time. His voice was pure business.

“What is Travis’s involvement in this?” Sharon asked. “He certainly pretended like he didn’t know anything yesterday morning.”

“Yeah, he did,” I said. “We have to find him.”

“Not yet,” Teresa said. “I’ll have the gnomes investigate further.”

“Why? I’ve known Travis forever,” I said. “We find him and I make him tell me the truth. There’s a reason he didn’t fill me in. He’s gonna tell me that reason.”

“Why the control trance?” Lassa asked. “That’s really odd.”

“Unless he’s working for the Fae. He said he had something planned and had come here to find me,” I said. “Was anyone else there besides Travis and Iris?”

No answer.

“Hey!” I yelled. “Back me! You’re up.”

“Oh, right, sorry,” Back Chase said. “What was the question?”

“Was anyone else there?” I asked again.

“Yeah. The girl,” Back Chase said.

“We know Iris was there. Who else?”

“I wasn’t talking about Iris. I was talking about the girl. The other girl.”

“Well, that wasn’t clear before,” Lassa said.

“What other girl?” I asked. “Who was she?”

“How would I know? I was dying, wasn’t I?” Back Chase whined. “Didn’t see her, anyway. Only heard her voice.”

“Could you recognize the voice?” I asked. “This is important, pal.”

“There doesn’t seem to be much sympathy for my dying,” Back Chase said.

“Want to die again?” I replied.

“No, I can’t recognize the voice,” Back Chase said with a huff. “I was dying. And I’m shit with voices.”

“This is all very interesting,” Teresa said. “We continue on as planned. I’d prefer to get information directly from the Fae than hunt a shapeshifter that is obviously acting in a deceitful manner.” She faced Sharon. “However, I believe you will need to put your business work on hold and focus squarely on fetching this key. We do need that key from police evidence. It must be the one that goes to this box with Ms. Penn inside. I have filed a motion, but the police have already started their delay tactics. I believe between you and my associates, you can wear them down and retrieve the key. The key is the proprietary property of Black Box Inc., and they cannot prove that—”

“No,” I said.

“Excuse me?” Teresa asked. “Did you say no?”

“Yeah,” I said. “That key isn’t the one to the box with Iris.”

“And how do you know that for sure?” Teresa asked.

“I know. The key’s for something else,” I said. “I can feel it.”

“He can feel it,” Back Chase said.

“Shut up,” I growled.

“Pissy, much?”

“Harper? Punch it.”

“Gladly,” Harper said.

“I’ll shut up,” Back Chase squeaked.

“Then where is the correct key?” Teresa asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Aspen was pretty confident he had Iris. Maybe he has the key. Back me?”

“What?”

“Does the Fae killer have the key?”

“No idea, me me. I was gutted, exsanguinated, and used as trance fodder. Your guess is as good as mine. Almost literally.”

“Why would Travis give Aspen the key?” Lassa asked.

“Who cares about why?” Harper said.

“I do,” I said.

“Regardless of this Travis’s involvement, the key in evidence may very well not be what I believe it to be, but it is better to be safe than sorry,” Teresa said, pushing forward with business. “Listen to the lawyer, please, Mr. Lawter.”

I held up my hands. “That’s what we pay you for.”

“Yes, it is.”

“So we’re still on for the road trip to the faerie dimension?” Lassa asked.

“Yes,” Teresa said.

“Good, because my guy with the truck will be here at four,” Lassa said. “We should get packed.”

10

BY TRUCK, LASSA meant a flatbed tow truck. It wouldn’t be used to transport us to the faerie dimension, that’s what the limo was for, but we did need it to move the huge Dim box holding the limo from the parking garage to the portal. The borders between dimensions may have been wide open, but that didn’t mean you could cross over wherever you wanted. You had to use a portal. Which meant we were vulnerable for ambush. Or I was vulnerable since I was the most likely target.

But, if we’re inside a huge Dim box, then nothing can touch us. The limo, and everyone inside, was protected. It may have been overkill, but I’d woken up in a twelve-pint pool of blood, so overkill wasn’t exactly out of the norm. Like Teresa was fond of saying, better safe than sorry. And Harper was twitchy enough as it was. Her security instincts were in overdrive.

Once the Dim box was at the portal, I could open it up and the limo driver would take us from there. A slight window of chance to be attacked, but we’re talking a second at the most. Then the limo driver drives us on in, and we’re transported to the faerie dimension via the portal.

I opened the limo’s sunroof and stood up, my upper body outside the car while Harper held onto my legs. I sometimes got vertigo when working the Dim on a large scale. Sharon was standing out in the parking garage, her hands clasped and eyes wide and expectant. I could barely see her over the sides I’d already created.

“Take notes,” she said.

“I’m not taking notes.”

“Chase, we need notes. We’ve talked about expanding the business. Secure travel for private parties could be very lucrative.”

“It’s also exhausting as shit.”

“But lucrative.”

I stared at her for a second, then turned my attention to the truck.

“Okay, Shar. I’ll take notes.” I gave her a quick wave and a fake smile. I wasn’t going to take notes.

“We’re good,” Lassa said as he hopped over the upper edge of the black box wall and landed on the trunk of the limo. No way to open the limo doors with the Dim walls surrounding the vehicle. He gave me an okay sign. “Driver is paid and tag affixed so the portal is dialed in for the faerie dimension when we get there.”

“It’s secure?” I asked. “Because if the destination tag comes off while we’re driving, then things get shitty when we pop out somewhere other than faerie land.”

“Try not to call it that while we’re there,” Harper said from below me. “Names like that piss them off.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” I said.

“You sure about this?” Lassa asked as he clambered over the roof and sat next to me by the sunroof. “You haven’t built anything this big in a while and you’re not exactly in top shape.”

He glanced at my back and the passenger I was carrying.

“I’m good,” I replied, patting his shoulder. “Get in and we can be on our way.”

“Move, dude,” he said.

I ducked back into the limo and got out of the way so he could squeeze his bulk through the sunroof. Once he was inside and seated, I stood back up and raised my hands. The smoke started to pour freely and form a lid. In seconds, Asheville was gone and nothing but an impossible blackness was above me.

“Away we go,” I said as I dropped back into the limo and shut the sunroof.

We felt nothing. Being in a box made of Dim is like being in a sensory-deprivation tank, except none of your senses were deprived, you simply had no idea there was anything happening outside the box. The world could be destroyed, and we’d be blissfully unaware.

“Starving,” I said right as Lassa handed me a bucket of fried chicken and a six-pack of beer.

“Is that wise?” Teresa asked.

“I won’t even come close to getting drunk off six beers,” I said as I tore into a chicken leg, then washed the greasy meat down with an entire bottle of beer. “I’ll need about three kegs to get buzzed from a job this size. Chill.”

“No, I meant for you to be stinking of beer and fried chicken when we are meeting Daphne,” Teresa said. “I am well aware of your metabolism.”

“That’s what the cherry pie is for,” I said, smiling around a chicken thigh. “It cleanses the palate and makes me smell like ChapStick.”

“Are you an eight-year-old girl?” Teresa asked.

“Lemon custard,” Lassa said.

“What?” I snapped. “I hate lemon custard.”

“I know, but that’s what you have,” Lassa said. “You have to be specific with gnomes. They’re big fans of lemon custard.”

“That is true,” Teresa said. “To them it could be compared to crack minus the soul-sucking devolution into the sordid underbelly of society.”

“They’re so short, they probably already see the underbelly,” I said, killing my third beer.

“That’s kind of racist, dude,” Lassa said.

“It’s more shortist, I’d say,” I replied. “And I don’t really care, either way. Lemon-custard-loving bastards.”

He rolled his eyes. Teresa turned from me to stare out the window. At nothing. At a wall of black. Talk was done.

I shrugged and continued eating. Once I’d polished off the chicken and beer, I started in on a bag of popcorn about the size of a garbage bag. The gnomes came through on that one.

“Want some?” I asked Harper, offering her the bag. She didn’t respond.

She was lost in her own head and obviously wanted to be left alone, so I crawled across the seats to sit by her and bug her.

“You love popcorn,” I said.

“That’s microwave,” she replied. “Microwave popcorn is a lie.”

“A tasty lie,” I said. “Have some.”

She jammed a hand into the bag and took out a fistful of popcorn. She shoved that into her mouth and chewed and chewed, eyeing me the whole time until she swallowed.

“Mmm,” she said. “Yummy.”

“Smart-ass,” I said. I ate a few more pieces, then reluctantly set the bag aside. “What’s up, Harp?”

“It’s not a good idea for me to be going to the faerie dimension,” Harper said. She patted her pocket. “Even with my Magnum.”

“Teresa has everything smoothed over,” I said. “Whatever grudge the Fae have against you is on hold until all of this business is concluded. She called in some favors.”

“Large favors,” Teresa said without turning away from the window. “Billable favors.”

“Daphne doesn’t care about favors,” Harper said. “She’ll probably kill me as soon as we set foot in that dimension.”

“I doubt that,” Teresa said. “Not unless she wants an extradimensional war the likes of which she has never seen.”

“She’s a couple million years old,” I said. “You sure you can make that bet?”

“See, even you have doubts,” Harper said.

“Of course I have doubts,” I replied. “I’m the human here without any special training. You’re like a goddamn ninja. I’m only a guy that can make smoke boxes so rich nerds can hide their comic book collections from their ex-wives. I always have doubts.”

“You’ve got Dim rods, dude,” Lassa said. “Those are ninja. Very ninja.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I said, then shrugged. “But, yeah, they are cool.”

“Balls out cool,” Lassa said.

“I’ve told you some of what I went through, but not even close to all of it,” Harper said, not as impressed by my Dim rods. “None of you know what might be coming.”

My gut clenched, and I had to struggle to keep my cool. It hurt like a son of a bitch, and I wished I knew why. Wasn’t fear. It was that pain that had started yesterday. I caught Harper eyeing me, but she turned away too fast for me to see what that look was about.

“Do you know something about all this that we don’t know?” I asked as the pain subsided.

That shook Harper even though she tried not to show it. I shared a quick look with Lassa. Teresa took notice and focused her attention on Harper.

“Ms. Kyles? Do you know something about this that we don’t know?” Teresa asked. Her banshee eyes flared the brightest blue I’d ever seen them. “You do, don’t you?”

“No,” Harper said.

“Very well,” Teresa said and nodded, returning her gaze to the nothing outside the limo’s window.

“Is it that Littlestick guy?” I asked. “You two used to have something, right? I know mixing business with exes gets complicated.”

“Yes, that’s it,” Harper said.

No, it wasn’t, but I was done interrogating a friend. If Harper didn’t want to share what was up, then that was her right. As long as her holding back didn’t put us in jeopardy.

Teresa’s phone buzzed. She had a text.

“What the hell?” I exclaimed and pointed at her as she started typing. “That can’t happen. Nothing gets in or out of a box.”

“That makes zero sense,” Lassa said. “Then how do we breathe? Do you even have a clue how your ability works?”

“No,” I admitted. “I don’t know, pal, I just do. I just do.”

“I understand what Mr. Lawter means,” Teresa said. “Except, I purchased an Ultimate Signal policy for the firm’s phone plan. Nothing can stop a text. Nothing.”

“That’s goddamn creepy,” I said.

“Tell me about it,” Lassa agreed.

Her phone whooshed, and she put it away inside her ever-flowing banshee lawyer power gown.

A chime sounded. The sound was part of a special hex that we’d had worked up by a wizard friend of Lassa’s. The hex timed our delivery so I knew when to open the Dim box.

“I’m up,” I said and held out my hands.

The Dim disappeared all around the limo. The Teamsters had handled the delivery perfectly, and we were already unloaded at the vortex point. The ghoul driver put the car into gear and drove us through the portal that looked like a mix between a black hole and a rainbow swirl of paint going down a drain.

Teresa lowered the divider between us and the driver.

“How long will we be traveling?” she asked.

The ghoul driver turned his head and gave us a sharp, black-toothed grin.

“Only a few minutes, mum,” he said. “As long as there ain’t no hang-ups at customs, we’ll be to the faerie vortex point right quick.”

“Is that like a cockney accent? What is that?” Lassa asked.

“Don’t answer him,” Teresa said and raised the divider.

“Really, I kinda have to know what accent that was,” Lassa said. “It’s going to bug me.”

“It is hard enough for ghouls to fit in,” Teresa said. “There is no need to make it worse for them.”

“Drop it, pal,” I said.

“It’s really going to bug me,” Lassa repeated.

“Bigger fish to fry,” I said.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Whatever.”

A few minutes later, the black-hole-meets-swirling-rainbow effect outside the limo became a brilliant bright blue. We’d arrived in the faerie dimension.

Teresa pressed a button, and her window rolled down. A smiling faerie of indeterminate age and sex leaned against the windowsill and tipped his or her hat at the banshee.

“Oh, well, hello there,” he or she said. No way to tell from the voice, either. “Are we here for some sightseeing?”

Teresa handed him or her a set of papers. He or she frowned at the action, but took the papers and started reading them over.

“Well, I’m afraid we have a bit of a problem here, folks,” he or she said. He tapped his or her finger on the top right corner of the first paper and leaned into the window. “Looks like you’ve got your dates mixed up.”

“Excuse me?” Teresa replied, incredulous. “I think not. Perhaps we could get someone a little more . . . literate to look them over.”

“Oy, no need to be rude,” he or she snapped. “I can bloody well read, thank you very much.”

The divider between the front and the back of the limo lowered. “Excuse me, mum?” the ghoul asked. “I have a gentleman here—”

The ghoul was yanked from his seat, and Aspen hopped into the limo. He leaned over the partition and waved at the faerie guard.

“Hey there, Oakly,” Aspen said. “Nothing to worry about here. I’ve got this all in hand. If you take a look again, you’ll see the correct date. We’re dealing with a temporally twitchy entity and some of the details are getting confused.”

“Mr. Littlestick,” Oakly gasped. “Yes, of course. I wasn’t aware Daphne was involved. My apologies.” Oakly looked back at the papers and nodded. “Yes, yes, all in order here, Mr. Littlestick.”

“Could I have my papers back, please?” Teresa asked.

“Nah, you don’t need those,” Aspen said. “Oakly will keep them safe for you. Right, Oakly?”

“I’ll keep them by my side day and night,” Oakly replied.

“Don’t need you to do that, but I appreciate the enthusiasm,” Aspen said. “More importantly, Daphne appreciates the enthusiasm. I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you and your kin with her. How’s that sound?”

“That sounds excellent, Mr. Littlestick,” Oakly said and stepped away from the limo. He waved toward the front. “Let them through!”

Aspen revved the engine and drove us through the final stage of the customs checkpoint. I glanced back through the rear window and saw the ghoul driver standing there on the side of the road, his head hanging and eyes cast down at the ground. Poor guy.

“He’ll be fine,” Aspen said. “The guards will put him up in a nice cottage until your return trip. All at Daphne’s expense, of course.”

“What’s going on, Mr. Littlestick?” Teresa demanded.

Her voice grew dangerously loud, and everyone in the limo winced.

“I’m going to rip your head off if this is a double cross,” Lassa growled.

“Oh, I think there’s someone you’ll put ahead of me on the head-ripping-off list, you sexy sasquatch, you,” Aspen said.

“What did you call me?” Lassa roared.

He lunged past me and dove for the open partition. The only thing that stopped him was the sudden appearance of a very large pistol jammed into his right cheek.

“Sit,” Harper ordered. “Calm down. Be good. No one will get hurt.”

“That’s right, big boy,” Aspen said. “Do what the little traitor says and no one will get hurt.”

Stunned silence.

Aspen drove us through the border city of Matchsticks. Despite the silly name, the place was known to be a den of vice and violence. The perfect place for Daphne to set herself up in. I could care less about any of that as I sat there, gritting my teeth while I stared at Harper.

“How you feeling about ripping my head off now?” Aspen asked and laughed. “I’m guessing you have someone else at the top of that list, am I right?”

“Harper,” I croaked when I could find my voice. “Why?”

“Wrong question,” Aspen said. He looked over his shoulder at Harper, completely ignoring the road ahead. “How about you not answer any questions, in case he gets one right?”

He returned his attention to driving, although it was obvious the limo had been hexed and was making its own way to Daphne’s mansion without that asshole’s help.

“Harper,” Lassa said. Not a question, not really a statement, more of a moan.

Harper didn’t say anything, just held the huge pistol in one hand, aimed at Lassa’s head. I pulled the yeti back into his seat. It wasn’t hard to do, he was more shocked than I was, which meant he was close to useless. He sat with a heavy thump and a sad sigh.

“Mr. Littlestick, might I remind you of the terms of the contract you signed,” Teresa said. “You are not to allow any harm to come to us. If you are taking us to be harmed in anyway, then you will have broken that contract and things will get very uncomfortable for you.”

“Contract?” Aspen chuckled. “What contract?”

He kept chuckling until he got bored with the sound, then he looked in the rearview mirror and locked eyes with Teresa.

“Oh, that contract,” Aspen said. “Can’t really enforce a contract that’s been affected by temporal abnormalities, now can you? I am confident I didn’t see that clause.”

Teresa gasped, then began to chuckle. That started Aspen chuckling. They were not ha-ha chuckles. More like the cold chuckles between enemies right before someone opened fire. I was glad neither were openly armed.

They both continued chuckling until we turned onto an overgrown drive flanked by ivy-covered pillars of bloodred brick, then the chuckles petered out into hostile sighs. A massively ornate, and architecturally confused, mansion lay ahead of us at the end of a long, straight cobblestone drive.

“You rotten bastard,” Teresa said.

I’d never heard her call anyone that. It sounded great.

“Excuse me, pal, but time abnormalities or not, we watched you sign that contract,” I said. “I’m one hundred percent certain you signed that yesterday.”

“Did I?” Aspen asked. He took his hands off the wheel and waved them about. “Here’s the rub. While we may all have a memory of that happening, Time does not. Capital T, time. The Big T. It was signed. It wasn’t signed. It exists. It doesn’t exist. So many possibilities right now. When that Lord Beelzebub dips his fingers in the Time pie, he sure does make a mess of things.”

“This is one reason faeries have such a bad extradimensional reputation,” Teresa said. “They love taking advantage of temporal fluidity loopholes.”

“And bingo was his name-o,” Aspen said. “We faeries are very cunning when temporal fluidity rears its ugly head. Never let a good loophole go to waste. It’s our thing.”

“You knew this?” I asked Teresa.

“Everyone knows it,” Teresa said. “But faeries rarely take advantage of it unless absolutely necessary. I did not put a temporal clause in the contract because I did not know Lord Beelzebub was involved yet. That was a massive oversight on my part.”

“True dat, home banshee,” Aspen said.

“And you knew he was playing us,” I said to Harper. “Because you have been playing us. This whole time.” I laughed at the word. “Now we find out the end game.”

“What? You already know the end game,” Aspen said as he pulled the limo up to the front door of the mansion. He turned off the car and leaned back over the partition. “I explained it to you yesterday.”

“No,” I said. “You never said a word about us getting fucked over by one of our friends.”

I said that last part while I glared at Harper. She looked past me, her focus on Lassa.

“Chase, buddy, think about it,” Aspen said. “Have you not figured out why Harper truly summoned me? To explain the hit put out on you and that you needed to come talk with Daphne if you wanted to get it removed and get your little Iris back.”

“I don’t care about the hit. The only reason I’m here is because you know where Iris is. Teresa will negotiate how we buy you out of that hit contract and—”

“Buy us out? Buy us out? Listen to this guy!” Aspen laughed. Hard. “Oh. Buy you out. That’s rich. No, Chase, you aren’t buying us out.”

“Mr. Lawter, I must apologize for putting you in this position,” Teresa said. “I was expecting more from the Fae. I have had dealings with them in the past, although never Daphne directly, and these types of shenanigans were not used.”

“You got lucky, lady,” Aspen said. “We must not have wanted much from your clients, then. But, this time we do. A lot.”

“Oh, shit,” I said as it hit me. “You want us to steal Lord Beelzebub’s soul.”

“Again with the bingo was his name-o,” Aspen said.

“Excuse me? Can I come out and breathe a bit now, please?” Back Chase asked. “It’s stuffy and smells like ass back here.”

“Sweet marshmallows made of crack!” Aspen cried. “What the hell was that?”

“Quiet,” I said to Back Chase. “Lay low and don’t say another goddamn thing.”

“Lay low,” Back Chase responded. “Ha ha.”

11

DAPHNE WAS HOT.

Not really sure how else to describe her. She sure as hell wasn’t some old fat faerie with shriveled wings on her back. Not that faeries actually have wings (they don’t).

“Hello!” she enthused as Aspen led us into the mansion.

She wore a slight summer dress of a bright red material that attempted to be concealing. It failed. I believe the word is “sheer.” Spaghetti straps and midthigh, the dress flowed about her as she came down the huge staircase that faced the front entrance. She was all smiles and bouncing blond curls. Big blue eyes that glittered as the sunlight hit them.

She was hot. That simple.

“I am so glad you could make it,” she said when she reached the bottom of the stairs and held her hands out to us like we were her oldest friends reunited after years apart. “You have no idea how full this makes my heart, you being here.”

“Yeah, um, no?” I said.

The response didn’t make sense, but it was all I could manage. Way better than Lassa, who seemed to have forgotten his rage at Harper and was busy drooling as his jaw hung slack and his eyes glazed over. Teresa reached out and snapped his jaw shut, then patted him on his huge shoulder.

“Keep it together, please,” she said, then faced Daphne and produced the widest, fakest smile I had ever seen on a banshee. “Daphne, it is our honor to be here.”

“No, no, it is my honor,” Daphne said. She put her hands to her chest, covering the ample cleavage she had been showing. “Truly. Such a privilege to have you as guests. No, strike that. Not guests. Friends. Yes, of course you all are. Even that mistake on Chase’s back. Hello, you.”

“Is she talking to me?” Back Chase asked.

“Oh, I must see it!” Daphne cried. She made a twirling motion with her hand. I twirled and lifted my shirt. Daphne gasped. “Isn’t he the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen!”

“Yeah, um, no?” I said again. Seemed like the right response that time.

“Oh, hey, will ya look at that,” Back Chase said. “Daphne. Are we that fucked?”

“Oh you,” Daphne said. I couldn’t see her, but I imagined she batted her eyelashes and flipped a hand at him. “I hate to see you go. We could have all kinds of naughty fun.”

“See me go?” Back Chase asked. “But I just got here.”

“True, but you are an affront to all that is magical and natural,” Daphne said, her voice light as if she were talking about a sweet puppy. “And you are a wrinkle in my plans. Good-bye, you cute, disgusting freakish thing, you!”

I heard fingers snap, and then I was on my knees. The pain in my back was excruciating. I did feel instantly lighter, though. I took a couple deep breaths and twisted to look at my lower back.

“Oh, don’t you worry none, the little darling’s gone,” Daphne said. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you?” I said as Teresa helped me to my feet.

The pain in my back was gone, but not in my gut. I’d hoped the two were related. They weren’t. Shit.

“Daphne, allow me to—” Teresa started to say.

“Teresa Sullivan, managing partner of Mulkahey, Delaney, and Sullivan—Attorneys at Law in that quaint mountain town called Asheville, North Carolina,” Daphne interrupted as she wagged a playful finger. A finger that was long, slender, and had a nail on the end that looked like sharpened steel. All of her nails looked like sharpened steel. “I know all about you, Teresa. You’ve caused me some headaches over the years since the extradimensional expansion into Earth. Oh, yes you have, you naughty little banshee minx, you.”

“I admit our goals have been at odds at times,” Teresa said, ignoring the minx comment. “But I only serve my clients.”

“Oh, Teresa, dear, we both know that is complete bullshit,” Daphne said and laughed.

Her laugh was like the high tinkle of bells right before the guillotine came slashing down. I had no other way to describe the sound that came out of the faerie’s mouth. It turned me on while making my balls shrivel up at the same time.

Jesus, my brain was fried.

“I wouldn’t say complete bullshit,” Teresa replied, and that fake smile turned genuine. “Perhaps fifty percent?”

“You flatter yourself and your race,” Daphne said, then rubbed her palms together. “How rude of me! Who wants tea and cakes?”

First rule of dealing with faeries is eat nothing they offer.

“I could eat,” I said.

Goddammit.

“Oh, I know you can, Mr. Lawter,” Daphne said.

“I’m Lassa!” Lassa shouted at full volume.

Harper winced and groaned. “Dude . . .”

Lassa growled low without turning to look at Harper, then he seemed to forget his anger again and focused only on Daphne.

I did the looking at Harper for him and gave her a harsh glare. The kind of glare that wakes a bitch up at night. Harper refused to meet my eyes. She simply kept her pistol at the ready. Harper didn’t need to point it at me or Lassa. We both knew she could shoot us dead before we even thought about making a move in her direction.

“Well, hello there, Lassa,” Daphne said as she took a couple steps forward. Lassa held his ground, so points to him. “I have heard much about you from my little human former protégé here. She did not exaggerate. I believe you and I will have to get to know each other better. Later. Tonight. Before you all head off tomorrow on the fun task I have planned for you.”

Aspen shifted uncomfortably as he watched Daphne flirt with Lassa. I made note of that.

“He he he,” Lassa said while Daphne got closer, until she was almost touching him.

The top of her head came to his midchest. He towered over her yet looked like he was a child at her knee. A horny child. It was a gross thought. But everything seemed gross about the goddamn Fae.

“Could we discuss this task you have planned?” Teresa insisted, sliding herself between Lassa and Daphne.

There was an electric shock as the banshee and faerie came into contact. Darkness clouded Daphne’s face while Teresa seemed to glow brighter. You could feel the impending violence. I had no idea if a banshee could take a faerie, but I sure as hell wanted to find out.

“Tea and cakes,” Aspen said, clearing his throat.

“Yes . . . Tea and cakes,” Daphne responded, her voice flat, void of all its former hospitable charm. “Aspen? Please show our guests to the sunroom. I will join you shortly.”

“Yes, mum,” Aspen replied, bowing low. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you will follow me.”

“Harper will remain behind,” Daphne said. “I need a word with her.”

Lassa’s amorous insanity vanished. His head snapped to the side, and he glared at Harper.

“Why does she get to stay?” he snarled.

“Come on, pal,” I said as I grabbed him by the arm and followed Aspen around the grand staircase to a wide-open room behind it. “Let’s get you some space from the faerie fatale.”

“So many feelings,” Lassa said, his voice shaking with emotion.

“Keep them in check,” Teresa said, as she followed us and glanced over her shoulder at Daphne and Harper. “Becoming overwhelmed by your emotions is what they want. The faeries will use your emotions against you.”

“We don’t need to,” Aspen said as he turned and walked along a corridor made entirely of windows. “You already do it for us the vast majority of the time.”

Outside the windows, pressing against the glass, were every type of rose I had ever seen and plenty I hadn’t. The flowers turned and faced us as we passed, their thorns tapping against the glass. I swore I could hear laughter. Possibly some taunts. Fuck the roses.

At the end of the corridor was a circular room, also made entirely of windows. The strong, bright faerie sun shone down on us, but the sunroom wasn’t hot. The space was pleasantly warm. The kind of warm that made for good naps. Like a mild summer afternoon in the shade of a favorite tree. Everything was so lovely that I could almost—“Mr. Lawter,” Teresa snapped.

My eyes shot open, and I was faced with a smirking Aspen.

“Someone is easily swayed,” Aspen said. “I don’t think this dimension is going to be good for you, Chase Lawter.”

“I should tear you apart,” Lassa said, moving between me and the faerie before I could respond to Aspen. “Without Harper and her gun here, I could snap your arms off. Rip them right out of their sockets and beat you to death with them.”

“How gratuitous,” Aspen said and licked his lips. “I’d love to see you try.”

“There will be no ripping nor tearing,” Teresa said as she took a seat in an old, but sturdy-looking wicker chaise lounges. She relaxed into it and put her hands behind her head. “We were promised tea and cakes.”

“Yes, you were,” Aspen said.

He clapped his hands, and the sound of wind chimes echoed throughout the sunroom. I hated wind chimes. But the ones ringing were kind of soothing. So very soothing—

“Mr. Lawter,” Teresa snapped again.

“Huh? What? Dammit. Sorry,” I said.

I was sitting, but didn’t have the foggiest idea when I’d done that. Next to me was a small table with a plate of the smallest cakes I’d ever seen and a cup of tea. It was a normal-size cup of tea. That was good because the sunroom was making me thirsty. So goddamn thirsty.

“How long was I out?” I asked.

“Long enough to be worrisome,” Teresa said. She was busy sipping her tea and nibbling on a cake. “Eat. Drink. We’re still waiting on Daphne and Harper to join us.”

I pointed at the tea and cake Teresa was consuming. “Is that a good idea?”

“What? No, certainly not,” Teresa said. “But if they are going to poison us or enchant us they could do that without tea and cakes. We’re in the faerie dimension, Mr. Lawter. They don’t need trickery to destroy us.”

“That is so true,” Daphne said as she came gliding into the sunroom.

She’d changed. Instead of the red sundress, she wore a pair of bright yellow capris with a sleeveless half blouse that showed off her six-pack toned midriff. Lassa gave a small squeak and turned to stare out the windows, keeping his eyes averted from Daphne.

“Does my image offend you that much, Lassa love?” Daphne mocked. He squeaked again, but didn’t look back. “Oh, well. I’ll have to live with that.”

“This is delicious,” Teresa said. “What flavor of cake is this?”

“Soul of an adulterer,” Daphne said.

“Ah, yes, I thought I recognized it,” Teresa replied. “Your chef managed to get the ratio of regret to lust just right. I’ll have to ask for the recipe before we leave.”

“I’ll be sure she provides it,” Daphne said and took a seat. She made a show of crossing her slim, muscular legs.

Her eyes landed on me, and I suddenly had to fight not to pass out. The faerie dimension was no good for me. I swallowed hard and picked up my tea cup, managing to spill half the contents before getting it to my mouth.

“Goddammit,” I muttered.

“You are such a delight,” Daphne said, her eyes refusing to let me go. “To think the power of the Universe courses through you. Chase Lawter, defiler of dimensions. What a waste.”

“Why are we here?” Lassa blurted out, still refusing to face Daphne. He was shaking uncontrollably. It must have been an effort even to form that coherent question.

“We already know why we are here,” Teresa said. “So that Mr. Lawter can steal Lord Beelzebub’s soul for you, correct?”

“Not only Chase, but all of you,” Daphne said. “Even Harper. And Aspen. The job could be rough. In fact, I expect a good deal of roughness and danger. We’ll need all hands on deck.”

“Excuse me?” Aspen choked. “Mum? We never discussed my involvement in this other than to set the trap.”

“We didn’t?” Daphne mused. “Hmmm. How absentminded of me, Aspen love. I thought I had made that clear.”

“No, mum, you did not,” Aspen said. “I have a certain skill set. The killing kind. I am not a faerie equipped for a soul heist.”

“Oh, but I do not need you to be equipped for a soul heist, dearest,” Daphne said. “Soul heist. I like that turn of phrase. I hope we are in need of more souls so I can use the phrase again.”

“If I am not needed for the heist, then why am I accompanying them?” Aspen asked.

“Because I want you to,” Daphne said with a tone that clearly stated her lack of patience with the argument.

“Yes, of course,” Aspen said and gave a short bow. “My apologies.”

“No apologies needed,” Daphne said, waving a playful hand at him. “I was only teasing you. Of course your skill set of the killing kind is what I need. You will be going with these lesser beings to keep an eye on them. If they refuse to perform the task, then you will butcher them without mercy. Is that clear?”

“Yes, mum,” Aspen said, his grin wide and deadly. “So very clear.”

“There. That’s the mood I love to see on your face, Aspen,” Daphne said. She licked her lips. “It puts me in a mood, as well.” Her voice had dropped half an octave.

Lassa fell over, then slowly picked himself back up while we watched, everyone except Daphne embarrassed for him, even Aspen.

“I’m good,” he said.

“Chase? Eat. You need your strength,” Daphne said. “That awful piece of changeling was draining you.”

I glanced at Teresa, and she nodded.

I picked up a little cake and popped the whole thing into my mouth. It was quite possibly the most disgusting thing I had ever eaten in my life. Which is saying something since I’ll eat almost anything. My refrigerator philosophy is that if you can’t see or smell the mold, then the food is fair game no matter how long it’s been in there. Eating that cake made me wish for month-old anchovy pizza. It was that bad.

As I tried not to gag and throw the cake up, I noticed something interesting. My hunger was gone. Completely gone. That was huge. Ever since my gift of being able to work the Dim was thrust upon me, I’ve had an ever-present gnawing in my belly. No matter how much I eat, I can never feel entirely full. With one faerie cake, that nagging emptiness was gone.

I wasn’t hungry for the first time in a long time. And that painful, sick feeling was almost gone too. Son of a bitch.

“The taste is hard to get used to for some,” Daphne said as she watched me closely. “But I believe the results are worth it.”

Teresa eyed me as well, but didn’t say anything. She simply picked up another cake and nibbled at it. Daphne did the same. I think I hit my being-eyed-by-a-banshee-and-faerie-at-the-same-time quota for the century right then.

“Now, how about we get down to business?” Daphne said as she leaned forward and rested her forearms on her knees. “I’m going to tell you what I want you to do and you will listen very, very carefully. Sound good?”

12

“YOU SAID HARPER is going with us,” I said as I sipped more tea, desperate to get the cake taste out of my mouth. “Where is she? Shouldn’t she be here with us, planning?”

“She’ll plan with you later,” Daphne said. “She is busy at the moment.”

“Busy doing what?” I asked.

“Mr. Lawter,” Teresa warned.

“No, no, it’s a valid question,” Daphne said. Some of the bubbling effervescent personality fell away, and I could see the business side of Daphne peek out from behind her mask. Then she noticed me noticing her, and the bubbling was back. “I love when humans exercise their little minds. Like a baby bird learning to fly for the first time.”

“Right, baby bird, cute stupid human,” I said and giggled. It was a horrid sounding giggle and unnerved everyone. That was the goal. The giggle became a growl, and I sneered at Daphne. “Harper. How did you turn her?”

“Uh-oh,” Daphne said. “Someone lost that pit of discomfort in his tummy and is now feeling brave.” She snapped her sharp-nailed fingers. “Aspen? Punch the brave little birdie in the balls, would you please, love?”

“I, uh, yes, of course,” Aspen said.

“Wait, what?” I exclaimed. “Yeah, no, I’d rather he not.”

“You don’t get a say in this,” Daphne replied. “You never get a say in anything. I want this to serve as a lesson and reinforce that fact inside your little human brain.”

I stood up, ready to fight. My hands were already starting the motions to work the Dim.

“Sit down!” Daphne roared, and her true faerie face revealed itself. Shadows and flame and torture and doom. “Now!”

I sat down.

“Sorry, mate,” Aspen said as he stood over me. He actually looked sorry, which I thought was strange. Then he punched me right in the nuts, and any follow-up thoughts were gone.

I threw up what was left of the little cake. It sat there in a pool of tea and bile. I stared down, trying hard not to think about how fast the pain had returned and the way my insides wanted to crawl up out of my throat to follow the partially digested dessert.

“Oh, dear, you made a mess,” Daphne said. “Clean it up.”

I struggled to uncurl and sit upright. When I did, I could see she was staring right at me.

“What?” I croaked. “Are you shitting me?”

“No, I am not shitting you,” Daphne said. “Clean. It. Up.”

“Gonna need a towel and—”

“Lick it up,” Daphne interrupted. “Little birds eat puke. That’s what little birds do. Don’t waste that cake, Chase. I had it made especially for you and your condition. Lick. It. Up.”

“Okay, I think this has gone on long enough,” Teresa said. “You have played your temporal card, which means my extradimensional paperwork, and the protections that affords me, are null and void. But do not think for one minute I can’t figure out a way around that, love.”

“Someone likes to play with fire,” Daphne said. She slowly, gracefully, stood up. She flattened the front of her capris, then adjusted her top. “I would like you to say that to me again.”

“Of course,” Teresa said as she stood up and did the opposite of Daphne by letting her glowing blue gown flow and flutter in a breeze that didn’t exist. “Should I say it louder this time? Because I can get much, much louder.”

Daphne watched Teresa for several minutes. Teresa did not flinch.

“Fine,” Daphne said. “In the interest of business, I’ll let little birdie off the hook. He doesn’t have to lick up his sick. Too bad. That hunger of his will now be coming back. Hard.”

She was right. I could already feel the gnawing over the top of my other discomfort. Dammit. But, there was no way I was eating more of the godawful cake even if offered.

“All right, fun time’s over,” Daphne said. She turned and walked away from all of us. “Come along. Time to put your annoyances to work.”

She swayed her hips like she was walking the runway as she moved toward a glass door. Outside was nothing but an endless lawn dotted with animal topiaries shaped in pornographic poses. But when she opened the door, there was no lawn or shrubbery trimmed to look like squirrels doing it. Instead, there was a wood-paneled study filled almost from wall to wall by a huge ornate desk.

Everyone followed her into the study, although my pace wasn’t exactly brisk, and Aspen shut the door behind us. The second Lassa was over the study’s threshold, he seemed to snap back to his old self. He shook his head and squinted his eyes at Daphne as the faerie took a seat behind the desk.

“Damn,” he mumbled. “That was different.”

“Now you know what it’s like when lesser-willed beings gaze upon you,” Daphne said. “I thought it would be fun to give you a taste of your own sexual medicine.”

Aspen started humming Marvin Gaye’s Sexual Healing, but stopped with one look from Daphne.

“Sorry,” he said. “Sexual magic, sexual healing. It seemed fitting.”

“Did it?” Daphne asked absentmindedly as she opened a drawer and produced a thick file folder. She slapped the file on the desk, then slid it to the outer edge. “Have a look.”

Teresa crossed to the desk and picked up the folder. She opened it and began to study the pages inside. After a couple of minutes, she closed the folder and tucked it under her arm, then moved back to where Lassa and I stood.

“Lord Beelzebub is not an easy entity to get to,” Teresa said. “I went through half a dozen process servers when I needed a deposition from him once. How can you expect Black Box Inc. to steal his soul, let alone get out of that dimension alive and return here with it in a Dim box?”

“That is not my problem,” Daphne said.

She sounded bored. All the coquettish play was done. The cat no longer cared about the mice. Not good.

“If I wanted to figure that out, then I wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of setting all of this up, now would I?”

I cleared my throat. It still burned from my ball-crushing-induced vomiting.

“Yes, little birdie?” Daphne asked.

“If Sharon was here, she’d point out that we are a storage and courier service, not a snatch-and-grab service,” I said. “I think you may have hired the wrong folks for the job.”

“No, I hired the perfect folks for the job,” she said. “Do you know why?”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because according to Lord Beelzebub, you’ve already done the job,” Daphne said.

“Yeah, but we haven’t,” I said. “And, to be honest, lady, I don’t think I want to play this crap-ass game of yours.”

“If that’s the case, then I guess I don’t need to let you live any longer, do I?” Daphne replied. “More importantly, I don’t need to let your woman live. Aspen?”

“Yes, mum?”

“The woman is secure?”

“Yes, mum.”

“Excellent. Have her killed since Chase here refuses to play our crap-ass game.”

“Leave Iris out of this,” I spat. “We can adapt.”

“I am sure you can,” Daphne said and clasped her hands, then leaned forward, resting her arms on the desk. “Let me make this simple. I need Lord Beelzebub’s soul. Why is my concern, so do not ask. All of the intel I have on his palace can be found in that file that Ms. Sullivan is holding. But, and this is important, so listen up, what you need to know is that if you do not do this, not only will I flay you alive, but I will have Aspen drop your girlfriend off into one of the worst dimensions I can find, where she will be defiled for eternity.”

“Iris isn’t my girlfriend,” I said. “We have this will they, won’t they thing going on, but we haven’t moved past that.”

“I see why you need Ms. Spaglioni to run your operation. You’d never get anything done without her,” Daphne said, shaking her head. “I say that even though I abhor zombies and refuse to let their kind step one rotten foot in my dimension.”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t like zombies. How original,” I said. “So, say we can steal the Devil’s soul.”

“Not the Devil,” Aspen snapped.

“Whatever, pal,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “Say we steal the soul and get it back here to you. What then? We go free? Iris goes free? No hard feelings? How does that work, because I’m going to have hard feelings. And, if you’ve ever met Iris, you’d know she is going to be soooo goddamn pissed.”

Daphne blinked at me a few times, then focused her attention on Teresa.

“I have this,” Teresa said and turned to me. “Mr. Lawter?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” she said. “Stop talking. This is the time for listening. So do that. Do nothing else but that. There is no other option. Listen and only listen. When we are done here, we will be allowed to plan and then you can do all the talking you want.”

“I don’t think anyone wants that,” Aspen said under his breath.

“Until we are alone and able to begin planning, you will remain silent and you will do what . . . ?” Teresa continued, ignoring Aspen’s remark.

“Listen like a goddamn little bitch,” I said. She stared at me hard. I sighed and shook my head. “I’ll listen.”

“Very good,” Teresa said and turned back to Daphne. “Please continue, Daphne.”

“Thank you, Teresa.” Daphne smiled at Teresa, smiled at me, and said, “I’m going to make you a promise, all right little birdie? You get me that soul and I’ll make sure your girlfriend . . . I’ll make sure Iris is returned safe and sound. No faerie trickery, no Fae caveats. She will be unharmed and in perfect health, free to live the rest of her life however she wants. She may be pissed, but I am more than certain that anger will be directed at you since you got her into this mess. Right or wrong, that’s how she’ll see it. How does that sound?”

I shrugged.

She sighed and closed her eyes. I think she was counting to ten.

“You can speak,” she said.

“That sounds goddamn great,” I said. “And us?”

“Same deal,” she said. “You and yours can go free. No harm done to any of you. No hidden clauses or tricks. Free and clear to go back to your storage-and-courier-service life. Of course, you will still have your law-enforcement agencies to deal with. But that shouldn’t be much of a problem with the excellent legal representation you have retained. Do we have a deal?”

“What about the hit?” I asked. “Lord Beelzebub paid you to take out a hit on me. You’ll do what? Void that?”

“Not quite, but you will not have to worry about Lord Beelzebub’s little hit,” Daphne said. “You have my word on that as well. No hit, not retribution or trickery, and all you have to do is fetch me Lord Beelzebub’s soul. So, little birdie, do we have a deal or do we move on to the part of this meeting you are most certainly not going to enjoy?”

I looked at Teresa. She nodded.

I stepped forward and offered my hand. “Deal.”

Daphne took my hand, and we shook. It felt like fire slipped under my skin and was shooting up my arm, then the pain was gone and I let go of her hand. I stepped back and regarded Daphne. Nothing sexy about her anymore. The hot was gone, and all that was left were the cold eyes of a predator.

“When do we get started?” I asked.

“Right away,” Daphne said. “Aspen? Show them to the guest wing, would you, love? You all have twelve hours to prepare and plan, then I expect you back in that limo and headed for Lord Beelzebub’s dimension. I have a time line I need to keep.”

“May I ask what that time line is?” Teresa asked.

“Of course,” Daphne said and laughed. “You have two days to get the job done. Not a second more. Got it?”

“Yes,” Teresa replied, pretty much spitting the syllable at Daphne.

“Good. Now, get out of my sight,” Daphne said. “I’m done with all of you and don’t want you back in this room unless you have something good to give me. Go.”

“Come along, losers,” Aspen said as he opened the study door and gestured for us to make a hasty exit.

We hastily exited. Except for Teresa. She took her sweet banshee time leaving the study, much to Daphne’s obvious annoyance.

When we were back in the sunroom, Aspen slammed the door to the study and the wall became glass again. Outside there were two ostrich topiaries performing sodomy on each other. Lassa tilted his head so his cheek almost touched his shoulder as he watched the shrubbery get nasty. He looked as confused as I was over the woody contortions.

“Follow me,” Aspen said. “The guest wing is this way.”

He led us back out to the main entrance and up the grand staircase. We hung a left and walked for at least a football field’s length of hallway before we came to a set of double doors. I was fascinated by the pornographic art that hung on the walls. Not because of the sex acts, but because they all appeared to be painted in the styles of various famous painters.

“They’re real,” Aspen said as he opened the double doors and caught me studying a medium-size painting of a peasant girl having way too good of a time with a piece of fruit. “All of them. Artists are easy to manipulate. None of them remembered a thing when they were done with the works. Except Van Gogh. That guy was impossible to wipe clean. Drove the man nuts in the end.”

“Did it, now?” Teresa asked. “Poor fellow.”

“You know what? You could let us go and tell me where I hid that huge box Iris is in,” I said, changing the subject. “Seriously. Tell me where I hid the box. Or better yet, the key. Give me the key and this can all be over.”

“You think it’s that easy, Chase?” Aspen said. “My ass is tied to your fate now. Only way is through.”

“A strange turn of events,” Teresa said. “What did you do that angered Daphne so much?”

“Nothing,” Aspen snapped. “She trusts me to keep you all in line.”

“I do not need anyone to keep me in line, Mr. Littlestick,” Teresa said. “I am always in line.”

“One thing you could lose is that last name, pal,” I said.

“Shut up,” Aspen said, giving a quick glare to Teresa and me. He didn’t bother looking at Lassa. The big guy was too busy staring at the art porn on the walls.

Aspen led us through the double doors and into the guest wing. Another long corridor, and we were at the top of a grand staircase that looked exactly like the one in the front entrance to the mansion.

“Uh . . . ,” Lassa said, as he studied the staircase, still a little dazed by the last painting. Couldn’t blame him. It was from Picasso’s cubist period.

“Not the same staircase,” Aspen said. “And not real. Word of warning: do not try to go down the staircase. It isn’t there. You’ll end up lost in a void and that means calling in the fire department to rescue you and they charge huge fees for that.”

“You have a fire department?” I asked.

“Of course we have a fire department,” Aspen said. “You think we let shit burn down?”

“I figured you’d use faerie magic to put the fire out,” I replied.

“Idiot,” Aspen said and continued walking.

We took two lefts, then a right, then another left, then two more rights and finally ended up staring at a blank wall. Faeries are shit at reasonable architecture.

“Turn around,” Aspen said.

We did and were suddenly in a huge sitting room. No doors. No windows. Chairs and couches and walls of Reader’s Digest editions of books and plenty of big-eyed figurines and other tchotchkes.

“Get comfy,” Aspen said. “You have twelve hours to get your shit in order before we leave.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“Take a nap,” Aspen said and plopped down on a couch, where he proceeded to close his eyes and take several breaths until he was lightly snoring.

“Is he really asleep?” Lassa asked.

“It does not matter,” Teresa said as she sat down on a different couch and slapped the folder onto the coffee table in front of her. “Let’s get to work.”

As Lassa and I started to sit in two chairs opposite her, Harper appeared by one of the bookshelves, looking like complete hell. She stumbled and grabbed onto the shelf, then straightened up and gave us all a sad, sorry smile. One of her eyes was swollen, and her bottom lip was split in the middle, dried blood crusted on her chin.

“Good,” was all Lassa said as she limped her way over to us.

She grabbed a chair along the way and dragged it to the end of the coffee table. Slowly, and carefully, she lowered herself into the chair, wincing the whole time.

“Get out . . . the plans,” she grunted. “We need to study . . . the palace first.”

Teresa pulled out the plans of Lord Beelzebub’s palace and placed them in the center of the table. I watched Harper. She was messed up. I should have felt fine with her getting her ass beat. I should have, but I didn’t. Harper had been there for me from the beginning, one of the first people who knew I could work the Dim. We’d been through shit. A lot of shit. Despite whatever role she played in all this, I couldn’t forget that.

Conflicted didn’t even begin to describe how I was feeling right then.

13

SIX HOURS LATER, and we were still stuck on how to get into the palace without being detected. Once inside didn’t seem to be a problem. From the documents in the file folder, it looked like Lord Beelzebub was so sure of his external security protocols that inside the palace was fairly lax.

There were regular guard patrols through the hallways, but we’d dealt with challenges like that before. Slipping past patrols was simple timing. We could use brute force and violence, if needed, to make our way to Lord Beelzebub’s quarters, but we didn’t think we had to.

If we could figure out how to get in.

“The portico here,” Lassa said, hunched over the table. “What if we were to—”

“We’ve already looked at that,” Harper groaned from the other side of the table. “Pay attention, Lassa.”

“Shut your traitor mouth, Harper,” Lassa snarled.

“Children,” Teresa said from the end of the table, opposite me.

“Hey, don’t get superior with me, lady,” Lassa said, pointing a finger at Teresa. It was a hairy finger. Lassa was in need of his every-other-day shave, but that wasn’t happening in the faerie dimension. “I’m older than these two humans combined. I’m older than three of their generations combined.”

“Is that true?” I asked. I started to count on my fingers. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Doesn’t matter how old you are if we don’t figure out how to get into the palace,” Harper said. “You may have been born before Chase, but you’ll die on the same day.”

“If I get to watch you die, then it’s worth it,” Lassa said.

“Stop,” I snapped, reaching across the table and slapping both of them across the face. It was pretty impressive. I used my left hand on Harper and my right hand on Lassa and—

Ow!

Goddammit. They slapped me back.

I stood up. They stood up.

Harper was rage mad. Lassa was confused about who should get his anger first. I was plain-old pissed off.

“I will destroy all of you with one loud word,” Teresa said in a calm voice that contained more promise of violence than I’d ever heard from any being before.

We sat back down.

“Oh, my gods! Shut up!” Aspen shouted from his couch. “I am trying to sleep here!”

“How about you come help, since your life is tied to us figuring this out?” I said, rubbing both cheeks.

“Sure, fine, how about I do that?” he said as he leapt up from the couch and stomped over to our table. He stared at the map, huffed out a surprised breath, then pointed at the portico. “Shit.”

“Ha!” Lassa laughed.

“Can it, hairy thumbs,” Aspen said. “I know we can’t go in that way.”

His finger moved to the plans of the second floor of the palace.

“But above that portico is a balcony,” Aspen said. “With what protections?”

Teresa shuffled through the papers. I could tell she was exhausted. Her glow was dimmer than I’d ever seen it. She found a specific page and held the sheet up.

“Second-floor balcony, west side,” she said. “That is protected by a . . . cursed yeti.”

All eyes went to Lassa.

“And bingo was his name-o,” Aspen said. “Lover boy puts the moves on the yeti and distracts her—”

“Him,” Teresa said.

“Him,” Aspen continued. “Distracts him while Harper sneaks up from behind and takes the big furball out. Then the banshee does her thing with the balcony door locks.”

“Wait, what’s your thing with the locks?” I asked.

“Everyone stop interrupting me,” Aspen snapped. He took a deep breath and made a show of centering himself. “Banshees can manipulate any and all locks. Don’t you know anything about banshee lore?”

“They’re loud,” I said.

“Yes, idiot, they’re loud. They also lure their victims outside to their demise. Hard to do that when a door is shut and locked, now isn’t it? Sorta breaks the spell if the victim has to stop and unlatch, unbolt, unchain, and open the front door.”

“Targets,” Teresa said. “Not victims. Banshees are the victims in the situation.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that,” Aspen said.

“But, the faerie is right,” Teresa said. “We manipulate the locks so the door is wide open when we call to the target. They must leave their dwelling of their own free will, but we help them along by removing any hindrance. It’s easy to stay inside when you have a safe, locked door to hide behind. They don’t stand a chance if all there is open air between them and our calls.”

“Oh, come now,” Aspen said. “Wails. Don’t try to pretty that part up. Calls, my faerie ass.”

“So Lassa seduces, Harper bludgeons, and Teresa picks the lock,” I said. “Then we’re in.”

“Then we’re in,” Aspen said.

We looked at each other, and none of us had anything close to agreement or satisfaction on our faces.

“It’s a shit plan,” I said. “We all know it. Thanks for the assist, Littlestick, but it’s not going to work.”

“Nope,” Lassa said.

“I do have to agree,” Teresa added.

“Total shit,” Harper said.

“No one asked you,” Lassa snarled.

“Stop,” I said.

“Not going to work?” Aspen grumbled. “Not going to work? Well, something has to work! And obviously you morons figure it out because in Lord Beelzebub’s temporally fluid reality, you somehow already did!”

“Are we morons or do we figure it out, Mr. Littlestick?” Teresa asked. “Do make up that faerie mind of yours.”

The tension in the room was ratcheting up big-time. Lassa and Harper were going to come to blows at any second, and even Teresa was losing her banshee cool with Aspen. We were no closer to solving the problem than we had been when we first entered the room. And we didn’t have much time left to figure it out.

Time left . . .

“Hold up,” I said. All eyes turned to me, and none were too happy. “We’ve way overthought this. Littledick is right.”

“I’d laugh at that, but you also said he’s right, so boo,” Lassa said.

“Get on with it, Lawter,” Aspen snapped. “What are you babbling about?”

“To Lord Beelzebub, we already stole his soul,” I continued. “We only have to go through with a plan, any plan, and the job is done. Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter what plan we come up with.”

“That is a gross oversimplification, Mr. Lawter,” Teresa said. “And a very dangerous one. Lord Beelzebub may have temporal fluidity, but we do not. Our time is now, as our time in that dimension will be then. To us, nothing is set in stone nor has it happened.”

“That’s the risk we take,” I said.

“I applaud your willingness to embrace the loophole aspect of temporal fluidity, Lawter, but, and I hate saying this, the banshee is right,” Aspen said. “This is a very dangerous game to play.”

“So? It’s dangerous to even go to this damn dimension. We can’t get rid of the danger,” I pressed. “Listen. I’m right. I am. We don’t need a plan. We only need to get inside. And that’s what doors are for.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Harper said and rubbed at her temples. “This is like the Virginia Beach gig, isn’t it?”

“Oh, damn,” Lassa said. “Oh, damn!”

“Exactly.” I saw the looks on Teresa and Aspen’s faces. “We’re going in the front door.”

“They will kill us all, Lawter,” Aspen said. “We get anywhere near the front door and they will kill us all.”

“You aren’t getting near the front door, I am,” I said.

“In Virginia Beach, we had to—” Harper started to say, but I held up my hand and shot her a look. Traitors don’t get to explain. She bit her tongue and gave me a sharp nod.

“We had to crash a Navy ball,” I said. “But we could only get one ticket. Plus, it wouldn’t have been easy walking in with a shaved yeti and a dreadlocked, scarred warrior chick. But we were going to need all of us at some point, so I created a box, tucked everyone inside, put the key in my tux pocket next to my ticket to the ball, and walked in through the front door. Bing, bang, boom.”

“What was the job?” Teresa asked.

“Client privilege,” I said and grinned.

“Touché.”

“It could work,” Lassa said. “Chase is right. We’ve already stolen the soul. We must get inside somehow.”

“Again, I must remind all of you, since you are not grasping this concept, that temporal fluidity is part of Lord Beelzebub’s existence, not ours,” Teresa said. “There is no guarantee that we complete the job. There are an infinite number of factors that could influence the outcome and result in failure.”

“Got a better idea?” I asked. She opened her mouth to respond, then slowly closed it. “Exactly.”

“All right, we go with Lawter’s idea. But there is one aspect of all of this that hasn’t been worked out,” Aspen said. “Getting away with it.”

He pointed at another floor plan and looked to Lassa. “Lord Beelzebub is up there. Can you arrange for transportation directly off that floor?”

Lassa studied the floor plan and nodded. “I should be able to. I don’t have any specific contacts in that dimension, but the Teamsters are the Teamsters. They’ll have a local union. Gonna cost an arm and a leg. Possibly literally. But I can make a call.”

“Phone’s over there,” Aspen said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at a pedestal on the far side of the room. “Dial nine to get out.”

Lassa stood up, and I leaned over the last floor plan.

“Why do we need transportation directly from that floor?” I asked. “It’s the third floor. I could manipulate the Dim and make a slide. Only a matter of making a long, three-sided box.”

“Read it again,” Harper said.

I leaned closer and read it again. Oh. “Thirtieth floor, not third. Shit. I misread the number. My bad. That’s a long damn slide. Yeah, that won’t work.”

“Lord Beelzebub is part of one of the oldest royal lines in all of the dimensions, Mr. Lawter,” Teresa said. “He would not live in a palace with only three floors.”

“Simple mistake,” I said. “I’ve never studied the Devil, so seeing third instead of thirtieth didn’t raise any alarm bells.”

“Not the Devil,” Aspen growled and looked like he was going to strangle me.

Harper stood and put herself between us.

“I don’t need your protection,” I said.

“Okay,” Harper replied and moved out of the way.

Aspen lunged at me.

Teresa’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the thigh. She squeezed, and we could hear a distinct sizzle, then the smell of burning flesh.

“Back. Off,” Teresa said. “Do not forget that Mr. Lawter is still my client and as such he is under my protection.”

Aspen yelped and jerked away from the banshee, his hand rubbing at the singed spot on his leg.

“Good thing you didn’t need my protection,” Harper said as she sat back down.

“I didn’t. I have a lawyer,” I said and stood up to stretch. “Ugh. How much time do we have?”

“Five hours,” Teresa said. “We should get some rest. Especially you, Mr. Lawter.”

I looked around and saw a couch in the far corner. I shuffled my way over to it and plopped down.

“We’re set,” Lassa announced, hanging up the phone as I fell into the soft cushions of the couch face-first. “Thirtieth-floor transportation is available. If needed.”

“If needed?” Harper asked.

“Well, they aren’t going to sit there with a helicopter and wait for us,” Lassa snapped. “They’ll have one ready and come get us when I give them a signal from Lord Beelzebub’s balcony.”

“Woo hoo,” I muttered, holding my thumb up. “Thanks . . . Lassa.”

I was almost asleep.

“Hey,” Harper said from close by.

I pretended to be fully asleep.

“Knock it off,” she said. “I know you’re faking.”

“Maybe I is, maybe I ain’t,” I mumbled into the couch cushion. It was hard to breathe, and stank of mildew, but I didn’t want to shift and be forced to look at her. “What of it?”

“You know I didn’t have a choice, right?” Harper said.

“I don’t know that at all,” I said. “What I do know is you are so fired.”

“Technically, Sharon has to fire me,” Harper said. “She’s head of HR. Also, there has to be a vote from all partners.”

“I vote yea,” I said. “I wonder what Lassa’s vote will be? Hmmm.”

“You guys are mad and have every right to be,” Harper said.

“Gee, Harp, thanks for letting me know what my rights to anger are,” I said. I had to look at her at that point. I turned my head. Despite how goddamn exhausted I was, I managed a pretty good glare as I lay on my cheek. “You are such a kind, considerate person.”

“You have no idea what I’ve done to keep you safe,” Harper said.

“What are you two talking about over there?” Aspen called from his chair. “I certainly hope you’re not touching on any taboo subjects, Harp. I wouldn’t want word to get back to Daphne that you were talking out of school.”

“I’ve never understood that saying,” I said.

“I’m not saying anything I’m not supposed to,” Harper called over her shoulder. “Go to sleep, asshole.”

“Well, if you’re going to whisper sweet nothings in my ear like that, then I guess I have no choice,” Aspen said. “Night night, bitches.”

He did that deep breath then asleep and snoring thing again. Total show. He was faking it.

“You’re faking it,” I called.

“God, you’re an idiot,” he mumbled.

“Right back atcha,” I replied, then looked at Harper. “We done here?”

“No,” Harper said.

“Okay, what other bullshit do you want to tell me?”

“That I always have and always will have your back. You have to believe me on that. We’re heading into something that you aren’t used to. I’ve been in situations this dangerous, Lassa has too, but you haven’t.”

“You don’t know what situations I have or have not been in.”

“Yes, I do. You know I do.”

“How is this more dangerous than any of the other jobs we’ve taken on?”

“Lord Beelzebub is the real deal, Chase. This is big-time. It’ll open doors for Black Box Inc. if we pull this off. I’d be excited, if it wasn’t all so . . . messed up.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“Listen to me, okay? I have a pretty good idea that what we’re going to attempt is outside your experience.” She sighed. “So, please, Chase, know that I am going to make sure you, and everyone else, gets out of this alive.”

I watched her for a second, then nodded.

“What about Littlestick?” I asked. “Him too?”

“Unfortunately,” she replied.

“I heard that,” Aspen said.

“Suck it, Littlestick,” I called out.

He didn’t respond.

“We aren’t good, so you know,” I said to Harper. “Keeping me, and all of us, alive is your job. Doing your job does not dig you out of the hole you’ve made for yourself.”

“But maybe someday I can dig out?” she asked.

“I doubt it,” I replied and shrugged. It was an awkward movement while lying facedown on a couch. All the shrug did was scrunch the top of my head into the side cushion. I struggled to scoot back. When I did, I said, “Go get some sleep and let me do the same, will ya? Lots of work to do tomorrow.”

“Yeah, sure,” Harper said and stood up. She gave me a weak smile, then walked off to find herself a couch to rest on.

I caught Lassa watching her, then he looked back at me. We shared a mutual look of pissed-off sadness, then nodded.

I turned my head so I was facing the back of the couch. I had some dust or something in my eye and didn’t want the others to see.

14

THE LIMO HAD gotten a bit of an upgrade while we slept.

“This is a company vehicle,” Teresa said, fuming at the unauthorized outfitting of the limo. “How will I explain this to the partners?”

“That we’re being forced to go to Hell and didn’t want to die?” I said as I stared at the armor and armaments added to the limo.

“Not Hell!” Aspen yelled from somewhere inside the mansion.

“Fuck off, Littlestick!” I yelled back and turned to Teresa. “Come on. You gotta admit, it does look cool.”

It did look cool.

Armor plating covered everything, even the windows. I assumed some sort of magic would allow us to see out of those. Bolted to the front bumpers were two heavy-caliber belt guns. On the trunk was a fully articulated RPG launcher swiveling back and forth, up and down, so someone was already inside the limo operating the controls. The launcher stopped moving, and a huge jet of flame shot out of the tailpipe.

“Well, that’s some serious James Bond shit right there,” I said.

The sunroof opened, which had been extended to include the front seats, and Lassa appeared.

“How’d that open?” I asked before he could say anything. “It’s plated.”

“Dude, faeries get things done,” Lassa said. “Complete dicks, but they do know their enchanted armor and weaponry.”

“Not so enchanted as cursed,” Harper said as she came out of the mansion’s front door carrying a heavy duffel bag in each hand. Lassa’s giddy mood ended. Harper wasn’t making a joke. “Don’t get too comfortable. Keep your eyes open and mind clear. If your attention strays, those guns will probably turn on us.”

Teresa swiveled her head to stare at me.

“Still looks cool,” I muttered.

“Ah, I see you are admiring the upgrade I gave your silly little car,” Daphne said as she came out of the mansion in a very short, very sheer robe, steaming cup of coffee in hand. Lassa’s giddiness returned as she gave him a huge smile. He pretty much wilted and fell back through the sunroof. “Good morning, Lassa.”

“I assume these modifications will be removed when our job is over,” Teresa said.

“Assume what you want,” Daphne said. “Knock yourself out.”

She sipped her coffee and gave Teresa the bitchiest smile ever in the history of bitchiest smiles.

“Someone will be knocked out when this is done,” Teresa said.

“Damn, why does this piss you off so much?” I asked, nodding at the limo.

“Ask first,” Teresa said. “Simple courtesy.”

Harper kicked the trunk. It popped open.

“Cool,” I said.

“I did that,” Lassa called from inside the limo. “Don’t give the traitor any credit.”

“I do love a good squabble,” Daphne said after a quick sip of coffee.

“Any chance I can get some of that?” I asked.

“A good squabble?”

“No, some coffee.”

“Coffee is for closers,” Daphne replied. “You have a long road ahead of you, Chase, before you become a closer. And I do mean that literally. Did you hear me, Chase? A long road.”

“Yeah, I hear ya. A long road. And that means . . . ?”

“We aren’t traveling via a portal, you idiot,” Aspen said as he came out of the mansion with his own duffel bags. He threw them to Harper, who caught them, tossed them into the trunk, then slammed the lid closed. “You can’t get to Ekron using the extradimensional portals. It’s a road-access-only dimension.”

“Ekron? What’s that?” I asked. I knew what it was, but I wanted to see Aspen squirm. Oh, did he squirm.

“Not Hell,” he snarled. “It’s—”

“Yeah, I know, I was busting your balls,” I said. “Faeries do have balls, right?”

“I hate you more than you can ever imagine,” he growled before heading back inside.

Everyone was really pissy first thing in the morning. If I wasn’t going to be allowed coffee, then I was going to play off the pissiness to needle Aspen all I could.

The limo’s horn honked several times. At first the honking was random, then a very distinct rhythm began to sound.

“Low Rider,” I said to Teresa, who was busy rubbing her temples.

“Yes, I know the song,” Teresa said.

“Not traveling by portal,” I said as I focused my attention on Daphne. It wasn’t the smartest thing to do, since there was a slight breeze and that short robe of hers threatened to lift up at any second. She was taking full advantage of the effect a slight breeze has on a short robe. Goddamn faeries. “What’s this road we’re taking?”

“I’ve got that covered,” Harper said. “I’m riding shotgun and will navigate for Lassa.”

She meant that shotgun thing literally, as she lifted a pump-action number and rested the barrel over her shoulder.

“Like hell you are!” Lassa yelled from the limo.

“Exactly like hell she is,” Daphne said. No room for argument.

“I’ll be in the back with you two,” Aspen said to me and Teresa when he came back out of the mansion. He held out a napkin with a tiny cake on it. “Eat. We don’t have time to deal with your metabolism.”

“Oh, come on,” I said. “No one offers coffee and now I have to eat this crap?”

“Eat,” Daphne said. Again, no room for argument.

I ate. The cake was as disgusting as ever. But, I managed to keep it down. And it did help with the hunger. The other pain? Not as much as last time, but I would deal.

“Let’s get the show on the road,” Aspen said as a portion of the armor plating slid aside and he opened the rear door for Teresa. “M’lady.”

Teresa didn’t respond. She stepped into the car and was lost in the shadows of the vehicle. Aspen followed her.

“Chase,” Daphne said, suddenly at my elbow, her voice purring in my ear. “Do not fail.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” I said, creeped out and turned on at the same time.

Goddamn faeries . . .

“Good,” Daphne said and sipped her coffee. She nodded at the open door. “Off you go now.”

I gave her a snarky smile and climbed into the limo. She slammed the door after me, and the armor plating slid back into place. She stepped back as Lassa started the limo up and shifted into drive.

I turned in my seat and watched as Daphne waved to us while we drove down the drive and away from the mansion. She sipped her coffee and stood there the whole time until she was lost from sight. Strangest mafia boss I’d ever met, that was for sure, and I’d met all kinds in my line of work.

Turning back to face front, I found Aspen staring at me.

“You aren’t going to be much use on this trip,” he said, “so try to shut up and stay out of the way.”

“Uh, I’m the most useful here,” I said. “I’m the guy that makes the Dim boxes.”

Aspen leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and gave me a very unfriendly smile.

“Chase, listen,” he said. “I’m going to do you a huge favor right now. I’m going to explain your role in this plan.”

“I already know my—”

He held up a finger to silence me.

“No,” he said. “You think you know your role, but you don’t. You make a box. We go in the box to get inside. Then you make another box. The soul goes in that box. You hide that box in the Dim and give me the key. Your role done.”

“Until you need to retrieve the box,” I said, ignoring how he boiled my abilities down to two oversimplified tasks. “You forgot that part.”

“No, I didn’t,” Aspen said. “Because when it comes time to retrieve the box, you will do so. No questions asked. No trying to bargain for a better deal. You’ll retrieve the box. End of story.”

“I wouldn’t call it the end of the story,” I said. “It’s not like we fade out or anything.”

“No, your end won’t be like that at all,” Aspen said.

“And what exactly does that mean?” Teresa asked, finally getting involved in the rather humiliating conversation. “Your employer has guaranteed Mr. Lawter’s safety when the job is completed.”

“Then Mr. Lawter better hope I listen to my employer,” Aspen said.

“All right, now it’s my turn to explain your role in this plan,” Teresa said. She leaned forward and mimicked Aspen’s position. “I will admit that it was an oversight on my part not to include a clause in the contract that took temporal fluidity loopholes into consideration.”

“Big oversight,” Aspen said.

“Which is why I will not be billing Black Box Inc. for that bit of work,” Teresa continued. I could see on her face the pain that statement caused. “However, if anything happens to Mr. Lawter, or to any of his associates, which cannot be remedied and/or reversed by hexes, other magics, or by medical means, then I will personally rain down the full power of my people on your little cesspool of a dimension. Do not forget your place in the extradimensional scheme of things, Mr. Littlestick. You faeries are great at the grift, but we banshees perfected revenge.”

Aspen’s unfriendly smile widened, and he leaned back in his seat.

“Then we understand each other,” he said.

Teresa again mimicked his movements and leaned back as well.

“I hope for your sake that we do,” she replied.

I cocked my head.

“Can I ask something?” I said. “That last part, the one about medical means? That sounds like you’re okay with me getting hurt as long as I can be medically healed. Is that right? Because, and I think I speak for my associates as well as myself, I would prefer there be no harm requiring medical attention. Is it possible we can understand each other on that?”

Neither of the extradimensional entities that sat with me in the back of that limo responded. I did not take that as a good sign.

Before I could press the issue, and I really wanted to press the issue, the divider rolled down and Harper looked back at us.

“Here is how this journey is going to work,” she said, then saw the look on my face and frowned. “What? What did I miss?”

“Like you care,” I said.

“Screw you, Chase.”

“Excuse me?” I snapped, not bothering to hide my anger. The whole back-and-forth with Aspen and Teresa had ticked me off. That and no goddamn coffee. “Go on, Harp? What was that?”

“Anyway. Moving on,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Lassa is driving.”

“Hello,” Lassa said and waved from the driver’s seat. He held up a hand at Harper without looking at her. His middle finger extended, and he shoved the digit in her face. “And fuck you.”

“Cute,” Harper said, shoving his hand away.

He did a half chuckle, half growl. “I’m not sure if it’s the armor plating or what, but the limo is pulling slightly to the left. You’ll want your ghouls to have a look at the alignment when we get back.”

“Noted,” Teresa said.

“Anyway,” Harper said again. “While Lassa drives, I navigate. I will also be on the lookout for the inevitable ambushes. The road we are taking is notorious for its marauder clans and highway-folk, hence the extra protection Daphne provided.”

“We’ll bill you for that,” Aspen said.

“I do not believe you will,” Teresa said.

“We’ll see,” Aspen countered.

“Oh, yes, we will,” Teresa replied.

“I hate it when Mommy and Daddy fight,” I grumbled. “Makes me feel all icky in my tummy.”

Lassa laughed. Good for him. But he probably would have laughed at anything, he was so damn happy about driving the souped-up Mad Max limo.

“When we are attacked.” Harper pressed on. “I will handle the weapons systems while Lassa drives us out of the mess. I have confidence he can do that, but it will be dicey for a bit depending on what the obstacles are. All I need you three to do is stay put and do not distract either of us up here. Are we clear?”

“Despite others’ opinions, I can help,” I said, giving a pointed look at Aspen. “I could create Dim boxes and trap the marauders in them.”

“And how would you do that?” Harper asked.

“I stand up out of the sunroof and throw the boxes at the marauders,” I said. “I’ve been working on hinged tops. This would be a perfect time to test out my design. If I time it right, then the boxes will snap shut on the bastards. Since I won’t have time to make a key, they’ll be trapped in there forever. Serves them right, yeah?”

“You’ll be exposing yourself to battle hexes and war spells. Not to mention rocks, bullets, arrows, and whatever else can be thrown at you,” Harper said.

“Life’s dangerous, Harper. Hey, I have an idea, you can do your job and protect me from all that shit. What an amazing idea for the security expert.”

“Or you could listen to the security expert.”

“You think I can’t handle myself?”

“I know you can. But this is far from the perfect time to test your new Dim toy. Prove yourself some other time. Right now, we have to make sure you get to Ekron in one piece or none of this matters.”

“Strange,” Aspen said. “Is there an echo in here? I distinctly remember someone else saying almost the exact same thing.”

“Shut up,” Harper snapped and took a breath. She tried to smile at me, but it faltered and failed. “My professional opinion is you three sit tight and let us do the driving and fighting. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” Teresa said.

“Very,” Aspen said. “No need to risk my neck if I don’t have to.”

“Chase?” Harper asked.

I took a cue from Lassa and flipped her off.

“Good,” she said and turned to face the road ahead.

“All right, now that we have that over with, I can fill you in on what our journey will be like,” Lassa said. “While this is my first time driving this route, I have received some great advice from a few of my contacts in the area. One of them even provided a nice little presentation that the local tourism board put together. Chase? You’re gonna hate the name. Trust me. I do.”

“Everyone hates the name,” Aspen said. “But it is the only name that translates in every language.”

“Exactly,” Lassa continued and cleared his throat. “Um . . . enjoy?”

A small screen began to lower where the partition divider usually went. Aspen made a move-over gesture and changed seats, jamming himself between me and Teresa on the back bench. The limo windows turned completely tinted, and the interior was plunged into darkness.

“Hello there!” A woman appeared on the screen, greeting us with a huge smile and a happy little wiggle. “I’m Rebecca and I’ll be your guide today as you traverse the exciting adventure known as—”

The woman performed some serious jazz hands. Those hands had very sharp talons on the tips.

“—The Gory Gauntlet!”

Goddammit.

15

THE SCREEN SLID back into its recessed position.

I sat there with my eyes wide and armpits damp with sweat. Teresa appeared to be highly irritated. Aspen looked bored.

Despite the goofball name, the Gory Gauntlet was no fucking joke. Shit . . .

“She didn’t mention the cannibalism,” he said, sounding disappointed. “I was looking forward to seeing some grease-streaked faces chomping down on tasty-looking thigh shanks.”

“Stop trying to freak everyone out,” Harper said, looking back at us again. “We need to be alert and ready to get to work, not terrified and catatonic.”

“No, I’m good,” I said shaking off some of the ick of what I saw in that, uh, tourism presentation. “That was a bit . . . much, but I’ve got this. No problem.”

“Good,” Harper said.

“I do have one question, though,” I said.

“Of course you do,” Harper said. “What?”

“Only the one?” Aspen snickered.

“Shut it, Littlestick,” Harper growled.

“It is shut,” he replied.

“What’s the question?” Harper asked me.

“Who the hell would see this road as a tourist destination?” I asked.

“Don’t be glib,” Teresa said. “There are many races that enjoy that kind of brutal violence. No need to be racist.”

“Yeah, I’m not being glib or racist,” I said. “If there are races from different dimensions that actually want to run this Gory Gauntlet thing, then why didn’t the Fae employ them?” I stared at Harper. “I’m serious. You could have only brought me here, not Lassa or Teresa. For some reason you wanted them here too or you would have made up some excuse for them to stay behind with Sharon and what’s his name.”

“Flip,” Lassa said.

“Yeah, that guy,” I said. “You’re doing this the hard way, which isn’t like you at all.”

While she didn’t exactly look at him, I caught a twitch of her eyes toward Aspen. I swiveled in my seat to face the faerie.

“Littlestick?” I said. “Maybe you have some insight into all of this?”

“Of course I have insight into all of this,” Aspen said. “The whole plan was my idea. Who do you think proposed it to Daphne?”

“Really? Because you have been pretty reluctant to be part of any of this,” I said. “You proposed the plan?”

“Listen, tiny brain, the Whys and Hows and the Whats aren’t for you to comprehend,” Aspen said. “All you have to do is make your pretty smoke boxes and give me the key to Lord Beelzebub’s soul when you’re done.”

“Not arguing that,” I said. “I get the mechanics of the plan. I’m just not buying it. Something’s up here.”

“We are being forced to work for Daphne,” Teresa said, her irritation going up a notch. “It stands to reason there is a good deal of something being up, as you say. The reality, Mr. Lawter, is that we may never know any of that something. That is not our role in this. Our role is to get to Ekron and steal Lord Beelzebub’s soul. I would advise, not only as your lawyer, but as a being who wishes to survive this ordeal, that you focus on your part and only on your part. Let the rest of us handle our parts and then we may stand a chance of surviving to return to our homes and loved ones.”

“You have loved ones?” Lassa asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.

“If you weren’t such well-paying clients, I would drop you right this second,” Teresa grumbled.

“That and I’m driving,” Lassa said. “Driving right into the Gory Gauntlet. Have a look out your windows, folks, because we are here. I don’t think you want to get dropped off now, Ms. Sullivan.”

She didn’t respond. None of us did. We were too busy looking out at the landscape that was flying by.

Scorched plains stretched all the way to the horizon on both sides of the road. They were literally scorched. The landscape was different in many ways from what the lady presenter had promised, but no less messed up.

The blackened, still-smoking ruins of what may have been a city were far off in the distance on the passenger’s side. If I squinted hard enough, I thought I could see movement in the ruins, but that could have been ash being kicked up by the wind, more smoke, or I needed glasses.

On the driver’s side, there were the remains of a vast forest. Huge, jagged, burned-to-a-crisp tree trunks dotted the landscape. A foul-looking creek wound its way through the demolished woods, moving at a sludge-like pace. Possibly because it appeared to be full of sludge.

I hadn’t even noticed when we’d left the faerie dimension. Must have been when that presentation was playing. Nice bit of misdirection there. Warped and sick misdirection, so not sure I’d give it more than three stars on TripAdvisor. But it did kill the time until we got to the part of the road trip where we might get killed.

I faced forward and stared out the windshield. Unlike the views on either side of the limo, the road was exactly like what the video presentation had shown it to be. Pitch-black pavement, almost as black as the Dim, stretched out as far as I could see. A straight ebony line that led to Hell.

Ekron. Considering the way the horizon ahead shimmered with heat waves, I still wasn’t convinced they weren’t the same thing. Especially with the occasional geyser of flame shooting a hundred feet up into the air now and again.

“Plains,” I said, stating the obvious.

“Very good, Chase,” Aspen responded, his words slow and condescending. “Those are plains.”

“Ha ha, asshead,” I replied. “What I mean by that is it’s hard to hide when there’re nothing but plains for as far as the eye can see. Where are the marauders going to hide for an ambush? Those very small rocks up ahead there?”

“Those aren’t small rocks,” Harper said.

I squinted. “They look like rocks.”

“They aren’t,” Harper insisted, and I distinctly heard the hum of something powering up. “Those are the marauders, dumb ass.”

“Oh,” I said as we got closer and I could see she was right.

They weren’t rocks at all, but hunched figures with very sharp-looking weapons gripped in scarred and gnarled fists. I counted at least two dozen per side of the road. They stayed in place, still as, well, rocks, and waited for us to get closer.

The hum rose in pitch, and I saw the belt guns on the front fenders begin to spin so fast that they looked like they’d stopped moving. The one on the passenger’s side turned right, the one on the driver’s side turned left.

“How are you going to aim in two different directions at the same time?” I asked.

“Hey, Chase?” Lassa asked.

“Yeah?”

“Be quiet, okay? We’re angry at Harper, very angry at Harper, but we need her to do what she does best right now,” he said.

“Yeah, sorry,” I said. “You’re right.”

I slipped my seat belt on and made sure the clasp was locked tight as we got closer and closer to the waiting marauders.

“You should buckle up,” I said to Teresa.

“I’m fine, Chase,” Teresa said. “If we crash, I would prefer not to be restrained.”

“Oh,” I said and moved to unbuckle, but Teresa reached across a relaxed Aspen and stopped my hand.

“No, keep it on,” she said. “You’re human. Seat belts are meant for your kind.”

I left the seat belt on. Seemed like a good idea as soon as half the marauders from each side of the road decided to step out into said road and block our path.

“Don’t slow down,” Harper said to Lassa.

“Wasn’t planning to,” Lassa replied.

“You may want to speed up,” she said.

“Already am,” he said.

“Aim for the third one from the left,” she said.

“Shut up and let me drive,” he said. “You shoot, me drive.”

Their normal banter was back, and I was suddenly filled with conflicted emotions again.

Seeing Lassa and Harper back in their usual pattern was great, yes. But I still had that memory of everything going to shit when Harper had pulled that pistol yesterday. I couldn’t see how it could ever go back to the way it had been even if Lassa and Harper were in sync at the moment. No, this moment was all about the danger, the adrenaline. Once that was gone, we’d still be stuck in the shit of what Harper had done.

We were almost on the marauders, and I gripped the seat, my fingers digging into the thick leather upholstery. I was gonna leave some marks. Teresa may not be billing us for her screwup with Aspen’s Do No Harm contract, but I knew her. She’d bill us for marks on the leather.

I felt the limo lurch, then lower as Lassa pushed the accelerator to the floor. My body was pressed back into the seat, and my eyes widened as we came at the waiting marauders at a speed that didn’t seem possible for the size of the limo.

Harper opened fire with the belt guns at the very instant that the front of the limo collided with the marauders. I winced at how loud the guns were. I wished I still had the law firm’s earplugs in. Those had dissolved as soon as we’d left the premises. No need for them with only Teresa around. She knew how to keep her voice down.

There was blood everywhere. The windshield was coated, and Lassa turned on the wipers, smearing lines of gore across the magically reinforced glass until hexes finally kicked in and the gore dissolved away. On either side of the limo, the marauders that had stayed crouching were ripped apart by heavy-caliber bullets. Harper nailed each and every one of those suckers. They popped like balloons. Nasty, blood-and-guts-filled balloons.

Then the mayhem was over. Harper stopped shooting. There was so much gore that Lassa ran the windshield wipers, squirting the glass with a bubbly green liquid, again and again until the only evidence of the violence we’d gone through were the parts the wipers couldn’t reach. And if you turned your head just right, the gore looked more like mud and dirt than blood with fleshy and bony bits.

And hair. There was some hair in there too.

Then the hexes caught up, and the hair flashed away.

“That’s not all this hell road is gonna throw at us, right?” I asked.

“No,” everyone said at once.

“Didn’t think so,” I responded. “I’ll keep my seat belt on.”

“Excellent plan,” Teresa said. She turned to look out her window. “Nine o’clock. Riders. Eight of them.”

I tried to lean forward so I could get a better look, but the seat belt held me in place no matter how much I struggled to take in the slack, then pull in that universal dance we all do with seat belt straps when they get too tight. No dice. I was secured where I was.

“Riders?” Lassa asked. “What kind of riders?”

“Plains wraiths,” Aspen said in the same tone as if he were saying, “Prairie dogs. Cute, little prairie dogs.”

“Plains wraith doesn’t sound good,” Lassa said. “None of the wraith family sounds good, but plains wraiths sound really not good. Are they like in Lord of the Rings?”

“Eventually the comparison always circles back to Tolkien,” Aspen said.

“Nazgûl,” I said. “He’s talking about the Nazgûl.”

“I know what he’s talking about,” Aspen snapped. “No one cares what they are called because all Tolkien did was write about things he saw when he stuck his head in a hole in the ground during WWI, a hole that was a chaos portal. He caught glimpses of a bunch of different races during the extradimensional Mardi Gras parade, then wrote it all down.”

“So they do look like the things in Lord of the Rings?” Lassa asked. “I can’t look, I’m driving.”

“Yes,” Aspen sighed. “That’s what they look like.”

“Do they have really long scary-looking swords?” Lassa asked.

“Yes, they have swords,” Aspen said. “Because, like I said, Tolkien isn’t the brilliant fantasist you think he was.”

“I like Tolkien,” Teresa said. “He captured the spirit of so many marginalized races. I believe he could have done with some banshee representation in his works, but he came close with a couple of characters.”

“Like banshees needed more exposure,” Aspen said. “You lot basically rule the spooky lexicon of the UK.”

“As if faeries do not?” Teresa replied. “I believe the saying is the pot calling the kettle black.”

“If you two will shut up, you can watch me make everything black,” Harper said. “Fire in the hole!”

There was a loud roaring sound followed by several whooshes from the rear of the limo. Even though I couldn’t really see well, I did catch glimpses of streaks of fire racing away from our vehicle and out into the plains. I might have seen the riders, but I couldn’t be sure. The RPGs that Harper had launched were putting off a lot of flame and smoke.

I did, however, see the resulting explosions as the rockets hit their targets.

As the limo kept racing along the road, there was the sound of heavy impacts hitting the top of the limo. Then the windshield. The sky was raining body parts, humanoid and horse-like, while burning black rags floated lazily to the scorched earth.

The hexes took care of the gunk and gore, but a crispy taloned hand became lodged in one of the windshield wipers no matter how many times Lassa ran them to shake it off.

“Dammit, that’s gonna bug me,” Lassa said.

“We need to pull over soon so I can reload the weapons anyway,” Harper said.

“Do what now?” I exclaimed. “Pull over? Here?”

“Like a pit stop in a NASCAR race,” Lassa said.

“But with less guns than at a NASCAR race,” Harper said.

Lassa started to laugh, then checked himself and growled instead.

Harper grinned, but quickly turned her head to look out her window. I knew Harper well enough to know what that grin meant. She was laughing at his slip of congeniality. I got it. I knew where Lassa was coming from. It was hard to stay pissed off at Harper when we were in the fight. Too much like normal times.

Lassa tried one more time with the windshield wipers, but the hand wasn’t going anywhere. Teresa needed her people to be more specific with the hexes and include solid body parts, not only gunk, gore, and hair.

16

“PULL OVER THERE,” Harper said, pointing at a gas station up ahead.

There was a gas station on the side of the road. We’d already shot a bunch of marauders to shit and blown up eight plains riders that looked like Nazgûl while driving through a scorched wasteland. But, yeah, of course, there was a gas station. Why wouldn’t there be?

When Lassa slowed the vehicle, Harper fiddled with something on the weapons system. “You gas up while I reload.”

“I’m staying in the car,” Lassa said. “Keeping the engine running. In case.”

“I know,” Harper said. “I was talking to Chase. You always stay in the car. I know how we play things, asshole.”

I could see Lassa was going to lose it, and I leaned forward. “We sort shit out when we’re done with the job.”

The two of them glanced back at me, both ready to argue, but they kept their mouths shut and nodded. Despite my reluctance, being de facto leader had some advantages. Like keeping them from bickering themselves into a homicidal rage.

“Good,” I said, and the unease gripping me chilled out some. My guts were still roiling, but at least it looked like my team was going to stay a team until we got the job done.

Lassa pulled over into the gas station, and there was the distinct sound of a bell ringing somewhere far off. Harper was out of her door and moving to the trunk before I’d even found the handle to my door.

I stepped out and one nasty-looking creature came rolling out of an open garage door. I instantly started to form Dim rods.

“He’s not a threat,” Harper said from the trunk. She peeked around. “Put those away and save your energy.”

I banished the Dim rods as the whatever came toward me. The being had more arms than anything I had ever seen, and half of those arms held some tool or other. I nodded a quick greeting and moved to grab the gas nozzle.

“Oi!” the being yelled. “No pumping your own gas! Can’t you bloody read?”

I looked at the pump and saw a handwritten sign in a language I couldn’t comprehend, let alone read. The letters, if they could be called letters, were all squiggles and swirling dots. The handwriting constantly moved this way and that.

“I can read, but not that, pal,” I said, nodding at the sign. “You might want to add a few other languages.”

“It’s written in all the languages, you pompous ass,” the being said, rolling closer. It stopped a yard from me and squinted its seventeen eyes. “Oh, right, you’re one of those humans. No wonder you can’t read what every other race, species, and being in all the dimensions can. You lot are a bunch of closed-minded wankers, is what you are.”

A three-headed something snickered from a seat by the gas station’s front door. A bottle of soda was clutched in the creature’s clawed hand as it rested its huge butt across two old, rusty folding chairs. The three-headed creature looked like that bulldog from the Tom & Jerry cartoons: all shoulders and barrel chest with small, but muscular, legs. Not that the heads were doglike in any way. They had a goblin meets a troll meets a whole helluva lot of ugly look going on.

“You tell ’em, Stan!” Left Head said.

“Stupid hoooomans!” Right Head said.

Middle Head only glared at me as it picked its nose with the tip of a tail that came out from under the chair and between its legs before taking a swig of its soda.

I goddamn hoped that was a tail.

“You gonna be able to pay for that?” the multilimbed gas station attendant asked. “You better have cash on ya, because we don’t take credit here.”

“We’ll be able to pay, Stan,” Aspen said as he peeked out from the back of the limo. He glanced over at the three-headed thing and waved. “Kek’cha. How’s it hanging?”

“Low and heavy,” Kek’cha’s Right Head replied.

“Good to hear, my man,” Aspen said, then focused back on Stan, who was looking a little grim. “Are we good, Stan?”

“Mr. Littlestick, sir, of course, sir,” Stan said. “On the house. No need to pay today.”

“Nah, I couldn’t take advantage of you like that,” Aspen said. “Put the charge on Daphne’s tab, will ya?”

“Not a problem, Mr. Littlestick,” Stan said. Then all of his eyes glanced up, and that grimness turned to pure fear.

During their conversation, I’d been struggling to get off the armor that covered the gas cap. I was about to ask Stan for some assistance, when I noticed his sudden change in mood.

“What?” I asked. “He’s simply a faerie like any other faerie. Forget about the Fae thing. No need to fear his scrawny ass.”

“Uh, Chase, I don’t think he’s worried about Aspen,” Harper said as she finished reloading the belt guns and stepped back from the limo. Her face was turned up to the sky, and while she wasn’t exactly scared, she sure as shit didn’t look too happy about what she saw.

“What?” I asked. I turned around and glanced up at the sky. “Goddammit.”

“Lassa,” Harper said. “Gonna need you.”

“Listen, you slimy traitor, you can load the rockets yourself,” Lassa said as he leaned across the passenger’s seat and glared out of the open car door at Harper. “You’re strong enough. I’m the driver on this trip.”

“Lassa,” Harper said, her voice tight and urgent. “We have incoming. I count over a dozen.”

“And that’s my problem why?”

“Lassa!” I snapped. “Pull your angry head out of your hairy ass and look!”

Lassa rolled his eyes at me and pushed back across to his door, then got out of the limo. He saw which way we were staring and turned.

“Goddammit,” he snarled.

“That’s what I said.” I held out my hand to Harper. “Give me a gun.”

“No can do, buckaroo,” Aspen said, still inside the limo. “Daphne’s orders. No weapons for the help.”

“Then Dim rods it is.”

“Nope,” Harper said.

“I made some like a second ago. You said for me to save my energy. I think now is a good time to expend some fucking energy.”

“I lied. I was avoiding an argument. Daphne says no weapons for the defiler of dimensions.”

“Oi! This guy is the defiler of dimensions. Didn’t know that. Might have had to rethink letting you lot refuel here,” Stan said.

“Fuck off, Stan,” I snarled.

“What is all this complaining about?” Teresa asked. She sort of floated out of the limo, looked at me, looked at Harper, then turned and looked at the sky. “This could put a wrinkle in our time line.”

Aspen sighed and joined us.

“Huh,” he said and began to search his pockets. “Unfortunate.”

“I’m gonna echo Chase on this and ask for a gun as well,” Lassa said. “A big gun. Maybe one of those shotguns.”

“No guns for the help,” Aspen said, still searching his pockets. “Now, where did I put my . . . ?”

Teresa ducked back into the limo, then came out with a small wood case. She popped open the lid and extended the case to me. Earplugs.

“I advise you put these in,” she said. “I plan to get loud.”

“Oh, hell no,” Stan said as he watched us prep for what was coming. “Not sticking around for a banshee at full volume. No, sir.”

He rolled his many-armed self back into the garage and shut the door.

“Now, what you got there is a harpy problem,” Kek’cha’s Left Head said.

“Dammit! Give me a fucking gun!” I shouted.

“Do not do that, Harper,” Aspen said.

“Wasn’t going to.”

“Ah, here we go.” Aspen whipped out some sort of thin chain of gold from his pants pocket. The gold turned crimson and glowed bright for a half second, then returned to its original color. “No offense, Chase. Daphne’s orders. No guns for idiots. Wouldn’t want an accident to happen.”

“Golly gee, asshole, why would I be offended?” I snapped.

“You know what? I don’t need a gun,” Lassa said as he punched his right fist into the open palm of his left hand. He shot a look over his shoulder at Harper. “I feel like punching shit. Screw you and your weapons.”

“Oh, you hurt me there,” Harper said and walked casually back to the trunk.

She kicked the lid open, grabbed out one of the duffel bags, closed the lid, and set the duffel up on the trunk. Her eyes never left the sky as she unzipped the duffel and began to pull out various weapons, placing each on the limo in a nice, orderly line.

Three rifles, four pump-action shotguns, a crossbow, and two very long, nasty-looking blades that were about the size of machetes, except the blades were curved. Kinda like mini scimitars. I’m sure they had a name. I’m also sure Harper knew not only the name of the blades, but who crafted them and where the materials were procured from.

Then she pulled out her baby. The goblin sickle. Curved. Sharp. Terrifying. I almost expected her to pet the blade.

Teresa tossed the earplug case to Lassa, and he casually put a hexed pair in his ears before absentmindedly tossing the case to Harper. They were on autopilot again, training kicking in and bad blood forgotten for the moment, as they kept their gaze on the incoming harpies.

Harpies. Goddamn harpies.

Disgusting creatures, and that’s saying a lot considering the freaky things I’ve seen.

The body of a huge vulture with the head and face of a woman, they were more than off-putting. Ugly as sin, their faces were twisted by permanent sneers and their bodies were covered in pustules and crawling with blood-sucking mites. Most of their feathers were gone or in the process of falling off, leaving only enough so they could fly. Right at us.

A dozen of the things were about a quarter mile off and coming in fast.

They were a transdimensional species. They had no fixed home. From what I understood, they followed doomed beings around, taunting them, getting into their heads, until the beings committed suicide so the harpies could then feast on their corrupted corpses like the nasty, warped vultures that they were.

Or, if they couldn’t get the beings to off themselves, they’d swoop in and take whatever food they had, over and over and over, until the poor, unfortunate beings starved to death.

Neither of those strategies were going to work on us, which meant they had something else in mind. That something probably involved the massive sharp talons at the end of their claws.

That shouldn’t be an issue when we had a well-armed killer, a Fae assassin with some magical chain thingy, a banshee ready to get her scream on, a yeti who was jacked up on betrayal anger, and me. I might not have had a gun, but I knew a few ways to defend myself. Once the action started, I was going to ignore Harper and Aspen and totally make some Dim rods. Fuck ’em.

So, five fighters against a dozen harpies seemed like good odds.

Except harpies couldn’t be killed.

Well, technically they could, but no one had figured out how. No one.

Goddamn harpies.

“Drive off,” Kek’cha’s Right Head said. “Hop your little mortal butts into that stupid wagon of yers and go. They’ll chase ya for a few miles, then get bored.”

“Not mortal,” Aspen and Teresa said in unison, then gave each other a sharp glare.

“Whoopty shit for you two,” Kek’cha’s Left Head said. “Don’t matter. Drive away.”

“Lassa?” Harper asked.

“Harpies don’t give up,” Lassa said. “If they’re coming for us, they’ll stay on us. Our best bet is to wound the shit out of them and then bail. Can’t kill them, but we can put them down long enough to be on our way.”

“They’ll have our scent,” Harper said.

“My guess is they already do, Harp,” Lassa said. He flinched at the use of her nickname. He turned and stared at her. “Harper. Harpies. Fitting.”

“Screw you,” Harper said.

“Focus, children,” Teresa said.

“What the glowing-about-to-get-loud woman said,” Aspen responded.

He twirled his gold chain around and around by his leg, like a cowboy with a lariat, then started walking into the road. I would have told him to look both ways first, but I’d rather he got hit by a car, despite the fact we needed him in the oncoming fight. And we hadn’t seen another car since we got on the road.

The speed of his twirling increased until the gold chain was a blur. Then he whipped it up and out, and a small whirlwind erupted from the tip as the chain snapped and cracked in the air. The whirlwind grew and grew until it was a good fifty feet high.

The harpies saw the magical weather phenomenon and began shouting curses. Not magical curses, but good old-fashioned swear words and disgustingly descriptive anatomical suggestions. I could tell that both Harper and Lassa were taking mental notes, each for their own reason.

The whirlwind continued on its path toward the harpies, the mouth of the funnel widening and widening. Massive amounts of scorched dirt and singed rocks were sucked up into the twister, half of those ending up shooting in our direction.

“Son of a bitch!” Lassa shouted as he got nailed by a pebble moving almost as fast as a bullet. Skin wasn’t pierced, but the bullet pebble knocked him back against the limo. “A little warning, you Fae fuck!”

“Perhaps taking cover would be in order,” Teresa suggested.

Teresa and I were already on the passenger side of the limo, protected. Harper grabbed her weapons and crouched down by the rear wheel while Lassa clambered over the top of the limo, dropping down behind the front wheel on our side as a small boulder impacted against the driver’s door.

“Your buddy isn’t helping much,” Lassa snarled at Harper.

Harper shrugged and double-checked the magazine in one of the rifles. She adjusted the scope, then put the butt to her shoulder. As soon as there was a break in the sedimentary shrapnel that was pelting the limo, she popped up, took aim, and squeezed off three shots.

There were three distinct screams of pain easily heard over the roar of the whirlwind.

“Three down,” she said as she dropped back behind the limo.

“They won’t stay down,” Teresa said.

“They won’t be at full fighting strength, either,” Harper countered.

“Where is Mr. Littlestick?” Teresa asked.

“Right here,” Aspen said as he casually walked around the back of the limo. He didn’t duck down, didn’t even flinch as rocks flew past him. He smiled down at Harper. “Excellent shooting. Do that six more times and we’ll be done here.”

“Six?” I asked.

“My whirlwind took out three,” Aspen said.

“Yeah, but for how long?” Lassa said.

“Long enough,” Aspen replied.

Then two harpies slammed into him. He was knocked to the ground, their talons gripping his body so he couldn’t shake them off. Their mouths were filled with sharp brown teeth, and they immediately tore into him. He tried to fight them, but he couldn’t get any leverage to whip his gold chain about.

Harper spun on a knee and opened fire, ripping the harpies apart with large-caliber slugs. The bird women screeched and hissed, turning their heads to face Harper as their bodies danced from the continual rifle fire she put in them.

When the rifle clicked empty, the two harpies were lying on the ground to the side of Aspen, black blood oozing from their mangled bodies.

“Icky little abomination thinks she can fight,” one said.

“Needs her boomstick to do the fighting for her,” the other said.

“Teach her a lesson,” the first said.

“Claw her eyes out, see how she fights then,” the second said.

Harper dove and rolled at them, discarding the rifle as she pulled out the goblin sickle. She came up next to the harpies and executed a hard swipe, lopping their heads off in one move without missing a beat.

The severed heads began to laugh, but the harpy bodies stopped wriggling and moving.

“Abomination,” the first snapped, clicking its brown teeth at her.

“You’ll never belong,” the second said, spitting a glob of thick, bloody mucous at Harper.

Harper didn’t dodge in time, and the glob splatted across her right cheek. She stabbed the end of the sickle through the offending harpy’s eye socket, silencing the bird woman. The other harpy started to say something, but never got a chance as Harper repeated the movement on that one as well.

She pulled the blade free and wiped her cheek as she scrambled back to us behind the limo.

“Never mind me,” Aspen said, his chest and face nothing but tattered skin. “I’ll manage on my own.”

“Yes, we are quite certain you will, Mr. Littlestick,” Teresa said.

The whirlwind was done, and the silence left in its wake was almost overpowering. Of course, when harpies are around, silence never lasts for long.

A few heavy thuds and some scraping noise, and I looked up to see four harpy heads staring down at me from the top of the limo.

“Hello, defiler of dimensions,” one of them said. Her voice was like every nail on every chalkboard. “Would you like to die now?”

“Nope,” I said and spread my hands out, palms up. The black began to pour from me.

The harpies laughed.

“You think you can trap us?” another asked. “Leave it to a defiler to think that.”

“If all you folks keep calling me that name,” I said as the black smoke took shape, “I may start putting the name on my business cards.”

“Dude, we don’t have business cards,” Lassa said. “Maybe we should get some, though.”

He stood up and punched one of the harpies in the nose. The creature cried out as puss and black blood exploded everywhere. Lassa screamed and yanked his hand back, tendrils of green smoke wafting away from his knuckles.

“Did the big shaved doggie get burned?” the wounded harpy cackled. “Poor little doggie.”

Lassa fell to his knees as the skin on his knuckles bubbled into a hundred blisters. Then each blister burst. The smell was almost worse than the carrion stench that was coming off the harpies.

“How about we handle this like women?” Teresa asked as she stood up and faced the harpies. “With our words.”

She opened her mouth wide and screamed, “Go the fuck away!”

The harpies tumbled back across the top of the limo, falling off the other side and rolling out into the road. Even with the earplugs in, that shit hurt. I’d thought I’d experienced a full banshee wail before, but I was wrong. Really, really wrong.

I leaned over and peered under the limo. I could see the harpies lying out in the road, that black blood seeping from their ears and eyes. Their mouths worked in silent agony as they tried to right themselves, but couldn’t.

“What the hell did you do to them?” I asked as I stood up.

“Obliterated their ears, including their inner ears,” Teresa said. “They won’t be standing, let alone flying, anytime soon.”

There was a loud blast of an air horn and a semitruck came barreling down the road, squashing the harpies into pulp as it roared past the gas station. We all jumped and cried out.

Kek’cha slow clapped from his seat in front of the gas station.

“Wasn’t expecting that,” Lassa said, clutching his puss-dripping hand to his chest as we stared at the harpy mess smeared across the road.

“Oh, dear,” Teresa said as she looked at Lassa. “Will that impede your ability to drive us to our destination?”

Lassa blinked at her a few times. I could tell he was unsure if he should be pissed off at her lack of empathy for his pain, or if he should shake off the pain and get back to work. Yetis have a pretty damn good work ethic despite the whole snowboarder/ski bum persona so many have, so the struggle between get pissed or get to work was real.

“I’m good,” he said at last.

“Well, I’m not,” Aspen whined, still lying on the ground, his body a mess. “A little help, please?”

No one moved. He sighed, coughed up some blood, then sighed again.

“I did say please,” he said.

Harper went and stood over him.

“What do you need us to do?” she asked.

“I have a bit of elixir in my satchel in the limo,” he said. “Should fix me right up. Fix up the yeti too.”

“I ain’t taking any faerie elixir,” Lassa said. “Don’t feel like being your slave for the rest of my life.”

“It’s only a healing elixir, you big baby,” Aspen said. “I won’t put you under a spell or anything.”

Harper pushed past me and Teresa and ducked into the limo. She came back out with a satchel in hand and shoved it into my chest.

“You give it to him,” she said.

“Me? You give him the goddamn elixir,” I snapped.

“Can’t,” she said and pointed at Aspen and the blood that had started to pool and spread out from his body. “I can’t touch that.”

“And I can?” I asked. “No thank you.”

“I’ll handle this,” Teresa said, yanking the satchel away from me. “Banshees are immune to the influence of faerie blood.”

“Great, I’ll dispose of the harpy bodies. Put them somewhere they can’t get away from easily.”

I wished I hadn’t said anything. I’d rather spoon-feed a Fae assassin his medicine than pick up harpy bits and put them in a Dim box. Lassa’s hand, which had finally stopped bubbling up new blisters, was proof enough that touching harpy blood was not a good idea. But, the side effect was only pain, not like the mind fuck faerie blood could produce.

“Here,” Harper said as she went and opened the trunk. She rummaged about in one of the duffels and came out with a pair of thick gloves. “Dragon hide.”

“These are banned in every dimension,” I said.

“The Fae don’t care,” Harper said.

“We really don’t,” Aspen said as Teresa crouched next to him and poured a thick, bright purple liquid past his shredded lips and into his open mouth. He instantly started to heal, but wasn’t healing fast enough to get up anytime soon.

“I can’t make a Dim box with dragon-hide gloves on,” I said with a sneer, quite happy with Aspen’s discomfort.

Harper stared at me for a second, then nodded. She slid the gloves on.

“Make your box,” she said. “I’ll pile the parts.”

I made my Dim box. She piled the harpy parts, as much as could be piled, into one heap by the side of the road. Then she quietly scooped the gunk into the Dim box so I could put the top on and seal things tight.

I could have banished the box into the Dim without a key, so there was no chance of retrieval. But a little voice inside me said that was the wrong move. As Harper turned to put the gloves back in the trunk, and Teresa helped Aspen into the back of the limo while Lassa walked around the vehicle to inspect the damage, I scratched off a Dim key and tucked it into my pocket.

Harper threw some gold coins at the gas pump, and we all got in, ready for the next leg of our journey.

Kek’cha waved at us as we drove off.

17

IF LASSA WAS trying to hide that he was in some serious pain, he totally failed. He drove with his left hand while his wounded right was held against his chest. We’d driven for several miles without incident, but that didn’t mean we weren’t going to run into more issues. Trouble was almost guaranteed. We needed Lassa at full strength with both hands on the steering wheel.

“Lassa,” I said in as nice of a voice as I could muster considering the shit few days we’d had. “Maybe you should reconsider taking that elixir.”

“Maybe you should reconsider opening your mouth again,” Lassa growled with a full-throated yeti growl, born of pain and discomfort. “That goes for all of you.”

“Didn’t say a word,” Harper responded, then turned to stare out her window.

“The idiot is right,” Aspen said, his body almost fully healed. “Two hands are better than one.”

“How’s a broken jaw add up?” Lassa asked. “Do the math on that.”

“I don’t believe that involves much math,” Aspen said, shifting in his seat. He rolled his eyes. “Well, I tried.”

“Lassa, please see reason,” Teresa said. “You need to be at full strength when we arrive at Lord Beelzebub’s palace.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Lassa. Pal,” I said. “You let that get any worse and it’s gonna affect your dating game. Would you be attracted to a yeti clutching a hand to his chest that was seeping yellow puss?”

“Maybe,” Lassa said.

“Yeah, not a fair question,” Harper said. “Lassa is attracted to almost anyone.”

“But he understands what I mean,” I said. “Lassa? Come on.”

“Y’all are doing the opposite of keeping your mouths closed,” he snarled.

“Only because we care, pal,” I said.

Lassa didn’t say a word for several miles. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat for a long while, then nodded.

“Is that a yes?” I asked.

“Yes, but if I turn into something awful, I’ll kill every one of you with my bare hands.”

“If you have the will to do so,” Aspen said.

Lassa growled loud enough to shake the limo.

“I was joking,” Aspen said. “I already told you it is a simple healing elixir. No tricks. I keep some on me anytime I drive this road. You can see why.”

Teresa held out a hand, and Aspen dug around in his satchel until he found the elixir and handed it to her. She opened the bottle and sniffed the contents.

“I do not detect deception,” she said, then put the cork back in, leaned forward, and offered the bottle to Lassa.

He turned, looked at the bottle for a second, then took it with his healthy hand, steering the limo with one of his knees. He pulled the cork out of the bottle with his teeth and spat it onto the dashboard, then downed the elixir before anyone could say anything.

“Oh, come on!” Aspen cried. “That was all I had left, you big oaf! A sip would have been fine!”

Lassa threw the empty bottle over his shoulder, expertly hitting Aspen between the eyes, then belched.

“You should have said something sooner,” Lassa said. “Yetis don’t sip.”

Lassa held his wounded hand out, and we watched the skin heal instantly. The process was so fast that if I had blinked twice, I would have missed it.

However, there was one side effect.

White hair began to grow from every follicle on Lassa’s body, and he was a full-on, hairy-as-he-was-meant-to-be yeti in three seconds.

“Dammit,” he muttered.

“That should work to our advantage,” Teresa said. “Your fur coat should give you some more protection. We can use any advantage we can get.”

“Fur coat?” Lassa snapped. “I’m not a society wife, thank you.”

“And this isn’t the 1960s,” I said. “Society wife? Really, pal?”

“Hey, don’t criticize me,” Lassa said. “I’m not part of the race that skins animals and wears those skins for prestige.”

“That storm’s not looking good,” Harper interrupted, staring out the windshield.

I could tell she was concerned about the storm, but she was also doing what Harper does, which is change the subject when Lassa and I are about to get tangentially stupid.

“Not a storm,” Aspen said. “That’s the border with Ekron.” He moved to the divider and leaned forward. “Get us as close to that as possible, but don’t drive through the clouds. The dimension’s defenses will strip this limo down to the hubcaps.”

“Then how are we getting in?” Teresa asked. “Certainly we aren’t going to walk.”

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Aspen said.

“Through that?” I asked at the massive wall of black clouds that was getting closer. “If that’ll strip the limo down to the hubcaps, then what in the goddamn hell is it going to do to us?”

“Not Hell,” Aspen said.

“That’s not what I meant!” I shouted.

He grinned. His turn to needle. Well played. Asshole.

“Don’t worry. Anyone can come and go from Ekron on foot.”

“What is Ekron like?” Harper asked. She’d gotten out a ten-inch knife and was sharpening the blade on a piece of stone. She didn’t look up from her task. “Bubbling pits of fire? Screaming, tormented souls?”

“Detroit,” Aspen said.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Teresa said and sighed. “Detroit is not that bad. I’ve been there recently and the city is quite vibrant when you take into consideration what the place has been through.”

“Right,” Aspen said and pointed at the massive cloud wall. “That’s what I mean. This dimension is like Detroit. I wasn’t kidding when I said that. I like Detroit.”

Everyone turned and looked at him.

“What?” he asked. “I’m not always a dick.”

Lassa snorted and drove us a little closer, then pulled off to the side of the road and stopped the limo. We sat there for a minute and stared at the black cloud that served as Ekron’s border. The defense swirled and undulated, but other than that, it didn’t seem too menacing once we were up close. There were no hidden tentacled figures moving about or far-off cries of pain and agony. Simply a big cloud colored black.

“No time like the present,” Aspen said and scooted past me to get out of the limo.

He was gone, and we heard the trunk pop open. Harper got out and followed him. I looked at Teresa, then at Lassa, who had turned to lean over the divider.

“This here,” I said, pointing at Lassa and Teresa, then at myself. “This is the trust circle.”

“Triangle,” Lassa said and shrugged. “But whatever.”

“I swear I’ll take a picture of you like this and change your Tinder profile.”

“Chill, dude.”

“Your point is taken, Mr. Lawter,” Teresa said. “The faerie and the one complicit with the Fae will turn on us at some point.”

“Harper already has,” Lassa said. “She keeps turning and she’ll be back where she started.”

“She can’t get back there,” I said.

“You can never go home again,” Lassa responded.

“No.” I held up a finger. He liked to start quoting Thomas Wolfe when he got maudlin. I didn’t need that shit right then. “Game face, pal.”

“I wasn’t going to start,” he said, knowing exactly why I had cut him off.

Teresa eyed us, then reached inside her gown and pulled out two glowing rocks. They had the same blue tint that she had. She held one out to each of us.

“Only use these if you have no other choice,” she said. “I mean that. This is the nuclear option, understood?”

Lassa and I shared a look. We both shook our heads.

“No,” I said. “Explain.”

“They’re calling stones,” Teresa said. “Sacred to the banshees. If you have no way out, and I mean that you are about to die, then you hold the rock to your lips and you ask for vengeance. That is what you will get.”

“But will we still be alive?” Lassa asked. “Because vengeance usually comes after someone dies and you are, well, avenging their death.”

“If you use them in time, then you will have almost every banshee from my firm appear to save you,” Teresa said. “One or two have to stay behind because business is business, but other than them, you will have the might of Mulkahey, Delaney, and Sullivan—Attorneys at Law coming to your rescue.”

“Wow,” Lassa said. “That’s some serious saving.”

“And billable,” I said, looking Lassa in the eye. “Do not use that stone unless you are dying. Otherwise, you’ll be explaining the invoice to Sharon and she will kill you, which would make using the stone pointless.”

“Right,” Lassa said. He tucked the stone away. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” I tucked my own stone away before getting out of the limo.

Harper walked up to me, a duffel bag over her shoulder. She slid something into my hand, and I nearly jerked away, but I controlled myself as I felt the hard steel of a small revolver. I didn’t have to look down to know she handed me a snub-nosed .38. Not exactly a massive amount of firepower, but the gun would do in a pinch.

I was confused by the gesture, but sure as shit wasn’t going to argue. Looked like the ladies were looking out for me.

I slid the revolver into my pocket without a nod of thanks or any acknowledgment.

“This way,” Aspen said and started walking toward the border.

He didn’t have a duffel bag or any type of pack on him. I wondered then why he’d needed to get to the trunk before we proceeded. That bugged me, and I tucked the thought away for later.

We followed him, and after a few minutes we were within arm’s reach of the huge cloud. Aspen kept walking, but we all paused. He disappeared, then stuck his head back out and glared at us.

“Come on,” he said. “Ticktock.”

I hurried to follow him, then we were through the cloud.

Aspen was right. The dimension did look like Detroit.

There wasn’t even a lag of swirling smoke as we crossed the border. One step, and we were in Ekron. The resemblance to the Motor City was uncanny. What was even weirder was the fact that the streets were filled with vintage cars. Fords, Chevys, Dodges, you name a model of car, and there was a representation.

The drivers were a little different, though.

“This way,” Aspen said. “Before we draw too much attention. The inhabitants of this dimension are used to strangers, but we give off a gonna-cause-trouble vibe. We pretty much stink of it. Come on.”

The drivers of the cars looked almost exactly like horned devils. Thick red skin. Short black horns protruding from their foreheads. I even saw a pointed tail whipping back and forth next to one driver as she sang to some Motown girl group oldie. Totally fascinating. At least until a couple of the drivers did notice us, and their thick penciled-on eyebrows rose in suspicion.

Aspen led us to a side alley, and we walked that way for a long while before he stopped us by a rusted-out dumpster. I wasn’t sure why he stopped us, then I noticed he was constantly clearing his throat. He coughed a few times into his hand, looked at his palm, then grimaced.

“And this is why Daphne needed us to help,” I said, nodding at Aspen as he wiped faerie blood on his pants. We took a step back. “It all makes sense. This dimension makes you sick.”

“Stay here long enough and it’ll make you sick too,” he said and pointed back the way we came. “This isn’t a dimension you stay in for long no matter your race.”

“But you are being affected more than any of us. Why?” Teresa asked. Aspen didn’t answer. “Fine. How long do you have?”

“I’ll be all right,” Aspen said. “If we stay on schedule and get this job done, then I’ll be fine. The ride home will be uncomfortable since someone drank all of my healing elixir.” He glared at Lassa. “But I’ll make the trip back to my dimension without the extra help.”

Teresa’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t say anything.

Harper produced a small map from her pocket and unfolded the plastic-coated paper.

“We’re here,” she said and pointed to an alley on the map.

“You have a map of the dimension?” I asked.

“Yes, obviously. We go this way,” Harper said, tracing a route on the map with the tip of her finger. “We’re only about six blocks from the palace. We can take alleys for most of the way, but the last two blocks we’ll be out in the open. If our walk is going to go wrong, that’s where it will happen.”

“Perhaps we should have Lawter make his little hidey box now?” Aspen said. “Then the dimension’s citizens will only see a moron walking along the street and not our entire group.”

“Not yet,” Harper said. “Too much ground to cover. None of this works if Chase doesn’t survive the walk to Lord Beelzebub’s palace. We’ll be approaching from the rear. Everyone in this dimension steers clear of Lord Beelzebub’s palace, unless they have business there. So once we’re close, we can have Chase make the Dim box for us to hide in. Until then he’s still my responsibility.”

“That’s so sweet,” Aspen said.

“Go fuck yourself,” Harper replied, then looked at the rest of us. “There’s not much to this plan to remember except that when the time comes to move, we move fast. And we don’t stop moving until we’re back in the limo and driving home.”

Harper waited for us to agree. We did. She folded the map, then took off at a brisk jog. We followed.

18

THERE WAS ONE other similarity shared by Ekron drivers; each of them looked like gangsters. Pure and simple. Goddamn gangsters.

Now, depending on the cars they drove, the style of gangster varied. They were tied to their era.

A guy driving a big 1920s Packard drove past us as we emerged from the last alley. He had on a fedora and pinstripe suit with a demon dame sitting next to him. She was all dolled up and ready to hit the closest speakeasy for some jazz.

A ’63 Cadillac convertible was coming from the other direction. The woman driving wore huge sunglasses and had covered her head in a printed scarf. Her black blouse was sleeveless, and she clamped a cigarette between her teeth. She pulled over half a block away from us and honked the horn. A guy in chinos and a black-and-turquoise bowling shirt came out of the apartment building she’d stopped in front of.

He had a large chrome revolver in his hands, and he was busy placing cartridges into the chamber. Then he snapped the chamber shut and tucked the gun into his waistband. As he lit a cigarette, she leaned over and pushed the passenger’s door open. He slid into the dark red leather seat as she gave him a kiss on the cheek. They sped off without a glance in our direction.

More evidence of the theme appeared, from a group of tracksuit-wearing toughs in an Escalade to a group of guys bouncing down the road in a low rider dressed in 1980s LA gang garb, complete with bandanas around their heads. Those guys did check us out, and one of them flashed a gold-plated .45 with a pearl-handled grip.

“Nice place,” Lassa said. “Reminds me of home.”

“Huh?” I asked. “Yetis dress like gangsters at home?”

“What are you talking about?” Lassa asked. “They’re dressed in their winter best like before the holiday festivals.”

I stared and scratched my head.

“Tactical armor,” Harper said. “I see tactical armor. Special Forces style.”

“This place pulls from your mind,” Aspen said. “You see what you think you should see.”

“Gangsters? Really, dude?” Lassa asked me.

“Hell if I know,” I replied.

“Not Hell,” Aspen grumbled.

“Teresa? What do you see?” I asked.

“I’m immune to the visions,” Teresa said. “They simply look like horned demons going about their business.”

“But you see the cars, right?” I asked.

“Yes,” Teresa said. “Another similarity to Detroit. The exhaust is a bit overwhelming.”

“Horned demons in cars. Driving around—”

“Do not say the word, Lawter,” Aspen snapped. “None of you say the word. Not Hell.”

He gave us all a quick glare, then tried not to cough and hack, which only caused him to cough and hack even harder. Harper slapped him on the back, which made us all grimace and glare. Her sympathy for Aspen had deepened since we’d walked into the city. There was almost a protective quality to how she stayed near him and had stopped giving him shit.

That behavior was not helping her case.

When Aspen had finished hawking up a lung, Harper led us down the block and we tried to act casual, but there’s really no way to do that in a place where everyone has a similar look, despite whatever their perceived styles may have been. We were a group made up of three human-looking beings (me being the for sure full-blooded human), a shaggy yeti, and a glowing blue banshee. We were obviously not red-skinned devils. Incognito was not in the cards for us.

I glanced up at the sky as I heard a far-off sound of thunder. There was no sky, only a blanket of the same type of cloud that had designated the border. Here and there a flash of lightning could be seen, but the streaks were deep inside the cloud, and I never actually saw a bolt in the sky.

“Do the clouds ever rain?” I asked, noticing that the streets could use a good cleaning. The buildings could too, for that matter. All that car exhaust had stained the brick and concrete, giving the city a dingy look. Even with the economic downturn, real Detroit looked better than this place did. At least that’s what I saw.

“Almost never,” Aspen replied. “I think that’s by design. Lord Beelzebub doesn’t like the rain. He likes the filth.”

“Huh,” I replied. “Ekron’s his dimension, so I guess he gets to choose.”

“That’s how total dominion works,” Aspen said.

The tone of his voice had changed since we’d entered the dimension. He was still snippy with me, but that horse load of contempt was turned down too low. I chalked it up to him being focused on us getting to Lord Beelzebub’s palace, but that didn’t quite fit with Harper’s change too. Something was up, and my gut, on top of the continual turmoil, was saying to watch out.

You tend to grow eyes in the back of your head in my business. I deal with a lot of the more unsavory element, despite Sharon’s objections otherwise. She’d love to believe that I make boxes for only fine, upstanding citizens, but who am I kidding? The folks that need something hidden so bad that it has to be put between dimensions are not the folks that dutifully claim every ounce of their income on their tax returns. Half of them probably haven’t ever filed a tax return.

We crossed the street once the way was completely clear of cars in both directions. There was a row of apartment buildings ahead of us, but they were only ten stories tall each. Certainly not the thirty stories that Lord Beelzebub’s palace was.

Except I was no longer visualizing a palace. Not in the middle of faux Detroit.

I was right, as we came around the last corner and stopped, each of us staring at the ten-foot-high wall topped with razor wire that stretched the entire block. Behind that, set back at least half an acre, was a massive building that looked like a fancy high-rise hotel. Gilded fixtures and ornate stonework were everywhere. He was lord of a dimension, so he could go as bold as he goddamn wanted to.

“This is the back,” Aspen said. “Way less sidewalk traffic.”

He wasn’t kidding. There was no one in sight. Probably due more to the fact that no one wanted to be anywhere near the building, not because we were in the back. The place screamed evil intent. Had to be off-putting even for the inhabitants of the dimension, who were probably used to evil vibes.

“You know what to do?” Aspen asked me.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“You sure?” he pressed.

“Yeah,” I insisted, making sure he heard the offense in my voice.

My job was pretty straightforward. Make a box and get us inside to meet with Lord Beelzebub. Then I played it by ear. I had to trust that Lord Beelzebub’s temporal fluidity was correct and I somehow came out of all this with his soul in a Dim box.

I held out my hands and created a large black box right there on the sidewalk. The amount of Dim I pulled was easily enough for everyone to step inside. Which they did. I sealed the box, and with a quick scratch of my fingernail, I had a key in my hand. Then I sent the box into the Dim, and I was all alone on the backstreet.

All I had to do was walk around to the front entrance and go inside.

I didn’t make it a single step. Shit . . .

“Hey! You there!” a man shouted. “You! Human guy playing with boxes! Get your ass over here!”

I squinted into the gloom. The street lamps didn’t do a damn thing to dispel the darkness that settled around the palace, and the whole area was layer of shadow after layer of shadow. The gloom hadn’t been so bad when there was a glowing banshee next to me. Now I couldn’t see jack.

“I said,” the guy snarled, “get your ass over here. Now!”

I aimed for the most likely shadow, based on where I thought his voice was coming from, crossed the street, and walked slowly up to an alcove in the stone fence that lined the huge lot.

He was waiting there, and now that my eyes were adjusting to the deep dark, I could see he was dressed in a long overcoat with a distinct bulge underneath. He was packing something heavy. The guy lit a cigar, and I stared into the face of the devil. Pretty much, the same face I’d been seeing since arriving in the faux Detroit dimension.

He puffed on his cigar for a minute as he looked me up and down.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked as he took the cigar out of his mouth and spat stray bits of tobacco on my shoes. “Huh? Out with it, buddy.”

“Tommy,” I said. The name came to me because I suspected he had a Thompson submachine gun under that overcoat.

“That so?” he asked. The end of the cigar flared bright, the orange glow turning his red skin into a shade darker than blood. “Well, Tommy, care to tell me what you are doing skulking about back here while making big black boxes disappear?”

He didn’t mention Lassa, Harper, Aspen, or Teresa. He must have arrived after I’d sealed the box, but before I sent it into the Dim. That was goddamn lucky.

A thousand excuses popped into my head, but every single one felt thin. So I did what I do in any situation that doesn’t lend itself to an easy lie: I told the truth.

“I’m here to see Lord Beelzebub,” I said. “I’ve been sent to steal his soul, but I doubt he’d like that so I have a proposition for him.”

Okay, so I told a half-truth. I had no proposition for him. I pulled that out of my ass.

The devil raised his black eyebrows and looked me up and down again.

“You’re here to steal Lord Beelzebub’s soul?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

“You?”

“Yeah.”

“Who sent you?”

“Daphne.”

The cigar fell out of his mouth. He bent down to pick it up, so I took the pistol out of my pocket and slammed the grip against the back of his head.

He grunted, but that was about the extent of his reaction. I didn’t even knock him onto one knee. Shit.

Cigar once again in his hand, he straightened up, put the cigar in his mouth, and rubbed the back of his head.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” he asked, honestly offended. “We were having a nice chat. What in the hell made you crack me one?”

He stopped rubbing his head and held out his hand.

“Give it.”

I gave it, placing the pistol in his open palm.

“You got any other weapons on you?” he asked. He turned the pistol over in his hand and laughed. “Jesus, this thing would hurt less if you shot me. What is this? A .38? Who the hell carries a .38 in Ekron? Buddy, you shoot anyone with this and all you’re gonna do is piss them off and get a pistol shoved up your ass.”

He pointed the pistol at my face and cocked back the hammer.

“You, however, would be dead with one squeeze of this trigger.”

“Any chance that if I apologized for cracking you over the head, you might not squeeze that trigger?” I asked as I tried not to look straight into the barrel.

“You say Daphne hired you?” he asked, pistol still aimed at me.

“Yeah,” I said. “But I didn’t take the job by choice. Personally, pal, I’d rather not be here at all.”

“That’s good to know,” he said. The pistol disappeared into his overcoat pocket. “Very good to know.”

He turned to the fence and opened a door that I hadn’t noticed was there.

“Today is your lucky day, buddy,” he said as he gestured at the open door and the walkway that led to the building. “I’m going to take you directly to Lord Beelzebub. Then you can lay out that proposition of yours. You did say you have a proposition, right?”

“Yeah,” I replied.

“I’m sure you do,” he said with a light chuckle. “And I can’t wait to hear what that proposition could be. Come on. Through the gate you go, buddy.”

Good news was my entry into the building had sorted itself out. Bad news was I’d told the truth, then created a lie that was even worse than the truth. I had a walk and an elevator ride to figure out what in the hell my proposition was. Great.

19

THERE WAS A distinct lack of bustle inside the building. The Fae’s intel had been correct. Once inside, making our way up thirty floors to Lord Beelzebub’s penthouse wouldn’t have been difficult. Wouldn’t have been easy, but we’d dealt with worse.

I studied the lobby of the palace as Lord Beelzebub’s guy steered me through a short hallway and toward a large bank of elevator doors. I was surrounded by gilded gold and red velvet décor—early twentieth-century movie-theater chic. Even the few beings that milled about the lobby were dressed in that 1920s gangster style.

But not the guy leading me around. His overcoat was solidly 1940s gumshoe. The cigar was a little out of place. I expected him to be smoking filterless cigarettes. But to each their own.

“Who ya got, Steve?” a large devil asked. “Jesus, is that a human? What the hell is a human doing around here?”

“He was sent to heist Lord B’s soul,” Steve, my devil, replied. “Can you believe the balls on this one?”

The large devil whistled like he’d never heard such a crazy thing.

“Humans, am I right?” he laughed.

“You know you are,” Steve replied as the center elevator door opened. “Hey, Juice, you ever hear what happened to Cocky Nora’s poker nights? I haven’t had an invitation in over two months.”

“Oh, yeah, well, you know Cocky Nora,” Juice, the large devil, replied, his eyes averted as he shuffled his feet.

We’d stepped into the elevator, but Steve put a hand out to stop the door from closing. He watched Juice for a good thirty seconds, neither one of them saying a word.

“Ah, come on, Steve,” Juice said reluctantly. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Not making you do anything, buddy,” Steve said, hand still holding the door, eyes still on Juice, making the much larger devil squirm.

“She found out, okay?” Juice exclaimed. “She found out you . . . took care of her cousin.”

“Her cousin?” Steve asked, looking honestly puzzled.

I was fascinated by the interaction. These were full-on, classic-style devils talking like gangsters. Not only that, but Steve sounded hurt by the conversation. I had to wonder if the others would be hearing the same affectation or if the speech pattern was singular to my psyche. Either way, I rolled with it. When in Hell or Detroit . . .

“You know,” Juice said, waving a hand in that universal gesture that said he was trying to remember the guy’s name. “Tex? Tix?”

“Tox,” Steve said. “Shit. That was Cocky Nora’s cousin? Shit.”

He shook his head, then let the elevator door go.

“I’ll make it up to her,” Steve said. “You see her, tell her that, will ya?”

The door closed before I could hear Juice’s response.

Steve turned to look at me. “What?”

“Nothing,” I said.

“Don’t say nothing,” Steve insisted. “You have something to say. I can tell.”

“No, seriously, pal, I do not have a goddamn thing to say,” I replied. “I’m gonna stand here and mind my own business.”

“You’re well past minding your own business, Tommy,” he said.

I sure as hell didn’t like the emphasis he put on my fake name. That wasn’t good.

“Speak or we stop on the thirteenth floor,” Steve said.

“That a bad thing?”

“Has anything on a thirteenth floor ever been good?”

“Right. Fair point,” I said. “I was noticing how you seemed regretful you took care of that Tox guy.”

“Tox? Shit no,” Steve said and laughed. “That guy had it coming. He’ll think twice about ripping off Lord Beelzebub again if he ever gets out of the shithole I put him in.”

“Wait, what?” I asked. “You didn’t kill him?”

“Kill him?” Steve asked, looking perplexed. “Do you even know where you are?”

“Ekron,” I said.

“Yeah, Ekron,” Steve said and nodded at me like I was a small, slow child. “So do you know what I am? What we all are here in Ekron?”

“Devils?” I asked, not really wanting to say the word.

“What? No! Jesus Christ, you fucking humans,” Steve said and shook his head. “Always with the devil thing. Some mental patient channels a view of our world for five seconds and your entire dimension is prejudiced. You, buddy, need to get your facts straight.”

He jabbed a finger in my chest.

“We’re the Muscae,” he said. I stared blankly. “‘Muscae’ is Latin for flies. Lord Beelzebub is the Lord of the Flies.”

“Like the book?”

“No, not like the book,” Steve replied. “Listen, the point is we can’t be killed. I couldn’t kill Tox if I wanted to. He’d be reborn in twenty-four hours, anyway, like the rest of us.”

“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “Not following.”

“We live for twenty-four hours, then die and are reborn,” Steve said. “Looking exactly as we did when we died. Scars and all. It’s the way our kind works. So, when we say we take care of someone, that means they are tucked away in someplace nasty to think on what got them in that nasty place. If they ever figure a way out, then they are free. Otherwise, they’re stuck there for eternity.”

He leaned in close and pointed his cigar at me.

“I am the best at making sure no one ever finds a way out. Kinda like you, but without the hocus-pocus.”

“Hocus-pocus?”

He held out his hands, palms up. “I don’t need that Dim crap. I’m a professional.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, you do,” he said, then turned away and watched the numbers above the elevator doors rise until they hit thirty. The doors opened, and he gestured with his cigar. “After you, Tommy.”

I hesitated, but I’d gotten myself in this goddamn mess, so I was going to have to go get myself out. I can improv, I’d have to in my line of work, but the way the dimension was worming its way in my head, I didn’t know how much wiggle room I had. The honest truth was I didn’t exactly know what was and wasn’t real.

And if this Steve devil knew what I could do, then he obviously knew who I was, which meant . . . what? Variables, variables, variables. My brain was churning almost as much as my guts were.

The hallway before me was the same gilded gold and red velvet as the rest of the place and a good fifty yards long without any doors except a single one at the very end. Steve gave me a nudge in the back with his elbow. I stepped off the elevator and started walking. Nothing else I could do.

“Any specific way I should address Lord Beelzebub?” I asked. “You’ve pointed out my ignorance of your dimension, so I’d rather not make things worse.”

“You came here planning to steal Lord Beelzebub’s soul, Tommy,” Steve said from behind me. “Then you whacked me on the head with your pistol and spilled the beans on your ill-advised heist. How much worse do you think this will get?”

“Dead-worse. I’m human. I don’t regenerate after twenty-four hours.”

“Okay, good point,” he said. “I tell you what. You answer all of his questions honestly and I’ll personally vouch for you. That’ll keep you from the dead-worse. And I do mean honestly. He’s Lord of the Flies, but he’s also Lord of Lies. If you are anything less than honest, he’ll know. Which means I’ll know, which means dead-worse is back on the table. You get what I’m saying, buddy?”

“I get what you’re saying,” I said.

“Good.”

We walked the rest of the way in silence.

“Hold on, you didn’t tell me what to call—” I shut my mouth instantly as Steve pushed me into the huge penthouse.

You ever see that old movie with Tom Cruise where Tim Curry plays the Devil? That’s who greeted me as Steve’s hand in my back kept me moving even though my feet did not want to comply.

“Chase Lawter!” Lord Beelzebub exclaimed as he clomped his massive cloven-footed way over to me. His feet left smoldering foot prints, but they were temporary and gone after a second or two. That was some goddamn special carpet. “What a pleasure to finally meet the defiler of dimensions!”

He offered a huge, black-nailed red hand.

I shook the hand without hesitation. If a guy that looks like Tim Curry in Devil drag offers to shake hands, you goddamn shake hands.

“I, uh. . . . You know my name?” I asked, looking over my shoulder at Steve.

He was stripping off his overcoat and putting it on a coatrack. Then he set a Thompson submachine gun next to the coatrack. I was right. He gave me a smarmy smile and walked off to an elegant wood bar off to the side of the room.

“Chase, Chase, Chase, no one walks into my dimension without me knowing,” Lord Beelzebub said. “Especially not the defiler of dimensions. I gotta say, I’m a big fan, Chase.” He wiggled his fingers at me. “That thing you do with the Dim? Brilliant! Steve?”

“Yeah, boss?” Steve asked as he stepped behind the bar and started mixing drinks.

“Get Chase a drink,” Lord Beelzebub said. “What’ll you have?”

“Uh . . . You got any stout?” I asked. “I could go for a cold stout.”

“Steve! We got any stout back there?” Lord Beelzebub asked.

I was about to lose my damn mind. A nine-foot-tall devil was asking a shorter devil if there was any stout. I was having a hard time keeping my shit together at that moment.

“I think we’ve got something back here,” Steve said and bent over. I heard a fridge open and the clanking of bottles. “Here we go. Ain’t from the Earth dimension, but I’ve heard good things.”

“Great, great,” Lord Beelzebub said. “Pour a glass for our guest and come join us.”

The Lord of Flies gave me a nod and a wink, then turned and walked over to the largest couch I had ever seen, set around a coffee table the size of a Volkswagen. He sat on the couch and plopped his hooves up onto the coffee table.

“Sit, Chase. Take a load off. You must be tired, having traversed the Gory Gauntlet. What a slog. That road is why I don’t leave my dimension anymore. One way in and one way out seemed like a good idea at the time, but the journey has become too much of a pain in the ass. I let everyone come to me now.”

I sat in an armchair that pretty much swallowed me up. Steve brought some amber liquor on the rocks to Lord Beelzebub and handed me a pint of some very dark stout. He went back and fetched his own drink, which looked like a vodka tonic with lime, then sat in the armchair next to mine.

“How’s the stout?” Lord Beelzebub asked.

I took a sip and started coughing. The beer was goddamn strong. But good.

“Tasty,” I said and raised the glass to him.

He smiled, showing some very sharp fangs, and raised his glass back.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“No, I ate a faerie cake before the trip,” I replied. “The hex, and the taste, nuked my appetite.”

“Yikes,” he said and took a sip of his drink. “Those things are disgusting. I’m surprised you didn’t puke.”

“I puked up the first one,” I said. “But that was mostly because I got punched in the balls.”

Lord Beelzebub started laughing and leaned forward to set his drink down.

“I like you, Chase,” he said. “I can see you’ve got a good head on your shoulders despite being what you are.”

“Can I ask a question?” I said. “Uh, my lord?”

“Call me B,” Lord Beelzebub said. “We’re all friends here.”

I glanced over at Steve, and he gave me a deadly smile. I wasn’t going to kid myself that anyone in the room was my friend.

“What’s your question?” Lord Beelzebub asked.

“Am I a dead man already and this conversation is only because you want to play with me for a while before you rip my intestines out?”

“Quite a question. Direct. I like that.”

I squirmed under his gaze.

“Maybe we should talk business now,” he said. “I’ve made you uncomfortable. That was not my intention.”

“Tell Lord B why Daphne wants you to steal his soul,” Steve said.

“You don’t already know?”

“Why would I know, Chase?” Lord Beelzebub asked, all innocence.

“Because of you and your temporal fluidity thing.”

“Is that what people call it? Worse name than Gory Gauntlet. And, no, I do not know why Daphne wants to steal my soul. I do know you are the one doing the stealing. Or will be. Or already have. Depends on one’s point of view. But that’s all in the past. Or the future.”

“You’re confusing him, boss,” Steve said.

“I can see that. Human brains. No concept of time as an all-encompassing circle. Their minds are all straight lines this and straight lines that. Past. Future. Present. None of those concepts matter. What does matter is motivation, Chase. I need to know Daphne’s motivation.”

“I haven’t a goddamn clue,” I said. “Honest.”

The two devils shared a look. Lord Beelzebub nodded.

“Come on, Chase, you have to have some idea,” Lord Beelzebub said.

“No, I don’t,” I replied. I stretched out to set my pint glass down on the huge coffee table. “Me and my company got suckered into this gig. The Fae have a woman I care about held hostage. They’ll kill her if I don’t go through with this. Not to mention they still hold the hit you placed on me.”

“I see, I see,” Lord Beelzebub said. “The Fae sure do stick to their playbook, don’t they?”

“I guess,” I said.

“Then why did you go off the playbook and tell Steve here the truth?” he asked.

“I panicked?” I replied.

“Nah, I don’t believe you did,” Lord Beelzebub said. “Try again.”

I thought for a minute, then said, “Faeries lie. The Fae lie even more. I don’t believe for a second that even if we are successful that Daphne is going to let my friend go free.”

“So, you thought you could try to play both sides?” he asked.

“I guess,” I said. “Other than the ride up in the elevator, I haven’t had much time to think everything through. I’m working the play out as I go.”

“That I believe.”

He laughed a jolly laugh. Like if Santa Claus had a penchant for whores and bathtub gin.

“Tell me, Chase, who is this ‘we’ you keep speaking of?”

“Oh, right, my, um, business associates. We own Black Box Inc., and technically we were all recruited to do this job.”

“And where are your business associates now?”

Steve leaned forward and set his glass down next to mine, then swiveled in his chair to face me.

“They’re around,” I said.

“Around?” Lord Beelzebub glanced at Steve, then back at me. “Could you be more precise?”

“Around.”

“And here I thought we had an understanding,” he said.

Why do beings like Lord Beelzebub and Daphne always say shit like that?

“We do have an understanding,” I said. “But I have a loyalty to my friends. I’m not going to tell you where they are in case you want to harm them.”

“Chase, Chase, Chase. If I wanted to harm your friends, I’d harm your friends. You think you can somehow stop me?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Listen, Chase, I’m going to make you a proposition, which you are free to refuse, although I would advise against that. This proposition involves you working for me now.”

“Yeah, I kinda saw that one coming.”

“Because you’re a smart guy, working the play out as you go,” he said. “You know when your back is against a wall. You figured that out down on the street when you ran into Steve. Your instincts are good, Chase. I want to reward you for that.”

“What’s the proposition?”

“Steve?” he said and leaned back into the couch.

Steve cleared his throat. “We’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this for a long time,” Steve said. “A chance to give Daphne a little gift we had made especially for her. The problem is that she refuses to accept any gifts from this dimension. We’ve even tried using other dimensions as proxies, but those faeries are good. Hard to fool a species that has mastered the art of the grift.”

“No shit,” I said.

Lord Beelzebub laughed hard and slapped his hands on his knees.

“Yes, no shit,” Steve continued. “What we need you to do is transport that gift directly to Daphne. If you do that, then we can help you get your girlfriend free and make sure the Fae never bother you again.”

“What about you guys?” I asked.

“What about us what?” Steve replied.

“Will you never bother me again?”

“Yes, well, we prefer to keep advantageous relationships open,” Lord Beelzebub said.

“Right,” I replied. “My ability to work the Dim is advantageous?”

I slid my hand into my pocket. Lord Beelzebub stiffened.

“I patted him down,” Steve said. “And he didn’t set off any alarms coming inside. He’s clean.”

“The hit on me was how Daphne got me to her dimension,” I said. “Now you’re saying you wanted me here too. You placed the hit on me so Daphne would start plotting. Did your time thing ever even come into play? Do you even have temporal fluidity?”

“I do. Of course I do,” Lord Beelzebub said. “That’s what gave me the idea in the first place. I saw you steal my soul and that gave me the perfect opportunity to get my gift into Daphne’s hands.”

“Holy shit, you people play some games. I mean, you play some top-level chess-master shit.”

“Oh, Chase Lawter, you have no idea,” Lord Beelzebub said. “So you may want to think the next few moments through very carefully. The odds of you having a move I haven’t already thought of are infinitesimal.”

I plucked the Dim key out of my pocket and held it up. Time to go big or go home.

“Oh, well, isn’t that something. Did not think of that. Bravo.” He glanced at Steve. “My protections can’t detect pieces of the Dim. Good to know.” Lord Beelzebub returned his attention to me and reached a hand out. “May I see it?”

“No,” I said. “Did you think I’d come in here unarmed? All I have to do is use this key and your dimension is vaporized.”

“With you in it,” Lord Beelzebub stated, very smug.

“No. I’ll be gone. Slipped into the Dim, completely protected.”

Lord Beelzebub nodded over and over, then leaned back in the couch again.

“I call bullshit,” he said. “You almost had me for a second there. Not knowing you’d pull out that piece of Dim distracted me, but in the end a lie stinks too much for my nose not to catch the scent.”

He tapped the side of his pointed nose.

“Go ahead, Chase. Use that key.”

20

I WAS SCREWED.

I had walked into Lord Beelzebub’s palace without a clear plan. Not that there’d ever really been a clear plan . . .

Hold on. Maybe I didn’t completely screw up. The element of surprise was gone, but I did manage to get into the penthouse and I was sitting directly across from the target.

If Lord Beelzebub couldn’t see me pulling the Dim, then maybe he couldn’t see what was hidden in the Dim. I could still salvage things.

“All right,” I said. “If you insist.”

“Excuse me?” Lord Beelzebub asked.

Steve produced a very large pistol from somewhere. He pointed the gun at my head.

“I wouldn’t,” he said.

“Steve, put that away,” Lord Beelzebub said. “I want to see this.”

“Lord B . . .”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He grinned at me. “Unlike my employees, I don’t get the luxury of twenty-four hour regeneration. The boss has to be on duty at all times, as I am sure you know. I haven’t had a good regeneration after a proper annihilation in close to half a million years. The death will be cleansing. Chase? You go ahead and do that voodoo that you do so well.”

He actually looked giddy with anticipation.

“No problem,” I said and stood up.

Despite Lord Beelzebub’s order, Steve did not put the pistol away. He stood up with me and kept the gun aimed at my head, his black-nailed red finger on the trigger.

I moved toward the bar.

“I have to have space,” I said.

“You take all the space you need,” Lord Beelzebub replied. “Steve. Jesus Christ. Lighten up and let the man work.”

Steve hesitated, then lowered the pistol and moved back to his chair. He didn’t sit down.

Fingers crossed what I had planned was going to work.

I used the key to recall the black box from the Dim. There was zero hesitation on my part. I unlocked and opened the box in one motion, then leapt out of the way.

Lassa came spilling out first and face-planted on the red carpet. Harper was right behind him, holding up a pump-action shotgun. She fired three times, knocking Steve off his feet, sending the red devil flying back over the armchair. Aspen came out next and began throwing hex after hex at Lord Beelzebub. Teresa was right behind him, and her mouth opened wide as she prepared to scream.

“Enough!” Lord Beelzebub roared as he stood up, Aspen’s hexes bouncing off his thick red skin like illuminated marshmallows thrown at a brick wall. “Stop this immediately!”

Everyone froze.

Harper kept the shotgun aimed in Steve’s direction, but that guy was down. Good job on her part. I knew that if only one of them was ready, it would be Harper. The woman never missed.

But Steve wasn’t the issue. The very, very pissed-off devil crime boss who was Lord of the Flies and Lies that stood before us was the issue.

Lassa pushed up onto his hands and knees and looked up at Lord Beelzebub.

“Oh, shit,” he said.

Lord Beelzebub’s entire face fell. One moment, omnipotent rage, a rage ready to wipe us from existence. The next moment, confused pain. He looked hurt. At the sight of Lassa.

Goddammit.

“Goddammit, Lassa,” I said. “Please tell me you did not hook up with the Devil?”

“This time I agree with Aspen. He’s not the Devil,” Lassa said as he got to his feet. “He’s Bob.”

“Bub,” Lord Beelzebub snapped.

“Shit, my bad,” Lassa said, looking very uncomfortable. “Bub. Easy mistake.”

“You didn’t return any of my calls,” Lord Beelzebub said. “I thought we had something.”

“Hey, we did. We totally did,” Lassa said. “But I told you we were going to be casual. A vacation fling, right? We agreed we wouldn’t get attached and we’d be cool when we left. You’re the one that broke that agreement, Bub. Not me.”

Lassa brushed at his fur even though he had nothing on him.

“Three phone calls a day, Bub? Can you blame me for backing off and not calling you back?”

“Three a day?” Harper said. “Damn, boy.”

“We shared something!” Lord Beelzebub shouted, jabbing a taloned finger toward Lassa. The floor under us shook slightly. “At least admit that we did!”

“I admit it, dude,” Lassa said. “That week in Hades has some of my favorite memories.”

“Is that the week when we had the office inspected for black mold?” Harper asked. “The same week Chase was out of commission because he ate ten pounds of smoked Gouda and a case of Ritz crackers?”

“Hey, leave me out of this,” I said, holding my hands up. I smiled at Lord Beelzebub. “It was good Gouda.”

Aspen groaned.

Teresa stepped forward, her hand out. “Teresa Sullivan. Senior partner at—”

“I know who you are, Ms. Sullivan,” Lord Beelzebub said. “Your firm has done work for me on several occasions.”

“Have we?”

“Through various holding companies,” he replied.

“Yes, of course. I wasn’t aware of that. My apologies,” she said and bowed her head slightly. “I was wondering if we could possibly come to some sort of arrangement here.”

Steve moaned and pulled himself up from behind the chair. Harper’s shotgun barked three more times, and down he went again.

“Could you please not do that!” Lord Beelzebub exclaimed.

Harper shrugged.

Lord Beelzebub mumbled something under his breath, then sat down heavily on the sofa.

“What arrangement do you have in mind?” he asked as he picked up his drink. He waved a hand toward the bar. “Get yourselves something. Whatever you want. I don’t care.”

No one moved.

“Go get a fucking drink!” he roared.

“I’ve got this,” Aspen said, hurrying as fast as he could behind the bar. He grabbed the edge and coughed for a few seconds, then straightened up and smiled at us before getting to work.

“What’s wrong with him?” Lord Beelzebub asked.

“Faeries can’t handle the atmosphere in your dimension,” I said.

“Since when?” he replied. “If that were true, I wouldn’t need the border.”

All eyes fell on Aspen. Except for Harper’s. She continued to stare at the spot where Steve was lying, a pool of black blood staining the red carpet.

Aspen ignored our looks of confusion and busied himself with mixing drinks.

“Lord Beelzebub,” Teresa said. “I don’t know if Mr. Lawter has filled you in on our predicament or not.”

“He has.”

“Good,” Teresa replied, smiling at me. “Accurately?”

“What the hell does that mean?” I responded. “I told him about Daphne, about Iris, and about needing his soul.”

“So the Fae can cross the border and try to take my dimension from me,” Lord Beelzebub said.

“Nope. I didn’t say that part,” I responded.

“Why else do you think that Daphne bitch wants my soul?” Lord Beelzebub said. “If she has my soul, then she can march an army of her Fae into my dimension and start the war she’s been wanting to start since the dawn of time. That bitch has had a hard-on for Ekron for as long as I can remember.”

“You said you didn’t know why she needed your soul.”

“I lied, Chase. That’s what I do.”

“Drinks are ready,” Aspen said as he set four glasses on the bar, then turned and coughed into the crook of his arm. He didn’t comment on what Lord Beelzebub said even as we all turned to look at him. Again, except for Harper.

“What the hell are you looking at the consumptive for?” Lord Beelzebub snapped. “He isn’t going to know what’s really going on. He’s not even Fae.”

“Yeah, he’s Fae,” I said. “We’ve been stuck with the asshole for the past few days.”

“Ha!” Lord Beelzebub laughed. “I’m the Lord of Lies. That thing is nothing but one big lie. Not only is he not Fae, he’s not even faerie. You people have been deceived so hard. It’s kind of sad.”

He glanced at Lassa, then glanced away.

“Very sad.”

Teresa rubbed her face, then put her full attention on Aspen. To his credit, the faerie didn’t shrink back despite Teresa’s glow turning up to a very angry brightness level.

“Mr. Littlestick?” Teresa asked, every question compacted into that one.

“Don’t listen to that guy,” Aspen said. “Lord of Lies, right?”

“Not lying about this,” Lord Beelzebub said as he sipped his drink. The guy looked broken. “Lying isn’t how I play everything. Unlike someone in this room.”

“Oh, come on, Bub,” Lassa said. “We had some amazing times together, but you knew we couldn’t last. You knew that. I swear, this is why I prefer females sometimes.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Aspen asked.

Wait a minute. Why would Aspen care?

“Off subject,” Teresa barked. “Mr. Littlestick, or whatever your name is, would you please explain yourself?”

Aspen looked like he was going to argue, but a coughing fit stopped him. Once he had himself under control, he stared directly at me.

“I’m really sorry about this, Chase,” he said.

Then his body morphed, and I was looking at Travis.

It was a good thing Steve had taken my gun, or Travis would have been one dead shapeshifter.

21

“TRAVIS? WHAT’S the call?” Harper asked.

She continued to cover the downed Steve with her shotgun.

“The game is played out, Harp,” Travis said. “I appreciate your help with this. Sorry to get you involved. Can’t have been easy for you.”

“I didn’t have much choice,” Harper said. “Doing my job, Travis. Keeping Chase alive. Which is never easy.” She nodded at Lord Beelzebub. “Case in fucking point.”

Travis grabbed a bottle of bourbon and poured a triple into a glass. He downed the liquor in one gulp and sighed.

“Put the shotgun down, Harp,” Travis said. “We aren’t fighting our way out of this one.”

He started to pour more bourbon, but he was interrupted by a bout of coughing. He struggled to stay upright as he gripped the edge of the bar.

“That cough has nothing to do with the atmosphere, does it?” I asked.

“No,” Travis croaked. “I’m sick because”—hack, cough—“I take on the abilities of the form”—hack, cough, cough, cough—“of the being I shift into.”

He took several shallow breaths before continuing.

“I didn’t know faeries couldn’t get through the border,” Travis said. “The cloud did something to me.”

“My protections are rotting you from the inside out,” Lord Beelzebub said. “Corrupting you internally.” He shrugged. “Better than what would have happened to the real Aspen Littlestick. That faerie would have exploded on contact with the border.”

“Then why would Daphne send Aspen with us?” I asked.

“Because you can’t bullshit a bullshitter,” Lord Beelzebub said. “I should know. Daphne was on to him from the beginning, but being Daphne, she knew an opportunity when she saw one. She also wanted the real Aspen Littlestick back, so she played along.”

“She cares about that faerie that much?” I asked.

“He’s the best,” Harper said.

“Then who signed the contract?” Teresa asked. “The real Mr. Littlestick or the impostor?”

Travis raised his hand. His breathing had become even more labored, and I seriously wondered if he was gonna live through this.

“And the changeling angle?” Teresa asked. “Was that Daphne’s plan or . . . what?”

“Yes,” Harper said. She hadn’t lowered the shotgun yet. “That’s where Travis comes along.”

“Lay every detail out for us,” I said.

“Time out. Before we get into that,” Lassa said and faced Harper. “So you’re not a traitor? This was all part of a plan?”

“A shitty plan, but yeah,” Harper said.

“Woo hoo!” Lassa cried as he grabbed Harper up in a big yeti hug.

The second her shotgun was off target, Steve sprang to life and pulled his pistol. He fired twice, but I’d been waiting for everything to go south. Further south than it had already gone.

I tossed out a wall of Dim, then wrapped it around the bullets as they raced at Harper. With a snap of my fingers, the fired slugs were banished to the Dim.

“Oh,” Lord Beelzebub said, his melancholy gone at the sight of my handiwork. “That was impressive.” He grinned from ear to ear. “Do that again.”

Steve fired at me.

“Goddammit,” I muttered as I brought up more of the Dim, but that time right in front of me. I caught the slugs and banished them like I did the ones aimed at Harper.

“Can you do that on a larger scale?” Lord Beelzebub asked.

“In theory,” I said. My gut clenched again, but I managed to not react. The pain was getting even worse. “The larger the piece of Dim I manipulate, the more energy I expend. I’m not inexhaustible.”

“No, no, of course not,” Lord Beelzebub said. “But still quite impressive. I might have some different work for you. Forget the gift idea. I’m coming up with something better.”

“Okay, sure, yeah, great,” I said. I had no idea how else to reply. “I’ll put you in touch with Sharon. She schedules all the jobs.”

“Lord B?” Steve asked.

Lassa had let Harper go, and she’d brought her shotgun back to bear on Steve. His pistol was down at his side. He’d figured out that if he aimed at someone, I’d know where to throw the Dim. So now he was obviously betting he was faster on the draw than me. The guy was good, and he was right. My energy was low as hell. I might have been tricked into not feeling hungry, but my body still needed food to keep going.

“Let’s back up a minute,” Lord Beelzebub said. “Ms. Sullivan? Do you represent this bunch?”

“I don’t represent Travis, but I do represent the members of Black Box Inc.,” she replied.

“Yes, well, I am not concerned with the shapeshifter,” Lord Beelzebub said. “But, if you represent the others, then perhaps we can come to some arrangement.”

“I am listening,” Teresa said. She’d moved into lawyer mode and glided her way to the armchair I had sat in before. “May I?”

“Please do,” Lord Beelzebub said.

Teresa sat.

“What if I were to give my soul, and your freedom, in exchange for a job performed by Black Box Inc.?” he asked.

“I would say that depends on the job,” Teresa replied.

“Does that really matter? I’m giving you an option to leave here alive,” he said.

“I am well aware of that, Lord Beelzebub,” she said and bowed her head. “For which I am grateful. But, again, any agreement we come to will depend on the job you are asking to be done.”

“Lord B, you can’t give up your soul,” Steve said. “If the Fae bitch gets ahold of it, then she’ll come for us. The soul was a decoy. The gift is the plan.”

“I know, I know, Steve,” Lord Beelzebub said. “But when a better idea comes along in the form of a human being that can manipulate the Dim, you don’t ignore the opportunity that presents. That would be crazy. I am many things, but I am not crazy.” Lord Beelzebub looked at Harper. “How about the abomination tells us everything she knows first and we go from there.”

“Hey, let’s stop with the name-calling,” I said. “Defiler of dimensions. Abomination. Not cool.”

“It’s okay, Chase,” Harper said. “I’m used to the name.”

“I’m not,” I said. “You’ve really been protecting me this whole time?”

“Of course I have, you stupid asshole.”

“You’ve got to admit, you were playing the traitor role pretty tight.”

“I had to or Daphne never would have believed me.”

“Explain,” Lord Beelzebub ordered.

“Fine, sure,” Harper said. “This shit show all started the other night. Well, the night Chappy came into Taps & Tapas.”

“What’s a Chappy?”

“Doesn’t matter. Daphne had sent the changelings to handle Chase and Iris. The hit Lord Beelzebub—you—hired the Fae for was real. Daphne instantly saw an angle and way to get us to steal Beelzebub’s soul. Which we’re living now. But Travis showed up out of the blue and killed the Iris changeling. She fought like hell, but finally went down.”

“All the blood outside the restaurant,” I said.

“Yep,” Harper said. “That’s when you called me, Chase.”

“Don’t have any memory of that, but I believe you,” I said.

“The loft is mine,” Harper said. “A crash pad I keep in case I need to disappear, but stay close by.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Lassa asked. “I could have used that place.”

“Ew. No,” Harper said. “I only took you there because by the time I showed up, Travis had Chase’s changeling in a headlock and we needed somewhere to interrogate the son of a bitch.”

“That got out of hand,” I said. “Obviously, with me waking up in a pool of blood.”

“No, that comes later,” Harper said. “After the real Aspen showed up.”

“Be quiet, Mr. Lawter,” Teresa said.

“Yes, please,” Lord Beelzebub said.

I grunted a halfhearted sorry and let Harper continue.

“Aspen was the fallback,” Harper said. “He tracked the changeling, knowing there might have been a possibility I would be around to protect Chase and Iris. Except he hadn’t expected Travis to be there. Travis took down Aspen as soon as he popped into our dimension. That took some magic. He showed up right there in the loft.”

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Getting to that,” Harper said. “I know the faeries. I know the Fae. And I especially know Aspen Littlestick. I needed to know everything, and the questioning took all fucking night, but I got the story out of him. So, Travis and I hatched a plan while Chase kept Iris from completely freaking out.”

She eyed me and shifted her feet. I hadn’t seen her look that guilty in a long time.

“That’s when Travis killed the changeling so he could perform the control trance on you,” Harper said. “We needed you to cooperate. You were totally against cooperating.”

“And why was that?” I asked. Then I thought back on the story Back Chase had told. “I have Iris hidden in the Dim. But I wanted to go with her.”

“She wanted you to go with her or she wasn’t going to play along,” Harper said. “So, Travis knocked her cold.”

“Sorry,” Travis said. He was half passed out over the bar. “Didn’t want to.”

“Then we made you build a big Dim box to stash her in,” Harper said. “She’s safe. Probably not very happy. But safe.”

“Where’s the changeling body?” Lassa asked Harper. “Or corpse. Totally a corpse after you bleed a body dry.”

“Yeah, where is the corpse?” I asked, not wanting to know the answer. Please don’t let it be . . .

“In with Iris,” Harper said. She scrunched up her face. “We had no choice. Safest place to put a corpse on short notice like that with the possibility of more Fae on the way.”

“The key the cops have?” I asked. “That goes to the box with Iris? I was wrong?”

“No, you were right,” Harper said. “The key the cops have goes to the box you put the real Aspen in. I knew the cops had him on a watch list, so we dumped the Iris changeling body, planted the Aspen key with it, and called in a tip.”

“That was a good idea,” Teresa said. “One question, if I may?”

“Sure,” Harper said.

“Why does Daphne believe you’ve turned on your friends?”

“That’s on me,” Travis said. He took a deep breath and was not looking good at all. “I’ve been playing a long con on Daphne. I’d been using the form of one of her lesser enforcers and I’d overheard her plotting to take you, Chase. Even before this opportunity came up with Lord Beelzebub, you were a target. Daphne has something on Harper, which she won’t tell me about, but it was enough that I knew it was only a matter of time before she snatched you. I learned of all this and tried to head her off.”

“What a stand-up guy,” Lord Beelzebub said. “He owed you a life debt, yes?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Gonna say that’s paid in full.”

“Thanks, man,” Travis replied.

“You, however,” I said to Harper. “When the boss of the Fae has leverage on you, you tell your friends. We can help. Kind of avoids all this shit.”

“Yeah,” Lassa agreed.

“It wasn’t something you could help with,” Harper replied. “It’s part of the exile curse. Too dangerous to involve any of you.” She cleared her throat. “But, in the end, I guess, well . . . Sorry.”

“Good to know you’re sorry, that debts have been paid, and all of that,” Teresa said. “But Daphne’s plan was foiled, so why bother with any of this?”

“Excellent question, Ms. Sullivan,” Lord Beelzebub said. “Who wants to answer?”

“Your soul,” Travis said. “I figured if we went through with the heist, then we could negotiate to get Daphne to leave Chase and Black Box Inc. alone forever. Including Harper. Like I said, it was only a matter of time before she came for Chase.”

“And since my reality doesn’t always follow Time’s rules, you already knew the mission was successful,” Lord Beelzebub said and clapped his hands. “Bravo! If you weren’t about to die, you disgusting little shapeshifter, you, I’d hire you and put you on my payroll.”

“That’s a great goddamn plan, Travis,” I said. “But one detail is missing. An important detail. Where’s the key to Iris?”

“You have the key,” Harper said.

“Where?” I asked. “I hope you wrote down where I put it, since I can’t remember shit.”

“The amnesia was part of the control trance,” Travis said. “Didn’t hurt that it meant you could honestly play innocent and tell the truth in front of Daphne.”

“Yay for me,” I said. “Key. Iris. Where? Do you even fucking know?”

“We know where the key is,” Harper said. “You have it on you.”

“That’s a lie,” Lord Beelzebub said.

“Fine,” Harper said. “In you. We made you swallow it.”

Ah ha. Why my guts felt like pretzels. Painful, goddamn pretzels. I had a piece of Dim inside me.

“You what?” I shouted. “Do you know what that could do to me?”

“Not really, no,” Harper said. “But we didn’t have a choice. Things were moving so fast.”

“What can it do to you?” Teresa asked.

“I don’t know. That’s the problem,” I said. “It sure as hell is wreaking havoc on my belly.”

“That’s why you’ve been off,” Lassa said. “Makes total sense now, dude.”

“Kiss my ass, pal,” I said. “I have to wait to shit the key out before I can get Iris.”

“Sorry,” Harper said.

“I am so sorry to hear about your digestive troubles, Chase, but we still have business to conduct,” Lord Beelzebub said. “Ms. Sullivan?”

“No, we don’t,” I snapped. “I know where Iris is and how I’ll get her back. Problem solved. We deal with this Daphne thing some other way. On our own.”

“Yes, how very independent of you, except in your excitement, you have forgotten about the predicament you are in,” Lord Beelzebub said with a smile. “You are in Ekron. In my penthouse. I own your ass, Chase Lawter. I own all your asses. Like that key tearing through your colon, the only way is through.”

“That appears to be a theme,” Teresa said.

“Which means you still need my soul or the shapeshifter dies for nothing,” Lord Beelzebub said. “So Chase, how do you feel about making a new deal?”

22

SO, I MADE A deal with the devil.

Like I had a choice.

There was no way to get out of Ekron without Lord Beelzebub’s consent. And he was still pretty upset with Lassa. Not to mention I had Iris to think about. Not like I could bring her back while still in Ekron. She’d really lose her shit.

Oh, and I had a Dim key in my gut and had no idea what damage the thing was doing to me other than making me feel like I was gonna goddamn puke or crap or both at the same time at any second.

Making a deal with the devil (not the Devil) wasn’t the worst thing happening at that moment.

No, the worst thing happening was happening to Travis. He was dying before our eyes.

“Can you help him?” I asked Lord Beelzebub.

“Maybe,” Lord Beelzebub replied. “His kind are . . . off. So many shape shifts over his lifetime make getting the magic right close to impossible.”

“I know a guy,” Steve said.

He’d come back into the room, a new suit on after changing out of the one Harper had ruined with the shotgun. He straightened his tie and gave Harper a wink. Surprisingly, she winked back.

“Let me make a phone call,” Steve said.

“So, Lord Beelzebub,” Teresa said.

“Just B, please,” Lord Beelzebub said. “We’re in business together now. Calling me ‘Lord’ is so formal.”

“I like it formal,” Teresa said.

“She does,” I agreed. “She still calls me Mr. Lawter.”

“Lord Beelzebub,” Teresa said again. She was looking down at the contract she’d made. “The deal is that you will provide us with your soul.” She glanced up from the pad of paper. “Are you sure you can do that?”

“I’m not using the little guy right now,” Lord Beelzebub replied.

“Very well,” Teresa said, as if he’d said he didn’t need his Honda Civic at the moment and she was welcome to borrow it. “You will give us your soul so we can give it to Daphne. In return for this, Chase will create a trap on this side of your border that the Fae will walk right into. They will be able to walk into the trap because they will have your soul, granting them access through the border cloud without worry of harm.”

Travis coughed so hard I thought he was gonna hack up a lung right there on the carpet. He was lying on the floor, his head cradled in Lassa’s lap, while the yeti applied a damp cloth to his forehead. We all glanced at Travis, then looked away fast. Not a pretty sight.

“You will also give us safe passage from your dimension once our tasks are completed,” Teresa continued, tapping a line on her pad. “You will not hold us responsible for anything that happens once Daphne crosses your border and we will not hold you responsible for anything that happens to us on our journey back to the Earth dimension. Did I miss anything?”

“No, that all sounds good,” Lord Beelzebub said. “Where do we sign?”

Teresa drew the signature lines on the pad and held the contract out. She held the pen out also, but Lord Beelzebub only laughed and waved a hand.

“Ms. Sullivan, you’re in Ekron,” he said. “The only way a contract is binding in Ekron is to sign in blood.”

“Blood signatures are no longer the industry standard,” Teresa said.

“In Ekron they are,” Lord Beelzebub said. “I only make deals that are eternally binding. And the only way you can bind a deal eternally is to sign in blood. Oldest magic there is.”

“Quite,” Teresa said and looked at all of us.

I was leaning with my back against the bar, my eyes locked on the back-and-forth of the negotiations. Lassa was sitting against the wall with Travis resting on him. Steve was in the corner, making a phone call with a phone that looked like an Alexander Graham Bell original. Harper was positioned so she was standing almost perfectly equidistant between all of us, ready to make a move if needed.

I had to admit that I felt a shitload of relief at having her on our side again, although I guess she’d always been on our side.

“Mr. Lawter,” Teresa said. “When you are done holding up the bar, will you come sign this?”

I pushed off from the bar and walked slowly to the coffee table where Teresa had set the pad. She clicked the end of her pen and the ball point disappeared, replaced by a very sharp-looking needle. I got the deed over with fast, pricking my finger, then signing in blood above my printed name. Lord Beelzebub did the same. He stood and held out his hand.

We shook, and he clapped me on the shoulder.

“Happy doing business with you, Chase,” he said. “I certainly hope this won’t be the last time. I have a reputation to uphold and working with the defiler of dimensions really makes me look like the scary scum that everyone thinks I am. You’ll be quite an image boost in the most horrible way.”

“Glad I could help with that,” I said.

Steve hung up the phone and gestured for me to join him in the corner. Harper followed close behind as I walked over to him.

“My guy will meet us at the border,” Steve said. “He’s worked on shapeshifters before and thinks he can reverse the problem.”

“Problem?” I snapped. “Travis doesn’t have adult acne. He’s goddamn dying.”

“Didn’t mean any disrespect, buddy,” Steve said, holding up his hands. He glanced over my shoulder at Harper, then back at me. “I’m here to help. I like you, Chase. You’ve got balls. But don’t push it with the attitude.”

“Pushing it is what I do,” I said. “When do we leave?”

“You may leave right away,” Lord Beelzebub said.

“Okay, great,” I replied.

No one moved. We stood there like idiots for a good five seconds.

“Yeah, gonna need that soul now, please,” I said.

“Of course,” Lord Beelzebub said.

Still no movement.

“Am I missing something?” I asked.

Teresa stood and walked over to me. She did not look like she had good news.

“You will need to create your trap first,” Teresa said.

She could barely look me in the eye. There was a reason for that.

The reality of what she was saying hit me fast.

“Whoa! Hold on, now!” I exclaimed. “You want me to build and leave up a Dim trap on this side of the border the entire time?”

Lord Beelzebub’s smile told me all I needed to know.

“Having that amount of Dim unfinished and standing by will kill me,” I said. “This wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Oh, Chase, this is the best part of the deal,” Lord Beelzebub said. “Did you think I’d hand my soul over without there being some sort of insurance?”

“Chase, we discussed this and you signed the contract,” Teresa said.

“I think you glossed over that part when you were explaining the details to me,” I growled at her. “You’re my lawyer, Teresa. Your job is to make sure I sign a good contract. One that isn’t going to kill me!”

“Lord Beelzebub, may I speak with my client privately for a moment?” Teresa asked.

“By all means,” Lord Beelzebub said and nodded at a door to the right of the bar. “The bathroom is right there.”

Teresa blinked a couple of times, then nodded.

“Thank you,” she said and led me by my elbow to the door.

She shoved me inside. She was right behind me and closing the door before I could say a word.

“Knock it off, Chase,” she snapped.

She was pissed. She never called me Chase.

“This isn’t only about you,” she continued. “This is about all of us as well as Iris. Your friend Travis will be dead within the hour if we do not get him help. Lord Beelzebub’s man has that help waiting for us at the border. A border you promised to protect. That is not negotiable.”

“I’ve never put up that much Dim before,” I said. “Let alone left it up. I’m a dead man walking with the amount of energy that’s going to take.”

“There is no other choice,” Teresa said. “We will figure out how to keep you alive. But right now we need to leave this dimension as soon as possible. If there was any other way, I would have put that in the contract. There is no other way.”

I shook my head over and over. I was about to really lose my shit. That was too much Dim. Too goddamn much Dim.

“If for anyone, do this for Iris,” Teresa said. “She’s trapped in a box. We have to deliver Lord Beelzebub’s soul to Daphne per the contract. This is the only way we live, you live, and that key comes . . . out of you. Otherwise, what happens if you die? With the key inside you? Does the key still exist? Does the key go poof?”

“Is poof a legal term?” I snapped.

“Chase!” My ears took a beating on that one.

“I don’t know what happens to the key,” I said with a sharp bark of a laugh. “I do know what is going to happen to me. I will be maintaining the Dim trap for what? Twenty-four hours?”

“At least, yes.”

“At least. Yes. Jesus Christ . . .”

“For Iris.”

“Yeah, I know, I know. For Iris. Goddammit.”

I stared at her, she stared back, then lowered her gaze and whispered something. I didn’t know banshees could whisper.

“What did you say?”

“I’m sorry,” Teresa replied in a slightly louder voice. “I should have held out for a better contract. My only excuse is I could not see a better contract coming. This is Lord Beelzebub we are dealing with, Chase. There is no better negotiator in all of the dimensions.”

“Great. We were worried about having to fight our way in and fight our way out, but in the end, it’s paperwork that kicks our ass. Just goddamn great.”

There was a knock on the door, and Harper peeked in.

“Travis is going down fast,” she said.

“We’re coming,” Teresa said. “Right, Chase?”

“Yeah,” I said.

Harper held the door open, and I followed them into the big room. Lord Beelzebub was standing and smiling at me, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Are we clear on what needs to be done?” he asked.

“Yeah, but I need something from you first,” I said.

“I believe the time for negotiation has passed, Chase,” Lord Beelzebub said. “When you signed on the dotted line, then that was that.”

“I think you can handle this request,” I said.

“Then lay it on me,” Lord Beelzebub replied. “I’m all ears.”

“I’m going to need food,” I said. “A lot of food. As much food as we can pack into the limo and still have room for us—”

“Food?” Lord Beelzebub said. He looked bemused. “That’s all you need?”

“Human food,” I said. “Food I can eat fast and that will sustain me for the next couple of days while the trap is active. High protein and high carbs.”

“Like a little omnivorous hummingbird,” Lord Beelzebub said.

“Yes, something like that,” I said.

“Fly, little hummingbird, fly,” Travis croaked from Lassa’s lap.

That was all I needed. That little piece of smart-ass-ed-ness kicked me in the, well, ass. A reminder of what this was all about.

My friends had saved my life and were risking theirs because we’d gotten into an impossible situation all because of my abilities. I owed each of them big-time. Travis too, even though he was paying back what he owed me. If that meant feeling like I was going to die of starvation for a couple of days, then so fucking be it.

“I will have food waiting for you at the border along with Steve’s friend,” Lord Beelzebub said.

“Good to hear,” I said.

“Are we all right now?” Teresa asked, looking from me to Lord Beelzebub and back. “Chase?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Excellent,” Teresa replied. “Then we should take our leave. We still have a long journey ahead of us.”

She wasn’t kidding.

23

STEVE’S GUY WAS a short little devil with mismatched horns and a stained wifebeater over a sagging paunch. He had on cutoff jeans and wore a trucker cap backward, which only made the fact his horns were mismatched even more noticeable.

What type of gangster was he supposed to be?

“What do you see?” I asked Lassa.

“Redneck,” Lassa said.

“Me too.”

“Yeah,” Harper agreed.

“Vic is . . . different,” Steve said. “Your minds have no influence over how he looks.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Teresa said.

“This the shapeshifter ya need worked on or what?” he asked as he scratched his cheek.

Lassa was holding Travis in his arms as we stood by the border cloud. A truck had pulled up, and Harper walked over to talk to two guys about who was unloading the food Lord Beelzebub had delivered. Maybe talking wasn’t the word. Arguing with the imminent threat of violence was more like it. I knew Harper had everything in hand.

“This is the guy,” Steve said.

He motioned for Lassa to set Travis down. Lassa hesitated, then looked at me. I nodded, and he crouched low, gently setting Travis on the asphalt. Travis made a low moan, but that was all. He hadn’t been conscious since we left the palace.

“All right, let me take a look,” Vic said. He squatted next to Travis and put a hand on his chest. “Hmmm. He walked through the border, you say?”

“Yes,” Steve replied.

“While shifted into a faerie?” Vic asked.

“Yes,” Steve said.

“He got any allergies that you know of?” Vic asked.

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” I snapped.

“Buddy. Calm,” Steve warned.

“Yeah, buddy, calm,” Vic said and cackled. “I can’t work around someone all wound up.”

He stood and held out a hand, palm up.

“You got what I asked for?” he said to Steve.

“Yes,” Steve said and placed a plain white envelope in Vic’s hand.

Vic took a look inside and nodded. I have no idea what was in there.

“All right. Everyone give me some space while I work, will ya?” he said.

We took a couple of steps back. Lassa hesitated, but I shot him a look, and he moved back as well. Vic knelt next to Travis and tilted his head back. He opened Travis’s mouth, then hawked up a huge loogie. Before we could do anything, he spit the glob of snot into Travis’s mouth. I think we all retched a little, even Steve.

“There we go,” Vic said as he stood up and wiped his hands on his cutoffs. He pointed his chin at me. “You want me to take care of that little problem on your back?”

“What problem on my back?” I asked. He couldn’t have meant Back Chase because Daphne had made that go away.

Vic shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He held out a hand to Steve, but Steve didn’t take the hand. Vic laughed at the slight like it was nothing.

“Good meeting you folks,” he said, taking a bow while doffing his hat like he was some redneck English gentleman. “And I bid you adieu.”

He straightened up, burped, then turned and walked off the way he’d come. He pulled the envelope out of his pocket and started laughing his head off as he turned a corner and was lost from sight. We could hear him laughing for a long while.

“What’d you give him?” I asked.

“Something I expect to be reimbursed for,” Steve said.

“Not with cash, I assume.”

“No, not with cash. I’ll get in touch when I need reimbursement.”

“Okay.” Not sure what else I could say. The situation was what it was.

I looked over at Harper.

The talk had turned violent. She had one of the truck guys in a headlock and was squeezing him hard enough that his red face was turning a deep purple. The other guy was holding a tire iron and going in for the attack.

“I wouldn’t,” I warned.

The guy didn’t listen and raised the tire iron. He got a kick to the nuts and went down hard.

“Hey!” Steve shouted and stomped over to the scuffle. “Knock it off!”

“Tell them to behave,” Harper said.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Steve said. “I was talking to these muscae mooks. You hear me? Knock. It. Off.”

“Sure, Mr. Steve,” the guy in the headlock said.

The one on the ground holding his crotch mouthed something, but his words were either too low to hear or at a frequency my ears couldn’t pick up.

What my ears could pick up was the loud sound of my stomach growling. Apparently, everyone else could hear it too, as they all turned and stared at me. I shrugged and turned to look back at Travis. Lassa was stroking the guy’s forehead.

“He’s not getting better,” Lassa said.

“Steve!” I called.

“Vic says it’ll take a while,” Steve said. “But he won’t get any worse between now and then.”

“Pick him up,” I said to Lassa. “Let’s get to the limo. Harper!”

I glanced over my shoulder and saw her let the guy go from the headlock and kick him in the ass with her boot. He flipped her off, but didn’t argue anymore about who was unloading the food and carting supplies across the border to the limo.

Which was still waiting for us when we got through the cloud. Steve came with us, since he had Lord Beelzebub’s soul, and I asked him if the cloud was going to affect Travis any. He said the protections didn’t work that way leaving Ekron. I hoped he was right; otherwise, there would be one pissed-off yeti in bad need of a shave rampaging through Lord Beelzebub’s dimension if Travis died.

“I had to leave some of the weapons to make room for the food,” Harper said as she got into the passenger’s seat of the limo. “I kept all the ammo for the guns, but none of the extra rockets. The only RPGs we have are loaded into the launchers.” She held up her shotgun. “And this with plenty of shells. We better not need more getting back to the faerie dimension.”

Travis was resting on the bench seat closest to the front seats so Lassa, who was back in the driver’s seat, could reach back over the divider and grab his hand if he needed. Travis’s color was already considerably better.

“It looks like that man Vic did the job,” Teresa said. She tapped her ear. “I can hear his breathing improving. That’s good since we’ll need him awake and aware before we get to Daphne.”

Lassa and Harper turned to stare at her, but I understood what she was saying. Before they could get on her about being callous and unfeeling, I spoke up.

“He has to become Aspen again,” I said.

“Daphne’s already on to him,” Harper said.

“Yeah, dude, the jig is up,” Lassa said. “What does it matter if he changes back into Aspen?”

“Only way is through, right?” I said. “If he still looks like Aspen, then Daphne may think we’re still snowed.”

“Except for me,” Harper said.

“Except for Harper, but you two ladies have your own issues between you,” I said. “Which could help, too. Any distraction that might buy us a few minutes is worth it. Shit, if it buys us a few seconds that’s better than nothing. All we have to do is head off any attack from her despite what deal she made not to harm us. Am I wrong here, Teresa?”

“No, you are correct,” Teresa said. “We need all the advantages we can get.”

“Well, shit fuck,” Harper said. “So I have to keep on pretending too. This is going to suck balls.”

“Yeah,” I said. “No choice.”

“No choice.” Lassa sighed.

“You all on the same page now?” Steve asked from the rear passenger’s side door. He had an arm leaning on the frame and was smiling in at us. “Because you all have jobs to do. Speaking of.”

He looked at me as I was about to open a box of powdered donuts.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” I said. “Carb loading first.”

I jammed three donuts in my mouth at once. They weren’t mini donuts, but full size. I started to choke right away, but it wasn’t my first encounter with the threat of death by powdered sugar. I chewed, coughed, chewed, coughed, then swallowed.

“You could have covered your mouth,” Teresa said, looking disgustedly at a spray of white sugar and yellow donut on the seat next to her.

“Ma bah,” I said.

I followed Steve back over the border and stared at the road. I needed to create something out of Dim that could easily be closed when the Fae army came through. Except I wasn’t going to be there to close the box, of course, so I’d need to rely on my new hinge idea I’d been playing with. The problem was I hadn’t been playing with anything on the scale that Lord Beelzebub wanted.

“I can’t build up,” I said. “No space for the box to close.”

“You can do more than boxes,” Steve said and patted his jacket pocket where he obviously had a pistol. “You wrapped up those bullets.”

“Yeah, but that won’t work here,” I said. “In order to wrap up an army, I’d have to set the Dim a quarter mile back. The first wave would get through the cloud and see the trap. They’d warn the others too soon. No, what I need to do is build down.”

I stared at the length of the cloud, which was more than a few blocks wide since the entire dimension was a massive version of Detroit, all concrete and steel-beam buildings for as far as the eye could see. But the density looked different as it got away from where we’d entered. Probably couldn’t walk through that part.

Steve was watching me and patted my shoulder, then pointed at the road. “One way in, one way out. Cover the road only.”

“Oh, thank fucking God.”

I took some deep breaths to psyche myself up.

“This will work,” I said and moved about ten yards back from the cloud.

I took quite a few more deep breaths, more psyching up, but really I was stalling. Steve knew I was stalling and began tapping his foot on the pavement in irritation.

I got to work.

It took me close to an hour to work the amount of Dim I needed to work. The box wasn’t perfect, and had its flaws, but the trap would do the job. The main issue was no hiding the black smoke covering the street. I only hoped the Fae coming through first would chalk it up to a natural occurrence in Ekron.

“That’ll close on them?” Steve asked as we stood on the very edge of the Dim trap.

“Should,” I said.

“Should ain’t good enough, buddy,” he replied.

“Should is the best I can give you, pal,” I said.

He studied the Dim for a few more seconds, then nodded. He reached into his jacket, and for a moment I thought he was going to shoot me. He did pull out a gun, but it was my little .38. He handed that to me, then pulled out a small mahogany box of questionable design. The design was further marred by several old stickers of glitter stars and unicorns. The stickers were peeling off and looked sad.

“That?” I asked, taking both the pistol and the box. “His soul fits in here?”

“His soul fits in there,” Steve said.

“I was expecting something bigger,” I said, wondering what size my soul was.

“He’s the Lord of Flies and Lies,” Steve said. “You don’t get to be that with a large soul. That would get in the way of what needs to be done when it needs doing.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “Good luck. See you soon.”

“You better,” Steve said. “For everyone that you love’s sake.”

“You need to work on your send-offs, pal,” I said and started across the Dim. The trap wasn’t going to close on me.

“I’ll take that into consideration, buddy,” Steve said.

I was across the Dim and through the cloud as fast as possible. When I hopped into the back of the limo, Travis was wide awake and eating his way through a box of macaroons.

“There better be some left for me,” I said as I sat down and handed the soul box to Teresa. “I thought it’d be bigger.”

“I didn’t,” Teresa said, tucking the box away into the folds of her gown. “I expected it to be smaller.”

Lassa got us turned around and headed back along the Gory Gauntlet toward the faerie dimension.

“Does the faerie dimension have a name?” I asked. “We were in Ekron, and we live in Earth, but what do the faeries call their dimension?”

“You couldn’t comprehend the pronunciation,” Travis said as he polished off the macaroons and tore open a family-size bag of barbecue-flavored chips. “I could tell you the name and all you’d hear is static and a slight rustling noise.”

“He’s correct,” Teresa said.

“I could never get the name right,” Harper said. “So I gave up.”

“We should call it Candy Land,” I said. “Since faeries freak out over sugar.”

Speaking of, I snagged a jumbo tub of Red Vines and ripped the seal off, stuffing four strands into my mouth at one time. Chewing that much hurt my jaw, but damn if it didn’t taste good.

“There already is a Candy Land,” Travis said. “Nasty dimension. Never go there. Constant war and strife.”

“Good to know,” I said. My mouth was so full of Red Vines that I knew no one could understand me. They also didn’t ask for clarification.

We drove on in silence, our minds occupied with what was to come next.

24

WHAT CAME NEXT was a flat tire. In the middle of a hell road. Right when six marauders decided to appear by the side of the road with heavy machine guns. We were pinned down inside the armored limo with no way to get to the tire that needed changing.

“Harper!” I shouted over the roar of the machine guns and the barrage of slugs pinging off the limo’s armor. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we should let them run out of ammo, then I jump out and blow their heads off!” Harper shouted back at me. “But we don’t have time to wait! They’ve figured out the belt guns and they shift positions anytime the guns move! They’re too close for the RPGs!”

“So what is the plan, then?” I yelled.

“Luck,” she said, then shoved the sunroof open and jumped up out of the limo.

“Harp!” Lassa yelled, grabbing for her, but she was already gone.

We all looked out the windows, but couldn’t see her. The machine guns were still blasting away at us, and the marauders had huge grins on their faces.

Then, one by one, they lost those faces to a good amount of double-aught buckshot. Just gone. Rag covered, ugly as sin faces, then nothing but open skulls dripping blood. The machine gun fire stopped, and Harper climbed back into the limo.

She was bleeding badly from her left shoulder.

“Not my shooting arm,” she said, as if that were our first worry.

“Shit, Harp, hold still,” Lassa said. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

“Don’t worry, I’m good,” Harper said. “Get out and change the tire before more show up.”

He started to argue.

“Lassa,” I said, cutting him off. “We each have a job. Yours is transportation. Change the tire.”

He growled low, but opened his door and hopped out quickly as I began to hunt for the first aid kit. I found two tucked into a drawer under the bench seat I was on. One was good old red like a first aid kit should be, the other was bright blue.

“Which one?”

“The blue box,” Harper said.

I grabbed the blue box, opened the lid, and stared inside.

“What the hell is this shit?” I said as I stared at a bunch of small bottles filled with different colored liquids. “Where are the bandages and antiseptic and all that?”

“Faerie first aid,” Harper said. “Doesn’t work on any of you, but my body adapted during my years in that dimension. Hand me the chartreuse bottle.”

“The what?” I said. “What goddamn color is chartreuse?”

“This one,” Teresa said, plucking a bright green bottle out and tossing it to Harper.

The limo began to rise on one side as Lassa worked the jack. Harper stripped off her shirt and poured the contents of the bottle directly into the bullet wound. The liquid sizzled and sparked, and she cried out as the wound began to heal. There was a good amount of cursing outside from Lassa as he changed the tire and a good amount of cursing inside as Harper punched the dashboard over and over while her wound bubbled and smoked. I busied myself by stuffing my face full of whatever I could get my hands on.

Felt like home.

“Damn,” Travis said as he rested on the bench seat. “I feel like crap.”

“Have a cracker,” I said and offered him a box of saltines and a bottle of spray cheese. “They hit the spot.”

“No, I’m full,” he said. “I can’t eat like you.”

“No one can,” Teresa said.

“Harp? You good?” I asked as she stopped punching things and quieted down.

“Better,” she said, then jammed her finger and thumb into her wound and plucked out a slug. She opened her door and tossed the warped bullet onto the scorched roadside. “Much better.”

I’d say the sight of her pulling a bloody slug from her shoulder, not to mention the stink of the faerie medicine smoke wafting from the wound, would have put off my appetite, but I’d be lying through my goddamn cracker-and-spray-cheese-coated teeth.

“Done,” Lassa announced as he got back in the car, started up the engine, and sped back onto the road. “The faeries that put the armor on this limo did not think ahead with their hexes. Total rush job like the windshield. I had to strip off half a ton of metal to get to the flat tire.”

“You put that plating back on, right?” Harper asked.

“What? Hell no, I didn’t put the plating back on,” Lassa said. “Screw that shit.”

“Now we have an Achilles’ heel,” Harper said.

“We’re in a goddamn limo,” I said. “We were never in a tank.”

“This is my firm’s limo and with any luck it will remain that way when we are all done here,” Teresa said. “Our accountants are good, but I have no idea how’d they write this off.”

Her head cocked, and I held up a finger stained with nacho cheese dust. I’d moved on to tortilla chips.

“Don’t even think of billing us for this,” I said. “Sharon will fight you to the death. Any damage to your limo is a business expense, not a billable expense.”

“That was not what I was thinking,” she said.

“Liar,” I replied.

She didn’t argue.

We had a few close calls, but Lassa sped past them. The closest was when we nearly ran smack into a messed-up Hydra-looking thing that landed right in the road. The beast towered a good fifty feet above us and was busy screeching at something way up in the sky. So Lassa took advantage of the distraction, aimed between its legs, and put the pedal to the metal. Harper didn’t even have to use the RPGs.

Another hour passed before we pulled over again. I’d been scarfing food nonstop since leaving Ekron. I couldn’t fill my belly enough. Even when the stomach cramps hit, and I knew I couldn’t eat another bite or I’d puke, I kept jamming Goldfish past my lips. Having that Dim trap sitting back in Ekron, wide open and drawing energy from me, coupled with a Dim key in my gut, was almost more than I could take. I coped with food.

The sky had gotten dark along the Gory Gauntlet, and the gas station we’d stopped at before was all lit up inside. Its simple sign, which read “Gas,” kept blinking on and off. Migraine fuel right there.

“You’re back,” Stan said as he came out of the garage. “Ain’t I lucky.”

“Fill ’er up,” Lassa said as he got out and stretched.

Harper hopped out, shotgun ready, and scanned the area. She pounded on the top of the limo.

“What was that?” I asked as I got out too.

“I was giving you the all clear,” she answered.

“Then say ‘all clear,’” I said. “I really hate that pounding shit. We’re not Blackwater.”

“Fuck off,” she said, but with a smile.

“What ya eating?” Kek’cha’s Right Head called out from his perpetual seat in front of the station. “Smells good.”

I looked down at the bag in my hands. I had no goddamn idea what I was eating. Everything tasted like salt and sugar and cheese by that point. I could have bitten into a crisp apple, and the fruit would have tasted like salt and sugar and cheese.

“Scrunchers,” I said, reading the label.

“Scrunchers? That shit’ll rot your belly, boy!” Left Head cackled. “You’re gonna have the trots for days!”

“Way past that worry, pal,” I said.

I crumpled up the empty bag and tossed it into the trash can by the gas pumps. There was a gulp and a belch from the can. I didn’t bother having a look inside.

Stan had started pumping the gas, giving us the evil eye the whole time. I nodded and smiled, then studied the gas station.

“Bathroom?” I asked.

“Gonna need a key,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow; his expression, which I had to guess was a mix of contempt and boredom, hard to tell with all those eyes, didn’t change.

“Where’s the key?” I snapped.

“Nowhere for a rude ass like you,” he said.

“I apologize,” I stated flatly.

“Inside. Hanging by the door next to the counter.”

“Thanks.” I turned to Harper, who was doing stretches while staring out into the dark landscape. “I’m hitting the head.”

“Be careful.”

“Just using the bathroom, Harp.”

“Nothing is just anything here. Watch your ass. Literally.”

“Jesus. Great.” I went to find the key.

“You get done what ya needed to get done?” Right Head asked as I passed Kek’cha on my way into the station.

“I think so,” I said.

The two outside heads looked at each other. The middle one ignored everything going on.

“You did?” Left Head asked.

“Lord Beelzebub didn’t take your souls?” Right Head asked.

“No, we made it out fine,” I said. “We’re professionals. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

I went inside, found the key, and made my way back to the bathroom. The door stuck a little, and I had to put my shoulder to the warped wood-like material to get it to open, but I finally did—and not a minute too soon.

I’d say I was halfway through my business when I heard the scratching from above.

At first, I thought the sound was the wind. Then I thought maybe rats. After that I panicked, because who the hell knew how big the rats were around there. I finished up, double-checked there wasn’t a Dim key in the bowl, and hurried to wash my hands. If I was going to be attacked by huge extradimensional roadside gas station rats, I wanted clean hands, dammit.

The scratching got louder, and I heard something, or somethings, muttering above me.

“Jesus . . . ,” I said, then shouted, “Guys!” as the ceiling caved in and three harpies landed right in the middle of the too-small bathroom.

I didn’t recognize the harpies, hard to recognize that kind of ugly, but I was fairly sure they were part of the same group we’d dealt with yesterday. They leapt at me, and I punched one in the face while I kicked another in the chest. Those two moves simultaneously sent me off balance fast, and I fell against the sink, giving my ribs a hard whack. I grunted in pain, then punched another harpy before one got in at me and took a bite from my thigh.

“Bitch!” I yelled and shot a two-foot-long rod of Dim out of my palm at her.

The Dim pierced her chest, sending black blood spraying everywhere as her heart exploded. I yanked the rod back and thwacked the head of a harpy coming for my face. The nasty bird bitch stumbled back against the other harpy, and they ended up in a tangle of wings and putrid feathers.

I smiled at the Dim rod in my hand. Despite the drain on me, the power felt good. Real good.

“Howdy,” I said as I stood over the tangled harpies.

The one I’d stabbed in the heart was down for the count, her face slack and her blood continuing to pour out of the hole in her chest, so I didn’t worry about her. She’d be out of commission for a while. But the other two . . .

I slammed the Dim rod against the head of the closest harpy, cracking its bird woman skull. Bone fragments and bits of brain splattered against the less-than-clean bathroom wall. The harpy cried out as I hit it again and again, shutting that disgusting mouth up fast.

The last harpy tried to get untangled from its sister’s corpse, but there was no hope of that. It thrashed and hissed at me, spitting epithets and promises of what it’d do to my body when finally free. I raised the Dim rod with both hands and stabbed the harpy through the eye. Once the body had stopped twitching, and I knew it was dead for a while, I waved my hand, and the rod disappeared.

“Damn,” I said as I studied my handy work.

The door was kicked in, slamming into my back and sending me falling across the harpy corpses, as Harper burst into the bathroom, shotgun up and sweeping the tiny space.

“Hey,” I said. “I handled the situation.”

She grabbed me by the back of the neck and yanked me onto my feet.

“Thanks,” I said as I wiped stray, blood-coated feathers from my shirt. “How’re things out there? Any harpy trouble?”

“All quiet outside,” Harper said. “That’s how I heard you yelling.”

She studied the bodies for a second, then looked around the bathroom.

“You done in here?”

“All done and I had time to wash my hands. Which are coated in harpy gunk now.”

“Wipe ’em on your shirt,” she said, nodding toward the front of the gas station. “Wash them later. For now, let’s get the hell out of here. Lassa’s paying Stan and we should be able to push through to the faerie dimension tonight. With luck we’ll be there at dawn.”

“Yes, because luck is always on our side,” I said.

We went outside, I said good-bye to Kek’cha, not only to be polite, but because a little Sharon voice in my head said, “Always network, Chase. You never know what contacts we may need.” I hated networking because of the ingrained cheese factor, but Kek’cha was as far from cheesy as you could get, so it sure couldn’t hurt.

“Bring me some of those Scrunchers next time you come through,” the Middle Head said. The other two heads groaned.

“You can talk. Nice.” I smirked. “Will do.”

Back in the limo, and we were off, driving our last stretch of the Gory Gauntlet. I was almost reluctant to leave, considering our next move was having to deal with Daphne.

25

THE SUN WAS cresting the horizon when we pulled up in front of Daphne’s mansion.

Travis got out first, since that would be protocol if he actually was Aspen Littlestick. He’d shifted back into that form before we’d crossed over into the faerie dimension.

He and Harper had discussed how they were going to handle Daphne along the drive. Harper needed to stay the angry, but subservient traitor, while Travis had to pretend he didn’t know Daphne suspected he wasn’t actually Aspen even though we knew she did. They were both good in their roles, but that was a lot of bullshit to keep up with, especially after everything we’d been through.

“There they are,” Daphne said as she came out of the mansion in nothing but a sleeping tee. I mean nothing but that. One innocent stretch and everyone knew how she groomed downstairs. She sipped from a mug of coffee and gave us all the biggest, widest, most full of shit smile ever created in the history of all faerie existence. “Have a nice trip? Get what you were supposed to get?”

“Yes,” I said as I got out of the limo behind Travis and Harper.

Lassa stayed in the driver’s seat while Teresa remained in the back of the limo. We weren’t going to make the whole group easy targets. Lassa had instructions to fire the RPGs if anything looked even close to hinky.

Except a couple of spindly-legged faeries had come running from around the mansion with a wheelbarrow and proceeded to unload the RPGs from the launchers. I could hear Lassa yelling inside the limo as he tried to swivel the belt guns to face Daphne, but the guns were obviously rebelling as they started to turn toward the windshield instead.

“Lassa! Stop!” I shouted.

He stopped, and the guns swiveled back to face forward.

“Wouldn’t want anyone to accidentally shoot themselves, now would we?” Daphne asked as the two faeries disassembled the belt guns next. “Not after all your hard work getting me what I wanted.” She eyed me and pursed her lips. “You did get what I wanted, didn’t you, Chase?”

“I said yes.” I produced a Dim key from my pocket. Before we’d crossed into the faerie dimension, I’d transferred Lord Beelzebub’s shriveled little soul from that ridiculous box and into a Dim box. She’d know something was up if I’d handed it to her in a mahogany box with stickers on top. “Here you go. Be careful, though.”

“Oh, and why is that?” Daphne asked. “Is the black box you made booby-trapped?”

She stuck out her chest, making sure I could see her nipples tight against the T-shirt. I could have sworn I heard Lassa whimper even from inside the limo.

“No, but Dim dissipates fast,” I said. “When you open the Dim box, you’ll want to move the soul into another vessel immediately.”

“Yes, of course,” she said. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to the precious cargo.”

Her real face flashed at me for a brief second, and I took a step back.

“Show me,” she ordered.

With a wave of her hand, her T-shirt was gone and replaced by a robin’s egg blue sundress. Her hair was up in a bun, and she wore dainty librarian glasses on the end of her nose, a beaded chain around her neck.

“Yeah, sure,” I said and pulled the box out of the Dim.

It appeared in my palm, about the size of a Rubik’s Cube.

“How . . . anticlimactic,” she said as she studied the box without touching it. “You do the honors, Chase.”

“You got a coffee can or something to put the soul in?” I said.

“Oh, yes,” she said and snapped her fingers.

An actual coffee can appeared in Travis’s hands. To his credit, he didn’t react at all except to look thoroughly bored in that Aspen way. He pulled the plastic lid off and held the can out toward me.

“Do your job, defiler of dimensions,” he said.

I did my job.

I put the key against the box, and the Dim dissolved into smoke, then into nothing, and I was left with Lord Beelzebub’s soul in the palm of my hand. For a brief moment I wondered what would happen if I squeezed as hard as I could. Daphne must have known what was going through my mind, as she tutted and clicked her tongue.

“In the can,” she said.

I complied and set the nasty thing inside the coffee can. Travis put the lid back on, then offered the can to Daphne, bowing low.

“We done now?” Harper snapped. “Am I released from my exile curse?”

“What’s that?” Daphne asked, taking the coffee can from Travis. “Released? Is release what you’re looking for?”

“You know what I mean.” Harper snarled. “No word games, Daphne. Am I free to go or not?”

“Well, certainly you are free to go,” Daphne said. “All of you are.”

“And you’re going to let us leave unharmed?” I said.

“Chase,” Daphne said. “We had a deal. What did you think would happen? That I’d imprison all of you and slowly torture you for the next few centuries?”

Her eyes twinkled, then glazed over like a junkie’s. Jesus, was she actually fantasizing about it?

“Can we avoid that?” I asked.

“We would like to return now, please,” Teresa called from inside the limo.

“Not going to come out and great me, Ms. Sullivan?” Daphne shouted as she bent to look into the vehicle. “I might consider that rude.”

“Not trying to be rude, simply trying to hurry this along,” Teresa said.

“Quite,” Daphne replied and looked at me. “Back home, then?”

“Back home,” I said.

“Very well,” she said. “You all may leave. Oh, and I’ve done you a favor. When you arrive, Time will only have advanced a minute or so after the moment that you left. Still had a little of Lord Beelzebub’s temporal fluidity to play with. He really needs to be careful sprinkling that around. Some of us have learned to take advantage. But only for dear friends, of course. Isn’t that nice of me?”

“Very nice,” I said.

“Will you be taking the traitor with you?” Daphne asked.

“We will,” I said. “She’s got some shit to answer for.”

“And you are fine with this, Harper?” Daphne asked. “They won’t be very nice to you. You’re always welcome to stay here and come back to work for me full time, my little abomination. I’ll lift your exile fully since I am down an assassin. I could certainly use the help.”

“Down an assassin?” I asked.

“No!” Harper yelled as Daphne jammed her fist through Travis’s chest and out his back, his still-beating heart gripped firmly in her hand.

“Goddamn you!” I yelled.

Harper brought up her shotgun and opened fire on Daphne, but the bitch of a faerie was already gone. She’d blinked out, like that, Travis’s heart still in her hand.

“Chase!” Lassa screamed from inside the limo.

I didn’t know what to do as I watched Travis’s lifeless body morph and change as he collapsed onto the ground. I was beyond shocked.

“Chase!” Lassa and Teresa yelled.

“Come on!” Harper said as she turned and emptied her shotgun into a mob of Fae enforcers that were running around the side of the mansion right at us. “Get in the fucking limo!”

She had to shove me in. I fell across Teresa, then tumbled to the floor as Harper slammed the door closed and scrambled up over the divider into the passenger’s seat. Lassa was already speeding us away from the mansion as dozens of hexes, and good old-fashioned faerie bullets, began slamming into the trunk of the car.

“Where am I going?” Lassa shouted as he swerved to avoid a rhododendron that had uprooted itself and was attempting to block the driveway. Lassa clipped the bush, and the windshield was covered in bright purple flowers and dark green leaves. “Harper!”

“Take a left out of the driveway!” Harper yelled as she struggled to reload the shotgun. “Then take a right at the third street!”

“Where does that lead us?” Lassa shouted.

“Away from here!”

“Works for me!”

“Chase, get up,” Teresa said, bending over me and offering her hand. “Come on, now. Get up.”

I took her hand, and she pulled me up onto the seat next to her.

“Are you hurt?” she asked.

“No, I’m fine,” I said.

“I am sorry about Travis,” she said.

She may have said more, but I didn’t hear her. I was busy creating a box. A mental box to hide the memory of Daphne holding Travis’s heart, her fist sticking out from his back, blood dripping everywhere. I couldn’t deal with that right then. Goddammit, Travis . . .

“Chase!” Harper called.

I came back to reality and turned to look at her.

“What?” I asked.

“Do you have a gun?” she asked.

“A what?”

“A gun, goddammit, a gun!”

“Um, I don’t think so,” I said. “No, wait.”

I fished in my pocket and pulled out the .38.

“That won’t do,” Harper said. “You’ll need a .45 at the least to take down a dryad.”

“Dryad?” I asked.

“Look around, Chase,” Teresa said and turned my head toward the window. “The land has come alive.”

It wasn’t only rhododendrons we had to deal with. All the trees and bushes that dotted the landscape of the faerie dimension had become animate and were closing in on the speeding limo. Lassa was doing his best to weave around angry oaks and pissed-off pines, but there was too much greenery in the dimension. The faeries liked their forests and woods.

“Right!” Harper yelled when Lassa almost passed our turn.

He yanked the wheel hard, and I slammed into Teresa, knocking her off the bench seat. She was about to yell at me, and I had a feeling the sound was going to be loud and painful, when she stopped and focused her attention on the seat.

“Grab that end,” she said, taking a hold of the seat. “Grab it, Chase!”

I grabbed my end of the bench seat and looked at her, eyebrows up and questioning.

“Lift. Hard,” she said and yanked up on her end of the seat.

The cushion came free with a loud pop. I yanked up on my end, and that came free too.

We both stared at what had been hidden under the seat.

“Hey, Harper?” I said as I reached in and grabbed a very large rifle. I turned and showed the weapon to her as she was about to open the sunroof and get to shooting with her shotgun. She froze. “Is this big enough?”

“Give me that,” she said, her voice thick with hunger like a ravenous predator. “Oh, Chase Lawter, you better hand that to me right now.”

I didn’t have a clue what kind of rifle I was holding, except that it was big. I had to use both hands because of the awkward size, and getting the rifle to her without dropping it wasn’t easy. Harper ejected the huge magazine and smiled at the heavy-caliber cartridges inside. Then she looked at Teresa.

“Will the rounds work in this dimension?” she asked.

“Yes,” Teresa replied. “They will work in any dimension. You aren’t the only one with weaponry tricks up her sleeve. We have some very ingenious gnomes working for us.”

“This has been under there the whole time and I’m only finding out now?” Harper asked.

“We’ve been preoccupied,” Teresa said. “And I forgot. It had been mentioned in a memo last year sometime, but none of the partners have ever had to defend themselves on this scale. Usually a good wail settles matters.”

“Yeah, well, this thing will certainly settle matters now,” Harper said and opened the sunroof. “Chase. Hold my legs.”

I grabbed her legs once her upper half was out of the sunroof. I couldn’t quite see what she was doing, but I sure as hell could hear the results. My ears rang after only one shot from that rifle. Harper’s entire body rocked back against the sunroof’s frame.

Behind us there was a long, pained howl, then a massive thud we could feel even from inside the speeding limo.

Harper fired twice more before dropping back inside the limo. She was careful of the smoking-hot barrel of that huge rifle. With good goddamn reason. The heat from the barrel burned a hole in the limo’s carpet when she set the rifle down.

“We’re good,” she said.

I crawled back to get a view out of the rear window. Two oaks and a fir tree were sprawled across the road, and all the other dryads were busy retreating, leaves and needles floating lazily to the street in their wake.

“Damn,” I said.

“I’m keeping this rifle,” Harper said to Teresa. “And you aren’t billing us.”

“Can’t see why we wouldn’t bill you,” Teresa said.

“Maybe because your lack of informing me you had this, when I’m head of security for Black Box Inc. could be construed as negligence,” Harper said.

“Construed as negligence,” I said. “Fancy.”

“Been cooped up with a banshee lawyer for three days,” Harper said.

“I believe there were extenuating circumstances such as you playing the part of a traitor, but I’ll have billing negotiate a fair price for the weapon,” Teresa said. “Giving it to you outright could be construed as improper.”

“I’ll make sure Sharon gets that price down as low as possible,” Harper said.

“I won’t stop you,” Teresa said.

“When you two are done measuring dicks back there, would someone care to tell me where I’m going?” Lassa shouted.

“Two lefts and a right, then floor it,” Harper said. “Do not stop no matter what happens.”

“Ms. Kyles,” Teresa said. “Do you know how to get us out of this dimension?”

“Yep,” Harper replied.

“And how will we do that?”

“Lassa?” Harper said, not taking her eyes off Teresa. “I am serious when I say do not stop for any reason. No hesitation. This is exactly like the Starloft job. You hear me?”

“Starloft?” Lassa asked.

“Starloft.”

“I hear ya,” Lassa said.

Lassa drove like mad. A bat out of Hell. A man with the Devil on his heels. The real Devil.

We came around our last turn, and the roadway was blocked by several armed faeries. They had sparkly rifles pointed at us.

“Not stopping,” Lassa said before anyone could yell at him.

He aimed for the faeries and didn’t flinch.

They flinched, though, and jumped out of the way right before they were to become faerie pancakes. That’s when I saw where we were headed.

Straight at the portal.

“Do you know where we’re going to end up?” I yelled.

“Yeah!” Lassa yelled back. “And you ain’t gonna be happy!”

26

WE STOPPED FOR a brief rest so Lassa could stretch his legs and Harper could use a tire iron to break the armor off the car. Ever since we’d gone through the portal into another dimension, the armor had been trying to crush the limo. Harper put an end to that.

I decided to stay in the limo, since the temperature was about zero degrees outside and I was not a fan of heights.

Turned out, Lassa drove us directly through the portal and into his dimension. He was able to do that due to the extradimensional treaties that governed all dimensions. When a being was in severe, indisputable danger, they could enter any portal and be instantly transported to their home dimension.

Lassa’s dimension was nothing but snow and Himalaya-size mountain ranges. There was absolutely no flat ground, which meant we’d been winding through ice-covered mountain passes for hours. Not so great for my already-tortured stomach.

“Finally!” Teresa exclaimed as she put her phone to her ear. “A signal!”

“Must be the altitude,” I said, refusing to look out my window at the ten-thousand-foot drop-off to the right of the limo. “Can you call in a chopper to pick us up?”

Lassa hopped back in the car, and I flipped him off as a blast of frigid air whipped in at me. He had been right, I didn’t like where he took us. My ass was frozen, and my insides were churning from the never-ending twisting and turning of the roads. Plus, I finished all of the food and needed to use a crapper. And soon.

“Oh, good, Teresa got a signal,” Lassa said. “My turn next.”

“Who are you going to call?” I asked.

“My cousin,” Lassa said. “My cousin runs a sightseeing company about twenty miles from here. He’ll let us stay with him until we know we can go back to Earth without a Fae kill squad waiting for us.”

The limo rocked as a gust of wind hit us side on.

“Are we going to make it there in this weather?” I said, pointing at the swirling snow and ominous dark clouds above.

“What? This?” Lassa laughed. “Chase, this is summer. I could drive us on this road blindfolded, dude.”

“Don’t you goddamn dare, pal,” I said.

My patience was lower than my energy, which was painfully low. Keeping my eyes open was getting harder and harder. The pull of the Dim trap was bringing me down hard. I think the severe stomach cramps were the only reason I hadn’t passed out. They were brutal. When I’d mentioned them to Harper and Lassa, neither blamed the immense amount of food I’d gobbled down. They’d seen me eat more than that before.

No, I could tell they were worried about what that Dim key was doing to my insides.

“Twenty miles?” I asked as my stomach gurgled so loud that Teresa stopped talking on her cell phone to watch me carefully.

“Are you going to be all right?” she asked, scooting away from me.

“I’m not going to puke or shit everywhere, so relax,” I replied. Both of those things could happen at any second, so I was totally lying.

“The twenty miles,” I continued, ignoring Teresa and focusing on Lassa. “Does that equate to twenty minutes’ travel time? I can make it twenty minutes.”

“You are going to make a mess, aren’t you?” Teresa asked. “Let me call you back.” She hung up the cell phone. “Chase? Do not make a mess in this limo.”

“Yeah, because everything is so neat and tidy in here,” I said as I nodded at the piles of empty food wrappers, shell casings, and other debris that had accumulated during our ordeal.

“I can get us to my cousin’s place in about thirty minutes,” Lassa said. “As long as we don’t hit any tourist traffic.”

“Who in the goddamn hell wants to sightsee in this place?” I asked. “There’s nothing but snow and rocks and clouds.”

“Screw you, dude,” Lassa said. He held out a hand, and Teresa gave him the phone. “I’ll make my call outside.”

He got out and slammed the door after him. But not before a stabbing wind hit me in the face. My entire body shivered, and I doubled over as yet another wave of cramps tore through me.

“Chase, you really do not look good,” Teresa said.

“Yeah, don’t feel so goddamn hot,” I said.

“Let’s get you outside,” Teresa said.

“To hell with your limo, Teresa!” I shouted.

“Chase, it’s not about my limo,” she said. “Your face is flushed and I can feel the fever coming off you from where I’m sitting. Something else is going on besides that Dim key.”

I took a few deep breaths and used whatever rational thought I had left to parse what she was saying. Yeah, I did have a fever. And there was something else going on. More cramps hit me, and I cried out. I tried to breathe through them, but I couldn’t.

“Come on,” Teresa said and opened her door.

She pulled me, basically dragged me, out of the limo and into the snow. Despite how painfully cold it was, the snow against my feverish body felt so good by numbing some of the pain. Some.

I cried out again as my insides spasmed. I didn’t need a crapper (I did, but that was beside the point) because the pain had moved from my guts to my lower back. I thought my kidneys were going to rip right out of me and try to escape.

“What’s going on?” I heard Harper ask.

I couldn’t open my eyes to look at her. Everything was excruciating, even that simple movement.

More spasms, and my back arched like I was having a seizure.

“What is that?” Teresa asked. “Do you see his shirt moving?”

“Oh, shit,” Harper said.

I felt hands on me, and the back of my shirt was yanked up, exposing my skin to the snow.

“Dammit, I was afraid of this,” Harper said.

“What?” I tried to ask, but the sound was more like a wordless grunt.

“Oh, dear,” Teresa said.

“Okay, my cousin has a cabin we can use,” Lassa said. “Hey, what the hell is Chase doing on the ground? What’s wrong with . . . Oh. Shit. It’s back.”

There was a high-pitched scream, then the pain stopped. Completely stopped. And the scream wasn’t from my mouth.

“It’s fucking cold out here!” Back Chase exclaimed. “Jesus Christ, someone get me inside that limo now!”

Hands lifted me and carried me back into the limo, then set me facedown on the carpet.

“That’s better,” Back Chase said. “Damn, will you look at all this trash? Someone had the munchies.”

That was the last thing I heard before passing out.

When I awoke, there was sunlight leaking through my eyelids, and I was in possibly the warmest, most comfortable bed I had ever woken up in. I didn’t open my eyes, not wanting to break the spell, but I did roll over onto my back to get a little more comfortable.

“Hey! Asshole! Belly only!”

Goddammit.

My eyes opened, and I rolled back onto my stomach.

“You,” I said.

“Me,” Back Chase replied. “Miss me?”

“No. Not for a second.”

“Well, screw you, then.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I live here. On your back. Right above your ass. Not my first choice of locations. Everything smells. The view is horrible. Your stomach makes the worst noises and keeps me awake. But rent is cheap and transportation is provided.”

“You suck.”

“Possibly, possibly. But nothing I can do about that. I’m an offshoot of you, Chase. If you don’t like me, then that says a lot about your mental state, pal. Self-loathing much?”

“You are not me.”

“An offshoot of you. I didn’t say I was you. We both can’t be you. I just happen to know all your deepest, darkest secrets.”

“No, you don’t. You’re the by-product of a murdered changeling. You don’t have a single one of my memories.”

“Okay, you’re right. But I do have your thought patterns. I can only imagine what you’ve done in your life. Still can’t think why you get to manipulate the Dim and no one else does, though.”

“Join the club, pal.”

“There’s a club? Nice.”

“No, there is no goddamn club. It’s a saying.”

“So is yanking your chain or taking the piss. Chill, pal.”

“Pal is my thing, pal. Pick a different word.”

“Sugar? We are from the South. Maybe I’ll start calling everyone sugar.”

“Hey, you guys are awake,” Lassa said as he came into the room.

A room I hadn’t even looked at. Hard to when facedown in bed. I rolled over and sat up, scooting back into a bunch of pillows piled against the headboard.

“Hey!” Back Chase complained. “Hard to breathe!”

“Good,” I said. “Maybe you’ll suffocate.”

“Not nice!”

The room was decked out in Alpine chic, like an Austrian ski team had thrown up everywhere. But it was damn cozy.

Lassa leaned against the wall by the door. Harper appeared instantly and gave me a warm smile.

“Welcome back,” she said.

“Where are we?” I asked. “How long have I been asleep?”

“First answer is we’re at a resort at one of the best ski spots in my dimension,” Lassa said.

“What happened to your cousin’s place?” I asked and stretched. I ignored Back Chase’s grumblings. “I thought we were headed there.”

“Oh, we did, dude. We did,” Lassa said. “Which brings us to the second answer. Harper?”

“You’ve been asleep for two weeks,” Harper said.

“I what?” I exclaimed, pushing away from the pillows.

I swiveled my feet out from under the covers and went to stand up. The room was cold as hell outside the covers. I got back in immediately. Back Chase yelled something about making up my mind.

“Dude, you scared the shit out of us,” Lassa said. “You slept like you were in a coma.”

“Except for the you on your back,” Harper said. “That guy doesn’t shut up.”

“Bite me,” Back Chase said.

“Two weeks? Damn,” I said. “We’ve been here for two weeks?”

“No, we’ve only been here for three days,” Lassa said. “My cousin needed the cabin back. The weekend was booked for a bachelorette party or something.”

“Two weeks,” I said again. A few realities hit me. Medical realities. “Uh. That couldn’t have been fun for any of you.”

“No,” they both said.

“But we had some help,” Harper said.

“I called my mom,” Lassa said.

“You what? You called your mom?” I asked.

“Oh, sure,” Lassa said. “She’s been a registered nurse for like six hundred years. She’s retired now, but she was so excited to be taking care of someone again. Even if it meant cleaning up your, uh, bodily wastes. But, hey, Mom is a trooper.”

“She’s like the nicest person I’ve ever met,” Harper said. “I’m not kidding, Chase. If you ever meet her, you’ll totally agree.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty cool,” Lassa said with sonly pride.

“I can’t meet her now?” I asked.

“Nope, sorry, she didn’t come here,” Lassa said. “We’ve been doing the dirty work for three days. Not that there’s much to that. Mom had a shaman come and stabilize you. Anyway, your body is empty, dude. I doubt you could work up a thimbleful of piss even if you wanted to.”

“Nice image,” I said.

About eighty thoughts ran through my mind. But one hit me hard first.

“Dim key?” I asked.

“Not yet,” Harper said. “Believe me, we looked. Dear God, did we look.”

“You owe us,” Lassa said. “Big-time owe us.”

“That sucks,” I said. “Why the hell won’t the key come out?”

“I know,” Back Chase said.

“What?” I replied. “How would you know?”

“For the same reason I’m here,” Back Chase said. “You ingested changeling blood. If some of that blood got on the key while in your belly, which timing sounds about right, then the only way that key is coming out is if you purge the blood.”

“The blood is still in me?” I asked.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Back Chase said. “That trick Daphne did was only temporary and at her whim. From what Harper told me while you were asleep, you pissed that chick off right good. She revoked the spell and out I came.”

“Fae,” I said, moving on to the second most important thought. “What happened to the Fae?”

Harper and Lassa smiled.

“That’s the good news,” Lassa said.

“Sort of,” Harper added.

“Why sort of?” I asked. “Did the Dim trap work?”

“Oh, the trap worked, dude,” Lassa said.

“Sort of,” Harper said.

I concentrated and could feel the pull of the Dim trap. The discomfort wasn’t as bad as it had been two weeks ago, but the Dim was still drawing energy from me.

“You feel up for anther road trip?” Lassa asked.

“Not really,” I said. The last thing I wanted to do was get back in a car and drive the Gory Gauntlet. “But I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Not so much,” Lassa said.

“Steve’s been calling daily to see when you’re coming to get rid of the trap from their road,” Harper said. “Lord Beelzebub is not happy it’s still there. Steve says the Dim is blocking traffic and creating a huge mess.”

“Steve,” Lassa said knowingly.

“Fuck off,” Harper said, and her cheeks reddened.

“Steve and Harper sitting in a tree,” Lassa said.

He didn’t get to finish because Harper socked him right in the gut. He doubled over with a grunt, but started laughing as soon as he could catch his breath.

“We’re only friends,” Harper said. “We have the same professional interests.”

“Harper likes the bad boys,” Lassa said and jumped away before she could sock him again.

“He knows his weapons,” Harper said in a voice that made it very clear that if anyone wanted to continue the conversation, then that would be their last conversation.

I braced myself, then threw the covers off me and got out of bed. The floor was freezing.

“Dude!” Lassa said.

“Pants,” Harper said and pointed to a chair with a pile of folded clothes. “Please.”

27

RUNNING THE GORY Gauntlet wasn’t so bad the third time.

Instead of the limo, though, we had a Humvee that was armed to the teeth. Lassa had called in a favor and had one delivered to us at the resort. Harper had the vehicle outfitted with the latest weaponry. I did not want to see the bill. I was more than sure Sharon would let me know the amount, though. Loudly.

I spent my time in the back being bounced around on the less-than-comfortable backseat, eating constantly. Lassa drove, and Harper stood up in the middle and was handling the .50 cal machine gun set in the ring mount. Every time she ducked down to talk to us, she had the biggest smile on her face. Like I said, the trip wasn’t so bad.

We stopped and got gas from Stan even though the Humvee’s tanks could have gotten us to and from Ekron without needing a fill-up. Stan deserved the business after the headaches we’d caused him. Kek’cha was as mouthy as always. Except the Middle Head, which was back to glaring at me because I’d forgotten the Scrunchers.

We left quickly when harpies arrived. We kept ahead of them, but we could still hear their curses and insults, even over the Humvee’s diesel engine.

The harpies followed us for a while, as did a gang of marauders, but no one attacked. I think we’d gotten a bit of a reputation from the last two times we’d driven the road.

When we parked the Humvee right outside the border and walked toward the cloud, Steve was waiting for us. He smiled wide at Harper, then quickly let the smile drop. He gave me and Lassa a professional nod.

“Welcome back,” Steve said. “A little tardy, but Harper says you had extenuating circumstances, eh, buddy?”

“I was in a coma and crapping myself, so yeah,” I said. “Very extenuating.”

“You’re awake now and that’s what matters,” he said. “Come on. Let’s get this done. The sooner you exile the trap in the Dim the better. Lord B really wants your head for the delay. I mean that literally. He picked out a mount and everything. But I’ve kept him reasonable. For now. Let’s not push our luck.”

“Let’s not,” I said. “No one deserves my ugly face mounted on the wall.”

Steve laughed and led us through the cloud.

“I heard about your guy, what was his name again?” Steve said.

“Travis,” I replied.

“Travis. Right. Sorry about him,” Steve said. “Horrible way to go. I’ve performed that move on a few beings before. Not as instantaneous a death as you’d think. The blood is still flowing through the brain long enough to feel the pain and know you’re going to die.”

“Dude,” Lassa snarled.

“Sorry,” Steve said and shrugged. “But we don’t work in retail, do we, buddy? Travis knew the score.”

“Steve,” Harper warned as Lassa’s snarl became a growl.

“Okay, I’ll shut up,” Steve said and pointed to the area of the road that was covered by the Dim. “There you go. I had some guys give me an estimate of how many of the Fae are in there and the average count came to three thousand. That’s a pretty good haul.”

“Three thousand?” I asked, almost choking on the number. “Daphne sent three thousand faeries at you?”

“No,” Steve said. “She sent four thousand. The trap only captured the first three.”

I knew instantly what that meant.

“And Daphne?” I asked.

“She got away,” Steve said, but held up a hand as we all started to snarl and fume. “But, don’t worry. Your plan didn’t fail. She’s off your back for now. Daphne has gone into deep hiding. You are the last of her worries.”

The wicked grin on his devil face was more reassuring than his words.

“I’m going to hold you to that assessment,” I said.

“Fair enough.”

“And Lord Beelzebub’s soul?”

“Still in there,” Steve said, pointing at the Dim. “Keeping three thousand faeries company.”

“I’m not going in there to get it back,” I said.

“No, of course not,” Steve said and laughed. “No need, buddy. Lord B is perfectly happy with it being in the Dim. It’s safer there than in his penthouse in that box of his. Speaking of . . . ?”

Harper pulled that mahogany box out of her pack and handed it to him.

“Jesus Christ, this thing is ugly,” Steve said, taking the box from her. Their fingers touched, and his smile flashed briefly again. “He cares more about this box than his soul. Sentimental value, he says.”

“He’s not afraid the faeries will do something to his soul?” I asked.

“Shit no,” Steve said. “The faeries are the ones that should be afraid. If we ever let them out, they’ll be mad as the Hatter. You ever met the guy?”

“Can’t say that I have,” I responded.

“Good,” Steve said. “Avoid him like the plague.”

“Do you plan on letting the faeries out?” I asked as I scratched off a chunk of Dim and formed a key. I held it out to Steve. “I don’t really care. Just wondering.”

“Maybe,” Steve said. “Probably depends on whether Lord B gets bored or not.”

He took the Dim key and opened the ugly box, tossing it in there, then clapping the lid shut. The box disappeared into his overcoat pocket.

“Need anything from me before you get started?” Steve asked.

“Food,” I said. “But that comes after. Lassa has a list for our trip back.”

Steve nodded and looked at the Dim.

“What now?” he asked.

I snapped my fingers, and the Dim trap was gone. Plink. That fast. I felt a billion times lighter. My legs went a little weak from the weight lifted off me, and I swayed. Steve grabbed my elbow and gave me a worried look.

“You should try to figure out what this shit is doing to you long-term, buddy,” he said. “No way a human can keep this up.”

“I’m good, pal,” I replied.

“But for how long?”

“Don’t bother,” Lassa said and handed him my list of needed road snacks. “He won’t listen.”

“I’ve got a routine that works,” I said, nodding at the snack list. “Which includes that right there.”

Steve shrugged. “I’ll have a guy get on this right away. You all care for a drink?”

“Yes,” we said in unison.

We had way more than a drink, and by the time the food was loaded and we were back in the Humvee, I had serious doubts about Lassa’s driving ability and told him so. He wasn’t too pleased.

“I’m fine, dude!” he exclaimed, his words slurring.

“I can drive, pal,” I said. “No problemo.”

“Why are you picking on me?” he asked as he dropped the keys, then stumbled as he tried to pick them up. He held out a hand to stop me from helping him. “You aren’t telling Harper she can’t work the .50 cal, are you?”

“Harper could be high on PCP and airplane glue and still hit a bullseye,” I said.

“I’ve actually been there,” Harper said as she climbed into the Humvee, her torso appearing in the ring mount as she got behind the huge machine gun. “Fucking wickedest hangover from that stuff. Still didn’t miss, though.”

“See?” I said to Lassa.

“I’m driving,” he growled.

“Fine,” I said. “You drive. Not like there’s anything to hit on this road that we want to stay alive.”

“And if it gets back up,” Harper said and patted the .50 cal, “we’ve got a solution for that.”

Lassa drove. I ate, keeping one eye on him the whole time.

But, Lassa was Lassa, which meant he drove like a pro and pretty much all signs of drunkenness were gone after the first few miles. He settled in and relaxed as he aimed us toward home. And home was where we were headed. Not back to Lassa’s dimension and sure as shit not to the faerie dimension or any other damn dimension.

Home.

“We should do something for Travis,” I said after we gassed up once more.

The gas station had been covered in snot, and Stan was shouting at Kek’cha while he cleaned. The multi-eyed guy was so mad he let Lassa work the gas pump. There really was a huge mess.

“Huh?” Lassa replied to my comment like I’d mentioned the weather.

“We should do something for Travis when we get back,” I repeated.

“Nah,” he said.

“What do you mean ‘nah’? He was our friend,” I said, confused.

“Like what? Huh?” Lassa snapped. “He’s dead, Chase. Nothing we can do now.”

“I’m talking about some sort of memorial or wake or whatever,” I said. “I don’t know. Maybe there are funeral rites that shapeshifters have.”

“They don’t,” Lassa said. “Shapeshifters are a singular society. If you can even use the term society. More like a bunch of individuals from the same place. They don’t have rituals or rites. No customs. None of that. They . . . are.”

He barked a sad laugh.

“Except now Travis isn’t,” he said. “He simply isn’t anymore, dude.”

“Goddamn baby,” I said.

“What?” he snapped and whipped his head around to look at me.

“What are you two on about?” Harper asked, ducking her head down into the Humvee. Her face was windburned and glowing. “What’s up?”

“Chase thinks we should do something for Travis,” Lassa said.

“He’s dead,” Harper said. “There’s nothing we can do. Unless you want to go to one of the death-cult dimensions. Plenty of those places. But I wouldn’t. Death is death across the dimensions. You can’t cheat that without paying a huge price.”

“I was talking about holding a wake,” I said.

“That’s what you meant?” She reached out and punched Lassa’s shoulder. “So say so. Yeah, we should have a wake. Seems like a nice thing to do for a guy that died for us. Right, Lassa?”

Lassa shrugged, but didn’t say anything. Harper and I shared a look.

“We’ll talk more when we get home,” I said.

“Whatever,” Lassa replied, then switched on the radio.

A Katy Perry song was playing, and he started singing off lyrics at the top of his lungs. Conversation done. Kind of.

“I think a wake is a splendid idea,” Back Chase said, muffled by the seat I was leaning against. “Did he have a favorite drink? You could serve those in his honor. And appetizers. What did he like to eat?”

My mind went to that morning in the loft and Travis showing up with a container of croissants from Haute Café.

“He loved good coffee and pastries,” I said. “I’ll make a call and see if this place I know caters.”

“You can’t serve coffee at a wake,” Back Chase said. “You have to serve booze. It’s a universal law.”

“Then coffee drinks,” I said. “That’s easy. Add a shot of espresso and you have a coffee drink.”

“There’s more to the ritual of a wake than that,” Back Chase said. “Maybe I should be in charge of refreshments.”

“Pal, you aren’t in charge of shit,” I said. “As soon as we get back home, I’m getting rid of you. I have to get the Dim key that goes to Iris’s box.”

“You think she’s still alive?” Back Chase asked.

“Yeah, I think she’s still goddamn alive,” I snapped.

Back Chase shut up.

He was right to ask that question. She’d been in that box for a long time. Iris was human. No magic abilities. If I didn’t outfit that box well enough, then when the time came to open up, I would only find her corpse. I had no memory of whether or not she had enough food or water or what. Air wasn’t a problem. The Dim seemed to take care of that for some reason. One more mystery of the space between dimensions.

But food and water? Shit. No clue.

We drove on without anyone saying another word. Lassa fumed in the driver’s seat. I didn’t want to get Back Chase talking again. And Harper was happy as a Harper up in her gun turret. We listened to pop music and kept to ourselves until we were through the Earth portal.

28

THE PORTAL THAT connected Earth with the Gory Gauntlet was in a tiny town in central Florida called Cassadaga. The place was a spiritualist camp and tourist trap. Suckers paid a hundred bucks a pop, or more, for fake tarot readings and access to mediums. No one in the know took the town seriously.

There were a few surprised tourists when we showed up in the middle of the main street in our armored and well-armed Humvee. The cops arrived pretty damn fast. We provided them with our credentials, they made some calls, and everything was smoothed over. Not that they needed much convincing, considering we had a seven-foot-tall and still fully furred yeti with us. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out we’d been off dimension.

And their Grand Hex would take care of the tourists once they left the town limits, like in Asheville.

But, arriving in Florida meant driving eleven hours back to Asheville in a Humvee. Not quite as comfortable as riding in the limo.

Once back, we drove straight to the Black Box Inc. offices. Sharon was waiting for us, completely frazzled and about to lose her shit.

“Have you seen this?” she shouted as she shook a stack of papers in our faces before we’d gotten three feet into the office.

The whole place was one room. A big wide-open space with a reception area up front and our desks in the back. A wooden railing separated the two areas. There were no cubicles or private rooms. Way easier if everyone heard what was going on at the same time, anyway. Privacy would have meant a lot more work repeating to each other what clients said.

“This is the bill from Ms. Sullivan!” Sharon shrieked. “Thousands, Chase! Thousands and thousands of dollars!”

She started riffling through the papers and reading line items to us as we walked past her to our respective desks.

We stank and all needed showers, but I don’t think any of us wanted to go to our homes alone yet. Despite the fact that we had fulfilled our part of the deal with Lord Beelzebub, and Daphne was gone who knew where and was apparently off our backs, there was still a lot of work to be done.

“You talked to Willitz lately?” I asked, interrupting Sharon’s tirade.

“Have you heard anything I said, Chase?” Sharon asked, her hands shaking with anger. “We are going to go bankrupt because of this bill.”

“I don’t think so. Let me talk to Teresa.”

“I have been talking to Teresa and she won’t budge. If we want that firm to continue to represent us, then we have to pay this!”

“Forget the goddamn bill from the lawyers!” I took a deep breath and calmed down. “Sorry. Sorry. Long drive.”

“You can say that again,” Lassa said.

“And I still have a leech above my ass and he itches,” I said.

“Think of how I feel,” Back Chase said.

“Shut up or I get the duct tape out of my desk,” I warned. “Anyway, Shar, I’m sorry for snapping. But can we please deal with the bill later? Please?”

She stared at me for a long while. Then something softened in her face, and her tight shoulders relaxed an inch or two.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” she said. “You all have been off fighting and working. I’ve been here in this office stressing and worrying. My emotions boiled over when I saw you and I reacted poorly.”

“Then we’re even,” I said. “No harm, no foul. We shelve the lawyer bill for now and work on the other tasks at hand.”

“Such as?” Sharon asked.

“Travis’s wake,” Harper said. Lassa groaned.

“That,” I said. “We should have a little gathering and say a few words.”

“Oh my, yes, yes, of course,” Sharon said. “How thoughtless of me. Yes, a wake for Travis. What a terrible loss. He was a good man. Or a good shapeshifter, at least.”

“He was,” I said. “How does this weekend sound?”

“Tomorrow?” Sharon asked. “Not much time to prepare.”

“We’ll go simple,” I said. “Just us. We each say a few words, drink some drinks, eat some eats, and send him off properly.”

“Lassa?” Harper asked.

“What?” he replied.

“You okay with that plan?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said. He stood up and cracked his knuckles. “I’m going home.”

Then he was gone.

“Should someone go after him?” Sharon asked.

“No,” Harper said. “I’ll check on him tonight. Let’s get work done before the weekend hits.”

“Good idea,” I said and looked at Sharon. “Willitz?”

“He’s waiting for you to call him,” Sharon said. “Charges have been dropped. Teresa’s associates took care of all of that. The evidence is at her firm.” She looked at the bill in her hand. “Not sure if they’ll give us the key or not unless we pay this.”

“They’ll give me the Dim key,” I said. “Not even Teresa will mess with me on that one.”

“Are you going to call Willitz, then?” Sharon asked.

“Is he still in town?”

“He said he’s in town indefinitely,” Sharon replied. “He wouldn’t tell me why. He only wanted to talk to you directly, which I found rather rude since anything he can say to you he can say to me. I’m the one that makes this company run.”

“No arguments on that,” I said. I thought about it and shook my head. “I’ll call him Monday. I need a weekend to rest.”

My stomach clenched, and Back Chase groaned.

“There’s also something that needs taking care of,” I said. I rummaged through my desk, but couldn’t find what I needed. “You have a moon chart anywhere?”

“Of course I have a moon chart,” Sharon said, offended. “Do you think I can do what I do without a moon chart? Think of the headaches that would cause.”

She set the bill down on her desk and pulled out her phone. Of course, Sharon would have an app for that.

“What do you need me to find?” she asked.

“Next full moon.”

“Tonight.” She showed me her phone. “Isn’t that lucky?”

She smiled at me, happy that she was able to provide me with the answer I was looking for. The smile faded when I didn’t smile back.

“Why do you ask, Chase?”

“I have to get rid of the face on my back. Flip said I had to burn the changeling body on a full moon while drinking my own urine.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that. He did some more research while you were gone.”

“That’s goddamn good to hear. I did not want to drink my own urine.”

“Oh, that you do have to do. No way out of that part. We looked. But you don’t have to burn the changeling body. That’s good, right?”

“No, that’s not good. The burning the body part was the good part.”

“Yes, but you don’t have the body. You do have urine.”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Harper said and snickered.

“Goddammit,” I said. “Fine. I’ll drink my urine.”

“Not only you,” Sharon said. She held up a hand. “Hold on, I wrote everything down.”

Other than the stack of papers that made up the lawyer bill, Sharon’s desk was immaculate. She sat down and opened a drawer, then flipped her rotten fingers across an endless row of file folders. She’d had her desk hexed so the drawers, in theory, could hold an infinite number of files. After a little searching, she plucked a piece of notepaper from a file and set it on the desk.

“Here we go. At exactly midnight, you and your other self.” She looked up at me. “That means the leech on your back.”

“I guessed that much.”

“You and your other self must drink your urine simultaneously. The urine must be at a temperature between sixty and one hundred degrees and you must down at least a cup within one minute. If the clock strikes twelve oh one, and you haven’t finished the cup of urine, then you must wait another month before the ritual can be performed again.”

“Whoa, what was that?” Back Chase asked. “I’m not drinking pee. That wasn’t part of the bargain.”

“We made no bargain,” I said. “And you are drinking pee if that’s how we get rid of you.”

“More like me getting rid of you,” Back Chase said.

“However you need to phrase it, I don’t give a shit. But tonight at midnight we’re drinking pee.”

“Yeah, I’m skipping that,” Harper said. “I’ll be home asleep in my own bed for the first time in forever.”

“Not a chance,” I said. “You’ll be keeping watch. I need you covering my back—”

“I thought I was covering your back,” Back Chase said and laughed. I pressed myself into my chair. “Ow! Okay, okay, I’ll shut up!”

“Good,” I said. I continued. “I need you covering my back, Harper. I don’t think for a second that we’re done with all this. Until we know what Daphne has in store for us next—and you and I both know she will have something coming eventually—I need my head of security on high alert.”

“Yes, about Daphne,” Sharon said. “Should I be worried as well?”

“You can’t die.”

“I most certainly can. A bullet to the brain, or even a good sharp stick will do the job.”

“Nothing like a good sharp stick,” Harper said. “I should practice with those more often.”

“I don’t think Daphne will come after you, Shar,” I said. “Steve doesn’t think she’ll come after any of us and I believe him. Not for a long time. But it’s better we’re prepared if she does.”

“We should do both,” Harper said. I stared at her, then raised an eyebrow. “Oh, right. We should get rid of that face on your back and have Travis’s wake at the same time. Move on in one motion, like ripping off a Band-Aid.”

“Not a bad idea. And I’ll need several drinks to get the taste of urine out of my mouth.”

“The taste isn’t so bad,” Back Chase said.

“How can you know? I’ve never drank urine before.”

“That you can remember.”

“I’ll bring the booze,” Harper said. “And I’ll get Lassa to come even if he doesn’t want to.”

“Then we’re set,” I said. “Sharon? Anything else?”

“We have a line of new clients wanting our services,” she said and patted the bill. “Which we can attend to on Monday, but no later. Time to get back to work on jobs that actually pay something.”

“Sounds good.” I stood up and felt the exhaustion hit me hard. “Phew. I’m going home to shower and nap before meeting back here at midnight. We can do the ritual here, yeah? We don’t have to be in a graveyard or use some ritualistic altar or anything, do we?”

“Location doesn’t matter,” Sharon said.

“All about the pee,” Harper said and snickered again.

“Funny,” I said. “See you in a few hours.”

29

I SLEPT LIKE THE dead. Didn’t hurt that I ate three cheese pizzas beforehand. Nothing like a load of carbs to knock you out.

When I woke up, I wouldn’t say I was refreshed, kind of hard to with a leech on your lower back, but I no longer felt like warmed-over shit. I got up, showered again, and ate some cereal before downing an entire jug of apple juice. I figured apple juice would be the least offensive flavor.

I can say that at no point in my childhood, despite how messed up that nightmare was, did I ever foresee myself finishing off a jug of apple juice in order to have a full bladder so that I could drink my own urine at midnight. I’d wanted to be veterinarian. Urine drinking wasn’t part of that job description.

At eleven thirty I called Harper, then Sharon, to make sure they were on the way. Harper was at Lassa’s, and they were arguing, but she assured me he’d be there. Sharon had never left the office. We needed to figure out how to get her a life beyond Black Box Inc.

I sloshed my way to the office, which was only a few blocks from my place. Harper had given me one of her apocalypse blades. Seriously hexed steel that would obliterate anything that came at me. Using the blade would simultaneously trigger a hex that would transport Harper to my side so she could kick some attacker ass. I also had the Dim to work with. My confidence in throwing up shields had increased after Lord Beelzebub’s penthouse, and I was itching to make some rods after I wailed on those harpies.

Between all those defenses, I felt fairly safe. Plus, it was Friday night and the streets were packed with tourists of all species. If someone or something tried to get me, they’d have to wind their way through groups of drunk douchebags and wasted bippy twats. I whistled while I hiked through downtown Asheville to the office. It was nice to be home.

The time was eleven forty-five when I walked inside to find Sharon had cleared the desks out of the way, making an open space in the middle of the office. Harper and Lassa were right behind me by two minutes.

“You good?” I asked Lassa. He shrugged.

“Booze and mixers,” Harper said, her arms full of bags with clinking bottles inside. “I was thinking White Russians. It’s got Kahlua in it, which is coffee flavored. And vodka, which is vodka flavored.”

“I’ll pass,” Sharon said. “That sounds like a digestive nightmare for me. I have some sheep blood in my mini fridge.”

“Can we get this over with?” Lassa asked.

“My sentiments exactly,” I said, although I knew his comment was for different reasons.

I checked the time on my phone and saw we only had a few minutes before midnight. “Okay, how are we doing this?”

“You will need to take this,” Sharon said, handing me a plastic bucket. She’d been preparing. “Go into the bathroom and do your business. Then come out and you can portion the urine into two cups.”

“I don’t have hands,” Back Chase said. “I can’t drink the stuff on my own. I’ll need some help.”

He sounded quite happy with himself over that detail. Little shit.

“Is it too early?” I asked, eyeballing the bucket and then looking at Sharon. “Won’t the pee, uh, cool down?”

“No, not that fast.”

“What temperature is it coming out?” Harper asked.

“Body temperature,” Sharon said. “Which would be different for each species, but for humans, body temperature is ninety-eight point six degrees.”

“Fun fact,” Harper said.

“Whoopee.” Lassa pulled up a chair. He was back to his shaved self, but not his lighthearted self. He plopped into the chair and glared at me like he was daring me to tell him he couldn’t sit.

“Better get going,” Harper said as she took a position by the office’s front windows.

“Funny,” I said and went back to the bathroom.

I shut the door and looked at the bucket in my hands. I sighed.

“Stage fright?” Back Chase asked.

“No, no, nothing to do with this.” I proceeded to do what needed doing.

I was back out in the office with a full bucket in hand and a minute to spare. Sharon handed me a measuring cup and set two mugs on my desk. My desk, specifically. I took off my shirt.

“I drew short straw,” Lassa said, holding up a piece of a coffee stirrer. “Looks like I get to help the leech get his drink on.”

“You act like this is some big inconvenience,” Back Chase said. “Except you aren’t the one that is about to die. Didn’t anyone think of that? I am willingly participating in my own demise. In a way, this is suicide.”

He gasped.

“Do you think I’ll be going to Hell?”

“Don’t worry. It’s like Detroit,” I said.

“Do what now?”

“We need to hurry,” Sharon said.

I dipped the measuring cup into the bucket twice and filled each mug with exactly one cup. I shivered and picked up my mug while Lassa picked up the other one. He didn’t say a word to me as I turned around so he could kneel down behind and feed the leech.

“Three, two, one,” I said, then drank.

The apple juice had not helped. Not one goddamn bit.

I gagged when I was done, and I had to use every ounce of willpower not to vomit. If I was ever stranded in the woods, or stuck in a crevice with my arm trapped in rocks, there was no way I was surviving. Pee would never pass my lips again. Death first, for sure.

“What’s happening back there?” I asked as I bent over, my hands on my knees, my head hanging loose on my neck. “Any change?”

I think Lassa was going to answer, but my scream interrupted him. My entire back was on fire. I’d dealt with some agony over the past couple of weeks, minus the time in the coma, and what my body went through as Back Chase disengaged himself was the worst up to that point in my life.

When I say disengaged, what I mean is that Back Chase ripped himself out of me. He literally clawed his way out of my back with his hands. Hands. Then his shoulders came out, followed by the rest of his body. He kicked loose and flopped onto the floor, a goo-covered, naked mess.

“Goddamn!” I shouted as I fell onto my face.

I didn’t even get a chance to put my arms out. I heard my nose crunch, but that pain was insignificant. I lay there, very aware that men had it easy if childbirth was anything like what I’d just gone through.

“What the hell?” Lassa said as I slowly rolled over and sat up.

No one offered to help me. I didn’t blame them. They were staring at the full-grown changeling that looked exactly like me. I was too.

“That wasn’t fun,” Changeling Chase said.

“Sharon?” I asked. “Is that supposed to happen?”

“I don’t think so,” Sharon said. “I don’t know.” She backed up until she bumped into her desk, then turned around and found her phone. “Let me call Flip.”

“Could I get a coat or something?” Changeling Chase asked. “It’s a bit nippy in here.”

“Chase?” Harper asked. I slowly glanced at her and saw she had her goblin sickle in her hand. “Am I killing this thing or what?”

“I’d prefer you didn’t,” Changeling Chase said.

Teresa hung up the phone and frowned.

“Kill him. Now,” she said. “Or the creature will kill Chase. He is no longer under Daphne’s control.”

“No shit,” Changeling Chase said and jumped to his feet. “There can be only one me.”

He leapt at me, but never got more than a foot in the air. Lassa’s hand whipped out and caught him by the throat, lifting him up high.

“Does Chase have to be the one to kill him?” Lassa asked as the changeling flailed at him.

“No,” Sharon said. “He simply has to die or he will continue to try to kill Chase any chance he gets.”

Snap.

Changeling Chase went limp in Lassa’s grip. He let the body drop to the floor. We stared at the changeling corpse for a couple of minutes.

Then, “Who wants White Russians?” Harper asked, putting the goblin sickle down on her desk.

“I’ll take one,” I said. “Lassa?”

Lassa was still staring at the changeling corpse.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll have one,” he said. His tone had changed. “I blame everything on this guy.”

“The blame rests on Daphne,” I said. “But I get what you mean.”

Lassa nodded and picked the body up.

“Be right back,” he said and left the office with the corpse draped over one shoulder, sack of potatoes-style.

Harper mixed drinks while he was gone, and we waited. Lassa was back soon, a smile on his face.

“Call the cops and tell them we have another changeling for them,” he said. “The corpse will be in the dumpster.”

“I’ll call them tomorrow,” Sharon said. “I’d rather not deal with that tonight.”

“They’d only interrupt our wake,” I said.

I eyed Lassa, looking for the pout I expected to hit his face, but he only nodded.

Harper gave us our drinks, Sharon having fetched her sheep blood from the mini fridge she kept by her desk, and we lifted the glasses up.

“Travis,” I said. “He was one shifty son of a bitch, but he was our friend.”

We drank our drinks down, and Harper made more. We lifted the glasses again.

“He saved lives,” Harper said. “Without him, those changelings would have succeeded.”

We drank, and Harper refilled.

“I don’t think I can hold more blood,” Sharon said, a little burp escaping her lips. “Sorry.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” I said.

We raised our glasses again.

“Travis was special,” Lassa said. “You know me, I can’t be exclusive if my life depends on it. Travis knew that and he never expected anything from me. We had fun when he was around. When he wasn’t, I still got to be me. He was smart, funny, and damn good-looking. Especially in his real form.”

“Real form?” I said. “You got to see his real form?”

“Kind of had to,” Lassa said.

“I thought you’d never seen his real form,” I said and looked at Harper. “Didn’t he once say he never saw Travis’s real form?”

“I don’t know,” Harper said. “Lassa says lots of things about his love life. I tune most of that shit out.”

“You do?” Lassa asked.

“If I didn’t, then I’d be wasting like half my life listening to you and your sexual conquests,” Harper said. “You remember that sorceress from Toledo you spent the weekend with a couple of years ago?”

“Delilah,” Lassa said and smiled. “That was magic.”

“You didn’t stop talking about her for half a month,” Harper said. “I tried to change the subject, but you’d find some way to bring the conversation back to her and all the new techniques she taught you.”

“Dude, she was gifted,” Lassa said, lost in the memory. “Oh, man, what she could do with her pinky toe alone. Blow. Your. Mind.”

And like that, Lassa was back. All he needed was to kill a changeling and remember some sex-filled weekend he had with a sorceress. Gotta love yetis.

“You gonna finish your toast?” I asked him, knowing I wasn’t breaking the mood.

“Yeah, shit, right,” Lassa said and lifted his glass again. “To Travis. He wasn’t as good of a lover as Delilah was, but he was a great friend.”

We drained our glasses once more.

Sharon cleared her throat to give her toast, but we were suddenly interrupted by a whole hell of a lot of laughing. Sharon cried out, Harper pulled her goblin sickle again, and Lassa held up his fists. I had Dim rods ready.

“You guys,” Travis said as he walked out from the darkest corner of the office. “That was so sweet.”

“Oh, my.”

“What the fuck?”

“Dude . . .”

“Travis? You’re alive?” I asked, voicing the one question I knew was on everyone’s mind.

“No,” Travis said. “Very much dead. Ghost even. Turns out I still have a life debt to pay and I don’t get to rest until said debt is paid.”

“But . . . But . . .” Lassa stuttered.

“You paid the debt,” Harper said. “That was half the fucking point of all that shit!”

“As long as Daphne is still a possible threat, then I’m not off the hook,” Travis said. “Plus, Chase went and saved me again by having that Vic guy fix me up. Double debt. Gonna be a ghost for a long while. Yay.”

We all stood there, stunned, but not for long. At least not the standing part.

I fell to my hands and knees, and the worst cramps ever twisted my stomach into knots.

“Chase? What’s wrong?” Sharon cried as she hurried to my side and knelt next to me. “Should I call someone?”

“Get back,” I said.

“No, let me help,” Sharon said. “What should I do? Who should I call?”

She was in a panic, but what I needed her to do was to “Get back!”

My mouth opened, and out came those White Russians. Sharon should have gotten back.

“Oh, well, I don’t think this is coming out of these pants,” she said as she stood up and tried to brush off the collateral splatter. “No. Most certainly not coming out.”

And there it was. The Dim key. The way I was getting Iris back sat there in a pool of my sick.

“Can I get a napkin?” I asked. “Maybe a towel?”

Never drinking White Russians again.

30

THE OFFICE DIDN’T have the space we needed, so we regrouped at the loft. The original scene of the crime. All that mattered was that we had enough room for the Dim box I was going to recall and a little privacy.

The location was also a fitting end to it all, especially with Travis there, despite his new ghostly existence. A broken circle was about to close.

The crime-scene tape had been long since removed. Either by one of the neighbors walking past to their lofts or by the landlord so he could get in and clean up.

When we opened the door, which wasn’t a problem for Harper since she had the key, we had our answer. The place smelled of bleach and cleansers. And paint. In one corner was a ladder up against the wall with a folded tarp underneath, set on an industrial five-gallon bucket of a generic off-white that everyone in the country would recognize without knowing they did.

“Didn’t waste much time, did they?” Harper grumbled. “I wasn’t that behind on rent. Assholes.”

“You’ve been gone for weeks,” Sharon said. “They waited as long as they could.”

“Okay, let’s get started,” I said.

“Let’s?” Harper asked as she walked over to the kitchen counter and hoisted her ass up onto it. “This is all you, Chase. We’re here as moral support.”

I almost asked her if the moral support was for me or Iris. I knew that the woman was going to be in horrible shape when we opened the box, either mentally, physically, or both. Never before had I had such a feeling of suffocating dread as I had when I contemplated opening that goddamn box.

“Chase? Dude,” Lassa said. He was right by my side, and I appreciated that. “Now or never, man.”

“He’s right,” Travis said as he entertained himself by waving his ghostly hand through the kitchen cabinet doors over and over. “Like a Band-Aid.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I said and fished the key out of my pocket.

The key stank. No two ways about that. Lassa took a couple steps away from me, but I knew he could still smell it from where he was.

I took a minute to study the key, to get a feel for its energy. The more familiar I was with the vibe of a key, the easier it was to pull the box from the Dim. A rush job was no fun and could actually take longer than if I spent a moment with the key in my hands, just feeling.

Then I held my hand out and pulled the box to me.

The Dim opened up and bam! A very large black box that was all swirling smoke landed hard on the wood floors. The box was about the size of a shipping container, but the loft was big enough that there was still plenty of room to walk around it if I wanted to. I didn’t want to. I was frozen in place, terrified of what I would find in there.

What if she was dead?

She wasn’t dead. Not even close. I found that out the hard way when I finally sucked up the courage to activate the key, and the Dim dissipated in a big poof of black.

There she was, sitting in an armchair, a paperback across her leg, a mug of something in her hand. Her eyes were wide, and she was staring right at me, but like she couldn’t see me. Then her eyes focused and narrowed.

“You motherfucker,” she snarled. “You motherfucker!”

She shot out of that chair and hurled the mug at my head. I barely had time to duck and stand back up before she was on me. Her fists were wailing against my head, and I saw stars after a really good hit. I stumbled back, trying to retreat from her fury, but she kept up the attack, raining down blow after blow.

“Hold on, now, Iris,” Lassa said calmly as he came up behind her and grabbed both of her hands as they were raised to strike me in unison. “Let’s not kill the guy, okay?”

“Thanks,” I gasped as I leaned my back against the wall. “Hey, Iris.”

“Hey, Iris?” she gasped, her chest heaving from the exertion of my beatdown. “Hey, Iris!”

“You’re mad, but I can explain,” I said.

“You don’t need to explain!” Iris said, yanking a hand free from Lassa and pointing at the little setup she’d been trapped in for two weeks and a couple days. “I know why I was in there!”

She then pointed at Travis and blinked.

“I’m a ghost now,” Travis said. “There’s a lot you missed. Sorry about that. They can explain.”

“Fuck any more explanations! Everything was explained to me as this ghost guy made me get in that fucking box thing Chase made! Oh, I have had all the explanation I fucking need!”

She moved closer to me, but Lassa still had one of her hands, which forced her to stop. Iris glared up at him until he let go, but I could see he was ready to get between us if he needed to. She smiled at me, the smile was not a pretty smile.

“How about I explain something to you, Chase? Can I do that?”

“Yeah, you bet,” I said, trying to sound accommodating. I sounded pitiful instead. “Explain away.”

“Explain away,” she said under an angry breath. She breathed in and out of her nose, then sneered at me. “Smell that?”

Despite all the bodily functions, and their odors, I had been subjected to, my nose hadn’t rebelled and run off, so I did happen to notice a specific tang in the air. Harper figured it out before I did, though.

“Oh shit,” she said as she got down from the counter and walked over to the armchair, small end table, mattress, what looked like a camp cooler, two five-gallon plastic bottles of filtered water (one empty), a large bucket, and something else. “Is that what’s left of the original changeling body?”

The tang in the air identified itself in my brain. I was smelling a corpse. A two-week-old corpse. Goddammit. Travis had thrown the changeling corpse in the box with Iris without wrapping it in anything.

“Oh, shit,” Travis said and stopped playing with his new ghost form. “I honestly thought we’d be back sooner.”

Two weeks. Two weeks with a corpse that was bloated and rotting and quickly went from filling the loft with an unpleasant tang to filling the loft with a gagging reek of death.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said and instinctively reached out for Iris’s hand, wanting to get her away from that smell of death right away.

She punched me in the face, and I fell on my ass.

“Okay, time to go,” Lassa said and picked up a screaming, thrashing, enraged Iris and carried her out of the loft.

“What do we want to do about the mess?” Harper asked, the collar of her shirt pulled up over the bottom half of her face. “We can’t leave this here.”

“We should call Willitz,” Sharon said, fishing her phone out of her pocket. “Iris is officially missing even though I explained to him she was in one of your boxes. He’ll want to know she’s back so he can close that part of the case.”

“I’ll call him,” I said. “You guys take off. I’m the one he’ll want to talk to anyway. No need for your weekend to be ruined.”

“Weekend?” Sharon asked. “You don’t think he’ll arrest you and keep you over the weekend, do you? I can’t see on what grounds.”

“Well, until he gets a statement from Iris saying otherwise, he has a pretty good goddamn case for kidnapping,” I said.

“Unlawful imprisonment,” Harper said. “You have to take someone somewhere for kidnapping.”

“I took her to the Dim. Or put her there, at least.”

“Maybe. I still think the charge will be unlawful imprisonment. Either way, I agree with you that he’s probably going to take you in until Iris gives him a statement.”

I nodded toward the door and the far-off sounds of Iris still yelling as Lassa took her downstairs and out of the building.

“My chances aren’t sounding good.”

“I’ll call Teresa,” Sharon said. “She can add it to the bill.”

“No, don’t,” I said. “I can take a night or two in a cell.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sharon said. “There is a reason we have lawyers.”

“There’s also a reason I want to spend a night or two in a cell.”

Harper patted me on the shoulder and walked to the door. She was gone without saying a word. Sharon stared at me. Harper understood. You don’t kill as many beings as she has and not take a timeout for some atonement.

“Go on. Shar, I’ll be fine. Willitz will be raging pissed-off, but he’s always like that. I can handle him.” I shrugged. “And maybe he won’t take me in. That would be a lot of paperwork for the middle of the night.”

Sharon’s mouth opened and closed a couple times before she finally busied herself with adjusting her wig, gave me a hug, and left to catch up with the others.

I didn’t waste any time calling Willitz. The bloated, stinking corpse hurried my ass along. I was right, he was pissed off as hell, but I think because I woke him up more than because I was back in town and troubling him with my bullshit.

Either way, he was at the loft with four state troopers behind him in less than thirty minutes. I waited for him on the sidewalk outside. I couldn’t take the smell. I warned him before we climbed the stairs to the loft, and I showed him everything, then told him what my last two weeks had been like.

Willitz, like most detectives in law enforcement, was a natural born skeptic. I could see it in his eyes when he didn’t believe my story despite the fact I told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. He had me go over the story twice more, mostly, I think, to force me to stand in that stinking loft and see if I would break and suddenly confess to a hundred other crimes he wanted to pin on me only because he disliked me so much.

“I am taking you in,” he said when we were finally back outside in the fresh air. “I have to. There are holes in your story, but everything that I can follow up on will probably check out fine. You did put a woman in a box against her will and kept her there for two weeks. If I don’t arrest you, I’ll be fired.”

“I get it. We all answer to someone, right?”

“Who do you answer to?”

I laughed. “I’ll let you know when I figure that out.”

“God, I hate you,” Willitz said before ordering one of the troopers to slap some cuffs on me and take me in.

I spent the entire weekend in a jail cell in county lockup. I had the cell to myself, which was nice of Willitz. He could have had me thrown in a general holding cell with the drunks and crackheads, but he gave me some space. I used that space and slept. I slept and slept and slept. I slept that weekend away.

You’d think after two weeks in a semicoma I wouldn’t have needed the rest, but this was a post-Dim key in me, post-changeling leech on me, post-finding out that Travis was dead but not gone, post-getting beaten to hell by Iris sleep. I needed the rest more than I needed food.

When Monday rolled around, Willitz showed his face and personally escorted me through the process of letting me go.

“You talked to Iris?” I asked.

“I talked to Ms. Penn, yes,” Willitz said. “She ain’t much of a fan of you, I can say that for sure, but she isn’t pressing charges.”

That seemed to make him happy. I didn’t argue with him.

“Listen, Lawter,” Willitz said outside on the sidewalk. The sky looked like the day was going to be a nice one. “I have a favor to ask.”

I had no idea how to respond to that. If the late Ed McMahon had showed up with $10 million and was wearing a goddamn tutu, I would have been less surprised. Which must have shown on my face, because he rolled his eyes and grimaced.

“Forget it.” He turned to go back inside. “Stay out of trouble, asshole. I’m tired of seeing your face.”

“Hey, Willitz, hold on. What favor do you need?”

“Never mind.”

“No, come on, lay it on me.” He stared at me. “Seriously. What favor? Better ask me now because you may never get another chance, pal.”

“I was thinking about that big box you made. You think you could do that again?”

I thought about the size of the Dim trap I’d created for Lord Beelzebub.

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure I can.”

“How sure?”

“Very.”

“Good. That’s good.” He looked down at his feet. When he looked back up, he said, “What do you know about dragons?”

I smiled. “You finally found them up in Mars Hill, huh?”

His eyes widened, then narrowed.

“You knew?”

“You don’t work in the world I work in and not know when dragons are around.”

“I do work in the world you work in, asshole. And I didn’t know that dragons were around.”

“Right. Sorry. Bad choice of words. So, what’s the favor, exactly?”

“You think you could make one of those boxes for us? One big enough to hold a dragon? Maybe two or three.”

“There are six dragons up in Mars Hill. But I’m not sure why you’re worrying about them. They rarely come out of their lair.”

“I’m not worried about those,” Willitz said and stopped. “Six?”

“Six.”

“Damn. But those don’t matter. There are three up in Canada that have my bosses on alert.”

“Canada? I’m not going to Canada.”

“No, you don’t need to. The Feds have a wyvern as an informant. He said that the three dragons have a beef with the dragons in Mars Hill and are talking shit about coming down here to settle some score. We can’t exactly go tell the six . . . Jesus Christ, six? We can’t go tell the six to leave. They’re dragons. They have no natural enemies except each other and can survive a nuclear blast.”

“Sure.”

“What?”

“Sure. I’ll help trap the Canadian dragons when they get here. Give me a heads-up, if you can. I’d like a day to eat everything in sight first to keep up my energy. Three boxes that size won’t be easy.”

“Well . . . shit. Thanks.”

“That hurt to say, didn’t it?”

“Fuck off.”

He was gone back into the building before I could say anything else.

I tilted my head to the sun and felt the warmth on my face. Maybe the day was going to be nice.

31

I WENT HOME, showered, changed, ate some cereal (all the cereal I had in my kitchen), then decided that I should head over to Mulkahey, Delaney, and Sullivan—Attorneys at Law and talk to Teresa about our bill and fetch the last Dim key related to our past few days of hell.

First I tried calling Iris. She didn’t answer her cell phone, and she had no home phone that I knew of. So I called the restaurant and talked to the day manager. She said Iris would be taking a few days off before coming back to work because some asshole stuck her in a box for two weeks. Then she hung up on me.

Next I wandered into the law firm at about noon and caught Teresa on her way out the door for lunch.

“Mr. Lawter, it’s good to see you up and about,” she said. She glanced past me. “No Ms. Kyles to keep you safe?”

“Gaining my independence,” I said as I opened my jacket and showed her the apocalypse blade I still had. The sergeant behind the county jail desk had handed it back to me with his fingertips. Not everyone was cool with the way life had changed in town.

“Good for you, Mr. Lawter. Good for you,” Teresa said.

“Mr. Lawter? What happened to Chase?”

“We’re home and I think it’s best I separated myself from the events that transpired two weeks ago. The bar has opened an inquiry into my involvement and I need to maintain a professional distance.”

“That’s too bad. I was hoping to talk a little about what all went down. Get your perspective.”

“I think not,” she said and looked about the lobby until she found the wall clock. “Listen, I am in a hurry for a lunch meeting—”

“Go ahead. I won’t keep you. I only wanted to make sure you were going to void that bill you sent Sharon.”

“Void the bill?” She looked shocked and confused. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Well, with an inquiry from the bar, I’d hate for the facts to get confused if they ever came and spoke to me.”

“Do not test me ever, Mr. Lawter.” She was calm, but I’d spent some time with her in battle. I could see she was ready to rip my head off. “The bill is perfectly adequate for the duties performed by myself and my firm.”

“I guess.” I shrugged. “Oh, well. If you won’t void the bill out of the goodness of your heart, then maybe in exchange for these. I can only imagine the expenses they’d cost your firm if activated. Billable or not, what a mess.”

I reached into my pocket and fished out the calling stones she’d given us during our adventure.

She glared at me, looked back at the clock, glared at me some more, then sighed. She held out her hand. I placed the stones in her open palm. They disappeared in a flash of blue light.

“I will have the billing department amend the bill.” She held up a finger. “To half of what was originally charged. Anything less would look improper and make my life harder than it already is.”

“That’s great. Thanks.”

“Are we done here?”

“Sure. Except I need that Dim key that you got released from evidence. Your associates never gave it to Sharon despite that whole proprietary crap.”

“They didn’t?”

“No.” I knew she was well aware her firm still had possession. I could see it in those banshee eyes.

“Well, I do not have to be here for that,” she said. “Flip!”

The gnome appeared almost immediately by her side.

“Oh, hello, Mr. Lawter,” he said. “You are looking rested.”

“A weekend in jail will do that,” I said.

“A weekend in jail? No, no, I don’t want to know,” Teresa said. “I’m off to lunch. Flip, get him what he wants.”

She left in a flurry of her glowing blue gown.

I smiled down at Flip.

“How’s things?” I asked.

“Wonderful,” he said. “What may I fetch for you?”

“There’s a Dim key I need back.”

“Ah, yes, that.” He frowned. “Nasty piece of business, if you ask me. Not sure why you play with that stuff. I’ll be back shortly.”

He was. I don’t know how gnomes get around, but they are goddamn fast, that’s for sure.

He held out the evidence bag like it was a bag of dog poop.

“I believe this is what you want.”

“That’s the one.” I took the bag from him. “Thanks, Flip. And thanks for helping Sharon while we were gone.”

“Anytime, Mr. Lawter.” He bowed. “May I assist you with anything else?”

“That’ll do it. See ya later.”

But I stopped when something hit me.

“Uh, Flip?”

“Yes, Mr. Lawter?”

“Whatever happened to the ghoul driver we left back in the faerie dimension?”

“Oh, he was returned after a little negotiation. Not quite true. There was a lot of negotiating. I do not expect us to do much business in the faerie dimension for a long while.”

“Yeah, I bet. Good to know the guy made it back in one piece.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that . . .”

“Yikes. Will you give Sharon his address? I’ll have a nice rancid deli tray sent over to him.”

“Oh, he would appreciate that.” Someone called his name. “I have to go now. Are you sure you would not like an escort back to your office? Better safe than—”

“I’m good, Flip, but thanks.”

“All right, then. Well, must be going now. You have an excellent day.”

“You too.”

I left the firm and walked the few blocks to the office. The day had only gotten better.

“Hey,” I said as I came into the office.

“Oh, Chase, I am so glad you are here,” Sharon said. “Did they treat you well in jail?”

“I don’t think anyone gets treated well in jail, Shar. But they left me alone. I got some sleep.”

“Yeah, because you needed more sleep,” Harper said, her boots up on her desk while she cleaned her fingernails with the tip of a knife.

“You’d be surprised,” I said, then looked about. “Lassa?”

“Crapper.”

“Travis?”

She shrugged. “Around, I guess. Not my job to keep track of shapeshifter ghosts.”

“May I ask if he is going to be working with us?” Sharon said. “Since he does owe you two life debts now, perhaps, if his services were needed, they could be on the house. We still cannot afford another employee.”

“I don’t know if he was looking for employment,” I said. “But I’ll talk to him when I see him. I have a feeling he’ll be hanging around Asheville for a while now.”

I walked to my desk and sat down, throwing the evidence bag on the desk as I pulled out the apocalypse blade and tucked that into a drawer. Harper got up and walked over to look at the bag. Sharon pretended that she didn’t want to, but her eyes kept darting toward my desk as she busied herself with whatever administrative work she had for the day.

The toilet flushed, and Lassa came out of the bathroom. He immediately saw me and Harper and joined us.

“So, that’s it,” he stated. “That’s the key to Aspen.”

“That’s the key to Aspen,” I said. “The real Aspen Littlestick.”

“What are you going to do?” Harper asked.

“Nothing.” I opened a different desk drawer, tossed the evidence bag in there, then shut the drawer. “I’m gonna let the goddamn thing rot right there. Not like anyone can do anything with it. I’m the only one that can open the box.”

“You sure you don’t want to put the key someplace more secure?” Harper asked. “Have you thought this through? Aspen is not the faerie you want to mess with.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” Harper said. “You didn’t meet him. You met Travis pretending to be him. Aspen is a million times worse and will not hesitate to slit you open from nuts to neck if he ever gets free of the Dim.”

“Yikes. Nuts to neck?”

“Nuts to neck.”

“That sounds bad.” I smirked.

“Asshole.” Harper went back to her desk.

Everyone started going over whatever crap had piled up while we were gone. I waited a few minutes, then snuck another Dim key from my pocket and stuck that in the drawer with Aspen’s. Harpies in a Dim box was still going to be my little secret. Last thing I wanted was to get a lecture from any of them about how dangerous harpies were, especially after Harper’s speech about Aspen.

The office door opened and Chappy Reginue came falling in. Falling because he’d been pushed by two dopplers into our office.

“Lawter, you gotta help me,” he said as he picked himself up. He held out his Dim key. “I need to open this up and get that kobold head back.”

“Sharon?” I asked.

“He has not paid the invoice I sent him,” Sharon said.

“No can do, Chappy,” I replied to the sniveling scumbag. “Once you pay your invoice, then I can take that key from you and fetch your box. But we are very strict about not retrieving boxes when there’s an outstanding balance on the account.”

“Get the box,” the dopplers said and moved to walk past the wooden rail that marked the reception area from the rest of the office.

They hit a wall. Literally. The railing was hexed. No one but employees of Black Box Inc. could get past the barrier unless we wanted them to.

“Get the box,” they said again.

“No,” I said.

“Lawter, please, man, you gotta,” Chappy said. “They’re going to not kill me.”

Ooh . . . not killing. One Guy was notorious for not killing beings and torturing them forever instead. Rumor had it he knew of a dimension that was basically eternity, where the pain could last forever.

“Chappy, listen to me. You too, dopplers. I am not fetching your box until you pay your bill.”

“Will cash be all right?” a man said as he walked into the office.

White suit, white hat, white shoes, black shirt, and white tie.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” the One Guy said. “I would like to pay this useless speck of dust’s invoice for him, if I may.”

I looked at Sharon, she shrugged. I looked at Lassa and Harper, but their eyes were on the dopplers, leaving the One Guy to me.

“Huh,” was all I said.

Goddamn. Things just got very interesting.

But that was the business we were in.

The End

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About the Author

JAKE BIBLE, Bram Stoker Award-nominated novelist, short story writer, independent screenwriter, podcaster, and inventor of the Drabble Novel, has entertained thousands with his horror and sci/fi tales. He reaches audiences of all ages with his uncanny ability to write a wide range of characters and genres.

Jake is the author of the bestselling Z-Burbia series set in Asheville, NC, the bestselling Salvage Merc One, the Apex Trilogy (DEAD MECH, The Americans, Metal and Ash) and the Mega series for Severed Press, as well as the YA zombie novel Little Dead Man, the Bram Stoker Award-nominated teen horror novel Intentional Haunting, the ScareScapes series, and the Reign of Four series for Permuted Press.

His titles from Bell Bridge Books are: Stone Cold Bastards and Black Box Inc.