Chapter 1

"Kitten, we have a problem,"Zee said, moments after poofing into the kitchen in the middle of the lunch service.

A server stood on Zee's tail, screamed, and flung the two plates of spaghetti bolognese he'd been carrying into the air. To be fair, not many people expect a seven-foot demon with prehensile tail and jagged wings to appear in front of them.

Time slowed and my horror mounted as the plates crested above our heads.

Chef étrange sprouted extra arms—octopus shifter—and reached up to collect the flying plates. And that would have been fine, had Zee not yanked his tail out of harm's way and flung himself backwards, flapping his wings to steady himself.

Humans have a saying—like a bull in a china shop—to indicate someone who is loud and chaotic, and I'm human, so I know these things. But as I watched chaos unspool around Zee, I figured like ademon in a kitchen also applied.

Zee's flapping wings knocked several prepared plates from the sideboard. They crashed to the floor, raining Caesar salad across shiny tiles. Cherry tomatoes boinged.

"Look out!" one of the staff yelled, ducking under a spinning bread knife.

Zee winced and clapped his wings closed, trying to smoosh all of his dramatic self into a smaller space, but the sudden blast of air his closing wings produced knocked a stack of bread rolls in all directions. After that, more screaming erupted, a few pans banged like cymbals, someone yelled, and another staff member blasted a fire extinguisher onto the base of a column of flames I hadn't seen ignite.

The entire whirlwind was over in less than five seconds, leaving the kitchen staff traumatized and Chef étrange wearing the spaghetti.

"Fuck." Zee puffed a sigh and planted his fists on his hips. "That escalated real fast."

"Maybe use the door next time?" I suggested, picking a piece of spaghetti off my shoulder. Miraculously, I'd remained mostly clean. Usually, if there was any sign of dirt, blood, body fluids, or grime, I ended up smothered in it. But not this time. The kitchen might take some cleaning though.

Despite his dramatic entrance, I smiled. It had been a few days since I'd last seen him. We'd been busy managing the hotel, but I'd begun to wonder if he'd also been avoiding me.

He looked good too, in his patchwork pants with exaggerated stitching, and skimpy little vest that did nothing to hide his ripped physique or his provocative arrow tattoo.

"I would have, but this is an emergency—ooh, mac and cheese." Zee swiped a bowl of mac and cheese off the sideboard and stuffed a forkful into his mouth. "Thish-sho-good," he garbled, oblivious to the stunned silence. "Thish-like-the-besht." He pointed his fork at the bowl, and made sure everyone saw the dish of mac and cheese while he made appreciative groaning noises, that weren't all that different from the appreciative groaning noises he made when he had me pinned to a wall.

"What emergency?" I prompted, stepping over a few rolling potatoes and guiding Zee toward the back of the kitchen, toward the short stairwell that would take us into the back corridor and eventually the foyer.

"Huh?" Zee looked up from his mac and cheese, still shoveling it in. "Oh, right. Ugh, it's really bad. The worst. I can't... There aren't words. I'll fucking show you." He hurried ahead, taking three stair risers in a single bound. "Prepare yourself, Kitten. We've seen some shit, but this is horrifying."

We had seen some terrible things, such as Zee being kidnapped and taken to the in-between realm where he'd been drained of energy and left to die. We'd also seen Reynard's severed finger, a dead protestor, plus multiple dead demons. Then there had been the whole pets-in-pies fiasco and the splattered general. And we'd only been open four weeks.

Whatever awaited me, it had to be bad for him to be so agitated. Although the mac and cheese had clearly helped calm him.

We hurried through the back hall and into the lobby, where Madame Matase greeted some guests, and others milled around happily, oblivious to whatever crisis awaited me. I jogged to keep up with Zee's long-legged pace as he burst through the bar doors, into the bar.

Was it another corpse? An interdimensional beast laying waste to the place, or maybe even Gideon Cain? But as I entered the bar, the jukebox played a tinkling tune, a few people sat at the tables, Tom Collins was wiping down the gleaming bartop, looking classy in his burgundy dinner jacket, and Zee's repaired dancing pole gleamed onstage.

Everything seemed fine.

What was I missing?

Zee sat at the bar, dumped his empty bowl on the bartop, and fluttered a hand toward Tom Collins.

"Er..." I wasn't getting it. Where was the horrifying emergency?

"What drinks may I serve you this fine San Francisco morning?" Tom Collins beamed.

I blinked at Tom, then Zee.

"See!" Zee said, eyes wide.

I did not, in fact, see anything wrong. "Morning, Tom, erm?—"

Zee huffed, and shook his two-tone purple and black hair about his horns. "Tom, what specials have you got?"

"Today's specials consist of cucumber martinis and a refreshing Bellini."

Ooh. Bellini. I liked those. It was probably a bit early in the day to begin drinking but that had never stopped me before. I took a seat next to Zee. "I'll have a Bellini, please Tom."

Tom grinned. "Coming right up." He took himself off and began preparing the cocktail.

Zee's eyebrows lifted. "I told you! It's fucked."

"Wait . . . what?"

"Cucumbers, Adam! Fucking cucumbers!"

Most of the time, I was able to decipher Zee's rapid-fire, random thoughts, but even I was struggling. "You don't like cucumbers?"

"Are you fucking with me? I love fucking cucumbers. I once filmed a reel of me eating a cucumber. The insane number of fucking views fed me for days."

I doubted that reel showed him eating a cucumber like an average person eats a cucumber.

"Where best to shove cucumbers is not the issue here, babycakes." He pointed a purple, glittery nail at Tom's back. "A Bellini?" he whispered. "Hey, Tom, will you whip me up your Deceitful Daiquiri, and sprinkle in some blow for extra kick?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir," Tom said, chipper and bright. He placed my Bellini on an SOS Hotel coaster and slid it over to me. "I do not have that drink in my inventory. But I can make you the Classic Daiquiri?"

Zee spluttered again and thrust both hands at Tom in exasperation.

My heart dropped. Oh no. "Tom, are you alright?"

"As an artificial bartender, I am incapable of experiencing emotions. However, I'm content in my environment, sir, and happy to serve."

"Oh dear."

"It's a fucking travesty!" Zee exclaimed, his expression horrified.

"I'm sorry if my service displeases you," Tom said, with a wooden smile. "Please complete a customer feedback form before you leave, and I'll be sure to pass your comments on to the management."

"Your fucking attitude displeases me. Why are you so nice, and what have you done with our Tom Collins?" Zee demanded, leaning on the bar.

The AI bartender blinked, tilted his head, and said in monotone, "There is only one Tom Collins on these premises, and I am he."

"The fuck you are," Zee growled. "Tom's an asshole, but he's our asshole. He's rude, he hates everyone, and he sometimes tries to kill people. Bring him back."

"I'm sorry, sir. I cannot acquiesce to your request."

"I'll fucking come back there and pull your plug, Not Tom."

Zee continued to argue, but was having about as much success as arguing with a toaster. Something had gone wrong with Tom Collins. Or, more accurately, he'd been fixed. He was the AI bartender he should have been the day I'd unboxed him. He looked like our Tom Collins. Swept-back dark hair, bright brown eyes, neat jacket and trousers. No bow tie though, and our Tom had begun to wear a blue one. No swearing either. And no potent, literal cocktails. If I asked this Tom to poison someone, he definitely would not do that. Not that I'd ever ask Tom to do such a terrible thing. Ever.

They weren't the only obvious signs that something was wrong with him. The way he moved was different. His speech patterns were too even, too flat. I hadn't realized exactly how wrong our Tom Collins had been, until now, looking at what he should have been from day one.

Zee slumped on his stool, exasperated. "Adam, do something."

"Me? What can I do?"

"I don't know. You set him up. Turn him off and on again?"

"Is there a switch for that?" I eyed Tom and his soulless, flat smile.

"Look at him," Zee exclaimed. "Nobody is going to want to buy drinks from that. He's like a creepy sexbot. Ugh, make it stop."

I had no idea how. Technology wasn't my thing, and it clearly wasn't Zee's thing either. But I did know someone whose thing it might be. Lord Reynard had recognized what model Tom Collins was as soon as he'd arrived, and he had access to all kinds of tech. He'd also noticed Tom had been getting more glitchy of late. He'd be able to help.

"Zee, maybe you should text Reynard and ask him to help?"

Zee's face fell, as though I'd suggested he take Reynard out to dinner. "Text Vampire Daddy? What am I, his simp? Nah, dawg. I ain't texting 'im."

Zee and Reynard had a complicated relationship. I'd need to come at it from another angle. This was going to take a some of my sophisticated Zee wrangling. "You're right, you probably don't even have his number."

"Excuse me? I have his number. He left it with me when he went to Vampire Mansion to negotiate your return, then lost a finger. I just don't use it."

"Okay," I sighed, laying on the disappointed act. "It's fine. I'll ask Madame Matase to call him. She's real busy, but this is important. It's for Tom, after all."

Zee glared through his pretty lashes. "Fuck. Fine. Wait." He pulled his phone from his pocket. "There's like... a one percent chance he's blocked me."

"He blocked you? Why?" Did I really want to know?

"Pfft, I dunno. It's not like I've been spamming him vampire dick jokes or anything." He opened his phone and scrolled through what I assumed to be past messages. "Ha, listen to this: What do you call a vampire with no dick?"

I cringed. Zee had been texting a one-thousand-year-old vampire baron, dick jokes? This was not going to end well.

He snickered. "Pointless."

Oh dear. "Zee, that doesn't make sense."

"Meh, whatever. I switched out fangs for dick. Works every time."

I'd had Victor's fangs in me, and to be fair, the experience had felt a lot like getting some dick, so maybe Zee was more right then he knew. Zee seemed impressed with his joke, although I doubted Reynard had been. "Did he reply?"

"He said..." Zee cleared his throat in preparation for his Lord Reynard voice. "Stop messaging me, demon, or I will block this number."

Well, that made his thoughts on the matter pretty clear. "Did you stop?"

"Fuck, no. What did the vampire say to the corpse?"

Oh my stars. "Maybe don't text him? I'll ask Madame?—"

"I vanna fuck your blood."

Oh dear. "You sent that to Reynard?"

"Yup."

"Did he reply?"

"Not yet."

"Has he replied at all since you sent that?"

"Nope."

"When did you send it?"

"Two days ago." Zee stopped tapping out a message on his phone and looked up as a thought occurred to him. "He blocked me, didn't he?"

"Yeah."

"Ugh, he can—" Zee began tapping out a new message. "Suck a bag of dicks and die." He stabbed a finger at the screen, and placed the phone, screen down on the bar.

"Did you just send that?"

"Maybe? Signal's real bad here. It probably won't work."

I buried my face in my hands. I had hoped they might get along better, now Reynard had let slip he maybe had feelings for Zee, and Zee was totally into Reynard, but also in deep denial about being into Reynard. So much so, that he'd convinced himself his attraction for the vampire lord was my secondhand lust. But no. After everything we'd been through, they were still bickering.

"He won't get it, because he blocked me." Zee flicked his hair. "Loser. Do you know how many millions of people would beg to have my number? It wouldn't kill him to lighten up. Vampires are the fucking worst."

Zee's phone pinged.

I peeked through my fingers to see Zee pick up the phone. His eyes widened. "Oh. Hello, daddy. Okay."

"What is it?" Whatever it was, it had left Zee almost speechless.

Zee held out the phone, with Reynard's reply clearly displayed: Consume my phallus and perish, demon.

"Oh."

"I thought he'd be a penis kinda guy, you know? Devour my penis and expire, is more his vibe. But no, there it is. Phallus. Do you think he likes dick? Mrs. Fuck-Hard said he was a limp squid in bed. Maybe he's into pegging? Not that I care. I'm asking for you, as you're definitely into him. I'm not. I'd rather fuck Basic Tom here than Vampire Daddy. No offense, Tom."

"As the basic package, I am not equipped to assist you with that matter," Basic Tom said.

I sighed and wished our broken Tom Collins was here to serve me something potent, and then snark about it. "Please ask Reynard to come by the bar as soon as he can to help fix Tom."

"Sure." Zee tapped the message. "ADAM WANTS YOU NOW—all caps—DADDY. Done."

"That's not what I—never mind."

"Hm, signal's dropped out. I'll go outside and send it." He hopped off the stool and sauntered toward the door. "Hey, did you know the wards have gotten bigger? I gotta cross the street to get a signal. Madame Matase should look into that."

"Yeah, okay," I called, as the bar door swung shut behind him. The wards had gotten bigger each time Zee and I were intimate. Other things had happened when we'd been intimate too, like little sparks of extra energy. Probably because my glamor "situation" had become precarious.

Tom stood, face blank, barely moving but for an occasional blink, as he waited for the next order. I never thought I'd miss broken Tom Collins's rampant swearing and unfiltered opinions, but looking at Basic Tom made it clear, our Tom had been special.

He'd also been the only person this side of the veil who had truly begun to see the real me. I'd been able to relax, just a little bit around him. We'd talked sometimes, in the early hours, when the bar was empty and the hotel sleeping. He couldn't legally record our conversations or recall them to others, which made him safe. I already missed him.

Hopefully, our Tom was still in there somewhere. Reynard would know how to get him back, if Zee hadn't irritated him too much with dick jokes.

But Tom wasn't the only one glitching at the SOS Hotel. There was the small issue of my own curse beginning to fail, and if that happened, an AI bartender would be the least of our many problems.

I guzzled my cocktail and thanked Basic Tom as he dutifully whisked the empty glass away.

Everything was going to be fine. Things had settled down in the past few days. We hadn't had any new murders, no threats, no surprises. Even the gremlins had been quiet.

I had everything under control . . .

Until I didn't.