Chapter 5

Gremlin hunting went about as wellas expected.

I could explain what happened, or I could just say it ended with a furious gremlin in a pet carrier, a tear in my shirt, and Zee swinging a frying pan, trying to swat a second gremlin from riding his horns like a buckaroo. The little critter eventually let go, and flew back into a hole in the wall.

"I can fucking hear it," Zee growled, ruffling his hair. "It's laughing. It's fucking laughing back there." He set the pan down on the counter. "Kitten, do other hotels have these problems? Are we doing something wrong?"

We were in the back part of the hotel, where the windows had rotted out and the gremlins had turned it into their own personal theme park. I'd suggested to Shadow they might like to eat more of them, but apparently gremlins were too "bony" and they'd gone off them. They had moved on to eating the enormous, slightly terrifying spiders.

Zee shook himself all over and eyed the angry gremlin in its carrier. It hissed back at him. "Why do you want one?"

"Oh, it's just a thing I have to do. Gremlin control."

"Good. The little dicks are getting ballsy."

I flung a towel over the carrier, to calm the angry gremlin. "Thanks for helping me snag one."

"Sure, and thanks for the help with the ketchup bottle." Zee beamed. He'd already extracted the man's cock from the bottle before I'd arrived, with a lot of help from Zee's lubes and some deep-breathing techniques.

As our gazes lingered together, Zee's smile faded. "I'd better get back to concierging before the guests get frisky?—"

"Zee, what's goin' on with us?"

"Us? What?" He clamped his wings closed and squeaked, "Nothing."

"Yeah, but something is. You're avoiding me."

"Pfft. What?" he laughed. "That doesn't sound like me. Anyway, bye." He poofed away, leaving a sprinkling of purple sparks.

When I didn't have a gremlin in a cage and a ritual to perform, I was going to pin Zee down and demand he talk. But for now, my curse was more important. "Okay, buddy," I told the gremlin. "It's just you and me." Technically it was him or me, but the gremlin didn't need to know that.

After taking the little guy back to my room, I flicked the lock on my door so we wouldn't be interrupted, and carried him into the bathroom, where Zee wouldn't poof in unannounced. He'd ditched me so fast earlier, that he probably wouldn't appear anyway.

I set the pet carrier down and gathered some ingredients from under the sink. The first time I'd whipped up a curse, I'd been desperate, on the run, and had no idea if the curse would even stick.

With a space cleared on the floor, I mixed a few branded shampoos together—the artificial and organic-herb additives worked fine for dandruff and curses—and sat cross-legged opposite the pet carrier. I had everything I needed. My shampoo potion, a sponge, towels, and a razor.

"Okay, little guy." I peeked under the towel. Two big eyes blinked from the gloom at the back of the carrier. "It's not personal," I told it. "It's actually for the benefit of everyone. You're going to be a hero, really."

Oh my stars, those words made my insides churn. The gremlin whimpered.

I huffed. "Look, if this doesn't work, then I have to go to a sorcerer, and that's really risky for someone like me. Sorcerers and my kind—" I hissed in a breath. "Let's just say, we don't get along. Don't you want to be a hero? I mean, your family will never know, I guess. Do you have a family? Gremlin babies?"

My heart sank.

No. Nope. I had to do this.

It was just one gremlin. Shadow ate them all the time.

I opened the carrier door and made psst psst noises. "C'mon little guy." It whimpered again. "I'll make it quick." But even as I said it, I was already slumping back. I had the razor in my left hand, ready to do what was necessary, but as I looked at it now, I set it down.

"Oh dear." I couldn't do it.

The gremlin, sensing my hesitation, wrapped its spindly fingers around the edges of the door and emerged. They weren't all that terrifying when they weren't screeching or trying to claw at your face. This one was about four inches tall, with big oval eyes and triangular ears. One ear had a semi-circular bite taken out of it. It sniffed the air, and eyed the shampoo potion.

"Yeah, this was a pretty dick move, huh, putting you in there? Sorry. You can go."

Its big eyes stayed on me as it circled around, then dashed behind the sink, and vanished into the wall.

I sighed. It was getting late, and with everyone busy, the best remedy for failure would have been one of Tom Collins's drinks, but as he was gone, the next best thing was a good night's sleep. Which I tried. And ended up staring at the ceiling, wishing Zee were beside me.

A new day at the SOS Hotel was always an opportunity to make new, unsuspecting friends. I woke early, headed down to reception to check the guest book, and caught Reynard on his way out.

"Ah, Adam." He veered toward the front desk, where I stood. "I was hoping I'd see you before your day began." He wore the same suit as the day before, and the day before that. Although, I suspected it wasn't the exact same suit, but identical versions he donned for work. He was always so manicured and measured. As posied and perfect as the paper animals he sometimes made for me. But maybe just as fragile inside?

"Did you have any luck looking for the fae salesman?" I asked, shaking the personal thoughts aside.

"Yes and no. As I suspected, few would speak with me, but I did learn there's a fae who goes by the name Jim. He was seen selling Tom Collins units in the area at around the time you'd have purchased yours. He's well known for selling, shall we say... junk?"

I closed the guest book and took Reynard to one side, leaving Madame Matase to manage the desk. "Jim?"

"Yes."

"Just Jim?"

"Well, I did ask, since it's an unusual name for a fae, and was told that's the name he goes by. Junk Jim. Regardless, while I wasn't able to find him, I did learn he sells his wares at the Ferry Plaza market every Wednesday."

This was great news. We had a lead. "Oh, today is Wednesday."

"The timing is serendipitous." I loved it when he talked dirty. "Alas, the sun exposure of a street market will be a little difficult for me to endure, but perhaps Zodiac might like to explore the market with you?"

"Where am I going?" Zee appeared from the elevator, wings hidden and wearing a casual, barely buttoned flower-print shirt and surprisingly handsome blue slacks. His concierge podium had gone too.

"You're not working today?" I asked. Taking Zee out was a great idea. It would give us time to discuss why he was avoiding me without him vanishing. I could leave the hotel to visit a market. Nothing untoward would happen in a public place.

Zee winced. "One day was enough. I thought I'd seen enough dicks stuck in holes, but dicks in bottles was not part of the deal. Poor bastard."

That sounded awful. "Is the guest okay?"

"Oh he's fine. I'm the poor fucking bastard for having to see that. I gave myself the day off to recover. Let this be a lesson," he announced, so everyone in the foyer turned their gazes toward us. "Do not stick cocks in bottles, people." Zee noticed Reynard staring blankly. "You'd know all about that, Your Lordship, since your dick is stuck in the eighteenth century."

Reynard sighed, and switched his gaze to me. "As I was saying?—"

"We thought you'd lost your dick when the vampires presented your finger to us on a cushion. You remember that, Adam?" Zee elbow-bumped me and snickered. "Shriveled like a French fry."

"Uh, yes." Now was probably not the best time to talk about that. Maybe never. "So, Zee, will you visit a street market with me to?—"

"You thought the severed finger was my penis?" Reynard asked.

Zee pinched his lips together, but his eyes bulged, as though the laugh had to escape somewhere. "Yes?" The tiny word squeaked out like air leaving a balloon.

"My finger?" Reynard asked again, apparently incredulous we'd think such a thing. "You mistook a finger for my penis?"

I was incredulous we were discussing Reynard's penis now, here, in the hotel foyer.

Zee fixed his hands on his hips and had to look away. His tail lashed with his efforts not to laugh. "If I'm honest, what was I fucking thinking? That's crazy, right?"

"Indeed," Reynard agreed, tugging on his cuffs. "Preposterous."

"Your dick's probably waaaay smaller."

Reynard looked up. "Demon, my penis is a perfectly adequate size."

Oh dear. No. Nope. This wasn't happening. Zee's shocked muteness wouldn't last. "Okay, off to the market we go." I shoved Zee toward the door before all the thoughts inside his head fell out of his mouth. "Madame Matase, please look after the hotel for a few hours!" I called. "Thank you, Reynard, for the uh... information. Bye."

Zee stumbled down the steps. His momentum kept him going, tripping him onto the sidewalk.

I jogged up alongside. A few cars rumbled by. Some folks were out walking their dogs. A jogger bounded into the distance under leafy trees. I didn't get out much, but it seemed like a good day to visit a street market.

"Adam, hold me," Zee whined, now we were a safe distance from the hotel porch. "I think I might be about to combust." He bit into his bottom lip and squeaked. "He said penis. Three times."

"You handled it very well."

"I did, didn't I?" He puffed out his chest. "Daddy Fuck-Hard can't say penis and expect me not to react, right? My penis is perfectly adequate. You heard that from his lips? I didn't fucking dream it? Because I'm telling you, I've had some fucked-up dreams about that vampire. But he just said that in the hotel lobby, with everyone there?"

"I heard it." I chuckled, and shielded my eyes from the morning sun. "You know, he could also have been deliberately baiting you."

"Excuse moi? What?" He touched his chest and blinked.

"Just that he probably knew exactly how you'd react. In fact, the entire conversation may have been a joke."

"What the fuck?" Zee stopped dead on the sidewalk. "He jokes now?"

"He's been trying out some humor," I explained, thinking back to the body in the trunk joke. "I'm not sure he's all that good at it yet."

"How is anyone supposed to tell if he's joking? His resting Reynard face never fucking changes."

"You're laughing, aren't you?"

"At me." He rolled his eyes and sauntered on. "I'm laughing at me. Not him. He's not funny. He's unfunny. He's the pubic hair in a bowl of mac and cheese. He's the broken condom. That's how unfunny he is."

"I might be wrong and all of that was genuine."

"You're definitely wrong. He's not that interesting." He looked around us, only now noticing we'd walked some ways from the hotel. "Where are we going?"

"We need to get to Ferry Plaza. I'm not sure of the best way. We could call an Uber, but my bank account is mostly zeroes."

"Oh, wait. I got this." He stopped, pulled his phone free with a flourish, and tapped out a message, then checked both ends of the street, waiting for... something.

A breeze rustled the overhead tree branches. A car passed through a junction near the end of the street.

"What are we?—"

Zee lifted a finger, then pointed over my shoulder, at the far end of the street. A black sedan cruised into sight and glided toward us.

Zee had black sedans now? I arched an eyebrow. "You have a driver?"

"I have Daddy Vampire's driver." His eyebrows jumped. The car cruised to a stop at the curb. Zee held the door open, and I scooted into the back seat. This was definitely a vampire's car. They all had that same smothering silence—protected by wards—and the exact same luxury interior. I reeled off the address of the street market to the driver, and away we went.

"How did you get a vampire's chauffeur, Zee?"

"I didn't. You did." Zee sat back, jiggling his shoulders into the comfy seats, lounging in luxury. "Because you're weird and don't have a phone like a normal person, Reynard gave me his driver's number for you, in case you ever needed it."

"He did?" Of course Zee had kept that information to himself.

"I know, right? What a control freak. Get in my creepy pedo car, Adam."

"That's actually pretty thoughtful of him."

"Whatever. Pedophile," he coughed into his hand. "You're early twenties and he's a billion years old. It's weird."

He worked so hard to make everyone believe he didn't like Reynard, but I wasn't buying it. Not anymore. "It's just me here. You can admit to liking him. I won't tell anyone."

"I don't fucking like him." Zee pointed a glossy fingernail at me, then huffed and folded his arms. "You like him."

I shrugged. "Yeah, I do."

"Why?" he whined. "He's old, and strict, and boring."

Why did I like Reynard? That was a good question. I'd not really thought about it. "I don't know. I like that he's made mistakes and owned up to them. He's reasonable, and wise, and strong, but also, really, really hot. He makes me feel safe, I guess." And there was an old, ageless part of me that kinda liked the old, ageless part of him too.

Zee twisted in the seat. "Don't I make you feel safe?"

"Yeah, but it's different. You're you and he's him and I'm me, and the three of us just sort of work together."

Zee rolled his eyes. "Have you forgotten how he tried to gift you to his queen, who, by the way, isn't on this side of the veil, so how was he going to do that? We still don't know. But whatever, sure. He makes you feel"—air quotes—"safe."

There had been no real risk of the vampires' plan succeeding. I hadn't survived this long by losing to those who wanted to capture and use me in multiple ways. "Some of us aren't perfect like you, Zee."

"I know, right. It's a fucking curse, being this perfect."

Speaking of curses, mine was still wobbling. And I'd deal with it, after we'd been to the market and found the fae who had sold me Tom Collins, so we could find out if and where Tom Collins might be backed-up. One thing we all agreed on was getting our Tom Collins back.

The car maneuvered through traffic and for a little while, Zee and I fell quiet. Zee pulled his phone out and took a few selfies. "Fucking fucks, ugh."

"What's happened?"

"A fan recognized this car as a vampire sedan, and now they're all, hashtag Reyzee in the comments. I can't even update my socials without Fuck-Hard sticking his fangs in. Zee's daddy takin' him for a ride. Puh-lease. If anyone is riding anyone..." He trailed off. "Yeah, alright, that's valid." He muttered some more, and tapped away on his phone, probably trying to do damage control.

While he was distracted, and we were chatting, it seemed like a good time to ask why he'd been avoiding me. "Zee...?"

"Hm?" he mumbled, focused on his phone.

"Why don't you want to have sex with me anymore?"

The car hit a bump, Zee jolted, and the phone slipped from his fingers and dropped between his knees. "The fuck?" He twisted, and fished around on the floor, his face smooshed against the back of the front passenger seat.

"It's just... I assume you're feeding from somewhere, but it's not me, and that's fine, I guess, you don't have to be with me, but I sort of thought we had a thing now—you and me—and I know we never actually agreed to be a thing, it just kinda happened, but I liked it. A lot. And these last few days, you've made it clear you don't want that anymore. Which is fine. That's totally your choice." His eyes widened. He straightened, sitting back, without finding his phone. "But it would be nice to know if I did something wrong. I haven't really had many uhm... friends, or things, and if I did something wrong, then I'm really sorry, and I know it's been super tough, what with the almost dying and the hotel and Reynard, so I understand. I really do. It's probably even a good idea. I mean, we work together, and we're business partners, and emotions in the middle of that? Bad idea. You're a demon and I'm very human. You're probably right, and I?—"

He pressed a finger to my lips. "Okay. Take a breath. One, that's way too many words. And two, it's not you, it's me. And three, don't ask why or I'll poof out of this car into traffic, and that shit ain't fun."

"Why, though?" I mumbled behind his finger.

He plucked his finger back. "I'm uh..." His gaze danced. "Going through some things. I just need to figure some stuff out. But I want this—you and me—I want it more than anything, more than life, more than mac and cheese. Don't ever doubt that. Hey look, there's the market—" He poofed from the car.

He'd said he was going through some things, exactly as Reynard had suggested. So it wasn't me? Then why not let me help? "Stop here, please," I told the driver, and climbed out.

Even though he had vanished, we'd made tiny steps toward progress. That was good. Now we just needed to focus on finding Junk Jim in amongst a whole lot of people...

The Ferry Plaza building, with its enormous clock tower, had stood watch over the Port of San Francisco for more than a hundred years, or so the tourist plaque said.

The police presence at the entrance suggested today's market was no normal event, but behind the austere-looking armed officers, brightly colored banners draped from streetlamps to the big building's arches, zigzagging down the street above countless stalls. I spotted Zee's horns among the throng of humans and Lost Ones, and hurried into the fray after him.

A wash of noise and color and spiciness rolled over me. The first few tables housed handmade baked bread—thankfully, not from Fido's—in a traditional gargoyle style, like big cobblestones. They smelled delicious. The next stall sold cakes, the next handmade flower brooches and necklaces, the next a bunch of bagged spices not usually seen this side of the veil.

Ward weavers sold Lost Ones clothing, as a lot of races couldn't buy clothes that fit their dimensions off the rack. The next ward weaver's table sold wards too, charmed into bracelets and pendants. Drawn to the shiny display, I forgot I was supposed to be following Zee, and gazed at the rings and necklaces. Most were cheap costume jewelry, but the handspun wards made them valuable. The seller was genuine too. As most humans couldn't see wards, they often got tricked into buying fakes, but I could see how these little gems glowed from the ward weaver's touch.

"You!" A screech rang out like a bell.

Everyone around me looked over at the gnarled old woman hunched around a crystal ball. She wore the classic Romani shawl, strewn with beads. Her keen eyes found me, and seemed to hold secrets from long-dead civilizations.

"You!" she screeched again, pointing a twig-like finger in my direction.

Oh dear.

I dropped my head and tried to shuffle away.

"Cursed!"

Several people and Lost Ones side-eyed me.

I laughed and shrugged, and tried to convey a she's-crazy expression.

The old fortune teller shot to her feet pretty fast for someone who surely had joint issues. "Terror in your heart!" she screeched.

I winced. The crowd had taken notice now, and figured they'd watch the crazy old lady shout at a boring, clearly innocent human.

"Doomed!"

I sighed, shoved my hand into my back pocket, marched to her table, and slammed five bucks down, then pinned it under one finger. "This is all I've got. Please be quiet."

She narrowed her eyes. Intelligence sparkled there. As her smile grew, she plucked the five bucks out from under my finger. "Pleasure doing business with you," she said, in a very measured and controlled voice.

I'd just been had.

"You're not very nice," I said, as my leaving retort.

"I'm the least of your worries." She took her time folding my five bucks in half and stuffed it down her bra. "I know your kind. Your heart is not made of fortune but tragedy. Others will come. For revenge, for freedom, for the fate of all."

I leaned in. "Hey, lady. Repeat that to anyone and I will come back here and..." Do what? Break her legs? Smash her skull? Crush her into pie filling? "Steal your shiny ball."

She cackled and sat back. "You're so fucked."

"Adam!" Zodiac shoved through the crowd and stumbled into me. "Look!" He thrust a cat ornament under my nose. "It's adorable. The tail, the murder mittens. Why aren't you looking?" Then Zee either saw my face, or picked up on the tumultuous churn of emotion going on inside me. "Who's she? What the fuck you looking at? You never seen a demon this handsome before?"

"He doesn't know, does he?" She smiled, as though maybe she'd extort more than five bucks out of me if we stayed a second longer.

I grabbed Zee and shoved him into the crowd ahead of me, stopping after we'd passed several more tables and were out of the fortune teller's sight.

"What was that all about?"

"Nothing."

Zee's tail twitched. He glanced back, searching for the fortune teller's table, but we'd moved on too far. He wanted to ask, but didn't. Instead, he grinned, and tossed me the cat ornament. "I had to buy it for you."

"I love it." It was really cute, and perfect for my collection.

"There's more, look!" He dragged me toward a table overflowing with all sorts of trinkets, mostly animal ornaments, but some odd charms too. Zee waffled on about the cute animals, but one charm caught my eye. A weirdly shriveled looking thing clasped in a metal pendant. It kind of looked like a moldy piece of popcorn rattling around in a cage.

"Ah, you have a good eye, sir. That's a piece of wyvern's heart," the seller, a short man with a friendly face, said. "Brings good luck."

I eyed the blackened thing. "An actual piece of its heart?"

"Indeed. Very rare."

Zee snorted. "Rare, my ass. Wyverns aren't real," he said, picking up a small green frog ornament and squinting suspiciously at it.

"They are," I said, and the seller nodded, agreeing.

"No, they aren't." Zee continued to eye the frog. "Wyverns are myths. They don't exist. Like frogs."

Hold up. "But frogs are real."

Zee laughed. "Now I know you're fucking with me."

The seller frowned, probably wondering if we were both screwing with him. I wasn't sure we weren't. "Frogs are real, Zee. They're an actual living thing."

"There's no way this is real." He held the cute green frog an inch from my face. "Look at it. Those eyes? No. And those fucking legs? What's that all about?"

I'd never really looked closely at a frog before. The ornament he held had cute, bulbous eyes and splayed toes. Zee had a point. "They do kinda look weird, but they're definitely real."

He scrunched up his nose. "You're shitting me?"

"No, frogs exist. I think they're on every continent. Maybe?"

"They're everywhere?!" His eyes widened. "Fuck." He flung the frog ornament down and wiped his hand on his shirt. "Are they vicious?" he whispered.

"Vicious?" I glanced at the seller for help, but he stared as though we'd both lost our minds. "I don't know. I've never actually met one."

"Ugh." Zee cringed and backed away from the stall. "I fucking touched it. You should be ashamed of yourself," he told the trader. "Nobody is going to buy your weird frogs."

I ushered Zee from the offending stall and noticed his tail had knotted itself over and over. He really did not like frogs. "It's okay," I told him. "I don't think there are any around right now."

"Are they big?"

I had no idea. I'd seen a few in the books we'd inherited at the hotel. They'd seemed pretty big. "Maybe, I guess?" A human would know how big a frog was. And I was a human so... "They're at least the size of a dog." That seemed about right.

"Fuck."

"If you lick them, they kill you." The books had been very clear on that.

"What the actual fuck?! This world gets more fucked up the longer I live here."

I couldn't disagree. Our trip to the market hadn't been so great, either. I'd stumbled across a fortune teller who wasn't a fake and had seen the truth of me, then conned me out of five bucks, and now Zee was scared of frogs. "We should probably concentrate on finding Junk Jim."

"Yeah." He gave himself a shake. "I saw a sign for Fae Alley, it's back here. They never did like to mingle with the rest of us Lost Ones. Shit never changes."

I had noticed that. We had a few fae checked in at the hotel, but they were often shy and didn't like to visit the bar, or stay during breakfast service when it got busy. "Social anxiety?"

"More like holier-than-thou-itis. Also, pixies like to hang around with fae. They're fucking nuts. Tiny psychos. You think frogs are bad? Pixies are like gremlins with wings. On crack. If you see a pixie, don't look it in the eyes."

Pixies did not sound like fun. "Oh uh, okay."

We turned from the main street into a shadowy back alley lined with fairy lights. There were still lots of people here, and the crowd's rising chatter came in waves. A lot of the wares here seemed to be older, ancient pieces, with big price tags.

"Look at all this antique shit. Daddy Vampire would be right at home."

Wait, no snarky joke, no belittling comment about Reynard being old? "You should buy him something. Like a gift?"

Zee blurted a laugh, then cut it off. "No."

That was the end of that conversation.

"Point out Jim, if you see him," he said.

We walked on some more, blending in among other humans, demons, and Lost Ones, until I spotted a familiar fae at a stall that appeared to be selling half-broken things. The closer we got to his stall, the more his wares looked to be no more than bits he'd pulled from a dumpster.

"That's him," I told Zee, and we ventured over.

"Tricycles, chairs, reading lights. I got it all! Human junk is your treasure!" he bellowed. He wasn't tall like most fae, but he was still taller than me. His dark brown hair might have once been long, but he'd had it hacked off, so it stuck out at all angles. Green eyes that looked bright and intelligent caught sight of Zee and me approaching.

"You, handsome demon."

"Moi?" Zee preened and stepped to the front of the stall, barely fitting among a few other people browsing the goods.

"I see you have a fantastic pair of horns."

"Thank you."

"You know what you need for those horns?"

"Oh, please, do tell."

"These!" Jim produced a handful of rusty bolts. "They'll slide right on. Paint them, and you've got instant horn-rings." Zee picked up one of the bolts, and showed me. "Kinda retro, I guess."

"Hey, there, uh, Jim?" I cleared my throat. "Do you have any AI bartenders left?"

"I don't sell those. AI, bro, too risky, yah know. Wards don't like tech." Jim smiled and gave me a discreet once-over appraisal. "Have I seen you before? You look familiar?"

"Adam has one of those faces," Zee agreed. "Generic, boring white guy."

"Yeah," I explained. "A few months ago, you sold me one of those AI bartender units you don't sell. Remember?"

"Oh. Right. Sure." Jim bolted like a ball from a slingshot.

"Ugh, and now I gotta run in heels." Zee sprinted after him. "Stop that Jim!"