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There were strangers in our bed, Eddie in the bathtub, and several more unknown people wrapped in quilts on the floor—people taken and frozen by Stephanie, people who looked as though they may actually pull through this.

“As if we’re just going to walk away!” Zee snorted from his spot resting against the dresser, arms crossed, tail flip-flopping his frustration. He wore a tight T-shirt proclaiming I’m a Bad Bitch in playful font, and tiny shorts that emphasized his long fishnet-clad legs.

Victor emerged from the bathroom, sleeves rolled up, hair in disarray, and suit creased. “Eddie’s heartbeat is strong. Against the odds, it appears he will make a full recovery.”

We’d done a good thing. We’d saved people. Although none of us had actually escaped the hotel yet . . . but from the announcement it appeared as though the real management wanted us gone. So they could ensnare the next batch of guests?

I crossed the room to Zee’s side, and Victor approached too, all three of us drawn together. I slotted myself against Zee’s hip, and welcomed his arm hooking around me as we watched the thawing people sleep.

“I am prepared to take one for the team,” Zee whispered, then grinned at me. “You give me another amazing blow job, I’ll power up and zap Elsa with the orgasm of her ice-bitch life, then Victor will ride in and cut off her head. How’s that for a plan?”

It had merit. And not just because I got to power up Zee.

“I do not have a sword,” Victor said, dashing our hopes. “Or anything remotely sharp. Much of the restaurant cutlery is blunt.”

“You tryin’ to tell us, Murder McDaddy Fangs, you can’t kill someone with a spork?”

“Frostweaver is not just someone. She is a powerful immortal who has no doubt lured unsuspecting victims into her trap for centuries.” He ran his hands through his long hair, tugging out a few unacceptable knots. “Although . . . I can indeed, and with little effort, expire someone with a spork.”

That was good to know, and not all that surprising. Wait, had he actually done that? Never mind. It was better not to know.

“What did you two talk about over tea?” I asked instead, keeping my voice low so our thawing human popsicles didn’t hear that their rescuers had been enjoying a spot of afternoon tea with their icy jailor.

“There was a beloved, but as a mortal he perished long ago, before the hotel was constructed. She has been trapped here, punishing this land and its people ever since.”

“Then she’s not going to stop?” It was a long shot, but we had to know if there was a chance she could be reasoned with.

“I had hoped so, but it appears she was playing us. No, my dear, she will not stop.”

“So my plan . . . The best plan,” Zee clarified. “Still stands. Blow job, then Elsa’s death by orgasm.”

“While your allure is formidable⁠—”

“Thank you.” Zee preened.

“It is, however, unlikely to kill her,” Victor continued. “And will not stop her ice from quickly encasing you”

“Then what will?” I asked.

Victor looked me dead in the eyes. “You.”

I knew where he was going with this . . . the same as Wesley. “You mean my fire? I’d have to shift, and after that happens I’m not a precision instrument.” The last time I’d unleashed my true self, the aftermath had closed the Golden Gate Bridge. It was still closed for repairs. And the moment I shifted, someone would also upload a picture of me online. My brother would be on us in hours, assuming he wasn’t nearby already. “Assuming we can get her out into the street, then maybe I can turn her to ash, but she knows what I am. She’s unlikely to leave herself exposed like that.”

“Or we ensure the hotel is evacuated,” Victor suggested. “And you dispatch her within its walls.”

“If I shift in this hotel, there won’t be much left of it after.”

“A predicament,” Zee agreed. “But going back to my original suggestion. I’ve got the juice to fuck her up . . . literally. Then, while she’s getting off, you guys can move in and off her for real with a spork.”

“Uhm, why a spork?” Had I missed the reason behind that somewhere in this conversation?

“Murder Daddy says he wants to.”

“I said it was possible, not advisable. I’d prefer a sword.”

“The LARP guests have weapons,” I said. “Some looked real.”

“Oh my fuck, yes. A fake Zee had a fake Shareen that looked super sharp. Put some vampire muscle behind it and it’ll work.”