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“Holy frozen frog’s balls,” Zee gasped.

Stepping back so I could keep Toby in the corner of my eye, I turned to find we had at least six new guests. All of them trolls, all armed, and all frozen in various poses of attack. They’d used the shadows to hide themselves, but they were out in the open now.

“It’s like a fucked-up Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, ’cept Fancy Fangs is a whole lot sexier than that apple-lovin’ pale chick.”

Victor’s silver eyes blazed, fangs bared in a snarl. He was a twitch away from going feral. Had he frozen them with one word?

“You can’t call them dwarves, Zee,” I mumbled, still trying to take in what was going on.

“Oh, excuse moi. Maybe they shouldn’t fuckin’ try an’ ambush us, then.” He cocked a hip, looking sassy in the broken door frame. “Ha, jokes on them. Didn’t know Fancy Fangs could do this, did yah?” Zee strutted to Victor’s side. “This was you, right?”

“It was.” Victor straightened, calming himself. “I can break their necks in a blink. It’s quite the . . . thrill.” Oh-kay. A bit too calm, maybe?

“Fuck . . . Daddy Fangs has the scent of blood,” Zee drawled. “I would not wanna be you guys right now.”

“Don’t kill them,” I warned. “We need to know why they’re doing this.”

“Uh, because they’re assholes?” Zee strutted up to the nearest uninvited guest and poked him in the cheek. The troll didn’t move, his cheek just dimpled and sprang back. His eyes revealed his terror, though. “This is some badass superpower shit, Lord Murder Fangs. I like it.”

This was powerful, and a little unnerving. “Victor, can you maybe unlock Toby so we can talk to him?”

Victor switched his glare to Toby, and whatever he did, it freed Toby’s head from the voice spell . . . but just his head. He gasped and wheezed, but the rest of him remained solid and immobile.

“By the Bridgekeeper, keep me safe. By the Bridgekeeper, keep me safe,” Toby prayed.

“You should have thought of that before holding a gun to my head.” I clamped a hand to my middle and winced at the blood that came away on my fingers. “Another sweater ruined.”

“He fuckin’ shot you?!” Zee poofed to my side, saw the blood. His nostrils flared. “You all gonna fuckin’ die now.”

Victor’s growl rumbled like thunder through the house.

“Wait. Guys. Relax a second.” I sighed at the whimpering Toby. “You brought this on yourself.”

“We helped you, numbnuts,” Zee huffed. “And you shoot Adam? This is very bad for you. Level fuckin’ eleven bad, you feel me?”

“S-s-sorry?” Toby whined. “Please don’t . . . kill me . . . Dad will be . . . so mad.”

“You know who else is mad?” I asked, then pointed to our murder vampire primed and ready to be unleashed. “He’s had a thousand years to perfect his torture, just so you know. So tell me what’s going on and maybe he’ll let you have your body back.”

Zee’s smile turned wicked. “You made the same mistake everyone does, didn’t you? Thought we were weak, huh? Sucks to be you. Vic’s gonna take those small balls of yours and pop ’em like grapes.”

Sweat beads glistened on Toby’s face. “Alright . . . I . . . I just know I was supposed to follow your van.”

“Huh?” Zee asked.

“On the highway. But the cops pulled me over. They know my family, know my face, but I saw you drive by and so I bolted to catch up⁠—”

“Who told you to follow us?” I asked,

“My dad, he’s uh . . . he’s kinda the boss of the family business, you know?”

“And your family business is . . . ?”

“Uh,” Zee stepped in. “The house, the gun, the suit? It’s drugs, Kitten. It’s always drugs . . . or vampires, but mostly drugs. You got any in this house?” he asked Toby. “For . . . evidence. Actually, it’s for me. Don’t judge. This peak incubus got needs.”

“Uh, no, but I can get you some if you let me go?” Hope pitched Toby’s voice higher.

“Yeah, no, I’m good. You can die.”