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CHAPTER 1

Halloween at the SOS Hotel was always interesting.

Zee made it his personal mission to wear the most revealing costume he could find that covered just enough skin to be classified as clothing, while Victor mostly stayed in the bar and proclaimed he was dressing as a vampire, and since he was a vampire, he didn’t need to change out of his pressed pants, suit jacket, and tie. I dressed as a human hotel manager who wore a baseball hat. The hat had been Zee’s idea.

Zee had spent the entire month’s health and safety budget on fake bats, balloon spiders, and plastic skeletons. We had real versions of those things in the hotel anyway, so why he needed to buy fake versions, I wasn’t sure . . . but he was happy, and if he was happy, then Victor was happy, and if they were both happy, then I was happy.

Everyone was happy, so naturally, it was all about to go terribly wrong.

I entered the bar after a busy day ushering hotel guests to their rooms, dealing with complaints, and organizing funds to pay the most urgent bills. Victor sat at the bar, long black hair tied back with a single leather band. He’d been wearing it loose lately. The glass in front of him was half full, its sides painted red. I still hadn’t asked Tom Collins if he used real blood in the Bloody Marys, mostly because, if he did, I didn’t want to know where the blood came from.

“Ah, Adam, there you are.” Victor’s face brightened on seeing me, which meant his lips ticked up at their corners by precisely three millimeters. “You look tired, my dear.”

“Yeah, it’s been a day.” I sat on the stool next to him, deliberately resting my knee against his, and rolled up my sleeves. It wasn’t technically Halloween for another three days, but the hotel was almost fully booked. “Have you seen Zee?”

“I’ve been trying not to,” he said, smooth voice already working to soothe every tight muscle in my body. Victor’s voice had power over those who were weak-willed. He could command them to kneel—or walk off a cliff—and they’d obey. It just made me want to take him upstairs and lock the bedroom door behind us.

“Oh?”

“His costume is . . .” Victor’s eyebrows lifted. “Well, it is revealing in more ways than one.”

“Oh.”

Tom Collins slid a brightly colored cocktail across the bar, placing it directly in front of me. The drink had multiple green and black layers, one with suspended glitter, and some interesting foam on top. I eyed the drink, then lifted my gaze to our AI bartender’s smiling face. He resembled the perfect 1930s barman, right down to the burgundy silk waistcoat and bow tie. He looked friendly and approachable but was actually an AI without the required upgraded safety package. I’d bought him off a back-alley fae for a steal.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“It definitely won’t turn you blind.”

I blinked. Tom Collins was an excellent barman. He knew every drink ever made, and every drink that shouldn’t ever be made. You never really knew which one you were getting.

He folded his arms. “It’s almost as though you don’t trust me. After everything we’ve been through?”

I did trust him. With my life. I also trusted that his idea of a few minor side effects involved a trip to the ER.

“It’s the Halloween special,” Victor offered.

“Have you tried it?” I asked him.

“I have not,” he admitted. “I thought I’d wait for you to do the honors.” Victor’s lips twitched.

I wrapped my hand around the glass. “Am I going to regret this?”

The little foam bubbles still floated on the drink’s surface. Highly suspicious. In fact . . . I frowned at the drink, tilted my head, and listened a little closer. Yeah, there it was. Every tiny, popping bubble released an almost inaudible scream. That couldn’t be healthy.

The bar door swung open and slammed against the wall, flung there by Zee’s dramatic entrance. “The fucking audacity!”

He carried an open laptop balanced on one hand, while the rest of his entire body strutted toward us. It took a few seconds for my head to catch up with what my eyes were seeing. Zee wore a black and purple French maid’s costume, complete with tiny skirt and fishnet tights that vanished into knee-high boots atop six-inch metal heels. The puffy headband held his purple hair back and framed his spiraling horns.

When Victor had said it was revealing in more ways than one, it wasn’t difficult to see why. The skirt was real short. And underneath it, Zee was . . . a lot. A thong was doing its best to control things, but its best was never going to be enough. In fact, its attempt at restraining him only made its valiant efforts all the more interesting.

Then there was the skin-tight vest under the tiny, unbuttoned blouse that read: Lick me clean, Daddy.

His tail lashed as he sat at Victor’s left. He set the laptop down on the bar. “How much are hitmen, Fancy Fangs. You know, right?”

“Why would I know the cost of hiring a contract killer?”

“Because you look like one.”