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The guests in the foyer stared, faces blank.

I winced, laughed a little, and rubbed the back of my neck. “Did I uh . . . Did I say any of that out loud?”

“Oh yeah,” Zee nodded. “All of it. Everything. You were yelling like a crazy person. It’s a good thing we have a no refund policy after midnight or all these folks would be demanding their money back about now, for sure.”

“Oh.” Heat warmed my face. “Uhm, sorry about that, everyone . . .”

Zee scowled at everyone. “What you all starin’ at? Shows over, folks. Everything’s fine, go back to your rooms, sleep well. Leave us great reviews! Bye now.”

I slumped against the desk. Even now, the memory of the monster was fading, like a bad dream on waking. The fae’s curse was powerful, that was for sure. And we had one more fear to face.

Victor’s . . .

I found him watching me, with concern tightening his face. He already looked like a man losing control. Victor took great pride in everything being just so—straight lines, orderly behavior, composure, control. But his shirt was untucked and creased, his hair fell about his shoulders, and even his eyes crackled with wild energy. This had already been hard on him. To see the people he loved racked by fear . . . It hurt, even when that fear wasn’t your own. Perhaps even more so when it was out of your control.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” I reached for him and pulled him close.

His arms came around me, wrapping me in familiar safety. I sighed, letting go of the tension. All we had to do was face Victor’s fear, and it would all be over. Right?

Just one more fear to go.

A growl rumbled in my ear.

Victor’s growl.

He shoved me back—hard.

I hit the wall I’d been standing against earlier, grunted, and almost dropped.

Zee dropped, claws out, wings spread. “What the fuck, vampire?!”

Victor stumbled backward toward the center of the foyer. The guests had left, it was just him and me and Zee, and Madame Matase. His steps jerked and dragged, his body snapping, locking and unlocking. He reached the middle of the foyer, and looked down at his hands, fingers curled in like dead spiders.

A laugh began to simmer out of him, then bubble, then boil. He threw his head back and cackled.

Victor rarely laughed, and when he did, he didn’t usually sound like a bad motion-activated Halloween decoration.

“Holy Vincent Price’s Thriller laugh, what the fuck is happening to Fancy Fangs?”

Victor’s fangs gleamed. Had they gotten bigger? His eyes glowed.

“Oh dear . . .” I stepped toward Zee.

Victor’s wild cackle continued.

Zee inched toward me.

Victor stopped laughing. His head snapped right, his eyes narrowed, and he dashed, gone in a blink.

I winced. “I think our vampire just lost control.”

CHAPTER 8

I was more scared of an out-of-control Victor than angry customers, but I guess the curse decided we couldn’t actually be afraid of each other.

“Tom, we got a problem,” I said, walking back into the bar.

“Somehow, I’m not surprised.”