Page 30 of Great Service from Top to Bottom

“The fuck we are, its claws are in me, Adam.”

I extended a hand toward the little pixie. It was sort of cute, in an ugly, weird way. Like pugs are cute. With their smooshed faces and big eyes. Those big eyes darted toward my fingers, then to my face, then back to my fingers. It freed the nails of its right hand from Zee’s back and reached out to poke my fingertip.

“Adam,” Zee growled.

“Okay, okay, I got this.” The pixie leaned away from Zee’s back, and sniffed at my fingers. “There, see? We’re friends.” Its snarling faded, leaving a perplexed, even curious expression on its wrinkled, hairless, leathery face. Freeing its other hand, it reached out, clamped onto my fingers and climbed on, then scurried up my arm, perched on my shoulder, stuck a leg in the air, and licked its tiny balls. “Oh, okay.”

Zee straightened, rolled his shoulders, rocking his wings, and turned. “Imma get my hands on that little⁠—”

The pixie hissed at him.

Zee hissed back, and gave himself a shake. “You!” He pointed. “Are a bad pixie.”

“C’mon, you’re a hundred times the size of this little guy. He’s cute, see?” The pixie, still with its leg in the air, glowered harder at Zee.

Zee rolled his eyes. “Where the fuck did it come from?”

“It was in Jim’s money box. It must have hitched a ride up my shirt.”

Zee fluffed his hair and shook out his wings. “How could you not know you had a pixie up your shirt this whole time?”

“It was scratchy, but I figured it was the tag.”

“Kitten, pixies are diseased. It’s probably got rabies.”

The pixie lowered its leg, got comfortable on my shoulder, and hissed again.

“I think it understands you.”

Zee showed the pixie his middle finger. “Understand this?”

The pixie showed Zee its own tiny middle finger.

“The fuck?” Zee blinked.

I snickered. “I told you.”

Now everyone was calmer, including my new friend, our attention turned to the toppled boxes. Some of the contents had spilled across the chiller floor. I spotted a few chicken’s feet among what looked like petrified pieces of wood.

“What the fuck is this?” Zee crouched and picked up a gnarled stick. Turning it over, he frowned, then recoiled and dropped it. He jerked back to his feet, backing away from the spilled items. “Fuck, those are horns. Demon horns. Bits of demons.”

I saw it, now I knew what I was looking at. Spiraled horns, curved horns, stubby horns. And those chicken’s feet weren’t chicken’s feet. They belonged to gremlins, or maybe even pixies, as the little guy’s toes digging into my shoulder looked the same.

“The fae are messed up. They grind all this shit into powder and sell it as beautifying potions.” Zee paced. “You remember I told you Ram lost his horn to a fae?” Zee gestured at the amputated horns scattered around us. “We need to get out of here, Adam. My wings alone are priceless to those sick fucks.”

With a warded door, things did look a lot more dire than they had ten minutes ago.

“Alright, it’s warded, so . . . what do we do?”

“How the fuck should I know? I’ve never been trapped in a fucking refrigerator before. Although, I was tied up in a sex den once. But this is so much colder. I hate the cold, my shirt is ruined, you know about my magic sperm, and now we have a psycho pixie messing with us? Ugh, this is the worst date ever.”

“At least you don’t have a secret wife who wants to gift me to your demon queen.” I smiled.

Zee’s pacing slowed. “That does actually make me feel better. Fuck-Hard is the worst.”

“It’s going to be alright. If we’re not back at the hotel soon, Reynard will come looking.”

“Yeah, yeah . . .”