Page 4 of No Rest for the Wicked

“Because they’re full of gremlins,” I mumbled behind his finger, then gently brushed his hand away. “I mean Mr. Reese.”

Zee’s eyes widened. “The Candyman’s name is Reese?”

“Look, let’ start again. Mr. Reese? The protestor?” I whispered. “He messed up the carpet by dying on it? Although, we think Gideon left him there, so . . . not his fault, I guess.”

“That guy! Who the fuck else is it gonna be? How many people do you think I stuff up chimneys, Kitten?”

The hotel had a decomposing body up a chimney. Why was he just telling me this now? “I said deal with it, Zee. Stuffing him up a chimney is not really dealing with it.”

“What the fuck was I supposed to do? Chop him up and put him in pies?”

Another guest appeared from their room and headed toward the elevator. “Oh hey, erm . . .” I called, after they’d ambled by. “Maybe don’t use the elevator?”

The guest—a stocky male troll with a long goat-like face and fancy suit—huffed, ignored my advice because he clearly knew better, and stepped into the elevator.

“Pfft,” Zee snorted. “Did you see his shoes? Nobody who isn’t crazy wears pink socks with blue shoes, it’s a fucking crime against fashion. I hope the elevator eats him.”

“Zee.” Our guest’s fashion sense and Mr. Reese’s body were not the main problem right now, although the body was more of a problem than it had been ten minutes ago when I hadn’t known I had a dead protestor wedged up a chimney. I sighed. “There’s a portal in my room.”

“Oh, fun.” He grinned. “Where does it go?”

“No, not fun, Zee. Bad. Super bad. And I don’t know where it goes. How would I know?”

He frowned. “You didn’t go through it?”

I frowned. “Why would I do that?”

“It’s a portal. Why wouldn’t you? They pop up all the time in Demontown.”

“I can think of a hundred reasons why you shouldn’t venture into random, throbbing dark holes.”

“Throbbing dark holes are my forte, babycakes. How you gonna know where it goes if you don’t go into it? Wait here.” He poofed away before I could draw breath to tell him not to.

Maybe it was a demon thing, throwing yourself into unknown voids? He could translocate small distances, so maybe hopping into a void and back out again wasn’t such a crazy thing for him to do?

I waited in the quiet and tapped my foot on the threadbare carpet. What if he didn’t come back? What if he got stuck in there? How long should I wait before it got serious? Oh no . . .

Just as I was considering charging through the door, Zee poofed into the corridor and stood, spread-eagled, with his arms, tail, and wings out, dripping gloop.

“Oh.” I pinched my lips together, holding back a laugh.

His hair had been glued to his face, his wings dripped blobby bits, and his wet net-vest clung to his chest.

He peered through narrow, sticky eyelashes. “I have been lubed.”

I hiccuped a laugh. A big blob dangled from his horn, then splatted on the floor between us.

“I am fucking traumatized.” He raised his hands and flicked gloop from his fingers.

“This is why we don’t poke bad things.”

He pointed a finger and opened his mouth to argue, then must have thought better of it. “This is fine. I am fine. What’s a bit of lube? And it was free. Some foreplay would’ve been nice, but whatever. Win-fucking-win. Imma just . . .” He backed up, and flicked more goo from his tail. “Go shower.”

“You need any help?”

He walked away, pants squelching. “Nope, I got this.”

“When you’re done, come down to the lobby and help me organize maybe closing the hotel?”