Page 50 of Your Final Resting Place

“Although, I suspect it’s being with you that has made us powerful . . . and the hotel added to the mix, in all of its unexpected and peculiar ways.”

The hotel . . . “Do you think the portal was always there?”

“No. I suspect the concentration of Lost Ones and our intimate highlights have altered the locale enough to effectively open a doorway. Everything is beginning to come together.”

“Destiny?”

He knew how I disliked the idea of destiny, of not having control, but he smiled. “Something like that.”

“If we survive this—when I get my power back, and we come out the other side intact—what do we do about the portal?”

“No doubt, the hotel will decide for us.”

Maybe. But it was a lot of responsibility for a human-ish dragon, an incubus, and a vampire. Or, another way of looking at it suggested we might be the hotel and its portal’s perfectly imperfect guardians?

On the road ahead, the traffic snarled up, slowing our motorcade to an inch-by-inch crawl. The Golden Gate Bridge loomed large, like enormous red gallows—which was not a helpful thought.

I glanced behind us again. No sign of the Love Wagon.

“He will be here,” Victor said.

I knew that.

Zee had never let me down. He didn’t know how to.

People in the cars beside ours might be about to witness the show to rival all outdoor events. But hopefully, not a massacre. “Do you think San Francisco has room for a dragon like me?”

All Lost Ones were registered and graded on power, which was another way of saying all potentially powerful Lost Ones were removed from society to keep the people safe. Maybe if I saved the city, the SSD would let me go afterwards?

“I think a lot of things are about to change, and none of us can control it.”

“Not even you?” I teased.

“Not even me.”

A loud thud on the roof bounced the car. We both looked up, and found a dent in the roof lining.

“What was⁠—”

Victor vanished. Or more accurately, he flung open the door and dashed outside quicker than my eyes could track.

“Adam, stay inside!”

Another thump on the roof rocked the car. I braced against the seat, and tried to get a look through the windows, but all I saw was a blur of vampire and the shocked faces of people gawking from the cars around us.

Then I caught a glimpse of a large mound of fur in the reflection of the car next to ours. Fur with claws. Werewolf.

And not a friendly one.

“Protect the queen’s gift!” my vampire driver barked into his security mic. “Clear a path!” Then he slammed his foot on the gas and lurched the car between stationary traffic. He might have been easy to manipulate, but he sure made a great getaway driver.

The engine roared.

The car door tore off, and a werewolf shoved its enormous snout and upper body in through the gap where the door had been. Claws slashed in my direction.

Clearly, there was more than one werewolf.

But that was fine.