LITMIR.BIZ

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      “So please, Ned, I’m begging you, just this once. Get hostile with this ugly motherfucker.” Then I extended my arms, aimed as steadily as I could, thumbed back the hammer and squeezed the trigger.

      I squeezed it a lot, as fast as I could work the action. Ned danced gaily in my hands and burning sapphire holes opened in the demonic shadow. It threw back its head and screamed as the holes widened, the blue fire feeding eagerly on the darkness.

      Then it turned and came for me. I closed my eyes and kept firing.

      I’m not sure how long I kept at it after the demon was dead. When I finally opened my eyes, the thing was a smoking puddle of black tar on the floor, the ephemeral fire still flickering on the surface. Adan stood on the other side of the evil pool, the king’s greatsword in his hands. Black tar oozed along the blade and spattered against the floor.

      I sank to the floor and struggled for air with huge gasping breaths. “Domino, you silly bitch, you don’t even really breathe here,” I whispered, and then I started giggling.

      “It’s okay, Domino,” Adan said. “You killed it.”

      “I did or you did?” Adan grinned. “We did.”

      “How did you get here?”

      “The same way I got to Arcadia—through that first gate you built for Oberon.”

      “You’re really here. You’re not spirit-walking, like me—you’re physical.”

      “I don’t know why I’m able to do it. Maybe it’s a gift I was born with.”

      “Or maybe it’s something Oberon did to you when he took you.”

      “Maybe,” he said. “And still, you got here first.”

      I looked at the spreading, toxic sludge. I reached out and dabbed my fingers in the tar, and tasted them. The taste was foul, putrescence and fresh blood, with enough acidity to burn my tongue. There were a couple familiar notes, too. One of them I couldn’t quite put my finger on; the other one pissed me off.

      I stood up and holstered Ned. “See you on the other side,” I said. I didn’t want to leave the weapon in the club, so I had to make another round-trip to my condo. When I returned, I stepped back into the mortal world and into the slaughterhouse.

      The dead were everywhere, but only the fey were staying down. The humans were nursing wounds they couldn’t possibly have survived and some of them were already starting to look a little crazy.

      Oberon was stretched out on the floor, his head cradled in Titania’s lap. He’d returned to his youthful, sidhe form. He was bleeding but at least he was conscious. The queen wouldn’t let anyone else get close, but she didn’t object when Oberon waved me over.

      “You slew the Fomoiri,” the king said.

      “We did,” I said, nodding at Adan. I looked but there was no corpse in this world, not even a puddle of tar.

      “I’m in your debt, Domino.”

      “Nah. Really it was just self-defense.”

      “This was my party. I’m the host.” He paused and looked up at Titania, and smiled. “You defended my queen.”

      I shrugged. “You want to return the favor someday, I’m not going to argue much.”

      Oberon nodded and then his face hardened. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to clean this up.”

      I looked around the room at the carnage. Most of the living dead were my soldiers. I saw Honey. She was sitting on the couch again with Jack, though I remembered hearing her battle cry during the fight.

      I also saw Anton. He sagged against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him. His torso had been torn open and he was trying to shovel his guts back into the cavity.

      I shook my head. “No way, King. I’m not putting them down.” Then I walked over to Anton. He looked up as I approached and I saw he was crying.

      “I was dancing, Domino,” he said. “Did you see me?”

      “I missed it, Anton. I bet you danced real good.”

      “I was dancing with the pretty fairy.” He looked toward the dance floor, and then tucked his chin into his chest and bawled. I turned and saw a bloody tangle of meat that might once have been a female sidhe.

      I tightened my jaw, bit down on my lip and turned away. Honey and Jack flew over to me and Adan followed.

      “What are you going to do, Domino?” Honey whispered.

      I stared at her, blinked and ground my teeth. “I will not put that fat son of a bitch down.”

      “We don’t have a choice, Domino,” Adan said. “You know what will happen if we don’t.” He tried to put his arm around me but I jerked away.

      “Honey, you and the other fey see what you can do. Save the ones that are still alive, then patch up the dead the best you can.” I pointed to Anton. “Start with him.”

      I walked to the center of the dance floor and looked around. “Listen up,” I said. “Those of you who died tonight, you’re going to start getting hungry. You know the drill—you’ve all seen enough fucking zombie movies. You’re going to want human flesh. You’re going to need it.”

      I paused and looked at Anton. “You can have all you want,” I said quietly, and then I looked out at the survivors again. “Eat up. It might keep your bodies intact, keep you more or less human. But there’s only one place you can feed. If I find you anywhere else, I put you down.”

      “Where should we go, Domino?” Anton asked. “I’m hungry already.”

      “You go find Mobley and his boys, Anton.”

      Adan came up behind me and whispered in my ear. “Domino, no, you can’t do this. You don’t even know Mobley was responsible for that thing.”

      I turned and looked at him, and whatever he saw in my eyes made him step back. “I know,” I said. “I tasted his fucking juice on it.”

      I turned back to Anton and nodded. “Go on,” I said, and smiled. “Pig out.”

      four

      The dream had become a nightmare, and now the party turned into a war council. Oberon had converted an unused storage space in the back of the club into a conference room. Terrence, Adan and I followed him in and joined the fairy king and his queen at the long, rectangular table.

      “Who’s Fomoiri?” I asked when we were seated. “It’s a demon, isn’t it?”

      Oberon nodded. “Not who, what. A Fomorian. It is what some of your kind call the Firstborn.”

      I’d always thought demons were fallen angels, but Mr. Clean claimed they were actually Preadamites—the first race given souls and granted dominion over the earth. According to the jinn, they lacked empathy, conscience, the knowledge of good and evil, and so they had become corrupted and were cast out of the mortal world.

      It seemed they were back.

      “They are an ancient race,” the king said. “An ancient enemy.”

      “Francis Mobley brought it here,” I said. “A summoning of some kind.”

      Oberon looked at me and his face went hard. “No, Domino. You brought it here. Your actions on behalf of this man,” he said, gesturing at Terrence, “brought this thing into my house. Your efforts in defense of my queen do not absolve you of that crime.”

      “Ain’t got nothing to do with Domino,” Terrence said. “Mobley sent that thing after me.” Terrence’s Egyptian costume was gone, and he reached a hand inside his jacket. He pulled out a fancy parchment envelope and threw it on the table. “I guess I didn’t invite myself here tonight.”

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