I managed to drag myself to Hell’s Chapel the following day. Slinging beers and busting heads in the bar waited for no man—er, woman.

I was still exhausted and shuffling around rather than walking, but I was alive. That had to count for something. When I changed my bandage and reapplied Sorsha’s poultice, I noticed that the sickly blue energy still flickered around the edges of my wound. But between the poultice and potion, I felt well enough to get through the day.

I hoped.

I let Jezze drive me to work, my one concession to my health. Although, letting her drive felt like I was taking my life into my own hands. Downtown Orlando traffic during tourist season was bad enough, but pair that with an immortal witch who’d been born long before the automobile was invented and… yeah.

Imagine grandma driving if grandma still had the energy and temper of a woman in her early twenties.

“Get off the fucking road, ya geezer!” Jezze shouted out the window at a man centuries younger than her but who looked three times her age. She swerved in front of the poor old man, nearly launching into opposing traffic. I grasped the Oh Shit Bar overhead and wondered if Uncle Luc would be mad if I prayed to On High.

“Hey, hey, hey,” I glared at my friend. “Sick person in the car, remember?”

“Heh. Right.” Jezze eased her foot off the gas. A little.

By the time we got to Hell’s Chapel I was wishing Sorsha had given me an anti-nausea potion as well. Losing my lunch in the alley next to my bar—and the center of dem, gel, and tween happenings in Orlando—wasn’t something on the day’s to-do list.

I crawled from the SUV and into the building, not stopping until I reached my office. I settled into the chair behind my desk and hauled a stack of papers toward me. Since me and standing weren’t on friendly terms, I’d have to stick with inventory and payroll work instead.

Jezze began opening the bar for the day, working alongside Bergamot—a half-brownie hottie I’d hired a few years back—and Pepper, the new trainee we were grooming for an assistant manager position.

With all the times Jezze and I were called away from the bar to battle evil and save the day, we needed someone we could trust to run the bar. Berg did well with customers, but he wasn’t big on counting tills and closing paperwork.

I loved looking at the guy, but I needed him to do more than look pretty.

I was still in the back working on the books when the afternoon crowd slowly wandered in. Most were regulars, though we always got a few stray tweens wandering in when they passed through Orlando for one reason or another.

It was common knowledge that Orlando was my town by virtue of having the sharpest teeth, biggest bat, and a body full of “fuck off.” That made the bar more than just a place to kick back and have a few drinks. If someone in the area had heard something that might help us track down the source of the ghoul attacks, I wanted to be there to hear every word.

Around mid-afternoon my vision failed me and my surroundings blurred as I stared at the numbers on the page in front of me. Then the hallucinations took over, strange images flashing across my sight. It was almost as if I was seeing through someone else’s eyes, though the brief visions were too blurry to make out clearly. Except, for a second I thought I saw a bar mug and bowl of peanuts in front of me.

Was my subconscious telling me it was time for a snack and a drink?

I left my office and peered into the bar. Several regulars sat at various tables around the room and one surly old troll sat at the bar staring into his drink. I wandered over to him and slid onto the stool at his side. My legs were a bit numb and threatening to give out.

He looked up at me, took a drink, and then wiped his tusks with a paper napkin. “Sup?”

I shook my head and tried to clear my vision. A flash of white drew my gaze and I realized there were pale bandages along the troll’s arms.

“You okay?” I eyed the wrappings.

He followed my gaze and snorted. “Yeah. I heal fast. They probably stopped bleeding already.”

I nodded. Trolls had fast metabolisms like me. Most tweens had some kick ass healing abilities. It was why they were still in existence. Humans would attack and think their target was dead, allowing the tweener would get up and walk away while their backs were turned.

Except with this troll, I noticed fresh blood stains marring the bandages, the dark wetness spreading beneath my gaze. Something that should not be happening.

“So…” I raised my eyebrows. “You didn’t get attacked by a DayGlo ghoul, did you?”

His eyes widened. “How did you…?”

The troll swayed on his stool and I reached for him, my hands wrapping tightly around his wrists. I fought to keep him on the stool, but in my weakened state, his weight was more than I could handle and we crashed to the ground together, the troll’s beer splashing over us both as the mug rolled across the bar’s hardwood floor.

I struggled to sit up and leaned over the troll. I carefully peeled away one of his bandages and cursed at what I found.

His wounds flickered with a familiar blue light.

“Jezze!” I yelled for the bar witch. “Get Sorsha on the phone!”

I dug in my pocket and yanked out one of the healer’s potions. I forced the troll’s mouth open and poured the contents in, hoping it would make it down. He coughed and sputtered, and I held his jaw closed to get him to swallow what remained.

Bergamot shoved the first aid kit toward me and I worked on cleaning the troll’s wounds, applying Sorsha’s poultice to them. The troll’s body shook, and the blue glow spread through his veins, lighting him from inside out. The color snaked across his body, crawled up his neck and stretched across his face in a sickening spider web of infection.

He coughed blood and I backed away, not sure what else I could do for him. Splatters of blood flicked onto the wooden floor, and it shimmered with blue light from within.

Fuck.

I reached behind my back and wrapped my fingers around that dagger I always kept within reach. I hoped I wouldn’t have to use it, but the troll wasn’t dying. He was being transformed. His nails extended into sharp claws and his eyes snapped open, revealing a deep shimmering glow. His skin lightened and turned as pale as maggots.

The infection throbbed within his lumpy body, turning him into the same kind of ghoul that had attacked him. If it spread much further I’d have no choice but to put him out of his misery before he rose again, craving flesh.

Jezze whipped a small packet out of her bag and stood over the troll. She sprinkled sparkling dust over the man, whispering words of magic as she pulled on her inner power.

But it was too late.

Sorsha rushed into the bar, her bag slung across her body and ready to work, but the troll…

Stopped breathing.

I raised my dagger, my grip tightening as I prepared to cut off the troll’s head to keep him from rising again.

Only Sorsha’s voice stilled my hand. “Wait!”

She knelt opposite me just as she had the other day. She pulled out a pale crystal and placed it on the troll’s forehead before focusing on her healing. Her hands glowed so brightly I couldn’t look directly at the white light. Whatever the strange blue energy was, it had saturated his body completely.

I glanced at the other patrons. They’d gathered around in a loose circle, eyes on the troll while he transformed and died. I held the dagger tightly. I didn’t want to do this with an audience, but it didn’t look like I’d have a choice.

Sorsha snared my wrist and gave a small shake of her head. She whispered. “There’s another way to keep him from rising.”

I nodded but kept my dagger in hand. I trusted Sorsha, but I didn’t trust the person behind this chaos.

She returned to her healing and sprinkled herbs over the troll’s body. The blue energy suffusing the troll slowly vanished, draining away into the crystal. When it had fully faded, Sorsha took out a leather pouch and used it to retrieve the crystal without touching it. She tucked the small rock and pouch into a clay jar and then sealed the lid.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get here in time to save him.” The healer’s shoulders slumped.

I wiped my mouth on my sleeve. “It wouldn’t have mattered. He was too far gone.”

Berg helped me drag the troll’s body out of the bar. I’d call for disposal later, and I was almost thankful trolls weren’t big on families. I wouldn’t have to worry about a bunch of grieving relatives showing up on my doorstep demanding retribution. No proper funeral. Just an off the books cremation.

Like most tween deaths.

Most of the other customers left, too sickened by the troll’s death to stick around and finish their drinks. The only ones that remained were the true alcoholics that drowned their disgust in the bottom of a bottle.

I poured myself a glass of scotch. Sometimes the drunks had the right idea.