I hit his shoulder.
“But fine. I’ll tell you.” Krys steers the car into the parking lot of a small, isolated building that has seen better days.
Graffiti covers the brick walls, and the shutters have been drawn tight over the windows, allowing no light in or out. Hundreds of motorcycles line the entrance—though a dozen or more of them topple over when Krys purposely parks his car on top of them.
“Um. You just hit a motorcycle…or two.” Or twelve.
Krys chuckles darkly and throws open the door, scratching a thirteenth motorcycle beside our car.
“Oh, did I?” He blinks his eyes at me innocently.
Hurrying to follow after him, I open my own passenger door and cringe when it dings the side of a bike parked beside us. At first, I think I got away with doing minimum damage, but to my horror, the bike sways precariously before toppling on its side…and hitting the motorcycle beside it.
What happens next can only be described as the domino effect. Bike after bike falls with a deafening crash as I stand there, gawking, my face flushed and chest heaving.
Krys materializes beside me and slings an arm over my shoulder. “That’s my girl.”
“That was totally an accident,” I blurt, cringing.
Krys throws his head back in laughter. “Sure it was, shortstack.”
He begins to guide me towards the entrance, but I dig my heels in, not wanting to meet the owners of the bikes I just destroyed.
“Krys, I think we need to go.”
“Nonsense.” He waves away my worries with a literal flick of his wrist. “This is where we’re supposed to be.”
“But…” I bite down on my lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
Before I can conjure up another argument, Krys kicks the door to the bar open—literally kicks it. The wood cracks and shatters, swinging on rusty hinges.
Almost immediately, one hundred faces whip in our direction, teeth bared.
Oh…
Oh fuck.
They’re all some type of supernatural.
Gorgons and fae and elves and shifters and vampires and demons and werewolves and witches.
“Krys.” I tug on his shirt sleeve, suddenly desperate to get out of here.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up, and goose bumps pebble on my skin.
Every alarm bell in my head screams “DANGER” over and over again.
“Don’t worry, shortstack.” Krys gives my arm a commiserating pat before stepping away. Then, his voice louder, he calls out, “Which one of you ass-sucking bitches owes me money?”
Yup.
We’re dead.
Wait.
Can I even die?
I’m certain I’m about to find out.
