Page 29 of Land of Monsters

“Master Ash! Master Ash! You’re awake!”

“Please tell me I’m still high,” I grumbled, my eyes fully opening, seeing a brownie standing on my chest. Not even a foottall, his nose dominated his heart-shaped face, thick brown hair spiking up in a mohawk, and a bushy beard plaited with ribbon.

Opie.

“Well, she definitely is.” He thumbed back to the tiny imp, her three-prong hands skimming the air like she could feel it, a chunk of mushroom stuck to the side of her head. She was half his size and looked like a bald Aye-Aye.

“Fuuuuuccckkk,” I moaned, pinching my nose and taking a deep breath.

“It looks like you did plenty of that last night,” Opie replied, wiggling his thick eyebrows—one had a sticker gem attached to it. Opie was a house brownie Brexley met in Halálház. His kind were known to clean, but Opie wasn’t like a normal brownie, nor was his best friend, Bitzy. She was a cantankerous, grouchy imp who rode in a backpack on Bitzy’s back and flipped everyone off.

Though when she was high, Bitzy turned into this happy, mellow, smiling thing.

Freaked me the fuck out.

Chirrrpppppp!She wiggled her hands around like something was there.

“Lies!” Opie huffed, his disproportionately large foot stomping on my ribs.

Chirp. Chirrrrp!

“I’m telling you it was—”

“A misunderstanding,” I finished for him. “Yes, we all know.”

“Well, it was!” He pointed his finger at me. “And you shouldn’t talk. How good could you be if they didn’t even stick around for morning bumpies?” He nodded to the empty spot next to me.

I sat up, tumbling the brownie onto my lap with a cry. A jumble of memories from the night before came back to me. I recalled almost blacking out when I was coming down Raven’sthroat, our guest leaving while I cleaned her up and put her to bed.

Next to me.

“Why doesn’t anyone warn a brownie before they do that?” he grumbled, standing up and straightening his outfit—an outfit made with gold silk.

“Oh gods… tell me you didn’t?” I climbed out of bed, reaching for my boxer briefs. The cut-up fabric he weaved through his beard and mohawk looked identical to what Maestro wore last night.

“What?” Opie flounced the golden fabric he had bowed on his spiked hair, a red pleasure feather sticking out of one of them on top. He wore a deck of cards from the gambling table, fanned out in a pleated skirt, and I was pretty sure he used a whip from the party room as a strange halter top. Bitzy had more parts of the whip bound up her arms, her torso wrapped in the gold silk like a one-piece bathing suit. “You don’t like?”

I learned to never say no to this question.

“It’s great,” I groaned. “But what the hell are you doing here?” Yanking on my pants, I couldn’t stop looking at the rumpled sheets. The cum stains still streaked the duvet, the spot where her head had lain still imprinted on the pillow. Where was she? Another thought hit me, dropping anxiety into my gut. “Wait.” I froze, looking between the two sub-fae, my muscles locking up. “You. Are. Here.”

“Good on ya for spotting that one.” Opie folded his arms. “And here I thought you were the wise one of the group.”

Cccchirp!

“Right?” Opie motioned to me, answering whatever Bitzy said. “Maybe his brain leaked out of hisexceptionallylarge dick. Not that I noticed… or saw… or touched.”

Chhhirp!

“No, I didn—”

“Is Brexley here?” I interrupted, looking around like she would jump out. If Brexley was here, it meant Warwick was too, and probably the rest of the group.

“Did you not grasp our outfits?” Opie motioned down like it was obvious. “We’re spies.”

“Spies?” I stared at his gaudy outfit. “How the hell would I get spies from that?”

“We blend in.” He pretended to be melding in with the space around him.

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