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I slammed it shut again and turned the key. Judging from McDongle’s face, and the way his overalls were all twisted up and torn, his assessment probably wasn’t good.

“Oh dear, Mr. Vex.” He slumped against the wall. “You really do have a problem.”

“Yeah. I probably should have called you sooner.”

“I can deal with the gremlins, but you’ll need a sorcerer for the portal.”

I blinked. “The what now?”

“A sorcerer. Licensed, of course. Can’t be doing business with those unlicensed psychopaths.” He pulled off his hat and swept back his thinning hair. “Lordy, that was intense.”

“No, wait. What? I know what a sorcerer is. Did you say portal?”

“Yeah, there’s no knowing what’s coming and going through that thing. You should probably close the hotel, just to be safe. Don’t want any guests getting sucked into it.”

“Close the hotel?” Oh dear.

McDongle straightened, and having recovered from his ordeal, he gave his round chin a stroke. “Mr. Vex, I haven’t seen an infestation this bad since the ’24 influx. I’m sorry to tell ya, this is going to be costly.”

“Right.” Of course it was. “Okay.” I needed to find Reynard and talk it through with him, since I’d spent my last five bucks on silencing a fortune teller at the market.

“Shall I get started?” he asked.

I winced. “You can start with the uh . . . portal, in there?”

“Not in there, I can’t. But I can scan the hotel and see exactly how bad the infestation is within its walls.”

“Right, okay, I guess.”

But first, I had to get a look at this portal. Unlocking the door, I peeked inside. Suspended by stretchy black strands over the bed, a pulsing blob of dripping, tar-like substance wobbled and beat like a huge, dark heart. The gremlins carried on, frolicking all over the place, oblivious to the tumor-like thing above their heads. You’d think a portal would suck the gremlins up . . . but no, that would have been helpful. Instead, I got a gremlin-friendly portal to nightmares, or wherever that thing went. It certainly didn’t look like an opening to somewhere full of rainbows and wildflowers.

Quietly, I clicked the door closed and locked it again. “Oh dear.”

I’d not had much to do with portals, but I had read about them in the Wilson’s Guide. Portals were unstable tears in reality, caused by chaotic supernatural energies—like static during storms that resulted in lightning. With no outlet, the friction in the atmosphere ignited, making small holes, or doorways. Sorcerers were generally the only beings powerful enough to syphon off such chaotic energy. They also had an anchor, somewhere to draw power from. But whatever was powering ours must have been anchored at its other end.

“Today is a great day!” Zee announced, poofing into the corridor in a cloud of purple sparks. He wore a striking black and red kilt, knee-high boots, and some kind of net-vest that looked as though it should be catching fish, not draped around his gorgeous physique. It certainly wasn’t hiding any of his defined muscles, or the suggestive arrow tattoo. “I am fucking great. Life is great. You’re fucking great.” He poked me in the chest and flicked my chin, making me smile, then spotted the exterminator. “Kinky boiler suit. I like it. Does it come with a whip?”

“Doug McDongle.” Doug extended his hand.

“McDongle?” Zee blinked. His mind lived in the gutter—wallowed there, made camp there and thrived—so it took some effort for him not to blurt out whatever sexual innuendo regarding dongles had lodged in his thoughts. “Your name is great. We’re all fucking great.” He glanced around us. “Why are we in the hallway?”

I gestured at my bedroom door. “We have a problem.”

“Lay it on me. I am immune to bad news. It is impossible to ruin my buzz.”

I glanced at Doug, who shrugged and said he’d get his gear then stomped off to begin his scans, trailing some kind of icky goo behind him and leaving me alone in the corridor with Zee.

“We may have to close the hotel,” I said, keeping my voice low.

Zee’s purpled-tinged black lashes fluttered. “Okay, that’s not great. But we’ll use the time to fix shit. There’s so much shit to fix. The elevator, the windows, the electrics, the plumbing, the decomposing corpse I stuffed up a chimney⁠—”

Woah. What? I laughed for the sake of anyone listening. “We definitely do not have that!” I called. I grabbed his arm and tugged him to one side. “Do you mean the, uh, candyman?”

“The fuck? Who the fuck is that? Wait . . . Say his name three times and bad shit happens . . . That guy?”

“Huh? No. The candy man?” I repeated, with added emphasis.

“Shh.” Zee pressed a finger to my lips. His eyes darted. “You can’t say his name again, and the walls have ears.”