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CHAPTER 2

I stoodin the eye of the storm—or ground zero. The scene was calm now the riot of ricocheting balls had passed, but it had left a swathe of destruction behind.

Victor arrived and casually assessed the carnage while the rest of us checked for mortal wounds. “I see.”

“It was Adam.” Zee pointed. His wings had popped out during the pandemonium, probably from shock.

Victor sighed.

“It happened so fast,” I admitted.

“Was it an accident, perchance?” Victor asked.

“It was exactly that.”

A distraught manager sprinted toward the carnage and stood on a bouncy ball. Her bottom half went up, her top half fell. Victor, being the dashing sort, caught her before she could break her neck and cause the well-known Scandinavian furniture company to sue us for manslaughter.

“Why leave a million bouncy projectiles where they might explode?!” Zee whined, clutching his tail, probably to prevent it from whipping up more damage.

Victor righted the woman on her feet. She huffed and straightened her uniform. “Sir, sirs!? Why did you molest the balls?”

“Excuse-moi.” Zee dropped his tail and realigned his wings with a ruffle. “The balls molested us.”

She gaped at the scene. “How is this level of destruction even possible?”

“It’s a skill,” Victor said, unhelpfully. “As you two are clearly enjoying yourselves, I have a shopping list to complete.” He strode off, wheeling the bright yellow basket behind him.

“You’d better still have my spiky dick in there!” Zee called.

“His . . . uh . . . He means his cactus,” I told the manager. Which didn’t sound any better, honestly. I wasn’t sure she cared anyway. She continued to eye the debris and clutter, twitching every few seconds, traumatized by the destruction.

I began picking up some balls, but with nowhere to put the lethal little things, I quickly stuffed them into my pockets. I’d find somewhere to stash them later. “So . . . uhm . . . I guess, Zee, we should maybe . . . uh . . . just . . . get the thing for the thing . . .” Sidestepping toward the kids’ bedroom displays, I beckoned Zee to hurry up, and together we scooted away, leaving the manager twitching and muttering to herself.

“Nobody died,” Zee mumbled. His wings fizzed away, dusting purple sparks behind him as they vanished.

“I know, right? It was just a few balls.”

“It’s not our fault they exploded.”

“Exactly.”

We ambled on, oohing over various displays of kitchen cutlery and wall art, then into the drapes section with its enormous floor-to-ceiling curtains on racks. Gremlins had eaten most of our curtains during the last few weeks, meaning we did need a few more, and they weren’t on Victor’s list so this was something useful we could do.

I studied some of the tall racks, looking at colors and thickness. And price. Yikes.

“Hey, Kitten? Where’d the arrows go?”

Stepping back from the curtains, I scanned the shiny floor around us for the guiding arrows. There didn’t appear to be any nearby. There weren’t any signs leading the way either. “We’ll just head back the way . . . we came . . .” If I could remember it. The shelves of cushions and rows of curtains all looked the same. “Didn’t we take a left at the cow cushion?”

“Yeah . . .” Zee shrugged. “That was right over—” He poofed away, was gone a few beats, and poofed back to my side. “Nope. Not back there. Maybe over there?” He pointed toward a gloomy section of the store.

“It’s fine . . .” I picked an aisle and headed down it. “These aisles all lead back to the same place anyway.” But the more we walked, the darker and sparser the aisles became. And where were the other shoppers?

A few minutes of walking past stacks of rugs, and it was clear the arrows had gone. “I don’t think we’re in the right part of the store anymore.”

“But we followed the fuckin’ arrows.” Zee worried his bottom lip between his sharp teeth.

The store lights dimmed and a disembodied voice came over the Tannoy. “Please note, this store will be closing in fifteen minutes. All shoppers please make your way to the checkouts.”