We stood in an alley outside a place I’d have walked past without even noticing—just another anonymous backdoor in a city full of forgotten corners. But the girls knew it. There was no sign, no velvet rope, no bouncer with a clipboard. Just an unmarked steel door at the end of a grimy alley that smelled like regret and dumpster juice.

  Eury knocked once, paused, then knocked twice more. A slit slid open at eye level, revealing a set of eyes that were definitely not human. A beat passed, and the door creaked inward.

  We stepped through.

  The world changed.

  The club reeked of sweat, bad decisions, and alcohol—so, basically, every club ever. But this one had an added layer. Something other: a scent like ozone and old spells. Alterkind. This wasn’t the kind of place you found by accident.

  The bass hit like a heartbeat, reverberating through my chest. Pulsing red lights strobed across the dance floor in an erratic rhythm, bathing the crowd in a glow that felt less like ambiance and more like blood in motion. Neon runes crawled lazily across the walls, shifting in loops that responded to movement, reacting to every pulse and sway of the bodies below. Above the bar, bottles floated in the air, drifting gently until unseen hands plucked them free and poured drinks that glowed faintly in the dark.

  It was the kind of place where you either belonged—or you didn’t.

  And I definitely did not.

  The proof was immediate. Ambient magic around me flickered and twitched like a short-circuiting circuit board. Floating bottles wobbled and clattered back onto shelves. Glamours hiccupped and stuttered mid-spell, revealing momentary flashes of scales or fangs or too many teeth. Heads turned. Especially one.

  Lily leaned in, her lips brushing my ear, breath warm and cinnamon-sweet despite the chaos. “If you so much as glance at that dancer the wrong way, you might not leave this place with your testicles.”

  I blinked. “That’s… a hell of a warning.”

  Euryale smirked, brushing past me through the crowd. “She’s right. Some of the girls here feed on specific things.”

  Elly brought up the rear, eyes sharp as they scanned the room. “One of them used to collect tips through her skin.”

  Lily nodded seriously. “I knew one who had tentacles instead of nipples.”

  I stopped in my tracks. “Wait. Are you telling me that stripper tassels were invented by an eldritch horror?”

  Elly nodded solemnly. “Think about it. Ever wondered why they spin so perfectly?”

  I stared. She grinned.

  Lily tugged me forward before I could fully process that horrifying implication. “Stay close,” she said. “And for gods’ sake, don’t let anyone think you’re unclaimed.”

  That had been the plan, more or less. They were supposed to mark me as theirs, at least figuratively, to keep predators at bay. But as we pushed deeper into the club—into the heat and sound and pulse of it—something rebellious sparked in the back of my brain. Something bold. Something so deeply stupid.

  Maybe it was the pressure. Maybe it was the overwhelming press of magic in every direction. Or maybe—just maybe—it was the Zima that called to me.

  Where they’d found the stuff, I had no idea. But it had been sitting on the bar, unloved, untouched, and somehow, I felt seen by it. One sip turned into three. I started buzzing. And then came the thought. The idea. The most brilliant, suicidal idea I’d had in hours.

  I stopped abruptly, spun on my heel, and hopped up onto the nearest empty table.

  The music didn’t stop. But some of the crowd did.

  Eyes turned. Some of them glowed. Some blinked in ways eyes shouldn't. One guy had a mouth on his forehead. I wish I were exaggerating.

  Lily, Eury, and Elly all turned toward me at once—unified in horror.

  I grinned.

  I raised the Zima like it was a holy relic and called out, “Alright, listen up, weirdos!”

  A few heads cocked. Several conversations died off. The bar’s ambient glamour hiccupped just a little more.

  “My name is Daniel Mercer,” I announced, arms out. “Yes, that Daniel with a five-star customer service rating. The one who kissed an elf and knocked the glamour right off her. Shut her powers down for three whole hours!”

  Elly began making frantic throat-cutting gestures. I kept going.

  “I’m the guy who breaks glamours, silences spells, and—” I glanced at the girls. “Well, let’s just say I’m not exactly housebroken.”

  A ripple moved through the crowd—half curiosity, half hungry interest.

  “You’re probably wondering why I’m here. Simple: this is my grand entrance.” I leapt down from the table, landing with a Zima-fueled swagger. “Some of you want me dead. Some of you want me caged. Some of you probably want to dissect me and see what happens if you poke me with a cursed dagger.”

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  I opened my arms wide. “Well now you know where I am.”

  Silence.

  Then—from somewhere deep in the club—a low, amused chuckle. It rumbled across the floor like distant thunder.

  I grinned wider.

  “I’m not just trouble, folks,” I said. “I come to offer a service. Ever get tired of being too magical? Want a taste of what it’s like to be normal for a change? Want to walk through a crowd without accidentally hexing someone or drawing attention?”

  I held up my Zima like a mic drop. “One smooch from yours truly, and your powers take a nap. Glamours? Gone. A couple hours of breathing normie air like the rest of us.”

  A figure stepped forward from the shadows.

  Not vampire. Not fae. Something else. Something wrong around the edges.

  “Prove it,” she said. Or he. Or it. Hard to tell. The voice came out like layered chords—multiple people speaking at once.

  I turned to the girls.

  Elly was rubbing her temples like she was physically restraining the urge to commit a crime.

  Euryale looked as if she were reliving a thousand years of regrettable decisions.

  Lily just sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  I absolutely did not.

  But I winked anyway, turned back to the creature, and said, “Alright then. Pucker up, hot lips.”

  The club pulsed with an unnatural energy, bass reverberating in my chest like the heartbeat of something ancient. And yet, everyone—everything—seemed to have held their collective breath, waiting to see what would happen next. I felt like a walking steak dinner in a den of wolves. Except the wolves were hotter. Hungrier. Some of them had extra limbs. One had wings. One had a halo that flickered like faulty neon. Another was smoking a cigarette that whispered in Latin every time he exhaled.

  Euryale leaned in, her serpentine locks coiling slightly in agitation. “If you’re going to do this, commit.”

  “What exactly am I agreeing to kiss?” I whispered to my nearest girl gal pal. I had to be sure. I had standards—most of them involved not having my face dissolve off my skull.

  “A Dopplegeist,” Euryale whispered.

  “That’s a mouthful,” I muttered.

  Elly rolled her eyes, but it was Lily who hissed, “Stop stalling. This is your moment. You own this.”

  Right. Own this.

  I turned back to the creature in front of me—the Dopplegeist. A humanoid shape that flickered like bad reception on a busted antenna. Faces twisted and rotated in and out of reality: male, female, neither, both. One face had golden scales instead of skin. One had no mouth at all. And they spoke in chorus, every overlapping voice laced with challenge and curiosity.

  “Do you hesitate, Null?”

  The voices sent a shiver straight down my spine. It felt like I was in a mirror maze where the reflections could talk back—and they were unimpressed.

  But I forced a smirk. “Just making sure this doesn’t end with my soul in a jar somewhere.”

  The Dopplegeist chuckled. Or maybe five of them did. The laughter layered around me like wind through leaves—sharp, cold, rustling reality.

  Then they stepped closer. One step. Another.

  All at once, the flickering stopped. Five realities collapsed into one. The illusion—or was it even an illusion?—stabilized, condensed.

  Sharp cheekbones. Smooth skin that shimmered faintly, like oil across water. Eyes too large to be human, too deep to be fake. Hair that curled and floated in defiance of gravity. Every feature seemed fluid, not androgynous so much as inclusive, like they were all the things they’d ever been—and were choosing, just for now, to be this.

  They leaned close.

  And for the first time, their voice was a single tone. Low. Musical. Heavy with power.

  “Come then, Null. Show me what it is to be trapped.”

  The girls were watching. The club was watching. Even the bar had paused—liquor bottles hovered mid-pour, glasses suspended in air like frozen rain.

  And so, with a deep breath that tasted like Zima, magic, and the very real risk of being eaten alive, I closed the gap.

  And kissed her.

  Them.

  The Dopplegeist shuddered the second we touched. They shuddered.

  Because for one impossible second, I wasn’t kissing a single person.

  I was kissing five.

  Five mouths. Five versions. Five tethers to different timelines and outcomes. Each one with its own pressure—one hesitant, one forceful, one teasing. One with lips too cold. One warm as summer stone. One of them may have been a dude, and I had a lot of questions about how that worked metaphysically, but I didn’t pull back. Not until the universe did it for me.

  It all snapped together.

  Like a camera lens clicking into perfect focus.

  The flickering stopped entirely. The chorus went quiet. The air stilled.

  In the Dopplegeist’s place stood a single person—whole, grounded. Their skin was still faintly luminous, like candlelight beneath the surface. Their eyes glimmered like dark water, not human, but focused. Present.

  They looked at me with wonder.

  Then they did something I wasn’t prepared for.

  They laughed.

  One voice. Their voice. Soft and bright and tinged with awe.

  “This must be what it’s like…” they murmured, fingertips brushing their own jaw, then their arms, then their chest. “To be still.”

  The spell broke.

  The music resumed like someone had hit unpause on the world.

  ? I kissed a girl and I liked it… ?

  I groaned as laughter exploded around us. Of course that’s what was playing. Some sadistic god of DJs was clearly behind the booth.

  And then I saw it—the line.

  It wasn’t a joke.

  A line had formed. An actual, honest-to-Gods line.

  A centaur in a velvet vest, idly rolling a toothpick between his lips. A fae in a gown made of living petals, gently fanning herself. A vampire smoothing back his platinum hair while dabbing his fangs with a napkin dipped in something red. A woman with glass bones and insect wings, her smile just a bit too wide. Even a troll wearing a sequined halter top and holding a vape pen.

  All of them.

  Waiting.

  The Dopplegeist—now singular—turned to me with a warm smirk. They leaned in, breath brushing the shell of my ear.

  “I am Sélis,” they said, and I knew the name was real. A gift. “And I thank you for this gift. We shall be friends, I think.”

  A shiver ran down my spine, not from fear, but from sheer weight. A supernatural entity giving you their name was not nothing.

  I turned to my girls.

  Elly was already smirking, arms crossed. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To come out?”

  Lily added, “You did offer your services.”

  Euryale sipped her drink, looking smug. “Well, hero? Pucker up.”

  I sighed, rubbed my temples, and accepted the chapstick Eury offered.

  I paused to look at it. “Cherry? Seriously?”

  She just shrugged, one perfectly arched brow raised. “If the shoe fits…”

  I turned back toward the waiting line. A dryad was already stepping forward, her skin like polished bark, flowers blooming along her collarbone in slow motion. Behind her, a woman with hair made entirely of smoke gave me a wink.

  I was in so far over my head, but I’d made my choice. And somehow, I’d seized my destiny.

  I popped the cap, applied the cherry balm. Then I squared my shoulders and faced the crowd, feeling ready to face down an army of darkness.

  "For Frodo," I muttered, and stepped forward into madness, letting the smooching begin.