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That was a level of sarcasm and loathing she’d never heard out of Gideon before. She let go of Harry to turn to look quizzically at the white-haired man. “What the hell is the problem with you two?”

Gideon smiled at Harry. It wasn’t a kind expression. “I have no ‘problem’ with our dear hero. He is the one who barged into my home, started screaming up a storm, and woke you up out of the rest you so desperately need.”

Harry stepped around her to face down the doctor. “You abducted her, you half-rate Jafar.”

“No, I saved her from being abducted.” Gideon pointed at Harry. “And that’s racist, and you know it.”

Harry folded his arms across his chest as the two of them bickered. “Whatever. I didn’t take an Uber. I rented a car. Mags, I have your stuff. We’re leaving.”

“I—uh—” She felt lost on the side of the road. Like she was just watching traffic whiz past her with no concept of what was happening. “Everybody slow the hell down for a second. I have an undead rat snoozing in my hoodie, and I would like some answers as to how that’s fucking possible. And why.”

Gideon sighed. “I told Algernon to leave you be. I apologize, he is…he’s missed you dearly.” He smiled at her, the expression both hopeful and a little bit forlorn. “I am relieved to see you aren’t upset by this. Are you all right?”

“I’m upset. I’m really upset. I’m just not having a fit, if that’s what you’re asking.” She took a step back away from both of them. Something cold came over her as she realized something. She felt like she was sinking. Oh, no. Please, no. She almost didn’t want to know. But she was sick of being left in the dark. “Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t seem too confused by my statement about an undead rat.”

Her friend’s jaw ticked. He was glaring a hole at Gideon.

“Yes, Hero, why don’t you explain to our dear princess why you’re not shocked and horrified?” Gideon leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. He smirked in defiance of the man who was looking at him like he was trying to set him on fire with his mind. “Do tell.”

“Fuck you, Gideon. Fuck you sideways with a telephone pole.” Harry clenched his fists. “This is all your fault.”

“It always is.” The doctor lifted a single shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “When is that anything new?”

“What the fuck is going on?” She clenched her own fists. “Will somebody actually take the time to explain something to me for once? Or else I’m going to stab both of you to find my own goddamn answers.”

The white-haired doctor frowned. “Let me serve dinner, we can all sit down and talk—”

“No.” She lifted her chin. “I want answers now.”

Gideon laughed and shut his eyes. “Very well. As always, your wish is my command. No, my dear Marguerite, the visions you suffer are not products of your imagination.” With a long, tired sigh, he pushed away from the counter and walked to the kitchen table. He picked up his cane where it was leaning against the surface. He turned it thoughtfully over in his hands, eyeing the silver vulture sculpture perched atop the dark, cloudy crystal. “You asked me earlier today whether or not I am a necromancer, didn’t you, princess?”

“I did…” She furrowed her brow. Where was he going with this? The rat and the vulture she had seen were already proof that he was.

He held his cane like a baseball bat, close to the end. Before she, or Harry, could react…he swung it for Harry’s head.

Thwack.

She recoiled, her hands covering her mouth, as she felt a fresh wave of terror and horror rise in her. Just when she thought she wasn’t going to panic. Just when she thought she could face this new impossible reality with some semblance of grace…she found out why Harry didn’t seem surprised.

Namely, because Harry’s head fell off.

“Tah-dah,” Gideon announced flatly.

A jawless skull, yellowed and worn, stained by rotted flesh that had long since turned to dust, rolled to a stop at her feet.

A skeletal frame wearing Harry’s clothing—now draped loosely over the bony structure instead of the muscular man who had been there a second before—pointed a fleshless, decrepit finger at Dr. Gideon Raithe. “You’re a fucking asshole, Gideon.” The voice came not from the head at her feet, but from the skeleton itself. Somehow.

The doctor smiled sweetly back at the headless skeleton. “Yes, Hero. I know.”

Maggie screamed.

And ran out the front door as fast as her feet could carry her.

“Marguerite!”