Page 24 of Dead Serious Halloween Special

“Hate to break it to you, Puck, but we’re in the middle of Whitechapel. There aren’t exactly a lot of sharks around here.”

“He’s a magical creature. You think that’s going to stop him? Believe me, he can get very creative.”

“Great,” I say sourly.

“I’m sorry, human, but you’re screwed,” Puck laments. “I do feel a little bad about that.”

“Yeah, well,” Aidan pipes up. “Don’t be so sure we’re screwed. He may be a fairy-tale villain or whatever, but we have a Grim.”

“What’s a Grim?” Puck asks curiously, his little pointed ears perking up.

Feeling a shiver run down my spine, I look up into the night sky and watch as the tiny pinpricks of starlight momentarily disappear behind a large, dark shadow.

“Oh.” My mouth curves slowly. “I think you’re going to find out very soon.”

“Holy shit, they were actually serious?”

Aidan’s voice shakes from behind me.

I can’t see him as we are currently standing back to back at the end of a rather sturdy-looking plank hanging over the side of the huge pirate galleon. We both still have our hands and feet bound in ropes of the finest Persian weave.

“Oh, would you look at that?” I murmur, looking down. “Sharks.”

Thirty-something feet below us circle three ominous fins. There’s no water; instead, the grey concrete ripples and churns as if it were liquid. At this point, I’m not sure what’s worse, plunging to our deaths and hitting solid concrete or finding the concrete is not solid and being eaten by whatever is attached to those fins.

“Tristan Frankie Everett Hayes, you have been sentenced to death for the crime of using The Gospodar to trap and imprison fairy-tale persons. How do you plead?”

“Fuck off,” I call out.

“Tristan,” Aidan hisses.

“What? There’s not really any point in arguing with October’s cover model forBig Boys in Bootsover there, or his peppy little holiday rep sidekick,” I reply.

“You’re starting to sound like Chan.”

“It comes from hanging out with him and Dusty for too long. I think I’ve lost my filter, plus my world perspective is somewhat skewed now.”

“I don’t want to die,” Aidan says in a quiet voice.

“Oh, sweetheart, no. I wish I could hug you, but I swear to you, nothing bad will happen to you. Granted, circumstances are not exactly optimal right now?—”

“Not exactly optimal?” Aidan blurts incredulously. “Tristan, we’re tied up and being forced to walk the plank like the end sceneofThe Goonies.”

“That’s what it reminds me of!” I let out a laugh. “It’s been bugging me.”

“Oh, I’m so glad I could put your mind at rest,” he says sarcastically.

“I don’t think I’m the only one starting to sound like Chan,” I point out.

“HEY, YOU GUYS!” a loud voice rings out.

“Wow, Aidan, that sounded just like Sloth. Very impressive,” I mutter.

“That wasn’t me.”

I lookup into the rigging to see two figures grasping ropes and about to swing from the cross section of themain mast.

“Is that”—my eyes narrow as I try to focus—“Thor and… Shirley Temple?”