“I squinted at the clock, sighing when I realized it was only 7 A.M. "Christ. Do you think the powers that be would mind if I asked them to make sure the next apocalypse takes place later in the day? Maybe around teatime?""Good luck with that.”

“If you masturbate, would that make you an incubator?”I eyed him sideways, struggling not to laugh at his nonplussed expression or the sharp bark of mock outrage that followed.”

“I wish you could see what I see when I look at you.”

“I had a naked incubus in my bedroom. With a frying pan of half-cooked bacon, and a hard-on. And a unicorn bite on his ass. Christ, this was turning out to be a weird morning.”

“Lok’tar ogar!” The daemon holding me pulled my head back, exposing my throat.“Victory or death,” I retorted at my captor hoarsely. “For the Horde. And for the record, shouting World of Warcraft battlecries kind of kills the whole ‘imminent death’ expectation.”The daemon paused. “What server are you on?” he demanded.“Blackhand.”“Righteous. Guild?”I couldn’t imagine what the hell that mattered at this point, but it was keeping me alive so that was a bonus. I’d gladly spit outthe rest of my Warcraft stats if it bought me a few more minutes.“Yeah,” I coughed. “ElfhunterBitches.”He blinked and then grinned, tapping himself on the chest. “No shit. I’m TartBarbie. Undead DeathKnight.”I stared at him. “TB? Seriously? I’m Baconator. Blelf Warlock. You did a hell of a job tanking on that raid the other night.”“Yeah, I am pretty awesome.” He glanced over his shoulder, releasing me. “Look, if I’d known it was you, I’d never haveagreed to this. Go on.” He nudged me with a leather boot. “I’ll tell them you got away.”I didn’t have to be told twice. “Thanks,” I said softly. “I’ll make it up to you, somehow.”“No worries.” He winked. “See you next Thursday.”

“Eh, I've always rather enjoyed being fashionably late." I picked up the violin case for Melanie, giving her an hug before clambering off the rock. "I feel like we should be leading a procession in, Pied Piper style.""I know just the thing." A hint of her old self peeked through her eyes.A moment later the first bars of "Safety Dance" hummed from the strings. I bit my lip trying not to giggle. Together the two of us broke out in lopsided chorus as I twirled about her. Ignoring the stares of the elves, we strutted up the center of the caravan, Brystion trailing behind us bemusedly.”

“Why do I suddenly feel like I'm on the Island of Misfit Toys?”