Around Morthisal, the party was still in full swing, with boisterous voices, glasses clinking, and laughter, and someone seemed to be singing an old show tune off-key. It was a special kind of torture.

  The man who knew Morthisal’s true identity didn't move, just studied Morthisal. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall as if he had all the time in the world.

  "Who are you?"

  The man smiled. "Someone who's been here longer than you." He glanced back toward the party. "You're not exactly blending in quietly in this world. Most of us have kept our heads down. Hidden in this strange place, asking questions every day. How did we get here? Why are we here? And how do we get back?"

  "Get back?"

  The man nodded.

  "Stop speaking in riddles, for I know not what you mean," Morthisal bluffed coldly, drawing as much power as he could muster into a fresh thread. He slid his hand into his pocket, found the TENS unit control, and cranked it as high as it would go. Dozens of tiny needles bit into his skin as the machine that was designed to eliminate muscular and nerve pain fed his need for power.

  "Yes, you do." The man's smile faded. "I felt it, Morthy."

  Morthisal lashed out with an even stronger thread this time. Once again, it was like striking a steel barricade with a silk thread.

  "Who are you?"

  The man's smile remained fixed. "David Reeves. Though I went by Draeven Ashmark in another life."

  "I know of no one by that name." Draeven Ashmark was a Mythralon name if Morthisal had ever heard one.

  "Sure, you don't." David pushed off the wall and stepped closer. "I've been stuck on this cursed rock for almost thirty years. Ripped out of my body and dumped into a nine-year-old kid named David Reeves. Chicago. 1994. Do you have any idea what that's like? Being a grown man trapped in a child's body? Having to go through puberty again? Sitting through middle school while remembering battles and spells and real power? I once served in a powerful court, not yours. A competitor, you could say. Gone by now, I'm sure. Your conquest was ruthless."

  Morthisal released the thread he'd prepared.

  Morthisal snapped. "What is it you want? I am a busy man, and people are waiting on me."

  The other man chuckled.

  "Are they now?" David crossed his arms. "I want to go home."

  "Install a ride share app."

  "Not that home, and you know it. I want to go back, and you're going to help me."

  Don't be ridiculous." Morthisal drew closer to the man so he could lower his voice. There was no point in hiding who he was anymore. "I do not possess anywhere near that amount of power. This request is utterly ridiculous. Now step aside."

  "Hear me out. Please?"

  Morthisal frowned, but then realized he could learn much from this man. "How are you able to shield yourself from my powers?" Morthisal kept his voice low. The party continued around them. Music pounded. People laughed. No one paid attention to two men talking in a hallway. "You are like a ghost. Not even there."

  David's smile widened. "I won't reveal the extent of my abilities. But know this, Morthy. I've had thirty years to hone them. Thirty years of practice, thirty years for them to grow, while you've been playing dress-up for a few months. I've learned things that you haven't even imagined."

  "That answer is not helpful. It also sounds like a bluff."

  "Talk to me in thirty years, if you survive that long. I am willing to teach you, provided you are willing to help me."

  Morthisal frowned at this idiot's request. How in the worlds would he be able to help this man? His powers were limited and certainly incapable of casting a spell such as the one that had led him here. Thalindra might have better luck.

  Morthisal moved to push past him.

  David's hand shot out and grabbed Morthisal's arm. His grip was strong. Unnaturally so.

  "You'll help me get back to our world. If you don't, I’ll make sure you meet a painful end here. I've waited too long and worked too hard to let some upstart necromancer ruin my chance at getting home."

  Morthisal slapped the hand aside. The contact sent a jolt through his arm. He turned and walked away without another word.

  "I'll be in touch soon," David called after him.

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  Morthisal didn't respond. He rounded the corner and merged back into the crowd. The TENS unit still buzzed against his skin. He reached into his pocket and lowered the power.

  When he glanced back, the hallway stood empty.

  Morthisal needed help, but contacting someone would have to wait until tomorrow. For now, Morthisal straightened his jacket and walked back toward the noise and light of Levi Blackwood's party.

  Serena found him near the bar, where he'd ordered another Sex on the Beach to steady his nerves. The attention these self-obsessed partygoers had showered on him had slowed considerably as they had obviously moved on to something else, as evidenced by the cackles of Levi above and the following laughter from his court.

  "There you are," Serena said as she drew close and leaned on the bar. "You were quite a hit."

  "I am glad you enjoyed my performance."

  Morthisal's phone buzzed in his pocket.

  She put her hand on his shoulder. "Honey. If you bring that energy tomorrow, you'll get the part. I'm tempted to call the producer right now and get you signed tonight."

  Morthisal ignored his phone and turned to regard her hand. She withdrew it and stepped closer. Her perfume was floral and not altogether unpleasant. She was lovely this close up. Her makeup was subtle, meant to emphasize her large, animated eyes and perfect cheekbones.

  "Wanna get out of here?" Serena leaned closer and whispered in his ear. "I can have my car brought up."

  Morthisal held up his hand, one finger extended to forestall her, and drew his phone out of his pocket as it buzzed once again.

  He found a message from Yvette.

  We have a bungalow reserved for the weekend at The Hotel Bel-Air. Your name is on the room.

  Morthisal was not certain what 'a bungalow' involved, but if Serena had paid for it, the location would be top of the line. He lifted his phone and typed back.

  I am counting the hours. Serena has asked if I want to 'get out of here.'

  "Am I interrupting something?" Serena asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

  "My girlfriend," Morthisal replied and returned to his phone.

  Serena's mouth dropped open. Then she shook her head and smiled.

  She did what? I don't know, Vince. Maybe you should take her up on that. Hell, I'd probably take her up on that.

  Morthisal chuckled and dropped his phone back in his pocket, but not before Serena got a look at the screen.

  "You snake!" She laughed. "I saw her name. You and her really are a thing, aren't you?"

  "I have no comment."

  "That's my line." Serena laughed and leaned in, planting a light kiss on his cheek. "Look, I'll see you tomorrow. I'm going to go find some other trouble."

  She pulled back but stayed close, speaking directly into his ear over the music. She seemed all business, flirtatious attitude gone. "Jordan's really interested now. Expect to see her at the audition tomorrow, probably with papers to sign. As you know, the role pays scale, but don't let that discourage you. Tell the producer you'll discuss salary with your agent. You might be able to negotiate other perks. Better trailer, car service, higher per diem."

  Morthisal nodded, making a mental note to look up what half of those terms meant. "I would appreciate it if my relationship with Yvette Sterling was not mentioned."

  "I've been in the headlines since I was sixteen. Your secret's safe." Serena winked. "Can I ask you something, though?"

  "Certainly."

  She glanced around, then moved closer, lowering her voice as much as the pounding music would allow. "What's she really like? Yvette, I mean."

  Morthisal grinned. "She is smart, driven, and absolutely ruthless in business."

  Serena nearly choked on her drink. "Ruthless?"

  "She is also beautiful, intelligent, and—"

  "Filthy rich," Serena finished with a grin.

  Morthisal inclined his head. "That goes without saying."

  Serena laughed and touched his arm. "And the fact that you're with her makes you even more interesting to people here. Hollywood loves a mystery, and you're a big one. Tongues will waggle."

  "Let them."

  Around them, the party reached a fever pitch. Someone dropped a glass. It shattered, followed by scattered applause. A woman shrieked with laughter near the windows. The music shifted to something with a heavier beat.

  Morthisal noticed several people glancing their way. Some whispered to their companions. Others simply stared.

  "They're watching us," he said.

  "They're always watching." Serena sipped her drink. "Get used to it. Once you're in, everyone wants to know who you're talking to, what you're drinking, who you're sleeping with."

  "Is this not a tedious existence?" The comparison to Morthisal's former court of sycophants and backstabbers was not lost on him. Not that any had lasted long. Still, the challenge of containing them had been delightful.

  "Welcome to Hollywood, honey."

  Serena's phone buzzed. She pulled it from her clutch and frowned at the screen. "I need to make an appearance upstairs. Levi's holding court in his screening room." She looked up at Morthisal. "You good on your own for a bit?"

  "I shall manage."

  Serena squeezed his hand. "Hey, Vince? Try to have fun. You look like you're preparing for battle."

  She disappeared into the crowd before he could respond.

  Morthisal scanned the crowd for the mysterious David, but the man was nowhere to be seen. He finished his drink and set the empty glass on a passing server's tray, pulled out his phone, ordered a rideshare, then made his way toward the entrance, hands clasped behind his back.

  The long driveway stretched before him, lit by soft landscape lighting. The sounds of the party faded with each step. Music became a distant thump. Voices turned to murmurs.

  David Reeves occupied his thoughts. The man's casual threat. His impenetrable mental defenses. Thirty years of practice, he'd said. Thirty years to hone abilities while Morthisal had had barely months.

  The paparazzi still lingered near the street, though fewer now. They paid him no attention as he walked past. Morthisal reached the street and stopped. His phone buzzed with the rideshare confirmation. Three minutes away.

  His eyes roved the area. Was David out there, right now, watching him?

  He looked back at the house. Light spilled from every window. Shadows moved behind glass. The party would continue for hours yet.

  David Reeves could be out there somewhere. Watching, planning, and Morthisal had no idea how to defend against someone whose power eclipsed his own.