“Dawn, what’s the WiFi password again?”

  “D4WNRUL3Z42, all caps.”

  “Thank you.”

  The Reaper searched for the game Alexia told them to download, World of Sorcery. Based on their favorite card game, Sorcery: The Circle.

  Alexia peeked around the corner from the other room. “Did you get it, Gray?!”

  Gray was inspecting their laptop. “It costs eighty dollars and I can’t figure out where to put the gold.”

  “Right, I forgot. You don’t have real money, let alone a bank account. Here.” Alexia kissed Gray’s cheek. “Use my card.”

  They typed in the numbers, completed checkout, and the download began.

  “What is this again?”

  Alexia grinned. “It’s a massively multiplayer online role-playing game.”

  Gray smiled. “I like when we roleplay.”

  “Different kind of roleplay.”

  “Oh,” Gray said, disappointed. “Does that say twelve hours until complete?”

  “Yeah. There’s the base game, the expansions, millions of patches, spyware, malware, and a mini-game featuring a jellyfish and panda bear competing in cricket.”

  “That means we can’t play until tomorrow,” Gray said, half relieved. “Want to watch ‘My Name is Earl’?”

  A wicked grin spread across Alexia’s face. “I had other plans.”

  “Oh, that’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” They leaned in for a kiss.

  She grabbed their hand. “You’re a very important part of them.”

  Her nails tore the fabric of reality as she swiped the air. Grasping Gray’s hand, she pulled them through. “Thanks for giving me a key to your place.”

  “You’re welcome.” Gray looked around.

  People mingled, eating pink clouds, turkey legs, and pickles. Bells, whistles, beeps, and squeaks came from every direction. Children and parents held balloons. Seagulls picked at overflowing trash cans.

  “Where are we? Who is that?!” Gray pointed at a terrifying figure with an abnormally large nose, gigantic feet, and impossible hair. It seemed to enjoy terrifying small children.

  “This,” Alexia spread her arms wide, “is a carnival. And that,” she pointed at the child harasser, “is a clown. Among the most evil things to walk the Earth.”

  Gray shuddered.

  Alexia laced her fingers through Gray’s and pulled them along. “Let’s go!”

  They walked past booths with balloons, milk jugs, a tower with a giant hammer, a dragon carrying people along tracks, and a pen of smelly animals. They finally stopped in front of a stall with bowls full of fish.

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  “We’re going to win all of these fish.” Alexia gestured at the booth. “They just let them die if no one takes them.”

  Gray stared at the poor creatures, then thought about their friend, Fish Reaper, having to collect all those tiny souls.

  “Where are we going to put them all?”

  “Nowhere.”

  “You mean my house?”

  Alexia put on her best puppy-dog eyes. “Can’t you whip up a freshwater pond and a few rice paddies for these creatures unconstitutionally sentenced to death?”

  Gray watched them—the little gold ones swimming in circles, colorful ones with exquisite tails and fins staring at their reflections, clueless of what awaits them. Suddenly, their eye was drawn to one in particular: a shimmering black-and-silver beauty whose fins glided through the water with grace and dignity.

  “I will do it. But that one”—they pointed to the regal fish—“lives with me. I’ve always wanted a rice paddy in my room.”

  Alexia pulled Gray’s face to hers and they kissed deeply, long enough that the people around them began blushing and pointedly trying not to stare.

  “Ahem.”

  They looked over. The woman running the booth glared at the couple disapprovingly. “Are you going to play, or just rudely express your inexplicable passion for each other in front of my stall?”

  Alexia glared back. “We’re playing. And you shall not murder any fish tonight!”

  Gray smiled. “You’re picking up my vocabulary.”

  “I’ve been practicing,” she grinned.

  “Now, destroyer of fish”—she slapped fifty dollars on the counter—“give us all the balls.”

  “Give Us All the Balls—name of your sex tape,” the woman grinned, scooping up ping-pong balls with a pitcher and placing it in front of the couple.

  “Two hundred balls, two hundred fish. Go crazy, lovebirds.”

  “Okay, Gray, the goal is to get the ball into the fishbowl. Like this.”

  Alexia plucked a ball from the pitcher and lightly tossed it. The ball landed in the water, sending a ripple across the surface.

  “Winner, winner, your cat has dinner.” The booth attendant picked up the bowl, poured it into a plastic bag, spun it, then secured it with a rubber band before handing it to Alexia.

  “I think I get it.” Gray took a handful of balls, squinted, then tossed them. The balls spread out—three landed perfectly in their bowls. One bounced off a rim, catching another ball midair, and sent them both plopping into two more. The final one hit the backdrop, ricocheted off the attendant’s head, and fell neatly into another bowl.

  “That was great! I want to try a trick shot too.”

  Alexia grabbed a handful of balls, studied the booth, then tossed. Three bounced off each wall, collided in the middle, and dropped. Nine more bags of fish appeared in front of the couple.

  “This is really fun,” Gray said, filling each hand with ping-pong balls. They bounced all twenty on the counter, then flicked each one midair. They ricocheted around the stall, eventually finding their way into bowls.

  “It really is!” Alexia shouted. “But this is going to take too long. I got an idea.”

  She stared off, scratching her chin. Her eyes moved wildly, as if reading something. Alexia traced lines and shapes in the air, snagged the pitcher, and launched the rest of the balls. Over a hundred ping-pong balls shot out, bouncing off walls, corners, the center pole, and the stall attendant, each one landing in a bowl.

  The woman glared and began bagging the rest of the fish, mumbling curses.

  “How did you do that?” Gray asked.

  “I have synesthesia. I can see math problems in the air as if they’re written on paper.”

  Gray put an arm around her shoulders. “You just get more amazing every day.”

  She smiled and tore open a hole to Nowhere. “You’re not so shabby yourself.” She grabbed a few bags of fish and hauled them through the portal.

  Gray raised an eyebrow. “I work really hard on my hygiene and appearance. I shouldn’t be the least bit shabby.”

  “It’s an idiom.”

  Gray dragged a wheelbarrow through the opening and started filling it with their new friends. “It’s all Greek to me.”

  “I can’t wait to sit by the ponds and paddies, reading, drinking,” she smiled, “making out.”

  Gray nodded. “We did something good today—and saved Fish Reaper a lot of work.”

  The Adventures of Alison Alistair and River and the Bug. Please check them out.