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Just behind her was John-o’-the-Wisp, appearing as cocky as he had in his poster. My lip curled a little. He was grinning, looking entirely at ease already, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He nodded at the wrestlers on the couch, then glanced around the room with interest.

The shadowpeople duo, the Ghastly Boys—a ridiculous name, in my opinion—moved deeper into the room as one. They didn’t appear to be walking, instead floating as shadowpeople could do when not in their completely solid, humanoid form. They were wearing identical black jeans and oversized black hoodies with the hoods up. Shadows curled around them, hiding their faces completely except for the yellow glow of their eyes, which swept over us in sync.

The Beast of Burden brought up the rear, and all of us slowly looked up. He was enormous. Easily as tall as Corey, and perhaps even thicker in muscle and bulk. He, too, was wearing jeans and a hoodie, though his was sleeveless, and while the hood was up, it was the mask on his face that hid him.

He definitely wasn’t an orc, though I couldn’t figure out what he was as I eyed the murky, mottled green skin on his arms. His biceps bulged, even with his arms hanging by his sides. I noticed Gabe staring at them and practically salivating.

Once they’d all stopped, standing in a line, Holt cleared his throat.

“Everyone, meet our newest Goliaths.”

There was a chorus of murmured greetings, before Corey stepped forward.

“We’re delighted to have you join the team,” he said smoothly. “This is a very exciting time for Goliaths, with us expanding and growing so much. But we’re still a small family here, and we hope you’ll feel very welcome.”

“I’m very happy to become a part of it,” La Dame Blanche said in a thick French accent, flashing a warm smile that was at odds with her ghostly appearance. She was even paler in person, and I had been right—she was slightly translucent. Definitely a phantom.

“Can’t wait,” John-o’-the-Wisp said with a grin. I detected the hint of an accent on him too, and realised he was British—somewhere in the south of the country, by the sounds of it—when he added, “I came to watch once when I was on holiday here. It was bloody brilliant.”

“Oh, how wonderful.” Corey nodded with a bright smile.

Neither the Ghastly Boys nor the Beast of Burden said a word.

“Well.” Holt clapped his hands. “We can’t wait for you all to get started. I thought today would be a good opportunity for you to meet everyone before your first day. So… I guess everyone come up and introduces yourselves?”

Gabe was the first to move, eagerly striding forward and heading straight for the Beast of Burden.

“Hi,” he purred, holding out his hand. “Gabe. Incubus. Nunhallowed Pound. In an open relationship with that hunk over there.” He tilted his head toward Biff, who smirked and crossed his arms. “And what can we call you?”

The Beast of Burden hesitated, then politely shook his hand for a brief moment and said nothing.

“You can call him Beast,” Holt said with a hint of sternness.

“Beast,” Gabe repeated lustily. “I love it. So… dangerous.”

“Jesus Christ,” Holt muttered, looking around at the rest of us pleadingly, which made Val start to head over.

One by one, the wrestlers introduced themselves to our new colleagues. I hung back when I saw Vince grinning and shaking hands boisterously with John-o’-the-Wisp.

Dan was beside him, and he jokingly asked with a grin, “Any relation to Will?”

Instantly, John’s easy smile grew stiff and forced. He let out a terse chuckle. “Yes, actually. He’s my older brother. And obviously the one everyone knows about.” He bared his teeth in a non-smile. “Made quite a name for himself.”

“Oh. Uh…” Dan shared a quick glance with Vince, having clearly meant it as a joke but having also quite clearly having touched a nerve. “Nice. Cool. Well, uh, I’m sure everyone will know the name John-o’-the-Wisp too soon.”

They moved on, and I finally took a hesitant step forward to introduce myself. I was feeling almost… nervous, and I despised feeling nervous. I knew it wouldn’t be long before Vince turned the new wrestlers against me, like he had with the rest of the team by insisting on taking every single thing I said the wrong way.

No, I thought, lifting my chin and striding forward with determination. I wasn’t going to let him. I wasn’t going to give him the chance.

“High Lord Crossbody. A pleasure,” I said smoothly to the Beast, shaking his hand and moving on, because I knew he wasn’t going to answer me.

I didn’t extend my hand to the Ghastly Boys, because I’d noticed they’d hunched—simultaneously—in discomfort when any of the others had attempted to shake their hands. I’d been taught since I was a child to pay attention to things like that and adjust how I interacted with people accordingly.

“High Lord Crossbody,” I repeated, giving them a small nod.

“Ken,” the one on the left said, very very quietly, his voice almost a whisper.

“Barney,” the other added, just as softly.