“Nope,” he said. “So you going to shoot me with my own gun then?” He stretched his face in a smile, his dark eyes twinkling with wicked mirth.

“I figure if I put enough holes in your head there won’t be enough left over to stitch yourself back together again,” I explained. He chuckled.

“Hmm, as fun as that sounds, I’m going to have to pass that up.”

“You sure about that?” I asked with a smile. “I tend to get my way.” His eyes narrowed a little.

“Interesting. Well, honey, whatever you are, this is the big leagues. Let’s see how well you play at the big boys’ table.” He gave a condescending smile. The dancer turned around and something about her movement caught my eye. I turned and saw she had a bullet wound in her chest that wasn’t bleeding. Her skin was gray and she had green bags under her white eyes.

“Is that…a zombie?” I asked in disbelief. The girl answered my question for him by moaning and lifting her arms towards me.

“Now you get the full picture,” Remington said dramatically, pointing a finger gun at me and pulling the fake trigger. “Good luck,” he sang out. I stood up and glared at the zombie stripper.

“Thanks, but I already have plenty of that,” I said. Luck has a funny way of bleeding into everything. Not just the seemingly random decisions I made, not just the lights flashing green, not just the dice always landing right. It also meant I didn’t miss when I shot, I didn’t fumble when I ran, and I always moved just the right way when I fought.

Luck bled into every aspect of my life. I couldn’t tell where luck began and ended when it came to every move I made. Luck didn’t tell you these things. It had no controller—it was a fate all its own, tipping the scales all in my favor because I wasn’t just any leprechaun, I was Lacey Fucking Flanagan, the luckiest leprechaun there was. I knew that for a fact. I’d gambled and gamed against every other leprechaun I’d met and I’d yet to lose.

Before the zombie launched at me, I aimed the gun behind me and pulled the trigger. Remington’s body slackened in the chair. I knew he wasn’t dead since it didn’t kill him before but it made me feel better at least. I’d get time to try and kill him later.

Zombies began pouring from behind the curtain, a bumbling crowd of moaners and groaners. I stepped up on the stage and kicked the stripper in the face with my heels. She went over the side as the others started to shuffle towards me. I snorted.

“It’s going to take more than slow-moving zombies to kill me.” The zombies began to run. Before they even made it to me they kept tripping over one another and falling off the stage. It was never a fair fight with me. The few that managed to get close ended with a bullet to the head that put them down flat. No more brain eating for them.