After ditching our luggage, which mostly consisted of armor and guns, we’d snagged a few of the other Hunters staying on our floor. Most of the floors of the Last Dragon hotel were still in the finishing stages of construction, so the place hadn’t even had its grand opening yet. Officially, the hotel wasn’t ready yet, but since ICMHP was supposed to be secret anyway, it was a perfect place for several hundred Hunters to stay, and the ICMHP organizers had even gotten us a killer discount. ICMHP would be the first ever event for its conference center, but luckily, the casino, shops, and—most important—restaurants were already open to the public.

“Wow…” Trip whistled as he looked down the endless food trays of the top-rated all-you-can-eat place on Earth. “That’s one impressive spread.” It really was. Lots of everything, cuisine from a few dozen cultures, all of it beautiful, and the smells…They were absolutely mouthwatering, and that wasn’t just because I’d spent most of the day squeezed into a helicopter smelling avgas fumes and gun smoke, this place was awesome. “This is how Vikings eat in Viking heaven.”

“Valhalla,” Holly pointed out. “Viking heaven is called Valhalla.”

“I know that,” Trip answered. “Surprised you do, though.” It was a lame attempt at teasing her, since everyone present knew that Holly just worked the dumb blonde angle to manipulate people who didn’t know her well enough to know that she was an encyclopedia of crafty monster eradication.

“Sure I do. I had this really sexy valkyrie costume one Halloween,” Holly answered, completely deadpan. “The chain-mail bikini was so hot…Though it did chafe.” And then she started to describe it in graphic detail. Watching the always gentlemanly and borderline prudish Trip get too embarrassed to respond coherently was always fun for the whole team, but luckily for him, the hostess called for Owen Pitt and party of ten, and seated us before it got too bad.