Page 12 of Perfectly Perplexing Zombie

“Indeed.” The word was simple. However, Ray’s tone said loud and clear how unimpressed he was. He stood there, stone silent and unmoving. His penetrating gaze was agonizing.

I couldn’t help it; I squirmed beneath that stoic stare.

Fidgeting, I glanced at the sink full of dirty glassware. Ray and I seemed to be talking for an eternity, but I wasn’t sure if that was just my perception or if it was the truth. Either way, I figured Lizbeth or Johnny would need fresh glasses sooner rather than later, and I really wanted out of this…conversation.

“Um…if that’s all, then I really need to get back to work. I—”

“You will follow the priestess’s instructions to the letter. Am I clear?”

I took a cautious step backward. Fairies were scary, and if rumors were to be believed, Ray was among the scariest. Johnny told me what Mr. Moony said about Sedrick Voss’s custody hearing. Few ever saw a fairy’s true nature, and Ray had placed his on full display. Few things truly startled Mr. Moony, but Johnny said Mr. Moony had been in awe that day.

“I will,” I finally answered. Even without the veiled threat, I would have done what Muriel said.

“Good. You may expect me to inquire weekly, if not sooner, should the deterioration increase in speed.”

“I… Okay?”

With a final glance up and down my body, Ray turned on his heel and walked out the back of the bar, ignoring the main floor. We kept that door locked, but I had no illusion that Ray had entered any other way. I figured locked doors didn’t mean a whole hell of a lot to a fairy.

My limbs trembled as I slumped against the edge of the counter. I absently scratched at the dead tissue on my arm. It looked a little bigger this morning when I’d gotten up. I hadn’t mentioned that to Ray and couldn’t, for the reanimated life of me, figure out if I should have or not.

“Yo, Wendall. We could use some more clean glasses,” Lizbeth shouted back, completely unaware of the mental turmoil rolling through my brain.

“Coming,” I absently answered, even though I’d barely started cleaning. Pushing thoughts of Ray, Muriel, and my deteriorating flesh from my brain, I concentrated on one glass after another. Soon, I had enough to fill a bin and headed through the swinging door.

Dusk was just as busy, if not busier than it had been twenty minutes ago. I envied the patrons. On the surface, they appeared not to have a care in the world. I doubted that was more than skin-deep, but I wasn’t feeling very logical. Far from it. What I felt was a sense of foreboding, like the happy little afterlife I’d carved out for myself was little more than an illusion—just like my reanimated flesh.

ChapterSix

Hellfire Rayburn

I clung to the edges, tucked neatly into a corner few took time to stare deeply within. Dusk was friendly like that—darkened edges, places to loom without being seen, places to watch. In a way, it was a voyeur’s paradise. Or perhaps, a predator. Tonight, I was more the former than the latter.

I should have headed home after speaking with Wendall. I didn’t. There was this overwhelming need to stay, to keep an eye on him. Most likely, it was my underlying desire not to disappoint my queen. She was invested in Wendall’s continued existence, and therefore, so was I.

For the most part, the zombie stayed out of my sightline. Most of Wendall’s time was spent behind the scenes, restocking supplies and cleaning the abundant glassware that came his way. It was odd watching the little human. In my experience, humans had a penchant for the dramatic and often complained about manual labor.

Wendall proved the exception to that loose rule. I never once saw him speak a word of dissent, huff out an indignity, or roll his big blue eyes. Wendall seemed eager to please. That personality quirk could sometimes be taken too far, pushing it into the realm of annoying rather than attractive. Wendall rode that fine line well and came out on the endearing side.

With the night easing into early morning, Dusk slowed as its patrons drifted out of the bar and toward whatever hovel they called home. I was considering doing the same when something, or perhaps someone, caught my eye. I hadn’t seen him earlier and wasn’t certain if I’d missed him among the throngs of bodies filling the space or if he’d sauntered in more recently.

I doubted he would have stood out at all if it hadn’t been for the fact he was human. Humans often frequented Dusk, their reasons lost upon me. However, it was rare for them to stay this late, near closing.

What also struck me was where this human’s gaze tracked. Like me, he clung to the edges of the space, tucked into the less well-lit areas. With the bar emptying, Wendall came out with increasing frequency. He spent much of his time cleaning emptied tables, collecting dirty glassware, and scrubbing down the dirt and debris left behind. Again, I saw not even a hint of annoyance at being relegated to menial labor.

While Wendall’s expression was open and content, the hawk-like eyes of the human male following his actions were not. They weren’t hungry eyes; they were cautious and predatory. Few things made me uneasy. This human’s eyes were one of those irritating anomalies.

The man didn’t exactly appear dressed for a night out at the bar. Not that he didn’t completely look the part, but more like an actor putting on a disguise. The clothes wore him, and he appeared distinctly uncomfortable in them. I wasn’t certain what his normal attire was, but ripped jeans, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes weren’t it. The clothes were meant for a human half this man’s age.

I wanted to know what this man was doing and why he was so focused on Wendall. Perhaps word had gotten out—that Wendall was an unusual zombie. That explanation would fit well into the human psyche. When something they didn’t understand popped up, their course of action was either to fear it, kill it, or study it. If that thing were alive, most of the time studying resulted in the organism’s death. It was a common human theme.

I considered walking over to the man and asking him point-blank what his interest was, but something held me back. Humans were not always forthcoming, even when threatened with bodily harm. It was another common human theme. They were a prickly species. At times, wholly predictable, and at others, the biggest wild card of all the species.

Wendall went about his business. I witnessed his shoulders stiffen, his gaze surreptitiously sneaking around the room, as if he could feel eyes on him. But eventually, he shook it off and got back to work.

As the minutes ticked by, the human waited until Wendall left the main floor, disappearing behind the swinging door, before he took his leave. I waited all of twenty seconds before following his lead.

The air was cold, with spring still a few months away. I didn’t mind. Fairies weren’t as impervious to the cold as vampires and, to an extent, weres, but we didn’t feel it as deeply as humans, pixies, and most other species.

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