Page 2 of Perfectly Perplexing Zombie

I jerked back. “Really?”

Johnny picked up the thread. “Yeah. Too bad they’re gonna be disappointed. Boss man’s out at Peaches’s orchard tonight, and I doubt Phil and Sedrick will come in if Peaches isn’t here. Parsnip and Vander are supposed to be heading out west, so we’re down three pixies tonight.”

“Plus, that asshole Freddie’s gone.” Lizbeth’s eyes pinched, and her face tightened.

“True,” Johnny easily agreed. “I didn’t even realize how bad the tension was until Freddie left.”

Freddie hadn’t exactlyleft, at least not in the way Lizbeth and Johnny made it sound. Freddie wasn’t off on some nighttime vacation. Frederick was dead. His ashes had been dumped into the trash and taken away the same night I was introduced to Dusk and all its insanity. It was the reason Muriel had been called. Not the dead vampires—they were easily swept away. There was a dead werewolf in the middle of the dance floor that needed taking care of. Muriel’s zombies hefted the carcass out to the truck and dined on its brains and flesh on the way back to the compound.

Muriel saved me a slice of the brain and a bit of flesh. She was really nice about providing my food. It was part of the agreement she’d struck with Mr. Moony.

“You think they’ll be disappointed?” I asked while staring at all the patrons. I didn’t want to be around if things got rowdy.

“Nah.” Johnny waved off my concerns. “They’re happy, and most understand it’s hit-and-miss when the pixies will be in.”

Lizbeth was at the opposite end of the bar again. Her Cookie Monster-colored hair shimmered under Dusk’s flashing lights. The bin below her station was getting full and needed emptying. Glancing around, it looked like there were still enough glasses, but that wouldn’t be true if I didn’t get washing soon.

“Looks like I need to clean some glasses. You okay if I duck out of sight for a bit?”

I wasn’t sure why I asked. Johnny was the most capable bartender I’d ever met, not that that was saying much. I’d been just shy of my twentieth birthday when I died. As a human, I fell under their laws and wasn’t allowed to drink alcohol or go into a bar yet. Now that I was officially listed as deceased, the US government didn’t really care what I did. They also couldn’t collect taxes on my zombie ass.

Taxes sucked, but I’d rather be a living, paying member of society. It was a perk but didn’t outweigh the not being alive part.

“Go on.” Johnny shooed me away, grinning like a fool. “I’ve got this.”

I didn’t doubt it for a minute. Johnny looked like he was in his element and having the time of his life. That was probably a stretch, but I did think Johnny was enjoying himself. Fauns lived for a good party and enjoyed socializing. Johnny was eating it up, shifting from hoof to hoof while dancing to the music. The sway of his kilt brushed against the soft fur lining his legs. While I wasn’t attracted to Johnny, I could appreciate the tantalizing softness of those impressive fur-covered legs.

Pulling my attention from the dancing faun, I snagged the bin underneath Lizbeth. I got a haggard smile for my efforts and a mouthed, “Thanks.”

With a nod, I took my dirty haul to the back and started the water. Washing dirty glasses placed me comfortably in my element. Rolling up my sleeves, my attention caught on a worrisome area of skin.

Actually, it was two worrisome areas. My skin didn’t look right. Considering my undead status, that seemed like an odd thing to say. But it was true. Muriel was a talented priestess, and I’d come through the reanimation process visually nearly identical to how I’d looked before my untimely death. The green, necrotic-looking flesh spots on my right forearm spoke a different story.

The spots itched, and they didn’t smell good. I’d slathered some antibiotic ointment on them, but I hadn’t noticed much difference. Johnny noticed them the other day. He’d asked me about it, and I’d just shrugged and said it wasn’t anything to worry about. I did not, in fact, know that.

I needed to speak with Muriel, but I was afraid of the answer. Being a zombie wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. Mr. Moony and Johnny were nice, and everyone at Dusk treated me well. In a lot of ways, I was happier now than I’d been while alive. I was even thinking of taking some online college courses.

I’d gotten used to the taste of flesh and brains. It wasn’t so bad, and at least I didn’t crave fatty, unhealthy food. Although, I supposed being dead and all, unhealthy was sort of a sliding scale.

Staring at those two damaged areas made me queasy. Typically, zombies lasted as long as the priest or priestess poured energy into them. Muriel promised me she’d keep me around as long as I wanted, and so far, I hadn’t indicated I wanted a permanent death. But I was different. I shouldn’t be as mentally aware, as capable, and as much like my living self. Although she hid it well, Muriel was baffled. She’d tried looking into it but hadn’t gotten far. Evidently, the reanimation process messed with my DNA, making it impossible to analyze. If I truly were more than human, what that was and how much of it made me up was anyone’s guess.

Tugging on my shirt sleeve, my wet fingers dampened the cloth. It was uncomfortable but did the trick and hid the blight. I didn’t want to think about the future. In a lot of ways, I’d already gotten more time than I was meant to. Not that dying at just shy of twenty seemed fair or enough time.

Muriel might feel guilty about reanimating me, but I didn’t hold a grudge. In fact, I was thankful. If it hadn’t been for her gifts, I never would have gotten to see pixies dance and fly. I wouldn’t have met Johnny or Lizbeth. I wouldn’t have gotten to see half the species I now saw on the regular.

As far as I was concerned, whatever life Muriel had given me was a gift. I just wished that gift didn’t have the expiration date I feared it did.

ChapterTwo

Hellfire Rayburn

Muriel’s home was…cluttered. I’d learned that many species desired to be surrounded by items they found comforting. This seemed extreme. Then again, I imagined many of the objects lying about had more purpose than I understood. Muriel was a powerful priestess. She wouldn’t last long against a fairy, but given her limitations, she’d done well for herself, and knowing I would prevail did not tempt me to antagonize the priestess.

“Would you like to sit?” Muriel asked politely.

Glancing around, a free spot did not appear forthcoming. Raising a single eyebrow, I stared at Muriel, silently questioning her generous offer.

A grin and a laugh boarding on a cackle were her answers.

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