Page 25 of Perfectly Perplexing Zombie

My spine stiffened. Johnny had my undivided attention. “Did she give any further description?”

“Not much. Lots of ear piercings and curvy, but that’s about it, and you and I both know they can be all different body sizes and shapes. It might not be what I think, but—”

“But nothing good can come of a djinn’s interest.”

“No. Nothin’ good,” Johnny easily agreed.

My gaze wandered the bar. Few patrons remained, and those who did gathered their belongings and prepared to leave. Most likely, the djinn was already gone, and if they weren’t, if they did not wish to be seen, they would remain invisible to my eye. A witch or warlock would be able to detect one. On occasion, brownies could as well. Fairies couldn’t.

“Was there any evidence of a master?” Contrary to popular myth, djinn weren’t always controlled, although they held little to no power when not controlled. All were tied to an object, and it was rarely a lamp. If that object was owned by another, then the djinn was under their control and unreasonably powerful. That was why djinn protected their object of attachment, often hiding it in nearly impossible locations. Still, the lure of controlling a djinn drove many to risk their lives in the search and recovery of those precious items. And, once found, most djinn remained enslaved until their master’s death. They were forced to enact wish after wish. There was no limit to the number of wishes, only their content. The tattoos inked on their skin were written contracts that both allowed and limited their power. They were called restrictions, and those restrictions were the one autonomy djinn had upon creation. They set the rules. At the time of creation, if a djinn did not want to murder, that would be inscribed on their skin, creating a firm limitation.

Johnny shook his head and stomped a hoof in irritation. “Not that I know of, but I can’t say for certain. I don’t have a lot of information to work with, and I didn’t want to upset Wendall by asking him a lot of questions. Most likely, Wendall doesn’t even know what a djinn is.”

Johnny was most likely correct. While my interactions with him were few, I got the impression Wendall was naïve. He was no fool, and ignorance had passed him by. Naiveté was not the same as foolishness. He was painfully human and came with most of their misfortunes. And yet, he’d somehow escaped just as many of their mental and emotional pitfalls. Perhaps that was due to his minuscule fairy blood. Or, perhaps, that was simply Wendall Galen.

“Anyway, I thought you should know. I’m not sure what your interest is in Wendall, and as long as you don’t plan on hurting him, then it’s none of my business. But given your apparent interest, I figured you’d want to know. Plus”—Johnny hesitated—“I don’t like the idea of a djinn hanging about. I’ve heard too many stories. Most of them are probably half-truths and inflated nightmares, but there’s usually a kernel of truth in there, and if even a tenth of what I’ve heard is accurate, that’s trouble nobody wants.” Johnny huffed. “Anyone that goes looking to entrap a djinn is an idiot. That shit never ends well.”

Again, the faun wasn’t wrong. Djinns weren’t evil by nature, but no one liked being enslaved, and historically, they had no love for theirmasters. Those who controlled djinns walked a very fine line. Their wording had to be impeccable and beyond misinterpretation. Djinns were known to twist wishes into horrific nightmare scenarios created to destroy their masters.

“Thank you for informing me. I assume you will be extra vigilant.”

“Of course. I’ll let the boss know too. Lucroy’s welcoming to all species, but he’s properly wary too. I can’t imagine this will come as welcome news. The best we can hope for is that this djinn isn’t attached to anyone and was just passing through. Wendall’s an anomaly. He’s a self-aware zombie. Maybe she was just curious.” Johnny’s pinched eyes told me he didn’t believe his own optimistic thoughts.

I didn’t bother agreeing or disagreeing. As with all things, time would give us the answer whether we liked it or not.

Shaking out his fur, Johnny hooked a thumb toward the bar. “I better get back. We’ll be closing soon, and I’ve got to start shutting things down.” Heading back, Johnny twisted his head enough for me to catch a single golden eye. “By the way, that scuttlebutt was a good move. Wendall introduced us before I came out to talk with you. Wendall’s already head over heels for her. Can’t say I’ve ever seen that big of a grin on his face. No matter what comes of it, I’m grateful, and I’ll make certain everyone working at Dusk is tribe material. If Wendall…” Johnny swallowed hard. “If the worst happens, we’ll make sure Trinket is happy and well cared for. You have my word.”

“I expected nothing less,” I answered honestly. I wouldn’t have brought the scuttlebutt into this environment if I’d had any doubts.

Johnny’s pearly whites shone through his wide grin. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Perplexed, I said, “You may take it as you wish.”

Johnny threw his head back, cackling at the ceiling while clomping away. As my eyes tracked his progress, they landed on Wendall. He’d come out of the storage room and stood behind the bar, surrounded by Dusk’s employees. Trinket sat on his shoulder, tail still wrapped around his upper arm. She twisted and preened under the attention. Wendall didn’t exactly preen, but he did twist and turn, giving everyone an opportunity to drink in their visual fill. Johnny was right. Wendall looked happy. Maybe even giddy.

My hearts jolted, tripping over themselves and stuttering back to a survivable rhythm. Zombies didn’t glow. They didn’t radiate warmth or sparkle with pixie dust. And yet, in that moment, I doubted I’d ever seen anything more beautiful.

I blinked and then blinked again, wondering where that thought came from and why my body reacted. My cheeks were flushed, and my neck was warm. My palms were sweaty, and my fingers tapped out an unknown rhythm along my thigh. I couldn’t remember the last time my interest had been similarly piqued.

Confused, I turned from the warm scene, forcing my brain to more prudent and, in some ways, more comfortable pursuits. Hamish should have contacted me by now. True coincidence was rare. The strange human male who seemed far too interested in Wendall and now a possible djinn. It was difficult to believe the two weren’t somehow related.

Retrieving my phone from my pocket, I pulled up Hamish’s number and hit send. He answered after the first ring.

“I expected to hear from you earlier.”

Annoyance rippled down my back. “I was under the impression you were to contact me. Is that not how this typically works?”

“It is, and that was my plan. However, the human you asked me to investigate has proven more interesting than typical.”

Interestingwas not always a positive word. “In what way?”

I heard a bit of shuffling on Hamish’s end before he began. “Doctor Arthur Stover, PhD. Age forty-one. History professor at Virginia State University. Not tenured. Currently living in an unassuming home within a few blocks from campus. He lives mortgage-free and owns a modest, older model vehicle. On the surface, a very dull and insignificant human.”

The surface more than implied something deeper. “And below the veneer?”

“Ah, that’s where things get a little more interesting. Dr. Stover comes from a lower middle-class family with no financial means to speak of. While respectable, Dr. Stover’s professor salary is not wealth-creating either. And yet, Dr. Stover’s real estate portfolio is impressive. He currently owns three multimillion-dollar homes—all mortgage-free. One in California, one in New York, and the other in Paris. I believe there could be more I have yet to locate. Dr. Stover owns a private plane and has a pilot on staff who is paid to be at his beck and call. So far, I have been able to locate no fewer than half a dozen vehicles, each of which cost more than his annual salary. I could go on, but I believe you are beginning to see the picture.”

I did, and that picture had a djinn filling the background.

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