Page 40 of Perfectly Perplexing Zombie

ChapterFifteen

Hellfire Rayburn

As expected, Muriel was furious.

“I want him,” Muriel seethed. “After his heart stops beating, his carcass is mine.” A pale-red glow lit Muriel’s deep brown eyes as her priestess powers flared. “Zombification is fitting. He’ll be nothing like Wendall. That human will be like all the others—starving and forever empty. I’ll laugh as his reanimated body is scrounging the floor, licking it clean.

Muriel’s home vibrated with the low hum of power. A priestess’s home was an extension of herself, and Muriel’s reacted to her mood. Right now, that mood was pissed.

“No wonder we couldn’t find anything.” Muriel huffed and planted her fists on her ample hips. “Chances are the car that hit Wendall doesn’t even exist anymore, and if it does, it’s probably halfway across the country in some junkyard collecting dust and rust. A djinn. Who would have figured that?”

“No one,” I easily answered. “As you know, djinns are exceedingly rare.”

“And that’s a small mercy, to be certain.” Muriel released her clenched fists and eased her hands to her sides. “Well, we knew someone was controlling her, and I suppose now we’ve got our answer. The question is, what do we do about it?” A frown pinched her eyes. “One wish is all it’ll take to wipe all of us off the planet.”

I wasn’t certain I would go that far, but Muriel’s concerns were valid.

“Goddess, I wish the myths about djinns were true. Three wishes”—Muriel held up three fingers and waggled them toward my face—“if that’s all that asshole got, then we’d be home free, and Aurelia would be out of his clutches.” With a shake of her head, Muriel turned her attention back to her cutting board. I wasn’t certain what she was slicing, but it was juicy and had an unpleasant odor.

I had often wondered where that particular fallacy manifested. There was no limit to the number of wishes one could request. That would have been a very foolish limitation. Creator witches never imagined their djinns out of their personal control. It never occurred to them to set those types of limits.

Rolling her wrist, butcher knife still in hand, Muriel said, “I understand your reasoning, Ray, and I’m on board with it.” I’d already given Muriel the rundown of my earlier conversation with Wendall. “It’s a solid plan. For now. I can’t say I’m excited to be on a human-controlled djinn’s radar, but I’ll do it. For Wendall. I swear to all that is holy, that young man has some shitty karma, and I’ve got no idea why.”

Fairies didn’t believe in karma. We were the masters of our own destinies and didn’t wait for some ethereal force to mete out punishment. Still, I understood the sentiment.

“Wendall does seem rather innocent in all of this.”

Muriel scoffed and made a more forceful chop with her knife. “Understatement. Wendall deserves so much more than the deal he’s been handed. And yet…” Lowering her knife, Muriel’s gaze turned distant. “I’ve never heard a sour word from Wendall. He rolls with the punches life’s thrown at him and just keeps on plodding along in the most pleasant way possible. For someone whose heart no longer beats, he’s got the biggest and best one I’ve ever seen.”

Since I agreed, no argument came. “Wendall is very concerned for your well-being. He does not wish to place you in harm’s way.”

“Of course he doesn’t. Wendall wouldn’t be Wendall if he was okay with it.” Fondness lit Muriel’s words and brought a smile to her lips. “I like to think my own boy would have turned out like Wendall if he’d lived.”

“You had a son?” To my knowledge, Muriel only had two children, and they were both daughters.

Muriel’s smile turned wistfully sad. “For seven years.” Even that smile dropped from her face. “But not everything’s meant to live a full life. Wendall got more years than my boy, but they’re both tragedies.”

Muriel went back to chopping. I didn’t ask how her son died or if she’d tried to reanimate him. Considering most viewed reanimation as punishment for the wicked and not a reward for the saintly, I had difficulty believing Muriel would have done that to her own flesh and blood. Her statement went a long way to understanding Muriel’s attachment to Wendall.

I thought about offering my sympathies. That was polite etiquette. I didn’t think Muriel expected polite etiquette from me or any other fairy and kept my thoughts to myself.

“What a mess,” Muriel lamented as her chopping actions slowed. Lifting the cutting board, she slid the contents into a plastic container, closed the lid, and placed it in the refrigerator. I didn’t think she was commenting on her activities so much as Wendall’s lot in life.

“I assume you’re sticking like glue to him?”

I gave a slow blink. “Are you speaking about Wendall or Professor Stover?”

“In this case, Wendall, although Stover’s not a bad idea either.”

“I am attempting to divvy my time to the best of my abilities.” Time moved very differently in the land of Fairy. On Earth, I didn’t require the amount of sleep or even rest that other species did. I could go days without wearing down, and a few hours’ sleep was usually enough to recover my spent energy. Still, there was only one of me.

“I recruited another to help with Professor Stover.”

Hamish was still on Arthur’s electronic trail. I’d asked him to keep a visual eye on the professor also. Hamish’s fee was exorbitant but worth every penny.

“Good.” Muriel washed her hands before pulling out another cutting board and dropping something equally grizzly upon its surface. “I know Wendall’s reluctant to accept your offer.”

“He’s not reluctant. He refused.”

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