Page 34 of Perfectly Perplexing Zombie

When Trinket cooed, I leaned in and said, “You have a very discerning temperament and taste, my dear.”

“Ray,” Wendall hissed. “That’s rude.” He shot a concerned glance Arthur’s way, but the professor only gamely smiled back.

“Do you truly believe I care?” I asked.

Wendall rolled his eyes. “Come on, Professor.” Heaving his nearly full bin of dirty dishware, Wendall made his way back to the bar.

To my utter irritation, Arthur Stover threw me a smirk Wendall didn’t see and followed.

Easing back into a nearby wall, I leaned heavily against the structure as I watched Wendall quickly discuss his small break with Johnny before heading to the back to relieve himself of the dirty dishes. Wendall returned quickly, settling in on one side of the bar while Arthur sat directly across the way.

“Makes you want to kill him, doesn’t it?” a soft voice whispered beside me. “Trust me, I know the feeling well.”

I turned, and my breath momentarily caught. A single word slipped through my lips, “Djinn.”

ChapterThirteen

Hellfire Rayburn

“Fairy,” she returned in kind.

“Forgive me. I am not aware of your name.” Being rude to a human was one thing. It was not so wise with a djinn.

“Aurelia,” she answered.

A djinn’s name wasn’t sacred. Their object of attachment was.

“Aurelia,” I said. “I am—”

“Hellfire Rayburn, otherwise known as Ray.” She tilted her lips in a minuscule smirk. “I am rarely seen but often present. I hear things. What do you wish me to call you?”

“Ray is fine.” I had no issues with either. “Unless you would like to keep our interactions more formal.”

“There’s no need.” She shrugged.

Wendall was correct. Aurelia was beautiful. Perhaps not in the traditional sense, but she was sensual all the same. Her Seattle-born grunge attire did little to disabuse her of that fact. Tattooed writing covered much of her exposed skin, including her bald head. Gold cuffs and hoops decorated her flattened, pointed, and larger-than-usual ears. Aurelia was stunning with full, lush lips and eyes the color of the Mediterranean Sea.

But just like the most beautiful rose, she was covered in nasty, inked thorns. Those words were her limitations, written in a language even I did not know. It wasn’t a common tongue. They were words only a witch could read, and I doubted few retained the knowledge of their ancient kin.

“Does Arthur Stover know you’re here?” I asked, both our gazes fixed on Arthur’s back.

“I doubt it,” she answered. “He’s merely human.” She said the word with more disgust than most. “He cannot sense magic. He can’t wield it, dodge it, or create it. He is little more than a mortal ant.”

“A mortal ant who has control of your object of attachment,” I calmly pointed out.

Aurelia’s growl was nearly alpha-wolf-worthy. “Yes,” she spat. “If I could go back in time and kill my creator witch again, I would relish it.” Aurelia’s teeth gnashed, and a faint glow lit her eyes from within. The tattoos along her skin shared that none-too-gentle hum.

“You do not care for your master?” I wouldn’t necessarily call my words taunting, but they were close.

“What tipped you off?”

“Stating that you wished to kill him might have been a hint.”

Aurelia threw her head back and laughed. Her teeth weren’t blunt, but they weren’t the shark-like points of a siren either. “Dry as it is, you’ve got a sense of humor, Ray. I like that about you. I sincerely hope my current master doesn’t ask me to kill you.”

“As do I,” I calmly answered. “I thought all djinns carried that restriction.”

Witches had placed a no-kill restriction on almost all created djinns. They’d thought it would protect them and their covens. They’d thought wrong.

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