Page 74 of Perfectly Perplexing Zombie

“He is already aware of me, or else I would call,” I offered, even though Hamish was intelligent enough to figure that out.

“That is not my concern.”

I wasn’t so certain. Any contact with Stover placed one at risk. While I believed that risk was currently low, I still would not have asked another to take it on if I could have done so.

“Truly, Hellfire, it is simple enough. I am not so poor an actor, and besides, this little ruse will hardly be difficult. I do have knowledge of Fairy that Stover would be interested in. I won’t even be lying to the human.”

“You will be lying regarding your intention,” I argued, even though I doubted that would be a hardship for Hamish. Many thought fairies were morally opposed to lying. That wasn’t necessarily true. We simply found it more rewarding to find creative ways to twist the truth. Being caught in a lie was very embarrassing and not something a fairy would willingly admit to.

Hamish and I were sitting in a corner booth in Dusk. We’d considered closing the bar tonight but ultimately decided that would be a poor idea. Without patrons, Stover would catch on quickly. We’d decided on an earlier time frame, not long after sunset. Lucroy asked his nestmates to fill the bar, and once Stover was on the premises, he would slowly filter them out of harm’s way. Lucroy didn’t tell his vampires exactly what was happening, only that they were needed and some danger was involved. He hadn’t made attendance mandatory. It spoke to Lucroy’s popularity that so many were willing to show up.

Johnny was behind the bar, getting things ready for the evening, acting as if he expected a typically large crowd. Bax and Pete would be at the door, screening those coming in for the night. The trolls had strict orders to be selective on who they allowed into the club. Everyone wanted to keep casualties to a minimum. Johnny called the human, Lizbeth, and advised her to take the evening off.

Hamish sat beside me, phone in hand. Wendall would be down soon, and I did not plan on letting him out of my sight until this situation ended.

“Are you ready?” Hamish asked.

I nodded. “I believe everyone is ready to finish this.”

Pulling up Stover’s number, Hamish hit the send button. It rang and predictably went to voicemail. This, too, was expected. Stover wouldn’t recognize the number Hamish was calling from.

“Professor Arthur Stover, I hear you have a sudden interest in Fairy. Perhaps you would like to discuss your interest with one. If so, call me. If our interests sync, then perhaps we could be of some use to each other.” Hamish ended the call and set the phone on the table. “Now we wait.”

As predicted, we didn’t have to wait long. Hamish’s phone rang. With one perfectly curved, raised eyebrow, he raised his phone and accepted the call. It wasn’t wise to place it on speaker, so all I could hear was Hamish’s end of the conversation.

“That is not important,” Hamish said. “I am fairy,” he said, amusement tickling his voice. Fairies often used that simple phrase to explain situations other species couldn’t conceive.

The conversation continued. Hamish answered Stover’s questions in clipped, open-ended phrases. Hamish was brilliantly obtuse while stroking Stover’s ego and curiosity with a skill only a fairy lawyer would have. Hamish was a worthy opponent, and despite Sedrick’s understandable dislike, I respected Hamish McIntyre. For a fairy, I even liked him well enough.

“I will be at Dusk until 1:00 a.m. Come if you wish or don’t. I care not. At this point, I believe your use to me will be minimal. I have other business to attend but have no plans to stay later than one.” Hamish ended the call without a proper goodbye.

“He was still speaking,” Hamish said. “The man was insufferable, and I was beginning to lose patience.”

I didn’t fault Hamish. In fact, I admired his actions. Fairies did not suffer other species lightly. As a human, Stover should have felt privileged a fairy made the effort to reach out. He should have been smitten with the idea he was worthy enough.

“Do you believe he’ll show?” I asked.

“Of course.” Hamish drank down the remainder of his honeysuckle mead. Turns out, pixies weren’t the only species with a taste for the sweet drink. Twirling the glass in his hand, Hamish complimented the beverage. “I believe I have either been missing out on an excellent beverage, or Johnny’s cousin is truly talented.”

I didn’t mind a glass or two but hadn’t taken to the alcoholic drink as much as Hamish.

Gaze flicking up and toward the other end of the bar, Hamish inclined his head in that direction and said, “I believe I’ll head up to the bar and discuss Johnny’s relative’s financial future.”

Hamish slid out of the booth and greeted Wendall as he walked by. I appreciated Hamish’s consideration.

I started to rise, but Wendall waved me off. He had on long sleeves, and his hands were covered in bandages. A thick bandage wrapped itself around his neck. Trinket’s tail covered a fair portion of its stark white color. A spot of decay peeked out below the length of Wendall’s bangs, and he pulled them forward, attempting to cover the area more completely.

“Hey,” he said with a minuscule wave.

Trinket hopped and then skittered down Wendall’s arm, dashing across the table and snuggling up to my chest. This was the friendliest she’d been with me, and I was glad to see it. At this rate, Wendall’s reanimated body wouldn’t last much longer. No matter what happened tonight, Trinket and I would lose him soon. The irony was that Queen Silvidia had asked me to woo Wendall. Given our last conversation, I’d say I’d successfully accomplished that task and been wooed in return.

But that changed nothing. If anything, Wendall’s affections only made him more averse to accepting the bond. I could see no clear, victorious path. For the first time in my life, I would fail my queen. A few weeks ago, that thought would have been devastating. Now, the knowledge that I’d found Wendall only to lose him just as quickly devastated me personally.

Sliding into the booth, Wendall kept a couple feet between us. I didn’t like the space and tugged him closer. He made a weak sound of protest but didn’t fight me.

“I don’t smell the best,” Wendall apologized. “You may regret pulling me closer.” He sounded ashamed.

Wendall wasn’t exactly wrong, but he wasn’t exactly right either.

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