Page 99 of Monstrous Travels as Wicked as Sin

Leo shoved the keys at him. “What, no?—”

Percy shoved them straight back. “And don’t argue?—”

A loud clap sounded in the street, and, “Percy,” whispered Joe, still keeping a watch out the window. He grabbed Percy’s wrist and pulled him close in time to see the two figures that responded to the clack of Molly’s palms. They were two figures Percy knew well, and he was a mixture of horrified and relieved to see them, because the one to the right walked tall and handsome with no shirt and no hint of a dislocated shoulder. And the one to the left had no scar where Percy had shot him in the head. Most compellingly, he now also retained two full hands. Waleed raised one of those hands and waved up at Percy.

“That fuck!” Percy growled. “How did it get itself back together? We burned the bastard! We took it to pieces!”

Percy felt a different hand slide around his biceps, a touch of gravity in the firm press. “Who’s that?” Giordano asked.

Percy’s voice was clipped with irritation at the interruption, but he took the time to explain, “That’s Cleo. You remember her, don’t you? You’ve met her several times.”

Joe leaned forward, eyeing the pair, asking desperately, “How has Giordano met Cleo?”

“Not right now, darling,” Percy tried gently. He elucidated the matter for Giordano with, “The thing is, she’snotCleo. She’s possessed by the spirit of a four-hundred-year-old witch, and she’s after… Well, I don’t know. Shewasafter my nice magical sheath.”

Giordano let out a little gasp. “Cleo’s possessed?”

“Well, obviously,” Percy drawled. “Do try to keep up.”

Giordano was keeping up and ready to move ahead. “No, but, I know Cleo. I want to know, who isthat?”

All eyes dropped back to the shirtless man on the right-hand side of the witch in question. “Oh.” Percy chuckled.

Althea leaned forward eagerly. “That’s Tareq.”

“Who’s Tareq?” asked Leo, none too pleased with the sight.

“That’s what I want to know,” Joe returned, even less pleased.

“He’s very nice,” said Percy.

“Verynice,” Althea cooed.

“He’s just a little bit…” Percy thought over the predicament. Tareq certainly didn’t appear to be the usual rotting, festering, slobbering, foul sort of zombie he was used to dealing with. “I don’t know. He’s sort of?—”

“Does he… um… Is he evil?” Giordano asked, eyes fast on the beauteous face that stared straight ahead the whole time.

“He might be right now… But there could be a way he’ll come good again.”

“And does he… Uh…” With a casual flick of his hand in Tareq’s direction, “Men? Do you think?”

Percy grinned, wide and knowing. “I got a vibe.” He ignored the way Joe’s mouth fell open, continuing, “We were in Libya, so he could hardly do much about it.”

“There was no vibe!” Althea protested.

“There was a vibe,” Percy insisted. “I just got a sixth sense about him. You know he might not even realise it.”

“Oh, I’d kill to be his awakening,” Giordano breathed.

Percy groaned an agreement. “The two of you together… Could you imagine?”

Joe’s head spun around like a possessed child’s might. “He’s a zombie! Stop talking about him like he’s not a zombie!”

“He doesn’t look like a zombie,” Giordano offered.

“No, he does not,” Althea agreed.

“He looks like a zombie to me,” Leo put in.

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