Page 80 of Sinful Crimes for the Artistically Inclined
Percy took the opportunity to brush every millimetre of his mouth just as thoroughly as a human can, then swished, gargled, flossed, brushed again, and spat three bouts of mouthwash, swearing at the hand in between. Finally, patiently, Joe set the thing down, crushed the fingers to the earth with his boot, and withdrew Percy’s dagger.
Almost as though it knew what was coming, the hand wriggled violently, to no avail. Percy upended the entire contents of the mouthwash bottle over the thing, then lit a fresh cigarette. “Tastes like fucking menthol,” he grumbled, to another near eye roll from Joe, but then he dropped the burning smoke onto the hand just as Joe moved his foot away, and the hand caught beautifully. They watched it crawl some way, weakening with each desperate grasp of sand. Both felt slightly sorry for the blackening, blistering thing by the end, but putting to death the undead never was a pleasant business.
Eventually it came to a charred and gnarled stop, and there in the moonlight, Percy stabbed the thing straight through the palm with the windscreen wiper, thrusting it as deep into the earth as possible. The two stood over the hand, waiting for neither knew what, then Joe suggested, “Should we scatter the fingers?”
“Can’t hurt.”
One by one, each finger was removed, one knuckle at a time, to prevent further wriggling, and each piece was thrown as far as each strong arm could catapult them, in every direction but towards the car.
Finally, Percy ran an arm around Joe’s shoulder and kissed his hair, leaning exhaustedly in to him.
Joe looked at the car with a tired sigh. “Do you think it’s going to work?”
“I do,” said Percy, commencing a slow stroll towards the broken heap of metal.
Joe kept by his side with only a touch of reluctance. “I don’t want to start anything, because we’re in a good place now…”
Percy nodded across at him, perfectly sweetly, all encouragement.
“But… And I only ask because I know you quite well, but… You did get insurance for the car, didn’t you?”
Percy laughed. “Insurance for rental cars is a scam.”
“Percy!” Joe shouted, then turned away to run a frustrated hand over his thoroughly furrowed brow. “Percy, do you even realise who you are?”
“Yes.” Percy smiled. Then a touch of confusion crowded his lovely face. “No… I mean, yes, I do, technically, but I don’t really catch your drift.”
“You’re Percy Ashdown. Everything you touch—” Then he caught himself, charmingly, to Percy’s mind. “—Not everything you touch, like relationships, or people, or paintings, but some things, Percy, some things—a lot of things you come into contact with have a tendency to get destroyed.”
“Oh.” Percy laughed. “Well, that’s very true. I could never quite understand why, but I do tend to have that effect. Only on certain things, of course.”
“Yeah, only on certain things,” Joe agreed softly, looking over the bullet-ridden car.
Percy watched him, his worried face worrying Percy’s face. “Would it make you happy if I got the insurance next time?”
Joe’s words seemed to evaporate into the crisp night. His lips parted, and he stared hard at Percy, somewhere between a smile and wanting to slap him.
Percy, maintaining eye contact all the while, reached out gingerly, caught Joe’s little finger in his hand, and gently brought it towards his lips, kissing his open palm.
Joe thawed uncontrollably. “Please get the insurance next time.” Then he let go a laugh. “I just said ‘next time,’ as though there’s going to be a next time.”
That same hand of Joe’s was wound around Percy’s waist, and Percy wrapped both arms around Joe. “I certainly hope there is. You look so gorgeous right now. I don’t think I’ll be satisfied until I bring you back out here, strip you naked, and have my way with you in the moonlight.”
“Oh. My. God!” Althea wailed. “I can still hear you!”
“Percy…” Joe trailed off in hopeless embarrassment.
Percy lowered his voice, but didn’t relent in the least. “The second I get you to Sicily, I’m going to wreck you. Completely and utterly destroy you. That’s a promise.” Whatever Joe’s adoring, only slightly but pleasantly nervous lips were about to say, Percy silenced him with a long kiss. Then he pulled back and added another shorter, softer kiss to Joe’s smitten cheek, just for good measure.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
A FUNNY STORY
It had taken all that remained of Percy’s money to convince the border guards to wave the car through to Tunisia, with Althea secretly stashed in the unopened trunk. That job done and Althea back in her seat next to Joe, the three rode in silence for roughly half an hour, until a long and obtrusive yawn from Althea brought the other two back to the present.
“Are we boring you?” Percy asked over the top of his own yawn.
“Yep,” she replied. Percy laughed softly, and Joe sat up tall and tried to turn his thoughts away from car insurance and zombies to listen to Althea. “Say I believe you’re a priest,” she leaned forward towards Percy, “and I still don’t buy that you’re an art historian, but anyway, what’s with you two?”
