Page 33 of Slayer Mom
I hesitated. I really wanted Hazen safe, not just uninvolved, but protecting him would be asking for toomuch from the Grand Master. It would take effort, and what were the odds that whoever was supposed to protect him wouldn’t eat him instead?
“What about your children?”
I stiffened up and all my extremities went cold. I caught his soulless gaze and held it while I gripped the steak knife. I would end him if he threatened my children, no matter what it took. I would end him and all of his kind.
He leaned back and nodded at the contract. “It’s in the contract. As long as you work as my exterminator, they’re completely off the table.”
“And otherwise, you’ll eat them?”
“If it comes up. Even if they somehow find out about your work and get aggressive towards me, I won’t harm them as long as you’re my exterminator. Passive protection. Pacifism?” He shrugged large shoulders and then sipped from a glass of red wine that I hadn’t noticed him pouring.
I touched my neck where he’d bitten me, but it was just a bruise, not leaking. He’d never broken the skin. “I don’t think that you understand the definition of that word.”
He smiled again. “I understand very well, Lucy.”
“Don’t call me that. It sounds so sensible. There is nothing sensible about any of this. The most sensible thing would be to walk over to the edge of the building and jump off.”
“I disagree. That is the least sensible thing you could do, because it would irritate me, and damage you, but it wouldn’t kill you. You have my blood. You will be very difficult to kill.” He smiled and took another sip of wine while the wind ruffled his black hair. It shone almost blue in the evening light. If you didn’t consider the fangs or the creepy black eyes that had no whites, he was probably handsome in a brooding Heathcliff or a barbarian emo kind of way.
“If anything happens to my husband or children, I’ll offer my services to the zombie queen and do my best to destroy you.”
“Fair enough.” He leaned over, moving so quickly, catching my chin in his claws which may or may not be venomous. “What do you wish me to call you? Exterminator is a little long, and Pet has a different flavor than I think is appropriate.”
I grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand off my skin. “Lucky. Don’t touch me. I’m married.”
I went over the contract again, stopping at the quarter million a year I would get for my starting salary, plus a weapons budget and then signed at the end.
“You probably aren’t really bound by something as flimsy as paper,” I muttered feeling exhausted, much more tired than after I’d slain zombies. I’d just signed my life away to the devil.
“I’m probably not. But still, it’s nice to have things written down so we don’t accidentally forget. You should rest, Lucky. When you wake up, so will your friends, and then you’ll have to get to work.”
I stood up and headed towards the elevator. I was so tired, but this day wouldn’t end until it was really over. All over. For good.
nine
. . .
I made meatloaf.
I texted my husband and finally read all eighty-seven texts he’d sent me on the first night of the zombie. I may have mixed some tears in with the burger, almonds, lentils, carrots, tomatoes, and fresh basil from the plant above the kitchen sink. He loved me. He’d written it eighty-seven times. He was worried about me. He only wanted me to be safe and come home.
I was sobbing as I dug into the mixture with my fingers, squishing and squishing the stuff that reminded me of brains. Maybe it was time to go vegan.
“I brought wine,” my husband said, bending down to kiss my shoulder before I knew he was there and could react appropriately, mainly getting more distance so I didn’t ruin his life.
I sniffed and wiped my eyes, the yellow glove rubbery against my cheek. “You’re home.”
“Are you crying, or is it the onions?” he asked, sliding his hands around my waist and pulling me into the curve of his body. I missed this. So much.
“Onions,” I said, pulling away from him so I could scrape dinner into the pans and put it in the oven. I’d made enough for four loaves, you know, to freeze forlater. I almost sobbed again, because there would be no later for me.
“You’re early. I thought you’d take some time to get home,” I said, pulling off the gloves and the apron. I wasn’t wearing anything fancy, just jeans and a t-shirt. I’d already packed everything I’d need to take.
“I’m never going to be late when you make meatloaf again.” He smiled and handed me a glass of red wine.
I took it, but didn’t look too closely at it, not when the last time I’d seen someone drink wine, it hadn’t been wine. The Grand Master sucked. Not that I could really blame all of this on him. The Zombie Queen. She sucked worse, or chewed anyway.
“Why don’t we go out on the deck? There’s a beautiful sunset tonight,” he said, inclining his head towards the door.
