Perfectly Perplexing Zombie

WENDALL’S STORY

PERFECT PIXIE SERIES BOOK 4

MJ MAY

Perfectly Perplexing Zombie

Wendall’s Story

MJ May

Copyright 2023 MJ May

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser only. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locals is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by cheriefox.

Edited by Michelle Rascon of Rascon Revisions.

Proofreading by Hannah VanVels Ausbury.

Created with Vellum

Chapter One

Wendall

Dusk was packed, and we were all running around like idiots. Or maybe that was just me. Johnny, Lizbeth, and the others seemed to have everything well in hand. I didn’t think my zombie status had anything to do with my fatigue, but I could be wrong. I’d only been a zombie for a few months. It took some getting used to.

“Wendall, you wanna climb up there and get me that bottle of virgin tears?” Johnny called out while pouring another drink. My faun boss was great at multitasking, but his hooves made it difficult to climb the ladder where some lesser-used beverages were.

“On it,” I yelled while reaching for the ladder.

We didn’t get many calls for virgin tears. Sirens liked it, but there weren’t many of those around. The last one I’d seen was the producer for Interspecies Habitat, and last I knew, Divia was across the country working on a new project. The pixie star and host of the show, Parsnip, would join her soon, but he had to work out the logistics of getting his bonded mate, Warlock Vander Kines, to travel with him. Since bonding, they couldn’t be away from each other for long.

While at the top of the ladder, I gazed around, trying to spot the siren. If I’d been an alive human, I would have needed to be wary. Since fairy law, most sirens were reformed and didn’t suck the souls of poor, pitiful human fools. Most didn’t mean all.

I scurried down the ladder and handed over the bottle.

“Thanks.” Johnny shot me a grin before filling the glass. “Lady in the far corner.” Johnny pointed, glass in hand. “You good to take it to her?”

In the way of answer, I snatched the glass and weaved my way through Dusk’s patrons. As usual, a smattering of humans mixed in with other species. Vampires and weres dominated the bar, but there were a couple of brownies, two round tops of witches, and a dryad couple clinging to a darkened corner.

I was the only zombie.

From what I understood, and for reasons unknown, I’d taken to zombie-ism a little differently from most. I’d retained my personality and ability to think and reason independently. The priestess who reanimated me thought I’d managed to keep a part of my soul. She also wondered if there was something extra in my DNA—something that wasn’t straight-up human. I didn’t have much insight. I was young when my parents died, and I was dropped on my aunt and uncle’s doorstep. They didn’t talk much about my parents. Then again, I didn’t think my aunt and uncle said much of anything anymore, not after Muriel got done with them.

Newsflash—don’t piss off a priestess. My family lied to Muriel. They’d more than implied my living deeds warranted a fate worse than death, which, for most, was being reanimated as a zombie. It hadn’t quite worked out that way for me. Muriel wasn’t pleased when she found out my family was full of shit. I still wasn’t sure what she’d done to them. I’d stopped asking about a month ago. When I did ask, Muriel gave me the sweetest smile and told me not to worry about it.

That was Muriel. She was the sweetest where I was concerned. But if she thought you’d done her wrong or committed atrocities while alive, Muriel was your worst nightmare.

I squeezed through a couple of trolls, somehow keeping all those precious virgin tears in the glass. Our siren guest wasn’t hard to spot. Like Divia, this siren had hair so blond it looked white. The length of her hair rivaled that of any pixie and cupped her perfectly round rump.

“Thank you, sweetie,” she cooed, smiling wide enough to show off her double row of shark-like teeth. Holding the glass to her nose, she inhaled, eyelids slipping closed. “Now, that smells delicious.” Taking a sip, her grin widened. “My compliments to the owner.” She tipped the glass in salutation.

“I’ll let Mr. Moony know.” Dusk’s owner, Lucroy Moony, was the king of the Southeast vampire nest, but to me, he was simply the boss. Not being a vampire, I called him Mister and left off the king title.

“Please do.” A pale, pink glow emanated from the siren’s eyes.

I wasn’t sure if she registered my zombie status or not. I was simply thankful that the sinful voice went in one ear and out the other.

“Have a good evening,” I hurriedly said before darting back into the crowd.

The hairs on my neck tingled, and if my heart still beat, it would have stuttered. I couldn’t explain the feeling. Eyes were everywhere, yet it felt like someone was staring at me as if I were the sole focus of their evening. Glancing behind me, the overflowing crowd created a wall between the siren and me. I didn’t think it was her. Over the past few days, I’d had the same reaction.

It was ridiculous. No one was interested in me. I was a zombie and far from what would be considered a desirable catch. Maybe it was simply curiosity. I was, after all, a zombie anomaly.

Shaking off the feeling, I pushed through the crowd, making my way back to the bar. When I arrived, Johnny was as busy as ever. Even for a Saturday night, this was nuts.

“Everything go okay?” Johnny raised his voice above the music and noise just enough for me to hear him.

That was Johnny. No matter what was going on, he still took the time to check in and make sure I was fine. He’d been like that since Muriel dropped me off on Dusk’s doorstep. Johnny had even found me a place to live so I didn’t have to stay in the same compound as the rest of the zombies. I’d only spent a few days there, and the memories still sent chills down my spine.

“She seemed happy. The tears were a hit.”

“Excellent.” Johnny beamed while sliding another drink down the counter.

This one was full of warmed blood. Leon snagged it, tilting the glass in appreciation before downing its contents. Mr. Moony’s second was around a lot more than Mr. Moony. Most days and nights, Mr. Moony was at his beloved’s orchard. He and Peaches built a home there, and Mr. Moony seemed as happy as I’d ever seen a vampire.

I glanced around again, eyes wide, while considering the number of bodies dancing and mingling. “What’s going on?” I asked Johnny. “I know it’s Saturday, but this seems extreme.”

Instead of Johnny, Lizbeth leaned over and whisper-shouted in my ear. “They’re hoping to see some pixie action.”

I jerked back. “Really?”

Johnny picked up the thread. “Yeah. Too bad they’re gonna be disappointed. Boss man’s out at Peaches’s orchard tonight, and I doubt Phil and Sedrick will come in if Peaches isn’t here. Parsnip and Vander are supposed to be heading out west, so we’re down three pixies tonight.”

“Plus, that asshole Freddie’s gone.” Lizbeth’s eyes pinched, and her face tightened.

“True,” Johnny easily agreed. “I didn’t even realize how bad the tension was until Freddie left.”

Freddie hadn’t exactly left, at least not in the way Lizbeth and Johnny made it sound. Freddie wasn’t off on some nighttime vacation. Frederick was dead. His ashes had been dumped into the trash and taken away the same night I was introduced to Dusk and all its insanity. It was the reason Muriel had been called. Not the dead vampires—they were easily swept away. There was a dead werewolf in the middle of the dance floor that needed taking care of. Muriel’s zombies hefted the carcass out to the truck and dined on its brains and flesh on the way back to the compound.

Muriel saved me a slice of the brain and a bit of flesh. She was really nice about providing my food. It was part of the agreement she’d struck with Mr. Moony.

“You think they’ll be disappointed?” I asked while staring at all the patrons. I didn’t want to be around if things got rowdy.

“Nah.” Johnny waved off my concerns. “They’re happy, and most understand it’s hit-and-miss when the pixies will be in.”

Lizbeth was at the opposite end of the bar again. Her Cookie Monster-colored hair shimmered under Dusk’s flashing lights. The bin below her station was getting full and needed emptying. Glancing around, it looked like there were still enough glasses, but that wouldn’t be true if I didn’t get washing soon.

“Looks like I need to clean some glasses. You okay if I duck out of sight for a bit?”

I wasn’t sure why I asked. Johnny was the most capable bartender I’d ever met, not that that was saying much. I’d been just shy of my twentieth birthday when I died. As a human, I fell under their laws and wasn’t allowed to drink alcohol or go into a bar yet. Now that I was officially listed as deceased, the US government didn’t really care what I did. They also couldn’t collect taxes on my zombie ass.

Taxes sucked, but I’d rather be a living, paying member of society. It was a perk but didn’t outweigh the not being alive part.

“Go on.” Johnny shooed me away, grinning like a fool. “I’ve got this.”

I didn’t doubt it for a minute. Johnny looked like he was in his element and having the time of his life. That was probably a stretch, but I did think Johnny was enjoying himself. Fauns lived for a good party and enjoyed socializing. Johnny was eating it up, shifting from hoof to hoof while dancing to the music. The sway of his kilt brushed against the soft fur lining his legs. While I wasn’t attracted to Johnny, I could appreciate the tantalizing softness of those impressive fur-covered legs.

Pulling my attention from the dancing faun, I snagged the bin underneath Lizbeth. I got a haggard smile for my efforts and a mouthed, “Thanks.”

With a nod, I took my dirty haul to the back and started the water. Washing dirty glasses placed me comfortably in my element. Rolling up my sleeves, my attention caught on a worrisome area of skin.

Actually, it was two worrisome areas. My skin didn’t look right. Considering my undead status, that seemed like an odd thing to say. But it was true. Muriel was a talented priestess, and I’d come through the reanimation process visually nearly identical to how I’d looked before my untimely death. The green, necrotic-looking flesh spots on my right forearm spoke a different story.

The spots itched, and they didn’t smell good. I’d slathered some antibiotic ointment on them, but I hadn’t noticed much difference. Johnny noticed them the other day. He’d asked me about it, and I’d just shrugged and said it wasn’t anything to worry about. I did not, in fact, know that.

I needed to speak with Muriel, but I was afraid of the answer. Being a zombie wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. Mr. Moony and Johnny were nice, and everyone at Dusk treated me well. In a lot of ways, I was happier now than I’d been while alive. I was even thinking of taking some online college courses.

I’d gotten used to the taste of flesh and brains. It wasn’t so bad, and at least I didn’t crave fatty, unhealthy food. Although, I supposed being dead and all, unhealthy was sort of a sliding scale.

Staring at those two damaged areas made me queasy. Typically, zombies lasted as long as the priest or priestess poured energy into them. Muriel promised me she’d keep me around as long as I wanted, and so far, I hadn’t indicated I wanted a permanent death. But I was different. I shouldn’t be as mentally aware, as capable, and as much like my living self. Although she hid it well, Muriel was baffled. She’d tried looking into it but hadn’t gotten far. Evidently, the reanimation process messed with my DNA, making it impossible to analyze. If I truly were more than human, what that was and how much of it made me up was anyone’s guess.

Tugging on my shirt sleeve, my wet fingers dampened the cloth. It was uncomfortable but did the trick and hid the blight. I didn’t want to think about the future. In a lot of ways, I’d already gotten more time than I was meant to. Not that dying at just shy of twenty seemed fair or enough time.

Muriel might feel guilty about reanimating me, but I didn’t hold a grudge. In fact, I was thankful. If it hadn’t been for her gifts, I never would have gotten to see pixies dance and fly. I wouldn’t have met Johnny or Lizbeth. I wouldn’t have gotten to see half the species I now saw on the regular.

As far as I was concerned, whatever life Muriel had given me was a gift. I just wished that gift didn’t have the expiration date I feared it did.

Chapter Two

Hellfire Rayburn

Muriel’s home was…cluttered. I’d learned that many species desired to be surrounded by items they found comforting. This seemed extreme. Then again, I imagined many of the objects lying about had more purpose than I understood. Muriel was a powerful priestess. She wouldn’t last long against a fairy, but given her limitations, she’d done well for herself, and knowing I would prevail did not tempt me to antagonize the priestess.

“Would you like to sit?” Muriel asked politely.

Glancing around, a free spot did not appear forthcoming. Raising a single eyebrow, I stared at Muriel, silently questioning her generous offer.

A grin and a laugh boarding on a cackle were her answers.

“For a fairy, you’re not bad, Hellfire, but at the end of the day, you are what you are, just as I am what I am. I realize my home most likely offends your minimalist fairy sensibilities.” She waved me off before I could offer an apology. “Don’t. I’m not offended. Like I said, we are what we are. I don’t regret my lot in life, and I’m sure you don’t regret yours. Each species is different. It’s what makes this world a blessedly wonderful place.”

Unsure how to answer, I simply inclined my head and said, “As you say.”

“Always so proper too.” Muriel sighed.

Shifting her weight, Muriel’s orange and yellow patterned dress swayed around her generous hips. Muriel’s dark brown skin gleamed against the gold hoops swinging from her ears. The colorful wrap sitting atop her head, encasing her hair, increased her height by a good half foot.

“If you’re not gonna sit, the least I can do is offer a beverage. I’ve got water, sweet tea, lemonade, and cranberry juice. I’m not sure if any of that is to your palate, but I promise all of it’s untainted and safe.” Another grin split Muriel’s face, deepening the few wrinkles around her eyes and lips. White teeth shimmered through her smirk.

“The juice will do nicely.”

“Coming right up.” Muriel sashayed into the kitchen, and I followed. She poured me a healthy glass and handed it over. I noticed Muriel’s choice was sweet tea.

I took a sip. It wasn’t bad. Nothing on Earth’s plane compared to what was in Fairy, but I’d learned to appreciate this realm’s offerings over the years.

“So,” Muriel started, eyes narrowed and sharp, “now that the pleasantries are over, I’m curious. What brings Hellfire Rayburn to my doorstep? If I’ve broken fairy law, I promise I’m unaware of it.”

I’d been expecting that response and shook my head. “Nothing like that. As far as I am aware, your actions have always been impeccable.”

“Good to know. So, if it’s not that, then what?” It was a marvel Muriel’s head wrap remained tightly secured with her head cocked to the side.

Setting down my nearly full glass, I rested my hands against my lower back. I’d braided my hair today, a single plait that hung just to the top of my ass. My charcoal bespoke suit was fitted to perfection, overlaying a silk crimson shirt that matched the color of my hair perfectly and highlighted my paler-than-moonlight skin. Fairies weren’t known to be as vain as social pixies, but we were not above showing off our assets to the best of our abilities. Beauty was a treasure unto itself and was viewed with reverence.

Not all beauty was the same, and some found beauty where others did not. Physical beauty was important but not nearly as cherished as strength. Power—that was where true beauty lay. Blessedly, when I’d been created, neither had been skimped.

Muriel patiently waited for my answer, and I rewarded that patience with a single name. “Wendall Galen.”

Stiffening, Muriel’s lips thinned. “Wendall? Why would a fairy be interested in him?” Before I could answer, she waved a hand in the air. “Oh, I know he’s impressive, or perhaps, different. I’d like to claim credit, but I didn’t do anything different when I reanimated him. It’s something within Wendall himself. He’s…” Muriel’s voice trailed off, a hint of realization not far behind. “I see, maybe not fully, but you’re interested because Wendall is different. The question is, what do you know that I don’t?” Muriel was far more engaged now, her attention wholly on me and what I was about to say.

“You are correct. Wendall Galen is, indeed, different. Or perhaps a better way to phrase it is Wendall is more than he appears. It has recently come to my attention that Mr. Galen has fairy blood. The amount is most likely severely diluted by now as his fairy relative is many generations removed. However, that does not change the fact that it is most likely this fairy blood that has allowed Mr. Galen to retain his personality.”

“And his cognitive functions,” Muriel mused. Letting loose a heavy breath, Muriel’s tense shoulders slumped. “I thought it might be something like that but wasn’t sure. I also wasn’t sure what that little extra something was. The reanimation process trashes the DNA. Science can’t work past my magic.” Muriel wiggled her fingers, a gentle grin tilting her lips.

“You can see why I am interested in Mr. Galen.” What I didn’t tell Muriel was that it wasn’t me that was truly interested. It was my queen, Silvidia.

“Not true,” Muriel countered. “I doubt Wendall’s alone in his distant fairy blood. Fairies are known to procreate with humans and other species. My understanding is that fairies aren’t the most fertile, or at least, they don’t seem to spawn offspring often. Wendall might be rare, but he’s not an anomaly.” Likely thinking better of her statement, Muriel tilted her head and amended, “Except for the fact he’s a zombie.”

“Indeed, you are not wrong.”

Fairies weren’t in the habit of sharing information regarding our species. It wasn’t that we feared what might be done with that knowledge. Apart from brownies, no other species stood a chance during a conflict. It was simply that we did not believe it was anyone’s business. Fairies weren’t necessarily secretive. We were private. In the modern social age, many saw this trait negatively.

“Hmm… So, tell me, what can I do for you? I’m afraid that whatever interest Fairy might have had regarding Wendall is most likely moot now. His living time has ended. As far as I’m concerned, that’s a damn shame. Wendall’s one of the good ones. He’s got a tender heart and was a credit to humanity. That same humanity saw differently and chose to make his afterlife a living hell. Thankfully, things didn’t work out exactly like his hateful human relatives desired, but Wendall is dead. He’d be buried six feet under if it weren’t for me.”

I gave a discreet bow. “And for that, we are most thankful. You have given us a chance to right a terrible wrong.”

“Huh? How so?”

Straightening, I said, “Wendall’s genetic ties to our race were not discovered until after his death. My queen is most dismayed.”

“Your queen? The fairy queen?” Muriel’s mouth slipped open, and her skin grew ashen.

I’d expected this response. It had been decades since Queen Silvidia left Fairy. Rumors flew that she’d either passed or was ill. Neither could be farther from the truth. Our queen was as fit as ever. She could kill with a thought or foster life just as easily. Unfortunately, resurrection was beyond her skills.

That is where I, unfortunately, came in.

I lived to serve my queen and was honored she’d chosen me for this task. However, even my queen acknowledged that what she asked of me was beyond a simple request. My queen asked me to share my bond—a bond reserved for one deemed a worthy forever mate.

Wendall wasn’t just some rare human with a hint of fairy blood. He was the distant descendant of Queen Silvidia’s murdered brother, Prince Hanan. Wendall was the last biological piece of her brother that existed, and she refused to give up what was left of that tie.

“She’s interested in Wendall? Why?” Muriel leaned heavily against a nearby counter, her hands shaky when she reached for the surface.

“Her reasons are her own,” I hedged, unwilling to confess Wendall’s true importance, even to Priestess Muriel. “What is important is her concern that Wendall’s fairy blood might further interfere with reanimation. There have been…signs that perhaps the reanimation is faltering.”

Muriel’s ring-covered fingers scrubbed across her worried brow. “King Moony called me a few days ago.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And what did he have to say?”

Choking out a mirthless laugh, Muriel stared at the ceiling, a heavy sigh falling from her lips. “Johnny and King Moony noticed some worrisome physical changes. Spots on Wendall’s skin that do not appear as pristine as when he was freshly risen.”

“Decay?”

“Possibly. I was trying to give Wendall time to contact me on his own, but perhaps I need to be more proactive. It might be a matter of more food. I’ve asked if he needs more, but Wendall has seemed content. Perhaps he’s not eating well. Typical zombies don’t care what they crave. They don’t have the mental capacity to do so. All they know is the desire, the driving force to feed, and what that hunger wants is brains and flesh. Brain tissue mostly. There simply isn’t enough of it to go around, so they settle for other bits and pieces. I’ve given Wendall the most desirable parts, but if he’s not eating it…” She shrugged. “Wendall retained his sense of self, and it’s not a stretch to think he might balk at his new, necessary diet.”

I had not considered such a thing and wondered if Queen Silvidia had. “Do you believe Wendall will be truthful if you ask?”

Muriel’s lips screwed tight. “If he doesn’t, then I’ll force him to. I’m his priestess. I’ve never tried to push my authority onto Wendall. I’ve always tried to respect his individuality, but if needed, I will exert my will to get to the truth.”

“And if it is not the food? If he is eating properly?”

“Then we’ve got a bigger problem.” Muriel appeared thoughtfully forlorn. “My abilities over humans are unquestionable. However, fairy blood, even the smallest hint of it, could change things. For obvious reasons, I’ve never attempted to reanimate fairy flesh.”

“I doubt you’d live long enough to complete the process.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’ve never attempted it,” Muriel answered as if I were a moron. “I’ll contact Wendall today. No, better yet, I’ll make a trip to Dusk and see for myself. I won’t be able to tell if he’s lying over the phone. Those damn electronic devices fuck everything up.”

“Humanity does have a penchant for creating such devices.”

Again, Muriel cackled. “Indeed, they do. But I’ll give them this, some of those devices are damn useful too. You’ve got to give them credit for using what their god gave them. They might be weak, short-lived, and violently self-destructive, but they’re terribly creative regarding how they go about it.”

I didn’t attempt to disagree.

“I’ll use one of those hateful devices to contact you, if that’s agreeable?”

“It is. The sooner, the better. If intervention is needed, it would be best to do so sooner rather than later.”

Muriel’s forlorn look grew more dejected. “I hate to say this, but if his fairy blood is mucking up the process, I’m not certain there is anything more I can do. I don’t want to lose Wendall. I like him. And not just me, but Johnny does too. I’d hazard that everyone at Dusk has a soft spot for the reanimated human. I don’t want to fail him, but in this case, I’m unsure what else can be done.”

Turning, I made my way through the winding labyrinth of Muriel’s home. “Leave that to me,” I cryptically answered while reaching for the door. It wasn’t the option I desired, but it was the one I’d take to please my queen.

Chapter Three

Wendall

“Yo, Wendall.” Johnny knocked on my door. Checking the nearby clock, I noted it was around two in the afternoon. I’d fallen into bed a little after 5:00 a.m. I didn’t have far to travel after work. I lived in a little apartment above the bar. It was simple, but I didn’t need much. A twin bed, galley kitchen, and small bathroom with a stand-up shower worked great for me. I had a fridge to store my food and a small microwave to heat it when I felt like warm brains.

“Just a minute,” I shouted loud enough to carry through the closed door. It was unlocked, and Johnny could have come in if he wanted. Thankfully, my boss respected my privacy.

“You’ve got a visitor, so dress in more than your underwear,” Johnny snickered.

I rolled my eyes, staring down at my boxer briefs. Reaching for a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, I vaguely wondered if I should put something nicer on. I didn’t get visitors except Muriel. Allowing my eyes to slip closed again, I concentrated on the link between us and blew out a sigh of relief.

Muriel was on the other side of the door. My t-shirt and shorts were plenty.

Hurrying, I patted down my bedhead and reached for the knob. Opening the door revealed the decked-out priestess. I’d never seen Muriel look anything but impeccable. A smile lit up my face, and without thought, I leaned forward and threw my arms around her, squeezing tight. Similar in height, I didn’t have to bend down much to cradle this lovely woman.

“Hi, Muriel. It’s good to see you.”

Patting my back, Muriel softly chuckled. “You’re a bit stronger than your skinny white ass looks.”

Releasing her, I gave Muriel a wide grin. I’d never been physically strong, and turning into a zombie hadn’t improved my strength. Muriel was being kind, and I appreciated it.

“Come in,” I said, hustling her into my small space.

Johnny headed back down the stairs, the heavy clomp of his hooves growing distant the farther away he traveled.

As usual, Muriel had a refrigerated bag in her hands. “I brought you a little snack,” she sang. “We got a good call last night. Plenty of food to go around.”

“Thank you.” I rustled through the bag, pulling out my little disposable container and setting it in the fridge next to its cousins.

When I turned around, Muriel’s gaze tracked up and down my body. I knew the instant she located the decaying areas on my arm. Taking in a hissing breath, she stomped forward and grabbed my wrist, twisting my arm to get a better angle.

“How long has this been there?” Muriel demanded. When I was silent, she said, “Answer me, Wendall.”

I flinched. Muriel never used that harsh tone with me. I’d heard her speak to the other zombies that way, but never me.

“A few days,” I quietly answered, as if speaking low enough would make the words untrue. “It started off with just the one, but now there’re two.”

Muriel nodded. “Any others?”

“Not that I know of, but I can’t see my back.” I’d tried turning in my tiny bathroom but couldn’t get the angle right to see everything.

“Take your shirt off, Wendall. Let’s see all of you.”

I blushed but did as told. I turned, allowing Muriel to examine me. The whisper-light touch of her fingertips skated across my flesh. If I’d still been alive, I would have had gooseflesh.

I was scared to ask, but finally said, “Are there any others?”

“Not that I can see, but the ones you’ve got are two more than I’m happy about. You can put your shirt back on, but I want to know why you didn’t tell me.”

Stuffing my arms and head back through the appropriate t-shirt holes, my words were muffled. “I didn’t want to worry you.” That wasn’t completely true, and I added, “I just kind of hoped they’d go away on their own.”

“And how’s that working out for you?” she scolded.

“Not well,” I readily admitted. “I’ve been cleaning them, and I placed some antibiotic ointment on the skin, but it hasn’t really helped much. And they kind of smell.”

“Of course they smell. The tissue’s necrotic. It’s dying.” With a disappointed huff, Muriel walked to my love seat and plopped down. Patting the cushion beside her, Muriel said, “Have a seat and let’s talk, Wendall.”

Conversations that started out with “let’s talk” never ended well. Regardless, I sat and asked, “Do you know what’s happening? Am I dying? Again?”

“I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. I’m not exactly certain. First, have you been eating properly?” Muriel leaned toward me as she asked, a mix of hope and worry filling her deep brown eyes.

It was an easy question to answer. “I have. I mean, it took a little bit to get over the idea of what I was eating, but once I did, I’ve done exactly as you said.”

That tiny spark of hope dimmed. “Hmm, perhaps you need a little more brain and a little less other tissue.” Muriel’s gaze drifted, staring through a nearby wall.

I had no idea what was going on in her mind and didn’t want to interrupt her train of thought.

With a weighty sigh, she sagged against the back of the couch. “I wish I knew for certain. We’re in unprecedented waters here. Tell me if I’m wrong, Wendall, but you seem happy as you are. Is that true?”

I didn’t have to consider her question long. “I am. I mean, I’d like to be alive again, but we both know that’s not possible.”

Muriel gave a sad, understanding headshake.

“Given the circumstances, I think things turned out well, and I’ve got you to thank for that.”

“Oh, don’t thank me,” she huffed. “You’re right. Things did turn out well, but they could and should have turned out a lot worse, and you sure as shit didn’t deserve that kind of fate.” Muriel patted my knee.

Most were afraid of the woman sitting to my right, but to me, Muriel was kinder than my biological grandmother.

“I wish I could have found this type of life when I was alive,” I lamented. “If I’d gotten away from my family sooner, maybe I’d still be a living, breathing human.”

Muriel’s attention swung my way, eyes narrowed. “How do you figure?”

I was taken aback. “Well…I mean, they did murder me. Maybe if I wasn’t around, then—”

“They didn’t murder you, sugar.”

My mouth slammed shut, teeth clicking. “Wait, what? Yes, they did.” I was positive. “And then they lied to you, accused me of heinous things so you’d agree to resurrect me as a zombie.”

That was what happened. I was sure of it. Muriel had even told me that she’d punished my family members. I still wasn’t certain what she’d done, only that it had been deserved.

“Well, you’ve got part of it right. Your aunt and uncle are some seriously evil people, but they didn’t kill you. I checked with the police. Neither of them was behind the wheel of the car that hit you. They’ve both got an alibi, and nothing was found linking them to a plot to take you out.”

By the time I blinked, my eyes were painfully dry. “But I thought…”

I’d just sort of assumed they’d been the ones, even though I couldn’t really figure out why. I hadn’t even laid eyes on nor spoken with them for going on a year. I was in college, attending Virginia State University. I was a history major with big dreams of becoming an archaeologist. My aunt and uncle weren’t paying for anything. I’d taken out student loans, expecting a lifetime of debt. Funny how death forgave my loans.

“Your aunt and uncle are jackasses, but they aren’t murderers, just profiteers. Zombies aren’t really even worth that much. What little cash they got for your corpse wasn’t close enough to justify their lies.”

I’d learned that a few of Muriel’s zombies came from the penal system, but most were corpses she’d bought and paid for. They were humans who’d lived less than stellar lives. Muriel was choosey. She didn’t zombify those she didn’t deem deserved it. Muriel followed human and fairy law to the limit, and she’d created a successful business in the process.

I digested this new information, processing it but pulling up blanks. “I was told it was murder,” I mused, speaking more to myself than Muriel.

“Oh, that it was,” she agreed. “There was an eyewitness who said the car aimed itself at you and accelerated. There were no skid marks on the road. And besides, you were walking on a sidewalk. Your death was no accident, honey. What they don’t know is who’s responsible. The eyewitness didn’t get a license plate number. Can’t say that I blame them. It had to have been quite the shock.” Again, Muriel patted me on the knee. “They called 911 immediately, but I’m afraid it was too late. Mercies are often small, but I take a little comfort knowing you died instantly.”

I wasn’t sure if it was a mercy, but I supposed if death was inevitable, then doing it quickly was the best way to go. I didn’t have many memories of my death. I vaguely remembered hearing an engine accelerate. Maybe I started to turn, but if I did, I couldn’t remember anything I saw. There was an explosion of pain, its source unknown. It was like my whole body was consumed with it, and then…nothing. There was absolutely nothing again until I opened my eyes and found Muriel’s deep brown gaze staring back at me.

The police had never bothered speaking with me, probably because they were still under the impression I was a mindless zombie. If they’d taken the time, I doubted I would have been a lot of help. In fact, Muriel seemed to know a lot more about what happened to me than I did.

“Do you know this much about all your zombies?”

“No, but you’re special. After I figured out what lying shits your aunt and uncle were, I looked into things more closely. I’m sorry to say that your case is a cold one. I doubt anyone’s trying very hard at this point. It’s not like…” Muriel’s voice faded, her eyes apologetic.

“It’s not like I’ve got family pushing the police to solve my case,” I finished for her.

“Exactly. In defense of the police, I think the detective on your case tried. There just wasn’t much to go on. It’s like the car involved just up and vanished into thin air.” Muriel shrugged. “No one could find a motive. There wasn’t a car, and to be honest, no suspects. They hit a wall.”

Elbows planted on my knees, I cradled my chin in my cupped hands, staring a hole through the floor. “I don’t know either. Not that anyone asked, but if they had, I don’t have a clue who’d want to kill me.” Some might have thought I was being terribly pragmatic and unemotional regarding my murder. They’d probably be right. I just didn’t see the sense in getting irate about something I couldn’t go back in time and change. It had been a few months since my death, and I’d gotten used to my new “life.”

“The investigator I hired couldn’t find anything either.”

I jolted. “You hired an investigator?”

Pink dusted Muriel’s cheeks. “I didn’t like what happened. It didn’t sit well with me, and I hated being used. I think it’s safe to say your aunt and uncle regret their deception.” Muriel threw me a conspiratorial wink. “But my curiosity was piqued, and I’d already grown fond of you. I wanted to know what happened.” With a sigh, she added, “Not that it did much good.”

“I’m sorry.” I reached over, grasping Muriel’s hand in mine and squeezing tight. “And, for what it’s worth, thank you for trying. I don’t think anyone in my life has ever been as nice to me as you and Johnny.” If I’d been able to form them, tears would have leaked from my eyes.

“Oh, sugar, you deserve a lot more.” Placing a hand on my chest, over my silent heart, Muriel said, “You’re one of the good ones. Sometimes, I hate the world, or at least I wish I could change it. But we do the best with what we’ve got, and for better or worse, this is the lot you and I’ve been thrown.”

My gaze caught on my rotting flesh, the reality of the situation lying in my gut heavily. “You know, even if we can’t figure this out, I’m glad you reanimated me. The past few months have been better than my breathing years.”

I’d hoped to bring a smile to her face, but if anything, Muriel appeared sadder. Shaking off the gloom, Muriel’s shoulders stiffened with resolve. “We’ll get this figured out. I’m going straight to my coroner friend. I’ll get you more quality food, and we’ll see what that does first. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll consult with every priest and priestess in the world. If an answer’s out there, we’ll find it.”

I nodded, desperately wishing I could bottle Muriel’s certainty.

“Okay. I’ll let Ray know we’ve got a plan.”

“Ray?” I perked up. “What does he have to do with this?”

I didn’t know the fairy lawyer personally. I’d seen him in the bar a few times. More recently, I thought I caught him staring at me a time or two. As a general rule, I tried to stay away from fairies. They scared the shit out of me, metaphorically speaking.

“Hmm…” Muriel patted me on the cheek. “Seems like we finally have an answer regarding why you reanimated differently than every other human.”

I licked my suddenly dry lips and stuttered, “W-we do?”

“You, sweetie, have a teeny-weeny bit of fairy blood.”

I sucked in an unnecessary breath. “I have what?” Those words were barely a whisper, but they shouted through my brain.

“From what I understand, the connection’s distant, but there.”

“And because of that—”

“You’ve got the fairy queen interested.” Muriel’s eyes widened, and her words were nearly as breathless as mine.

“The…the…”

Well, shit. What did I say to that? Even if I did have fairy blood, it had to be such a tiny amount as to almost be negligible. I certainly didn’t remember feeling anything but straight-up human. I hadn’t been powerful. My ears were round and human-simple. I didn’t sprout wings, and my eyes didn’t change color. I was, for all intents and purposes, the most ordinary human male that had ever lived.

Death and my subsequent zombification had made me far more interesting than I’d ever been as a living, breathing human.

Chapter Four

Hellfire Rayburn

It had been some time since I’d been to Sedrick Voss’s place of business. With the custody battle concluded, the alpha werewolf had little need of my services. I was uncertain why he’d called for this meeting today or asked me to come to the mine, especially at this late hour. The sun hung low on the horizon. Brilliant shades of coppery red mixed with golden orange filled the sky. Twilight wouldn’t be far behind. By all accounts, Sedrick should be at home with his bonded pixie, niece, and nephew.

The area was nearly empty, with only three vehicles parked near the office. I easily recognized two of the three and murmured, “Interesting.”

There was no sign of Sedrick’s employees, and the mine sounded quiet. The dwarves must have called it a day, and most likely, the two humans Sedrick employed had gone home as well.

Climbing the steps to Sedrick’s office building, I wondered what Lucroy Moony was doing here and whom the other vehicle belonged to.

I didn’t bother announcing my presence. Sedrick would undoubtedly hear my footfalls and recognize them. When I got close enough, he’d scent me as well.

The door to the office was open, muted voices echoing into the small reception area. Those voices ground to a halt, and Sedrick’s deep baritone said, “Come on in, Ray.”

Doing as requested, I stepped through the doorway. My gaze flicked around the room, easily taking in the three occupants. I wasn’t necessarily surprised by the third, more intrigued as to why we were all gathered together sans their pixie partners.

From left to right, I greeted those in the room. “Lucroy, Sedrick, Vander. To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?” Curiosity was a precious gift, one that I rarely got the experience of enjoying. When you had thousands of years in your rearview mirror, very little came as a surprise.

Seated, Sedrick rested his elbows on his chair while thick fingers steepled across his broad chest. Lucroy rested his elbow against the tall back of Sedrick’s chair, casually lounging. As for the warlock, Vander’s ass was poised on the edge of Sedrick’s desk, his long legs stretched before him, crossed at the ankle.

“We have a problem,” Sedrick answered.

Considering what this odd group had in common, I asked, “A pixie problem?”

Vander grunted. “What other kind is there?” His words were harsh but spoken with fond reverence.

“Indeed,” I answered, stepping deeper into the room. “And what is the nature of this problem?” I had difficulty concluding what would require fairy involvement between the three of them.

Vander glanced back at Sedrick, a murderous look on his face. “One of you tell him. If I do, I’ll probably just dissolve into cursing and casting.” Vander waved a hand, his blackened fingertips little more than a dark blur.

“Perhaps it would be best if I relay the information.” Lucroy Moony’s silky, soft voice was in deep contrast to the others.

“Go for it,” Sedrick answered. “You’ll give the rundown in the most dispassionate way possible. I’m with Vander. Maybe I can’t cast, but I can curse and growl.”

“Very well.” Straightening, Lucroy stepped forward, placing his position equal to Sedrick’s. “My companions are correct. However, do not mistake my calm demeanor for apathy. I assure you, I am anything but apathetic.”

Sedrick gave a single nod. “Sorry, Lucroy. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

“It is of little importance and was not considered an insult. Vampires strive to keep their emotions contained. If anything, you offered a compliment.”

“Vampires,” Vander lamented, but just like before, there was more fondness than heat.

I remained silent, waiting for an explanation, my curiosity pleasantly blooming. Vander Kines was in my debt. One aspect of that debt came in the form of trapping Alpha Arie Belview. Given Queen Silvidia’s recent request, I hadn’t had the opportunity to speak further with Vander regarding a plan. Perhaps this meeting had to do with Alpha Belview. One could hope. The sooner Arie was taken down, the safer the area would be.

“Some information has recently come to light.”

“Regarding Alpha Belview.” I thought it safe to guess. The name earned a sonorous growl from Sedrick and a flash of crimson eyes from Lucroy.

“Unfortunately, no. Or at least I do not believe we have any new information to relay,” Lucroy answered, eyes still softly glowing.

“I’ve got feelers out,” Vander added. “Warlocks aren’t a close bunch, but we do stick together at times, and I think someone trying to break a pixie bond is an issue ninety percent of us can agree is some fucked up shit.”

“That leaves an unfortunate ten percent,” I said.

“It does.” Vander gave an understanding nod. “We’re not great at policing ourselves, but maybe we can get our collective shit together just this once.” Vander shrugged. “I’m not saying I’m holding out a lot of hope, just that I’ve done what I can on that front. Mattie’s talked to local witch covens, but I doubt Arie will approach a witch. This is magical destruction, breaking at the very least. That’ll take warlock magical manipulation, not a witch. Arie’s smart enough to know the difference.”

“Smart and devious enough,” Sedrick growled. He’d lost control of his transformation, and thick, dangerously sharp claws tapped away at the edge of his armrest.

Lucroy’s hand rested on Sedrick’s shoulder, and as odd as it seemed, the vampire’s touch settled Sedrick enough that his wolf receded. It was a strange gesture of comfort and even stranger that it worked.

“Unfortunately, we have another concern,” Lucroy finally said once Sedrick calmed. “This one is, perhaps, more concerning, at least on a national and species basis.”

“Oh?” My eyebrows lifted.

This odd gathering had my attention. Fear was a useful agent, and fairies wielded it like a weapon. However, fear had its limits and drawbacks. Fairies had embraced law and order and, for the moment, enjoyed enforcing it. I had no illusion that the state of affairs would last forever, but at least for the time being, we brought a semblance of order to the chaos consuming Earth. But for all of Fairy power, we were not omnipotent, all-knowing creatures. We heavily relied on information passed along by other species. When those individuals were too fearful to share information, that became a problem.

I’d considered taking my concerns to Queen Silvidia but always reconsidered. In the end, such things seemed petty and beneath her.

Lucroy continued, “Have you heard any rumors regarding pixie trafficking?”

A shot of pure rage sliced through me, gone nearly as quickly as it arrived. “Not for many decades,” I honestly answered.

Lucroy’s expression remained one of bland indifference. “Unfortunately, recent events have led us to believe the problem is no longer relegated to the past.”

“And it’s not just ogres,” Vander said, tone nearly as deep as Sedrick’s.

My eyes darted around the room. Pixie trafficking was supposed to be a past issue. Ogres took pixie dust addiction seriously and had taken control of policing their own species. Recovery institutions could be found scattered throughout different nations. In many ways, ogres were just as much victims as pixies, at least when accidentally exposed. Pixie dust was highly addictive.

It would be disappointing to hear of ogres trafficking pixies again, but not all that surprising. Other species, however… “What in our queen’s name could they get from such an endeavor?”

“Money,” Sedrick answered thickly, making me realize I’d spoken out loud. “Greed is the root of most evil. Not all, but it sure as shit has its claws dug into most.”

“I cannot disagree,” Lucroy said.

“Neither can I. Cash is king, and power is its queen. You get both involved, and that’s a recipe for some nasty-ass shit.”

Vander once informed me he often turned down more commissions than he accepted. I thought Vander Kines was most likely the exception to the rule, but I didn’t have enough dealings with warlocks to say for certain.

“You have proof?” I questioned.

“Mostly hearsay,” Lucroy answered. “But I believe we can put you in touch with a pixie that knows more and could possibly give you the proof you require. Even so, it was concerning enough we thought it important to relay.”

I lowered my head in thought. “If someone is trafficking, it is an automatic death sentence. No questions will be asked, and judgment will be final. There is no excuse. Such action harms pixies and ogres.”

“Agreed,” Sedrick and Vander said in unison.

Lucroy remained silent, but I didn’t doubt his understanding.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I promise to look into it.” The air grew charged. A fairy promise was binding, and I was bound to mine.

“I believe Vander has the details regarding the pixie contact,” Lucroy stated. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to check in with Leon at Dusk before returning to Peaches.”

Sedrick checked his watch and huffed. “Yeah, Phil’s probably got dinner on the table. Most likely, he tried to get Dillon and Ruthie to wait until I got home, but a couple of hungry werewolf kids can be damn persuasive. I doubt Phil held out long.” An indulgent grin eased across Sedrick’s face, taking years off his appearance and softening his roughened edges. Running his fingers through his thick beard, Sedrick’s gaze drifted, his attention no longer in the here and now.

“Sedrick, you mind if I stick around a little longer? That way I can give Ray the information he needs?” Vander asked.

“Take all the time you need.” Sedrick waved a dismissive hand as he stood.

Lucroy had already ducked out and was presumably on his way to Dusk. It was odd to see a vampire out during daylight. The sun was setting when I arrived, but Lucroy was already present, indicating he’d driven to the Voss mine during the late afternoon. Peaches’s blood had changed Lucroy, and a needle of concern wormed its way through my mind. As news spread of Lucroy’s sun tolerance, perhaps it wouldn’t just be ogres after pixies.

“Let me know if you need anything.” Sedrick’s heavy palm congenially latched onto Vander’s shoulder. “You too, Ray. Anything you need, you just give a holler, and I’ll see what can be done.”

Sedrick’s heavy footfalls quieted as he left and shouted, “Make sure to lock up,” his final words before the door closed behind him. The rumble of Sedrick’s truck engine filled the night air. Vander waited until the sound diminished before he moved closer, handing me a piece of paper with a name and contact information.

“Pomegranate’s part of a pixie rescue group. Parsnip helps fund the operation. They’ve known each other since Parsnip’s rescue and recovery. He trusts her, and so do I.”

“I will contact her soon, and if not me, then an associate.”

I wanted to look into the matter personally but wasn’t certain now was the time. Muriel was meeting with Wendall, and I needed to speak with her and find out what she had learned. I thought it too much to hope that Wendall’s decay was due to improper nutrition. If that were the case, I doubted Queen Silvidia would have contacted me and asked me to employ such drastic measures.

Still, it was worth asking.

I started to turn, assuming our business was concluded, but Vander stopped me when he asked, “What’s your interest in Wendall?”

My body stilled. “What interest would that be?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. And don’t act all coy and secretive with me. Sedrick, Lucroy, and I all saw you staring at him the other night at Dusk. It’s odd enough that you’d be hanging around there, but even weirder that your attention was locked on our odd little zombie. Besides, I’ve got a sneaking, ill feeling that whatever else you need my help with somehow involves whatever’s going on with Wendall.”

Vander wasn’t wrong. I internally debated the merit of discussing the situation. Eventually, if things went as I thought they might, I would require Vander Kines’s warlock abilities. Perhaps the time was opportune to bring him up to date.

“Wendall Galen is not strictly human.”

Vander’s lips pursed while his face scrunched. “No. He’s a zombie. An odd one, I’ll grant you, but a zombie nonetheless.”

“While true, there is a reason Mr. Galen is such an unusual zombie.” Inhaling deeply, I briefly closed my eyes before relaying the important information. “It seems that Mr. Galen had a distant relative that unwittingly contributed to his current condition.”

Vander’s eyes widened. “A fairy?”

“Indeed. Though it isn’t common, more than a handful of individuals roaming the planet have no idea they have an ounce of fairy DNA. Once significantly diluted, it would be difficult for any to notice. However, even the minuscule fairy heritage within Wendall changed his zombification.”

“No shit? That’s… I don’t know exactly what that is beyond interesting. So, I get why you might have a little skin in this game, but not why you’d need me.”

I tilted my head, the length of my crimson hair floating over my shoulder. I hadn’t bothered braiding it today and left it loose. “Tell me, have you noticed anything different about Mr. Galen recently?”

“Beyond the fact that he’s a coherent, mentally functional zombie?”

My lips twitched. “Beyond that.”

Vander’s blackened fingertips slid along his jaw. A slow nod later, he said, “I noticed something. It was like the power reanimating him faded in and out. Nothing major, but it was enough to ping on my radar.”

Warlocks and witches were excellent magical detection devices. They twisted and warped the magic around them, calling it to heel and performing their wishes. It would have been odd if Vander hadn’t noticed.

“He’s also got a spot… Something I saw on his arm.” Vander frowned. “The flesh didn’t look right.”

I shared Vander’s discomfort. “It is concerning. It seems young Wendall’s fairy blood is both a blessing and a curse. I’ve spoken with Muriel. She’s checking to ensure Wendall is eating properly, but we both doubt that is the root of the issue.”

Vander’s skin turned a little green at the mention of Wendall’s new diet, but he recovered quickly. “You think his fairy blood is interfering with Muriel’s reanimation magic?”

“That is the concern.”

“Well, shit.” Vander’s hands fisted on his hips. “That’s shitty news. I don’t know him well, but Wendall seems like a good guy, and Johnny sure seems to like him. I think Lucroy likes him too.” Vander’s nose scrunched. “Well, as much as a vamp can like someone. Sometimes, it’s difficult to tell.”

“I’m certain King Moony would be pleased with your assessment.”

Vander coughed out a laugh. “No doubt.” Head shaking, Vander’s amusement faded, and deep thought took its place. I knew he’d caught on when his shoulders slumped. “That’s why you need me. Damn.”

“I doubt I need you in particular, but a capable warlock will be required should breaking Muriel’s bond with Wendall become necessary.”

Leaning on Sedrick’s desk, arms crossed, Vander’s head was lowered in what appeared to be concentration. “I take it back; I don’t get it. If things go sideways, all Muriel has to do is cut the connection. I hate to say it, but Wendall will go back to truly being dead. His body will continue decomposing, and nature will take its course. Breaking the connection doesn’t require anything on my part.”

“Typically, that would be correct. However, Wendall’s second death is not what my queen wishes.”

“Queen Silvidia?” Vander’s shock was only slightly less than Muriel’s had been.

“We have no other queen,” I stubbornly said. “My queen desires Wendall to remain alive or at least reanimated. Should Muriel’s abilities prove insufficient, another method shall be employed. It will be essential that Muriel hold a partial bond—enough to keep Wendall’s body reanimated while the magical power sustaining that reanimation is changed.”

“Changed? Changed to who? I’m not just blowing smoke when I say that Muriel is the most powerful priestess east of the Mississippi and probably west of it too. If she’s not capable, I doubt another is.”

“That is not your current concern.” I wasn’t certain why I felt the need to keep the truth from Vander. Perhaps it was an extension of my own desires. I did not relish the thought of sharing my bond, especially with someone so painfully human. Queen Silvidia’s request was not light.

Vander held up his hands, palms out. “Okay, I get it. Well, not really, but I’ll back off. Just to let you know, I’ve got to head out west with Parsnip. Interspecies Habitat’s next show involves a mermaid and a rattlesnake shifter. Don’t ask me how the two of them met. I’ve got no idea. If she hasn’t already, Divia will probably tell Parsnip the gritty details soon.” Vander’s expression relaxed to one of pleasure. “Parsnip was so afraid his career was over, but early ratings tell a different story. The production company leaked his coming out footage, and the response has been anything but negative.” Vander spoke with unguarded pride.

“Congratulations,” I offered, unsure what else to say.

Clapping his hands, Vander’s clanging metal rings filled the air. We’d managed to recover most of his charmed rings. His most prized possession was the one with the blackened stone, rivers of crimson etched across the surface. When his one-and-only was around, it glowed red. It was rare to see it quiescent as typically Parsnip and Vander were together.

“Byx is going to watch the shop. She’ll know how to reach me, and I’m only a plane ride away. Just let me know if and/or when you need my help. I’ll do a little digging, but I don’t think breaking, or in this case, partially breaking, Muriel and Wendall’s connection will be difficult, especially if I have Muriel’s permission and she’s not fighting the process.”

“That will not be an issue,” I confidently assured. “To an extent, Muriel is aware of the concerns, and she has no desire to harm Mr. Galen further.” In fact, I got the feeling it was just the opposite. Muriel was unusually fond of this zombie.

“Glad to hear it. That’ll be one less complication, and I’ve got no desire to go pissing off a priestess.”

“A wise life choice.”

Vander choked out a laugh. “That’s no joke. Now, if it’s okay with you, I’m going to head out. I’ve got my own pixie to get home to.” Vander’s grin was charming and full of adoration.

I’d never once known a being that garnered such a personal reaction and doubted I ever would. Centuries of experience were a difficult past to overcome.

Chapter Five

Wendall

I’d been convinced my aunt and uncle were the source of my demise. Wrapping my head around the idea they weren’t the cause was more difficult than it should have been. There’d been no love loss between myself and my aunt and uncle. I never understood why. After a few years, the why of the matter didn’t seem important any longer. If I’d gotten stuck on solving that riddle, I never would have had the time to figure out my own shit. I’d made a conscious decision that I was more important than their unreasonable disregard, and in doing so, I’d disregarded them.

When I’d woken to my dead life, it hadn’t been difficult to reconcile their supposed actions—not that I understood why they’d wanted me dead any more than why they’d despised my very existence. I guessed I figured that was reason enough. Or maybe my aunt and uncle didn’t necessarily need a reason to do what they’d done. Knowing what I knew now, it seemed kind of naïve. Then again, they had contacted Muriel, fed her a lot of bullshit regarding how I’d lived my life, and happily made off with a small sum of money in exchange for my reanimated body. When I thought about that, thinking they’d been the cause of my death didn’t seem so far-fetched.

“Wendall, we need some more shot glasses.” Lizbeth peeked her head through the swinging door, and her request was barely past her lips before she darted off again.

I doubted she stayed long enough to hear my brief “got it.”

Thankfully, I had plenty washed. Turns out I was pretty good at washing glasses while my mind was a million miles away. I’d always been good at busy work, and evidently, my mind classified washing dishes under that same umbrella. Good thing because Dusk was busy again. Not as busy as it was on Saturday, but more than your average Monday crowd.

After filling a bin with clean glassware, I headed out of my protective cubbyhole and into the noise of Dusk’s unique atmosphere. Darting in and around Lizbeth, I restocked the glasses before exchanging my bin with one nearly overflowing with dirty cups.

“Thanks,” Lizbeth said in passing, a brief smile flitting across her lips before she was off, helping another customer.

If my sexual preferences leaned more toward the feminine, I would have had the worst crush on Lizbeth.

“We could use some more napkins,” Johnny called, head barely turned in my direction.

I darted back to the stockroom. I’d floundered in the beginning, unsure where everything was. Knowing the layout and general expectations, I enjoyed working at Dusk. Mr. Moony paid me a good wage, and since I was dead to the IRS, I didn’t have to pay taxes. Mr. Moony also didn’t have to pay into a social security account, so I got that too. Johnny helped me take out a checking account, and since I was currently living rent-free, my savings were adding up quickly. I’d offered to pay Mr. Moony rent, but he’d flatly declined and said to consider it part of my wages.

Honestly, I thought he paid me too much. I didn’t have any experience to base that on, but I figured I’d landed a pretty sweet deal. My reanimated life could have turned out a lot worse.

With a stack of napkins in hand, I rushed back out to the bar, restocking the pile and swiping another bin of dirty dishes.

“Anything else?” I asked. “If not, I’ll go back to washing.”

With a tilt of his head, Johnny said, “I’ll holler if I need anything. Go on.” Johnny flashed me a crooked grin, which I easily returned.

Dusk’s music softened when the door swung closed. I could still hear it, but it felt like I was up in the nosebleeds instead of directly in front of the stage.

I filled the sink with fresh, soapy water and got busy. My mind instantly went back to what it had been mulling over before. The million-dollar question was, if my aunt and uncle hadn’t been responsible for killing me, then who had?

Muriel said there was a witness and they’d reported the incident as intentional. They’d said the car purposefully sped and swerved onto the sidewalk, killing me. They’d sped away, no license plate on the car.

The rinse water was too hot, so I added a little more cold. I wasn’t sure how it worked, but I could still feel temperature changes. I didn’t think my feeling was as good as it had been when I was alive. Muriel told me I needed to take care and pay more attention. Otherwise, I might damage my skin. Glancing down at the decayed spots on my arm, I didn’t think hot water would be my skin’s downfall.

“Good evening, Wendall.”

I jumped, a glass slipping through my fingers and shattering on the floor. If my heart still beat, it would have hammered an unpleasant drumbeat in my chest.

With wet, soapy fingers, I clutched my t-shirt, the word DUSK wrinkled within my fisted hand.

“Wendall, are you okay? I thought I heard… Oh, it’s just you.” Johnny’s concerned frown eased, and his eyes rolled. “The boy’s already died once, Ray. He doesn’t need to be scared into a second afterlife.” Johnny’s face disappeared behind the swinging door as he headed back to the bar.

“Apologies,” Ray said, one eyebrow cocked. “I did not mean to sneak up or frighten you. That was not my intention.”

I waved off his apology despite my continued unease. “I-it’s not that big of a deal,” I easily lied while bending over and picking up the larger pieces of glass. I’d use a broom and dustpan for the smaller bits.

Ray’s silence unnerved me. When I raised back up, larger pieces of glass in hand, he was still there, hands jammed into the pockets of his loose dress slacks. The sides of his crimson hair were braided and pulled back, leaving the remainder to cascade down his back. Ray’s tipped ears were pale against all that red. His irises were red-rimmed but not glowing and not full of the fire I’d heard reported in the past. Ray’s expression was inscrutable. I got more from Mr. Moony than the fairy.

Dumping the glass into a nearby wastebasket, I cautiously asked, “Is there something I can do for you?” I sincerely hoped not. Getting involved in fairy business never turned out well. Fairies didn’t exactly hate humans, although they’d certainly put us in our place. I wasn’t sure there was a species fairies were especially fond of. Sometimes, I even wondered if they liked each other.

Ray didn’t answer. He silently stood, eyes skimming over my body with clinical ease. When his gaze landed on my necrotic skin, I pulled my arm back, tucking it to my side while I rolled down my shirt sleeves.

“You’ve spoken with Muriel.” It was more a statement than a question.

“I speak with her all the time.” I was confused. “Is there something about her you need to know? If so, it’s probably best to speak with her directly. I doubt I know much about—”

“Your arm,” Ray interrupted. “Muriel spoke with you regarding your deteriorating body.”

I sucked in an unneeded breath. Zombies and vampires had that in common. We didn’t need to breathe to continue our second lives. We did need to fill our lungs to speak, but that could easily be done without dramatic sighs and harsh intakes of air. Instinct was a damnable thing, one that even centuries spent in their second lives didn’t completely eradicate from vampire culture.

I remembered what Muriel said, that I had some minuscule amount of fairy blood somewhere in my lineage and that even the fairy queen herself was interested in my current affairs. Flitting around in the back of my mind, I wondered why she cared now. Why hadn’t Queen Silvidia been interested when I was alive?

“I… She stopped by yesterday,” I hesitantly answered, unsure what else to say.

“And did the priestess have a solution?” Ray’s tone was flat, all business, as if he weren’t contemplating my deteriorating existence.

I shrugged. “I’m not sure. We’re going to try adjusting my diet.” If I were capable, my cheeks would have flushed. I’m not sure why I was ashamed about eating brains. Some species ate a whole lot of weirder shit than that. Maybe it would have been different if I’d eaten brains all my life. As it was, my current diet was a relatively new development.

“I see.” I wasn’t sure if that was true or not. “And how long does Muriel believe it will take to determine whether this dietary change is successful?”

I gave the question some thought but wasn’t sure. “I don’t know. She didn’t say. Honestly, I don’t think Muriel knows. This is all kind of new to her.”

“Indeed.” The word was simple. However, Ray’s tone said loud and clear how unimpressed he was. He stood there, stone silent and unmoving. His penetrating gaze was agonizing.

I couldn’t help it; I squirmed beneath that stoic stare.

Fidgeting, I glanced at the sink full of dirty glassware. Ray and I seemed to be talking for an eternity, but I wasn’t sure if that was just my perception or if it was the truth. Either way, I figured Lizbeth or Johnny would need fresh glasses sooner rather than later, and I really wanted out of this…conversation.

“Um…if that’s all, then I really need to get back to work. I—”

“You will follow the priestess’s instructions to the letter. Am I clear?”

I took a cautious step backward. Fairies were scary, and if rumors were to be believed, Ray was among the scariest. Johnny told me what Mr. Moony said about Sedrick Voss’s custody hearing. Few ever saw a fairy’s true nature, and Ray had placed his on full display. Few things truly startled Mr. Moony, but Johnny said Mr. Moony had been in awe that day.

“I will,” I finally answered. Even without the veiled threat, I would have done what Muriel said.

“Good. You may expect me to inquire weekly, if not sooner, should the deterioration increase in speed.”

“I… Okay?”

With a final glance up and down my body, Ray turned on his heel and walked out the back of the bar, ignoring the main floor. We kept that door locked, but I had no illusion that Ray had entered any other way. I figured locked doors didn’t mean a whole hell of a lot to a fairy.

My limbs trembled as I slumped against the edge of the counter. I absently scratched at the dead tissue on my arm. It looked a little bigger this morning when I’d gotten up. I hadn’t mentioned that to Ray and couldn’t, for the reanimated life of me, figure out if I should have or not.

“Yo, Wendall. We could use some more clean glasses,” Lizbeth shouted back, completely unaware of the mental turmoil rolling through my brain.

“Coming,” I absently answered, even though I’d barely started cleaning. Pushing thoughts of Ray, Muriel, and my deteriorating flesh from my brain, I concentrated on one glass after another. Soon, I had enough to fill a bin and headed through the swinging door.

Dusk was just as busy, if not busier than it had been twenty minutes ago. I envied the patrons. On the surface, they appeared not to have a care in the world. I doubted that was more than skin-deep, but I wasn’t feeling very logical. Far from it. What I felt was a sense of foreboding, like the happy little afterlife I’d carved out for myself was little more than an illusion—just like my reanimated flesh.

Chapter Six

Hellfire Rayburn

I clung to the edges, tucked neatly into a corner few took time to stare deeply within. Dusk was friendly like that—darkened edges, places to loom without being seen, places to watch. In a way, it was a voyeur’s paradise. Or perhaps, a predator. Tonight, I was more the former than the latter.

I should have headed home after speaking with Wendall. I didn’t. There was this overwhelming need to stay, to keep an eye on him. Most likely, it was my underlying desire not to disappoint my queen. She was invested in Wendall’s continued existence, and therefore, so was I.

For the most part, the zombie stayed out of my sightline. Most of Wendall’s time was spent behind the scenes, restocking supplies and cleaning the abundant glassware that came his way. It was odd watching the little human. In my experience, humans had a penchant for the dramatic and often complained about manual labor.

Wendall proved the exception to that loose rule. I never once saw him speak a word of dissent, huff out an indignity, or roll his big blue eyes. Wendall seemed eager to please. That personality quirk could sometimes be taken too far, pushing it into the realm of annoying rather than attractive. Wendall rode that fine line well and came out on the endearing side.

With the night easing into early morning, Dusk slowed as its patrons drifted out of the bar and toward whatever hovel they called home. I was considering doing the same when something, or perhaps someone, caught my eye. I hadn’t seen him earlier and wasn’t certain if I’d missed him among the throngs of bodies filling the space or if he’d sauntered in more recently.

I doubted he would have stood out at all if it hadn’t been for the fact he was human. Humans often frequented Dusk, their reasons lost upon me. However, it was rare for them to stay this late, near closing.

What also struck me was where this human’s gaze tracked. Like me, he clung to the edges of the space, tucked into the less well-lit areas. With the bar emptying, Wendall came out with increasing frequency. He spent much of his time cleaning emptied tables, collecting dirty glassware, and scrubbing down the dirt and debris left behind. Again, I saw not even a hint of annoyance at being relegated to menial labor.

While Wendall’s expression was open and content, the hawk-like eyes of the human male following his actions were not. They weren’t hungry eyes; they were cautious and predatory. Few things made me uneasy. This human’s eyes were one of those irritating anomalies.

The man didn’t exactly appear dressed for a night out at the bar. Not that he didn’t completely look the part, but more like an actor putting on a disguise. The clothes wore him, and he appeared distinctly uncomfortable in them. I wasn’t certain what his normal attire was, but ripped jeans, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes weren’t it. The clothes were meant for a human half this man’s age.

I wanted to know what this man was doing and why he was so focused on Wendall. Perhaps word had gotten out—that Wendall was an unusual zombie. That explanation would fit well into the human psyche. When something they didn’t understand popped up, their course of action was either to fear it, kill it, or study it. If that thing were alive, most of the time studying resulted in the organism’s death. It was a common human theme.

I considered walking over to the man and asking him point-blank what his interest was, but something held me back. Humans were not always forthcoming, even when threatened with bodily harm. It was another common human theme. They were a prickly species. At times, wholly predictable, and at others, the biggest wild card of all the species.

Wendall went about his business. I witnessed his shoulders stiffen, his gaze surreptitiously sneaking around the room, as if he could feel eyes on him. But eventually, he shook it off and got back to work.

As the minutes ticked by, the human waited until Wendall left the main floor, disappearing behind the swinging door, before he took his leave. I waited all of twenty seconds before following his lead.

The air was cold, with spring still a few months away. I didn’t mind. Fairies weren’t as impervious to the cold as vampires and, to an extent, weres, but we didn’t feel it as deeply as humans, pixies, and most other species.

Dampness hung in the air. If we were farther inland, flurries would have floated in the air. As it was, there was a lingering dampness that was infinitely worse. I would have preferred the flurried snow. At least it would have some visual appeal.

Predictably, the human walked to a nearby car. It was nothing special, a little foreign model that passed its prime about five years ago. Still, it started right up with only a hint of regret. Following suit, I climbed into my own vehicle. The interior still had the scent of having just rolled off the lot.

There weren’t a lot of vehicles left on the road at a little after 3:00 a.m. Had the human paid more attention, he would have easily seen me following. Thankfully, this human was either oblivious or had no reason to believe anyone would bother following him. I didn’t have enough information to form an opinion. Yet.

I took the on-ramp to the interstate, remaining a few car lengths back while simultaneously keeping a keen eye on his car. Over an hour later, he exited, and again, I followed.

My prey wound his way down a few side streets, finally coming to a stop in front of a modest yet neat home. Hanging back, I watched him get out of his car, head to the front door, produce a key, and go inside. Lights illuminated the inside, and the human walked through the house as if it were his home. Most likely, that’s exactly what it was.

I checked my current GPS, mentally noting it and the surroundings. We weren’t far from Virginia State University. I didn’t know if that was significant or not. Was this man a student or, more likely, given his suspected age, a professor? Or did he have nothing to do with the university and it was little more than a coincidence that he lived here.

Quietly getting out of my car, I walked the house’s perimeter, ending on the small porch. There was a mailbox on the door, and above it, a house number and a last name. Stover.

No first name illuminated the door. I couldn’t be certain if the last name on the door belonged to the man who’d walked through it. Eyeing the area a final time, I casually walked back to my car.

Easing across the street, I found comfort in my vehicle’s plush seating. The automatic seat warmer was another plus. Humans were good at discovering new ways to find comfort.

Pulling out my phone, I typed in my current address and the name I’d seen on the door. I found research tediously tiresome. Some of my colleagues thought differently. Ironically, the one with the most experience was a name I was all too familiar with. Switching screens on my phone, I pulled up the name and hit send.

Two rings later, Hamish’s voice echoed down the line. “Hellfire, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Hamish McIntyre had been Arie Belview’s lawyer during Sedrick’s custody hearing. I did not hold that against him. Hamish was a fairy, and our laws were there for a reason. Fairies prosecuted and defended the accused. Who won depended on the fairy involved and the law in question.

“I require information,” I said.

“I see. What do I have to work with?”

“A name and address.” I rattled off both. “Will that be enough?”

“It should be, and I’ve definitely worked with less. I’ll contact you when I have what you desire.”

“Thank you.” The politeness was rote and nearly meaningless. Despite that, I said the words anyway. Fairies were proper until the moment we ripped out your jugular.

“Of course,” Hamish politely replied before ending the call.

I sat in my car, motor silently running, the warmth of the heated seat taking away the bitter chill of winter. Despite the warmth surrounding me, I couldn’t shake the cold that dug its icy fingers around my heart.

What interest did this human have in Wendall? And how did his interest affect my queen’s mission?

Chapter Seven

Wendall

“It’s not working.” I stared at my opposite arm. A new spot of necrotic skin was visible. I’d found another, smaller area near my belly button. I’d briefly shown that to Muriel also. Muriel was decked out in a black dress, with scarlet leaves and flowers splashed across the surface, and a matching head wrap. Golden earrings sparkled against her beautiful skin.

Frowning, Muriel gingerly traced my latest blemish. With a heavy sigh, she said, “I know, sugar. I was afraid it wouldn’t.”

Slumping down on my couch, I stared at my hands.

Muriel eased her way over, sitting beside me. For a few moments, neither of us spoke.

When I couldn’t take the silence any longer, I said, “It’s not your fault.”

Muriel’s bark of laughter didn’t sound like agreement. “I’m not so sure about that. I’ve never had a zombie rot prematurely. At least not since I was a kid just out of knickers.”

I wasn’t certain I knew what knickers were, but I thought I got the gist.

“It’s my fairy blood. It has to be.”

“I’m not gonna argue that point. What I don’t know is why it’s messing things up and what to do about it. I put the word out and haven’t gotten anything useful back from any of my colleagues. I just… It’s frustrating, Wendall. More than that, really.”

I leaned my head on Muriel’s shoulder, and she patted my thigh. I hated the defeat in her voice. I should be upset because she didn’t know how to help me. Instead, I was upset that she doubted herself.

“I don’t think there’s a priest or priestess out there more capable than you. Most likely, they wouldn’t have been able to reanimate me at all. At least you gave me a chance, and I’ve found more enjoyment after my death than I ever did alive.”

“Oh, honey, that is a sad statement and makes me want to adjust the curse I placed on your aunt and uncle. I don’t think I was nearly harsh enough with them.”

I softly laughed. Muriel had refused to tell me what she did. She said it wasn’t something I needed to worry about, that it was her decision and her burden to bear, and she was happy to take on the responsibility. I was a child in Muriel’s eyes. Most likely, Johnny and Mr. Moony felt that way too. If I were still alive, I’d be twenty years old. Not a lot in human years either, but enough to be considered an adult. Since the death of my parents, I’d had to grow up fast and long ago figured my numerical age didn’t match my maturity.

“I’m sure whatever you did, they regret their life choices.”

“Damn straight,” Muriel said with a huff before she deeply sighed, the action shifting my head as her shoulders rose and fell. “Oh, sugar, I don’t want to lose you.” Muriel’s fingers carded through my hair, shifting my waves and curls. I was amazed none of my strands caught on her rings.

“I don’t especially want to be lost, but I understand.” That didn’t mean I wasn’t pissed and disappointed. Someone else might have gotten hung up on the whole reanimated thing. Lots of humans believed that once you were dead, you should remain that way. Zombification had wiggled its way through even conservative legislature because the argument was that the human soul was long gone and only the flesh remained. That didn’t seem to upset their religious beliefs too much, or at least not enough of them to make human zombification illegal. Zombification was profitable. Personally, I figured it was the revenue that truly swung the vote.

“I don’t want you to understand. I want to fix this mess.” Muriel pushed off my love seat and began pacing. “There has to be something else.” She shook her head, making me wonder all over again how the heavy wrap stayed beautifully in place. “I need to speak with Ray. There has to be a reason he contacted me. He’s keeping secrets. Fairies are good at that.” Muriel sounded more than a little bitter at the last. “They expect us to divulge all of ours but keep theirs carefully hidden.”

Humans didn’t have a lot of secrets, at least not like Muriel spoke of. What you saw was pretty much what you got when it came to us. Fairies quickly figured that out.

Talk of Ray made me uneasy. Twisting my fingers, I tugged at my t-shirt. “Ray makes me nervous,” I admitted.

Muriel grunted something in a language I didn’t know. “Sugar, if he didn’t, I’d think you lost some of your self-preservation instincts when I reanimated you. Anyone with half a brain is wary around fairies.”

That didn’t settle my nerves. “Why do you really think he’s interested in me?” I asked. Licking my dry lips, I added, “The fairy queen never paid me any attention when I was alive. Why am I so important now that I’m dead?”

“Good question. Unsurprisingly, Ray didn’t exactly illuminate that issue when we spoke. I can try asking him again, but it’s anyone’s guess what I’ll get out of him. Most likely, a lot of nothing. Still, I suppose it doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“Maybe when he checks in on me again? It’ll be a week tomorrow.” I’d told Muriel about my strange interaction with Ray at the bar. Besides a slight arch of her eyebrow, she hadn’t let on that she’d been surprised.

“He’ll want my input too. You want me to be there with you when he stops by? I’ve got a couple of reanimations scheduled for tomorrow evening, but I could rearrange things so—”

“No.” I stood. Pulling my false bravado around me, I said, “I can tell him myself. Those corpses won’t hang around forever.”

“Pfft, don’t you worry about that. Back in the day, before we had cold storage, that was true, but now…the timetable isn’t as strict.” Muriel’s grin was wicked and probably frightened anyone but me. I just smiled.

“The wonders of the modern world.”

“Ain’t no wonderin’ about it, hon.” Muriel tapped the side of her head. “Humans might do idiotic things, but one thing I’ll give them credit for is using their noggin. The human brain just might be the best part of their whole body. It’s probably why zombies crave it.”

I didn’t know if Muriel was right or not. I just smiled and hugged her before she left.

Ray showed up like clockwork. I didn’t break a glass this time, but I did jump and utter a few words unsuitable for early Saturday morning television.

“Should I begin announcing my presence?” Ray asked. The words and tone shouldn’t have sounded as condescending as they did. The cocky tilt of his head, his long braid shifting over his shoulder and brushing his hip, probably had something to do with it. Or maybe it was the mocking tilt of his lips. Yeah, that was definitely it.

Ignoring the jab, I set down my wet towel. I’d just finished cleaning a load of glasses. My fingers should have pruned by now. My reanimated flesh didn’t so much as softly wrinkle.

“I’ve got more spots,” I said without a lot of preamble. It wasn’t like I knew how to make small talk with a fairy anyway. Beyond the drop of fairy blood corrupting my body, we had zip in common.

“I am aware.” Ray didn’t sound overly exuberant about that fact. “Show me,” he demanded.

Swallowing my huff of annoyance, I dutifully pulled up the sleeve of my right arm. The spot hadn’t grown since Muriel saw it last night. The spot next to my belly button now had an unwanted friend.

Ray’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t move closer. “And the others?”

This time, I did roll my eyes. Muriel had been a little more honest than I thought necessary.

“Why? They look just like this one and the one on my left arm.”

“They?” Ray’s eyebrow tilted up. “I was under the impression there was but one other.”

Well, shit. I just had myself to blame for that one.

Rucking up my shirt, I pushed out my belly, twisting a little so he could get a better look. His eyes were still glued to the area when I dropped my shirt. Fairy or not, he didn’t need to ogle my belly. While it wasn’t the most intimate place, Ray’s gaze still felt invasive, and something inside me recoiled at the idea of someone as beautiful as Ray staring at my rotting flesh.

Ray didn’t appear disappointed when I lowered my shirt. I guess I’d call him more contemplative than anything. Still staring at my t-shirt, Ray said, “The priestess implied there is little else she can do.”

Head down, I turned toward the sink, once again full of dirty dishwater. Fingers wrapped around the edge of the sink, I shrugged and said, “If there’s not, then there’s not. If Mr. Moony doesn’t mind, I’ll stay on and work until…until it’s obvious I can’t.” I swallowed hard. So far, my mental faculties hadn’t shown the same signs of deterioration as my skin. Neither Muriel nor I knew if the degeneration was more than skin-deep. Considering none of my organs functioned any longer, it was difficult to know. I wasn’t sure what would be better—to be fully aware of what was happening or to become a mindless, decaying mass.

I needed to speak with Muriel soon. Neither one of us wanted to discuss my end. Whether we wanted to or not, the conversation was needed. When the worst came, I wanted Muriel to pull the proverbial plug. She’d reanimated my body and mind. She could un-reanimate me too. It was an oddly comforting thought, knowing that I wouldn’t have to linger.

“You would give up so easily?” Ray sounded more confused than judgmental.

“Unless you know something I don’t, I can’t see how I’ve got much of a choice.”

Ray’s deep inhale drew my attention. His words would have threatened my beating heart had it still contained its rhythm.

“It is fortunate for you that I do know of another option.” Ray’s resignation thinned his usually full lips. A brief flare of fire danced through his eyes before cooling. There was something angry in that flash, yet I didn’t have the faintest clue why.

“Come again?” Ignoring the spark of fear Ray’s fiery eyes created, I held my ground, my fingers gripping the sink a little tighter than was strictly comfortable.

Hands slipping behind his lower back, I imagined he clasped them, standing at what the human military termed “rest.” I got the feeling he was trying for calm and struggling to achieve it. Fairies didn’t hide their emotions as much as vampires, but they typically didn’t share a lot either. Then again, maybe they just didn’t have a big emotional range or weren’t as reactive as most other species. When you were pretty much the top predator on the pyramid, you didn’t get your feathers ruffled a lot.

“There is another way to continue your second life, one which my queen has instructed me to employ.”

“Queen Silvidia?”

“Is there another fairy queen I am unaware of?” Sarcasm dripped from Ray’s lips like fine wine.

“No, I…I just find it strange that she’d be that interested in…me.” I still didn’t get it. “Why now? Why not when I was alive?”

Ray’s jaw ticked. “Queen Silvidia was unaware of your fairy heritage at that time. I assure you, had she known, action would have been taken much sooner.”

“Oh.” My response was completely underwhelming, and yet that was all I could come up with. “Are there many others like me?”

“With minuscule amounts of fairy blood?” Ray’s tone made it obvious he wasn’t terribly impressed by my minuscule amount of fairy blood.

I heroically ignored my growing irritation and said, “Yeah.”

“No. You are not a singularity, but those like you are a minority.”

“Oh,” I said again. Evidently, it was my go-to word. “I see,” I answered, even though I didn’t think I really did.

Ray agreed. “I doubt that is the case, but regardless, it makes little difference. Since Priestess Muriel is unable to stabilize your reanimation, your bond with the priestess must be carefully dissolved while my bond takes hold.”

“Oh, okay. I—” Wait. What was that? “Your bond?” I had no clue about fairy bonds. “You mean, like a pixie?” That didn’t really make sense either, but it was the only kind of magical bond I was familiar with.

That twitch in Ray’s cheek increased in intensity. “No, not quite. A fairy rarely bonds. It is not something that is typically sought out or desired. The bond is eternal, and it is unbreakable. It binds us together and prevents us from being with another.”

Sounded pretty much like a pixie bond to me.

“Another?” With my head bent, my eyes drifted to the side. The water in the sink was, at best, tepid. The heat I’d been able to feel wafting off the water was gone. It was an odd thing to notice, and yet it was something tangible. Unlike this bond Ray was speaking about.

I played his words over on repeat. I was on the fifth replay when I got a bad feeling. “You mean…” I felt ridiculous saying the words. I had to have this wrong. Ray couldn’t be talking about what I thought he was talking about. The very idea was ludicrous.

My fingers tapped along the side of the sink as my mind debated saying the foolish words. Ray already thought I was an idiotic human. Spouting off my obvious misunderstanding would be somewhat expected.

“You mean, as like…a mate kind of thing?” My nose scrunched, oddly twitching at the thought. I waited for Ray to politely tell me I was an idiot. He didn’t.

“That is the correct term for weres. Considering you are most likely more familiar with this type of bond, then I will accept it is close enough.”

You could have knocked me over with a sprite. My eyes were so wide they hurt. My mouth hung open, and I figured the sink was the only thing holding me up. Mate with a fairy? My gaze swiftly ran over Ray’s body—from the tips of his polished shoes to the fine points of his ears. Ray was fairy perfection. He was gorgeous in that untouchable fairy way. And here he was, proposing we mate, that somehow sharing this precious bond of his would keep me alive.

It was crazy. Absolutely batshit crazy. His queen actually wanted him to share his bond with me. She…wait. My mouth snapped closed, and my wide eyes dipped until they narrowed.

“Did she order you?” I asked with a croak of disbelief.

“Are you inquiring if Queen Silvidia ordered me to share my bond with you?”

Unable to form the words, I nodded.

“It was more of a request, but I will do as my queen bids. I am at her service.” Ray offered an ever so slight, deferential head tilt that left me stunned and more than a little flustered. Or maybe angry.

Yeah, that was it—angry. And the longer I stood there, the angrier I got. Who in the hell was this fairy and his queen? Did they think this was an offer I’d jump at? Was it even an offer, or was it something I was simply expected to do, something I had no choice in?

Now that I’d thought of that, I couldn’t let the idea rest and blurted, “Do I have to?”

Ray’s expression went completely blank. “Bond?”

“Yes,” I rushed to answer. “Bond. Do I have to bond with you? Do I have a choice?”

Back stiffening, Ray went still, and his words were clipped when he answered, “There are few others with the necessary power and ability to do what is needed to continue your existence.”

God above, Ray thought I just didn’t want to bond with him. While that was true, I didn’t want to bond with anyone that was requested to do so. I’d rather die than be bonded for eternity to someone who resented me, and that’s exactly the type of future I saw between perfect fairy Ray and my paltry, zombified human flesh.

Waving a denying hand, I said, “Not just you. I mean any fairy. Is this somehow part of fairy law?” I raised a single eyebrow. “Do those you proposition have a choice in the matter, or are we required by some heinously obscure law?”

Ray’s eyes flared with fire, and this time, it took much longer to put out the flames. I thought I caught a glimpse of fire licking along his back, but that dissipated far quicker than the crimson and orange lighting up his gaze.

After snapping his eyelids closed, when Ray opened them again, his pupils were dark, with a calm crimson ring narrowly cupping them.

“No. There is no such law. That would be reprehensible.”

I didn’t think my idea sounded as reprehensible as Ray did. Fairies were capable of a lot worse if they thought it was to their benefit.

“So,” I started, needing perfect clarification, “I can say no to your…generous offer, and there won’t be any consequences to me or anyone else I know. Correct?”

Ray’s jaw worked as if he were chewing rocks. “That is true.”

I gave a firm nod. “Then, with all due respect, I decline your offer of an eternal bond. If it’s all the same with you and your queen, I think I’ll live out my reanimated time and let Muriel cut the cord.”

Ray’s words were deathly quiet. “You would rather die?”

I shrugged. “I’m already dead. Maybe it’s time my mind caught up with the rest of my body. And yes, just so we’re clear, I would rather die than bond with someone who obviously detests the idea of spending eternity with me. Thank you for the offer, but you can shove it up your perfect fairy ass.”

Chapter Eight

Hellfire Rayburn

“He denied you?”

“He did,” I answered with shame and more than a little confusion. Any other human would have sold their soul for what I offered. Wendall Galen had been wholly unimpressed and offended.

Queen Silvidia’s laughter danced through the sky, turning nearby raindrops into shimmering diamonds that gently fell to the ground before dissolving back into their aqueous state. I thought she would be angry or, worse, disappointed in my abilities. Strangely, she appeared to be neither. Amusement was not a possibility I’d foreseen.

“My, my, I’m uncertain if Wendall’s stubborn courage is due to his fairy or human blood. Either is a likely enough candidate.”

“You believe his response courageous?” I could understand stubborn.

“Of course. Walk with me, Hellfire.”

I didn’t hesitate but remained a half-step behind my queen’s gait. Each gentle footfall released the scent of freshly blooming flowers. It should have been overwhelming, but just like everything else about my queen, it expertly walked the line of perfection.

Softly humming, Queen Silvidia’s lips remained tilted in an amused smile. When we reached the edge of a shallow brook, she walked just far enough for the tips of her toes to enter the cool water, and still, she remained silent.

I could do nothing but wait. It was not a hardship. Being in Queen Silvidia’s presence brought me nothing but peace. It was the epitome of safety and was the only time my body ever fully relaxed.

“Hanan was the same.” Queen Silvidia’s words barely stumbled over her brother’s name. “He was willful to the point of stubborn foolishness. I came to rely on that steadfast certainty. It was an aspect of Hanan’s personality I could always count upon. I suppose, in the end, it was also what contributed to his death.”

When I started to protest, she waved a dismissive hand. The flowers blooming within her hair brightened, unfurling their petals even wider.

“Oh, I know he was murdered, and Hanan was not to blame, but a series of circumstances led him to a more vulnerable place.” Queen Silvidia sighed deeply. “Centuries later and I still miss him. I still wonder if my brother knew of the hybrid child he sired and chose to hide them or if he died unaware. I cannot decide which fate is the sorrier one.”

“I am sorry, my queen.” They were not placating words. I was truly sorry about Prince Hanan’s death.

“As are we all.” She smiled weakly, her peach gaze wistful. “And yet, he left a piece of himself behind. A piece that has dwindled until Wendall is all that remains.”

My jaw tightened, teeth grinding. It would have been better if Queen Silvidia was angry. I could have dealt with that emotion much easier.

“I could force him,” I said. There was no law that said Wendall had to accept my offer. There was also no law that said it couldn’t be forced upon him. I suspected that law didn’t exist simply because no fairy had ever contemplated the possibility of denial.

“No,” Queen Silvidia answered after a few silent moments of contemplation. “I will not be responsible for ordering that. If our positions were reversed and it were my brother standing here, making decisions about my decedents, I would want him to respect their wishes.”

I’d never felt like a bigger failure. It was an emotion I was wholly incapable of understanding, let alone dealing with. I wanted to burn the world to the ground. I wanted to destroy cities. I wanted to erase my failure from the universe.

My heart raced, and my internal rage seethed. That rage was directed at no one but me. I was not angry with Wendall. Perhaps I should be, but I wasn’t. His answer had been unexpected and confusing but not ire-inducing. Maybe it should have been. The fact I wasn’t infuriated with him was also confusing.

“Be at ease, Hellfire. At this rate, I will need to repopulate the entire forest.”

I took in a painfully hissed breath of heated air. The ground beneath my feet, stretching out in a circle that would have encompassed my queen had her feet not been in the water, was scorched earth. Smoke rose from the ground and the surrounding burned foliage. I hadn’t lost control like that since I was a child.

“Forgive me.” I deeply bowed as another layer of shame piled upon my shoulders.

“There is nothing to forgive, and the destruction is not irreversible. Just as Wendall’s response is changeable.”

“My queen?”

Turning her swirling peach gaze on me, Queen Silvidia smiled. “There is time yet. I trust you will find a way to convince my nephew that a fairy bond is all he desires. I believe a little wooing is in order, Hellfire.”

Wooing. I failed to keep the horror from my face in spite of Queen Silvidia’s laughter.

“Wooing?” One of Lucroy’s perfect eyebrows arched. “Apologies, Ray, but I am afraid I do not fully understand the request.”

“Who do you want to woo?” Peaches asked, scooting far enough that he might as well have sat in Lucroy’s lap. Unlike his beloved, Peaches was more intrigued than confused by my inquiry.

“Does it matter?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Pfft, of course it matters.” Golden-yellow pixie dust filled the air around our little corner booth.

Peaches had come into the bar with Lucroy tonight. I’d given Peaches’s presence a fifty-fifty chance. The two didn’t relish time apart, but given Peaches’s bond with his orchard, he couldn’t be away from his bonded land for long stretches of time. If he were kept away, Peaches would eventually perish, and since Peaches had consented to become Lucroy’s beloved, his vampire would follow him into an everlasting grave.

“Explain.”

Lips twisting, Peaches glanced at Lucroy before returning his attention to me. “Are you serious right now?” When I nodded, Peaches blew out a heavy breath, and his wings momentarily stilled. “Unbelievable.”

“Beloved, I do not believe it is a common fairy practice. I doubt Ray has ever encountered this issue before,” Lucroy defended me.

“Oh.” Peaches cocked his head, and his ombre golden-yellow hair shifted over a shoulder. “Well, then… I guess it’s important to know who so we can offer the best advice. I mean, the species would be really important. Every species has different rituals and desires, so that would have to be number one. And after that, it comes down to their personality. What makes them tick. What lights their fire and makes their heart beat faster.”

“As usual, my beloved is correct.” It was difficult to believe Lucroy uttered those painfully sappy words with a straight face. The absolute devotion shimmering in his black-as-night eyes said he meant every word.

Peaches’s flushed cheeks and equally lit gaze spoke volumes. While this conversation was bound to be painful, I’d obviously come to the correct place. I would have gone to Sedrick and Philodendron but thought Lucroy and Peaches would know my prey better.

“I do not believe his heart rate is of any concern considering it no longer beats.”

My answer brought Peaches up short, and Lucroy’s body went deathly still the way only a vampire’s can.

“No heartbeat?” Peaches’s lips twisted in confusion. “Everyone has a heartbeat, even vampires. It might be a little slow and—”

“A zombie has no heartbeat,” Lucroy coolly interrupted Peaches’s denial.

“A zombie?” Peaches recoiled, clearly unsettled. “But they’re just mindless, brain-eating, reanimated corpses. They don’t even… Oh!” Realization hit Peaches, and his eyes flew wide. “Wendall,” Peaches said on an exhale.

“That would seem most plausible,” Lucroy agreed.

When I nodded, Lucroy’s shoulders slightly tensed. It was too early for a crowd to form, and Wendall hadn’t shown up yet. I’d chosen this time specifically, and since Lucroy was now reachable in the daylight, our meeting time seemed the most logical.

“Really?” Peaches leaned forward again, half his body over the table, wings madly twittering and filling the air with dust. As discretely as possible, I covered my nose with my sleeve, attempting to shield my respiratory tract.

Gripping the back of Peaches’s shirt, Lucroy gently pulled his excited pixie back into his seat. The backrest limited Peaches’s ability to flap his wings, but he couldn’t control his excitement, and he bounced in his seat.

“Sorry about that.” Peaches apologized for all the dust. “Sedrick says it’s instinct.”

“I believe Alpha Voss is correct,” I agreed.

“Does this have anything to do with the areas of degeneration on Wendall’s skin?” Lucroy asked, voice typically flat.

“What?” Peaches stared, eyes wide. “What do you mean? Degenerative flesh? Is something wrong with Wendall?”

Lucroy gave a slow nod. “Unfortunately. I did not wish to upset you prematurely. I know you’ve grown fond of Wendall. However, he told us last evening that his reanimated body is deteriorating. It is not something Priestess Muriel is able to rectify. Eventually, his flesh will degrade to the point where his body is no longer viable.”

Peaches sucked in a pained breath, and tears filled his eyes. “But…but surely there is something that can be done.”

Lucroy’s gaze lasered in on me. “I believe that could be the reason Ray is sitting across from us, seeking advice.”

“You can do something?” Peaches asked hopefully.

“Possibly.”

While I didn’t enjoy sharing information, especially information that painted me in a less-than-capable light, I relayed Queen Silvidia’s request, leaving out that Wendall was a descendant of her brother. No one needed to know exactly where Wendall’s fairy DNA came from. I discussed my less-than-successful conversation with the zombie yesterday and the fact that I would not force a bond upon Wendall. I needed to somehow convince him that I did not view bonding with him as distasteful. I wasn’t completely certain how to sell that story when I wasn’t convinced of its truth.

I did not find Wendall unattractive. In point of fact, he was physically very appealing. Wendall’s wavy blond hair bordered on curly. His large blue eyes and a smattering of light freckles across his pert nose were engaging and made for a satisfying package. I was not averse to bonding with Wendall due to his looks or the fact he was mostly human, or in this case, a zombified human.

I simply didn’t know Wendall. I did not know his personality, his likes or dislikes, his temperament, or any other thing. My knowledge began and ended with the few interactions we’d had, and all I’d learned was that he was a stubborn little thing who was easily startled.

“Well, shit,” Peaches properly summed the situation up when I’d finished. “That sucks.” He shook his head in dismay. “How long have you got?”

“Before Wendall’s body degenerates too much?” I guessed, and Peaches nodded. “That is unclear. The situation is unprecedented. Fairies cannot be turned into zombies. The reanimation cannot compete with our latent magic, even when deceased. Wendall’s fairy blood is minuscule enough that the reanimation was successful and allowed him to keep his mental facilities. However, it appears that speck of fairy blood is now fighting the reanimation process, breaking down Muriel’s magic. Neither of us knows if this situation will continue at the current slow rate or if it will speed up with time. As I said, there is no precedent.”

“Again, that sucks,” Peaches repeated. Chin resting on his fist, Peaches appeared to be deep in thought.

I had no idea what the expressionless mask covering Lucroy’s face meant.

“Wooing was the right word,” Peaches finally decided. “We need to figure out something that will knock Wendall’s socks off. Figuratively speaking.”

“Do you have any idea what that might be?” I was cautiously optimistic.

“Not really.” Peaches deflated and sent his beloved large, puppy dog eyes. “What about you?”

“Apologies, but I do not know. However, Johnny knows Wendall best, so perhaps we should inquire with him.”

“Good idea.” Peaches hopped up, standing on the bench, and hollered, “Johnny!”

Lucroy’s bare-bones response was a barely suppressed grin. At my raised eyebrow, Lucroy simply answered, “I enjoy his enthusiasm. I have learned to appreciate life again since meeting my beloved.”

Romantic love was a concept I’d never understood. I loved my queen, the law, and the land of Fairy. I could appreciate others’ strengths and held respect for as many fairies as I harbored contempt. I had those I did not wish harm to befall and had even come to understand the odd meaning of attachment and perhaps friendship. I certainly felt an odd…connection to Sedrick and the mismatched pack he’d managed to cobble together. I did not relish the thought of something sinister befalling that pack, and when this situation with Wendall was secure, I planned to put more energy toward bringing Arie Belview to heel.

But romantic love? That remained an elusive mystery. It was not a conundrum I cared to solve. Assuming Wendall agreed to my bond, I could see myself possibly becoming fond of him, but I couldn’t imagine more than that. In all my centuries, I’d never felt that way before. I didn’t know why this slip of a zombie would inspire such feelings now.

“Whatcha need?” Johnny asked, the sound of his hooves heavy against the empty bar room floor.

Peaches anxiously waved the faun over. “You know Wendall pretty well, right?”

Cocking his head to the side, Johnny studied the bouncing pixie. “Yeah, I suppose. Why?”

With a gentle tug on Peaches’s loose shirt, Lucroy eased his pixie back down to his side, settling Peaches there.

With a voice like cool steel, Lucroy asked, “Is there something Wendall desires? Something that would make him happy? Perhaps a gift of some kind, something that he would not purchase for himself. It could be something small or large. Price would not be an issue.” Lucroy didn’t bother looking my way when he said the last. He didn’t need to. Price really was no concern.

“Huh?” Johnny’s head tilted in the other direction. “You wanna buy him a gift?”

Lucroy’s palm slid up Peaches’s neck, holding him tight and stilling Peaches’s answer. “Humor me, Johnny.”

“Okay, sure, boss.” Johnny shrugged before tilting his nose toward the ceiling. Rubbing his fingers across his chin, Johnny’s mouth pursed in thought. Finally, he seemed to settle upon something but looked uncertain.

Lucroy easily picked up on the emotion and said, “Feel free to speak your mind, Johnny. I desire the truth.”

“Okay. It’s not anything creepy or weird. It’s just, since he’s staying in the apartment above the bar and all, I’m not sure what you’ll think. Also…” Johnny worried his bottom lip. “I’m not really sure how good of an idea it is, what with his situation being kind of unstable. I mean, it might not be fair to the animal.”

“Animal?” Peaches couldn’t remain silent. “What animal?”

“None yet. That’s the point. You asked me what Wendall might like, something he wouldn’t get himself. I’ve heard him talking to Lizbeth more than once, saying that he always wanted a pet but couldn’t really have one when he lived with his aunt and uncle. A lot of apartments don’t allow pets either, and that’s all Wendall could afford when he moved out and started college. He was talking about getting a pet, but then…” Johnny waved a hand at his arm, indicating the lesions that had shown up in similar locations on Wendall’s skin.

With a headshake, Johnny said, “Wendall didn’t think it would be fair to get something when he’s not sure how long he’ll be around. He also wasn’t sure what you’d say, boss. I told him I’d be happy to ask, but Wendall told me not to bother. Anyway, I think that’s what he’d like most, but like I said, not sure if that’d be a good idea considering no one knows how long Wendall will be here.” Johnny sounded genuinely heartbroken at the thought.

“I thought about offering to take the critter in myself, you know, when the inevitable happens. I think a pet might be good for him when things get rough.” Johnny winced.

“A pet.” Peaches sounded intrigued. “That might be good.”

My mind twisted and turned. An animal of some sort might be a good idea. It was well known, if not truly understood, that humans enjoyed keeping creatures of questionable intelligence within their homes. They would often spend exorbitant funds keeping up with their care and feeding. While such things might not appeal to most species, humans had an odd soft spot for the furry, feathered, and scaled.

“It is a sound suggestion.” Most likely I confused Johnny when I answered instead of Lucroy.

“Thank you, Johnny. As always, I appreciate your input,” Lucroy said, dismissing Johnny.

“No problem, boss. Whatever we can do to make things better for Wendall. He’s a good guy, and he’s gotten a rotten shake in life.”

“Indeed, that seems to be true,” I answered. “Before you leave, may I ask if you’ve noticed a human hanging around, paying a little too much attention to Wendall? This human doesn’t exactly appear to fit into the crowd.”

That got everyone’s attention, but it was Johnny who asked, “How so? What makes him stick out?”

I wasn’t completely certain. “More of a feeling than anything. However, his clothes do not fit him. I am not saying they are ill of fit, more that they don’t look like a natural fit. I do not believe he is the club-going type, and yet—”

“He was here,” Peaches interrupted.

“Standing at the edge of the floor, ensconced in shadow.”

Johnny’s frown deepened. Lucroy’s expression remained a blank mask while Peaches’s was distressed.

Again, it was Johnny who answered. “No one comes to mind, but Wendall’s mentioned a couple of times that he’s gotten the feeling someone’s watching him. He says the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. I thought that might have been you when I saw you back in the washroom talking to him.”

I couldn’t necessarily argue that it wasn’t me, but I certainly had competition in the stalking department.

“I’ll keep my eyes peeled.” Johnny gave a firm nod toward Lucroy before clopping away.

“Is there something more I should know?” Lucroy questioned. “I do not like the idea of anyone on my staff—anyone that I’m responsible for—under threat.”

“I have someone looking into the matter. He should get back to me any day.” I was curious why Hamish hadn’t already contacted me. I’d given him an address, license plate number, and description. It should not take that long to find out more about the mystery human.

“And when you get this information?”

“I will be happy to share anything pertinent.” I could not monitor the situation with Wendall twenty-four seven. Extra eyes and ears were always helpful, especially when those eyes and ears desired the same outcome.

Pushing out of the booth we’d settled in, I offered my gratitude. “I appreciate your advice and will take your suggestions into consideration.” I was doing more than that. My mind was already planning. I needed to contact the Master of Beasts. Ilish would be able to procure what I desired. Scuttlebutts weren’t orphaned often, but it happened enough that a few came into his care each breeding season.

Walking out of Dusk, phone in hand, I pulled up Ilish’s number and hit the send button. He answered on the second ring.

“Hellfire? What can I do for you?”

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spoken with Ilish. A century, maybe two? Regardless, he got right down to business. It was a quality I greatly appreciated.

“I need an orphaned scuttlebutt. One that is mature enough to leave your care. Is there such a creature available?”

A curious pause silenced our connection until Ilish answered, “I’ve got five total. Two are too young. The other three might be possibilities.”

“Excellent. Can I come by and view them?”

“Of course. I’d be happy to rehome one or more.”

“I’ll just be needing the one. Thank you, Ilish.” I hit the end button. One scuttlebutt was more than enough for Wendall. One scuttlebutt was more than enough for anyone.

Chapter Nine

Wendall

The nerve of him! Hot water sluiced down my skin. It was a little warmer than I generally found comfortable, but the heat barely registered. I was burning with anger, and the water was nothing compared to that.

Two days later, I still couldn’t get over what Ray had said to me, what he’d expected me to do. I mean, really? Did he just think I would fall to my knees and worship him like the fairy god he evidently thought he was? Did he even know how horrible his pitch was?

Ray’s queen was forcing him to offer his bond to me. I’d done some research since our conversation, which only increased my fury. Not much was known about fairy bonding, but what was known was it was rare, just like Ray said. It was for eternity and only offered to those they loved. Evidently, fairies didn’t feel that deep burning emotion too often, given how little they bonded. I kind of got it. Fairies lived…like, forever or something, and that was a hell of a long time.

Vampires could live that long—maybe, but they were a lot easier to kill than fairies and sometimes just kind of gave up on their second lives. Beloveds were sacred and helped tether a vampire back to the living world. If they were lucky enough to find their beloved, they generally jumped at the chance.

Fairies didn’t think that way. Or maybe the more accurate thing to say was they didn’t feel that way. Fairies were notoriously difficult to read, and since they weren’t big into group sharing… Was it any wonder most of us were left floundering?

Turning off the water, I leaned my head against the wall. I had another gangrenous spot, this one on my thigh. It was small, but it would grow and soon have unwelcome company. Staring down at the damaged skin, my limp cock flaccidly lay near the spot. My anger wasn’t simply directed at Ray. I also had a rather unhealthy dose pointed directly at myself.

I tapped my dick, watching it sway. Nothing. Not a damn thing. That was one thing about having reanimated flesh. My heart didn’t beat. Blood didn’t travel through my veins. Desire did nothing—abso-fucking-lutely nothing at all. No matter how much I might feel attraction, my cock would never respond.

I could still be on the receiving end of sex. I had no idea if I’d enjoy it, and even if I did, there wouldn’t be a lot of evidence to indicate it.

Was that fair to do to someone else? Forget the shitty way Ray went about presenting his bonding offer. Even if I wasn’t totally put off by the whole thing, would it be right for me to accept knowing that I could never properly respond physically?

I didn’t know. I had no idea what Ray expected. From what little he’d said, I got the feeling he didn’t expect a lot. Or maybe nothing at all. And that bothered me more than my limp dick. Maybe. They might have been on equally craptastic footing.

With a heavy sigh, I walked out of the bathroom. Muriel said the antibiotic ointment probably wouldn’t help, but it did keep the unpleasant smell down. At the rate I was going, I should buy stock in the company that made the stuff. Then again, I wouldn’t really be around long enough to reap those financial rewards.

I didn’t bother wrapping the towel around my waist. It was just me in my lonely little apartment. Don’t get me wrong. I was grateful for my place. It was clean, nice, and free. But it was also lonely. I was used to that. I’d done lonely for a long time. It was just that…for a hot second, I’d kind of gotten it into my head that maybe I could change it. But that’s not how life worked. Or at least it wasn’t how my life worked.

I checked the time on the microwave. I had about twenty minutes before I was due at work. It was enough time to slather my spots with antiseptic, dress, dry my hair, and shove some fresh brain tissue into my mouth. At least I didn’t have to worry about what I wanted for dinner anymore. The decision was simple.

Dusk was a little less busy tonight. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t mind. Crowded nights were good too, but this gave Johnny, Lizbeth, and the rest of the staff a much-needed breather. It was a little after 1:00 a.m., and the place was starting to clear out. Or maybe it was just the smattering of humans that were clearing out. The vampires were typically the last to leave. Johnny and Lizbeth said things were a lot more relaxed now that Freddie was gone. He’d been turned to dust before I started. I got the impression that was a good thing.

I was in the back, in one of those tucked-away corners, cleaning up a four-top. The weretigers that left had been pretty neat. One of the glasses had a little cream left, but they’d mostly licked their dishes clean. It was kind of funny. No matter the feline shifter, they all liked a spot of cream.

“Kitties around the world go crazy for a little milk.”

I jumped and quickly turned. Thankfully, I didn’t break any more glassware. “Oh,” I stammered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you sitting there. I thought I was all alone back here.” I tried to smile but figured it came out more crazed than congenial.

“No worries. I often startle others.” She gave me a dazzling smile.

This female was beyond beautiful. I’d never seen anything like her. Curvaceous was a word created for her. She wore a skimpy tank top with a red-checkered flannel tied around her waist. Ripped jeans gripped her legs and tucked into a pair of combat boots. She looked like she’d just stepped out of a ’90s grunge music video, and her minuscule top revealed the deep cleft of her abundant breasts. Her face was elegantly oval. Golden hoops decorated ears that were pointed and larger than any pixie or fairy. Pouty, red lips tilted in a Mona Lisa-esque smile. She had no hair, and tattooed words covered nearly every inch of visible skin. I didn’t recognize the language. Yet none of that compared to her eyes.

Working at Dusk had introduced me to a lot of different species, and I’d never seen eyes that glowed like moonlight off the Caribbean.

In a word, she was stunning. I had absolutely no idea what she was and was even more certain she hadn’t been sitting at that table when I’d walked over.

Unease slithered across my skin, and I took an unconscious step backward while surreptitiously glancing over my shoulder. Johnny was busy with a customer, and I wasn’t sure if he knew where I was. That thought didn’t settle my unease.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding truly saddened. “You seem nice enough.” With a heavy sigh, she stood. Her elegantly petite frame slipped from the booth she’d wedged herself into. Metal clinked as her jewelry danced along her skin. “Please know that what happened to you wasn’t my fault. My wishes aren’t my own, and others’ wishes are not what they should be.”

She reached for my left arm, rotating it and lifting it into the light, exposing the decay. Leaning over, she placed a gentle kiss on my rotten flesh.

Dumbfounded, I watched her turn and walk away, her hips swaying and shimmying as she passed a few other patrons. They acted as if she didn’t exist, as if this fascinating female was for my eyes only. I blinked, and when my eyes opened again, she was gone.

“You okay?”

Hearing Lizbeth’s voice startled me, and I realized I had no idea how long I’d been standing there. The once-damp cloth I’d used to clean the table was nearly dry.

“Yo, Wendall.” Lizbeth waved a hand in front of my face. When I finally turned, her amused annoyance vanished into concern. “Hey, seriously, are you okay? You look kind of, I don’t know, stunned or something.”

Was I stunned? I wasn’t certain. If I’d still been alive, I think I would have been pale. As it was, my skin color didn’t really change. Well, except for the gangrenous sections.

Shaking my head didn’t exactly clear my mind, but it did get my mouth moving. “Do you know who that was?”

“Who who was?” Lizbeth cocked her head to the side. Her current hair color was a vibrant orange. It wasn’t my favorite, but like all the other shades, Lizbeth had a way of pulling it off.

“That female.” I pointed to the booth she’d been sitting in. I made an hourglass shape with my hands as I said, “Pretty, lots of tattoos, no hair, clasps and hoops lining her ears.” I wasn’t sure I could do her eyes justice, so I stopped at what I figured were the highlights anyone would notice from far away.

Lizbeth just shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, I don’t know who you’re talking about. I’ve been stuck at the bar most of the night, though, so I wouldn’t have seen her if she stayed at the table. Maybe Johnny or one of the other bartenders knows who you’re talking about. Can’t say that I’ve ever seen someone matching that description in the bar before. Were her tattoos pretty?” I appreciated the thought Lizbeth put into her answer.

“They were just words.” My nose scrunched in thought. “I think they were words. It wasn’t a language I knew.” Considering I spoke English and a smattering of Spanglish, that wasn’t necessarily saying much.

“Did she do something?” Lizbeth’s gaze flashed toward the exit. “Do I need to call the boss? You know Mr. Moony wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, and he doesn’t like the staff feeling intimidated.” Lizbeth’s shoulders squared as she said, “Trust me, I know.”

I’d heard tales of how Freddie had propositioned Lizbeth. She didn’t want to be a blood donor, at least not to Freddie’s fangs. The vampire hadn’t been able to accept no as an answer and had continually made unwanted advances.

“No.” I shook my head. “Not really. She just said some…things… I didn’t know what she was talking about, only that she seemed regretful.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” I didn’t know if I was lying or not.

Lizbeth hooked her thumb over her shoulder and said, “I hate to say it, but the dirty dishes are piling up. I think we’ve got enough clean stuff to finish off the night, but you might want to get busy sooner rather than later. Otherwise, you’re gonna be here until the sun comes up. I can always give you a hand once things clear out a little more.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

Lizbeth had helped me out before, but most of the time, I was fine on my own. In a lot of ways, I liked washing dishes. It was simple and productive. It was also private.

With a friendly pat on my shoulder, Lizbeth headed back to the bar while I quickly finished cleaning the four-top I’d been working on. I gave the booth the strange lady had been at a quick glance, but just like her, there was absolutely no evidence she’d been there to begin with.

With a full bin of dirty dishes in hand, I headed back to the storage area where the sink was. Lizbeth gave me a careful grin as I passed her. Johnny was busy with a customer and barely noticed my passing.

Lizbeth was right. The sink and surrounding area overflowed with tubs of dirty dishes and glasses. I could have sworn there wasn’t that much when I went out to clean up the tables on the floor. Exactly how long was I gone? It hadn’t seemed that long. The nearly dry washcloth in my hand and the piles of dirty dishes told a different story.

With a heavy sigh, I set down my current load and started a fresh sink of soapy water. The minutes ticked by, and with the door closed, the hum of the louder music on the main floor was at a far more pleasant auditory level. Recognizing the current song, I sang along with the chorus, swaying my hips in time with the beat.

Pushing thoughts of the odd lady from my mind was easier than it should have been. When alive and living with my aunt and uncle, I’d had to do something similar. Blocking out disturbing imagery was my own personal survival technique. That instinct hadn’t perished when I did.

I was in the process of draining the sink, ready to fill it with a new, cleaner batch of water to finish off the night, when a cleared throat grabbed my attention. Assuming an employee was there to drop off another dirty bin, I tilted my head to my left and said, “You can just leave it there with the rest of them.”

“I do not believe that would be wise.”

I jerked, swirling around, eyes wide. The red-headed fairy standing behind me certainly wasn’t one of Dusk’s employees.

“Fucking hell,” I lamented.

“I did attempt to indicate my presence this time,” Ray defended, an honest-looking downturn of his lips backing up his intention. “I am unaware what other method to employ.”

I could think of a few but settled on, “How about you leave me alone, and then we don’t have to worry about it?” Seriously, I had no idea why he was here. I thought I’d already said all that was needed. Evidently, Ray disagreed.

I tossed a couple of glasses into the sink and was relieved there was enough water to buoy their fall. Grabbing a clean washcloth, I vigorously scrubbed. Irritation bubbled below my skin. Why was Ray here? Our last conversation had left me feeling shitty. No one wanted to be a burden, and that’s exactly how I believed Ray saw me. I wasn’t a person. I was an order—an order that he was honor-bound to obey despite his desire to be anywhere else.

“It has come to my attention that perhaps I approached our previous conversation in the wrong way. I might have conveyed certain…impressions…that were not wholly accurate.”

I barked out a humorless laugh. “Somehow, I doubt there was much misunderstanding, and I think you conveyed your feelings accurately enough.”

A wall of silence fell behind my back as I still refused to turn and look at my current stalker. Ray’s stunning beauty was difficult to gaze at. Especially when I was what I was.

Seconds filtered into a minute, maybe longer. Finally, Ray blurted, “I brought you something.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“But you do not even know what it is.”

“I don’t need to know. Whatever it is, I don’t want it.” I imagined Ray brought me some type of bobble, most likely something high in monetary value. Maybe it was even something Queen Silvidia told him to give me—something to sway my opinion.

But things meant very little to me. I’d never had a lot growing up. My aunt and uncle squandered the money my parents left behind in their life insurance policy. They’d sold my body off to Muriel for a quick buck. Money didn’t make you happy, and it sure as hell didn’t solve your problems. The bottom line was that I couldn’t be bought.

“I do not believe I can return your gift.” Ray sounded adamant.

Shoulders rounding, I stared down at the fading suds, elbow-deep in soapy water. Resigned, I said, “Fine, just leave it over there, and I’ll look at it later.”

“As I said earlier, I do not believe that would be wise. I do not believe the scuttlebutt would be pleased, nor would she stay where I place her.”

Scuttlebutt? What in the hell is a scuttlebutt?

Ray finally had what he wanted—my attention. Rinsing and drying my arms, I turned around, leaning against the sink. Arms crossed, I asked, “Scuttlebutt? What on earth is that?” Ray had a medium box tucked under his left arm, something I’d failed to notice the first time I’d glanced his way. To be fair, it was hard to notice anything else when Ray was around. He was larger than life and sucked up all the attention.

Pulling the box forward, Ray said, “It is not of the Earth but belongs in the world of Fairy.”

Scratching sounded from inside the box, along with a kind of hissing or maybe spitting noise. I wasn’t certain. In a way, it kind of sounded like a squirrel on steroids.

Curious, I leaned forward but couldn’t see anything beyond an unimpressive brown cardboard box. Evidently, they didn’t have fancy wrapping in the land of Fairy. The box moved, and I pulled back the hand I’d been reaching out with. Glancing at Ray, he seemed completely nonplussed.

Swallowing hard, I gave the box a gentle poke and asked, “Um…what exactly is a scuttlebutt again?” Ray hadn’t told me the first time around.

Instead of verbally answering, Ray opened the top of the box. I shifted, ready to jump back. I didn’t know a lot about Fairy, but rumors were that it was as beautiful as it was deadly. I wasn’t sure how anyone really knew. Only fairies could travel there, so I guessed what the rest of us knew was based on the snippets of information they doled out.

I sort of expected something to jump out at me. When it didn’t, I cautiously leaned forward, peeking over the edge of the opened box. What I saw lit me up from the inside.

“Oh my god,” I cooed. “There’s so much fur.” I’d never seen anything like it. Not alive anyway. It looked like a cross between a tribble from Star Trek and that fury, Fizzgig creature from The Dark Crystal.

Glancing from Ray to the scuttlebutt, I asked, “Is it friendly?” Maybe this was how Ray planned on solving his inconvenient problem. He’d bring me something that would permanently end my reanimated life, and Queen Silvidia’s wishes would be null and void.

“No. Not to everyone,” Ray casually answered. When I pulled my hand back and gave him a questioning glare, he amended, “Scuttlebutts are protective of their tribe members. Orphaned scuttlebutts are often confused and unhappy without a tribe. When adopted, they become fiercely loyal and, I am told, excellent companions. Johnny mentioned your desire for a pet. When I heard this, I could think of no better choice than an orphaned scuttlebutt. This one needs a home and family to protect, and you desire a pet. It seemed the perfect fit.” Tilting his head to the side, Ray innocently asked, “Was I wrong?”

Was he? No, he wasn’t. Sure, it might not be a dog or cat, and the thing inside looked a little weird and made even odder sounds, but he hadn’t read the room wrong.

I started to reach inside the box but faltered. Nothing had changed. The same reason I’d decided not to pursue adopting a more conventional pet was still in place. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be around. I didn’t want the scuttlebutt to become attached to me only to lose me. It wasn’t fair to her.

Taking a step back, I allowed my arms to fall, but I couldn’t shift my gaze from the box. I hadn’t thought it possible, but Ray had actually gotten me a gift I wanted. Badly.

“Wendall?” Ray questioned, taking a step forward but halting when I held up a hand. “Did I do something wrong?” Ray looked inside the box, a true frown marring his lips. “I thought this was a good choice, but perhaps I was incorrect.”

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I’m not sure why, but I didn’t like that Ray was upset because of me—not about this. He’d actually put some thought and effort into the gift. It was a surprise, but not a completely unpleasant one. I’d have to spend time on it later, mulling over his actions and beating them to death in my brain.

“Your reaction confuses me. I thought you were pleased, but now—”

“I won’t be around long.” Shaking my head, I stared at my feet. “This isn’t enough to get me to accept your previous proposal. Nothing has really changed, and it’s not fair to the scuttlebutt. I don’t want her to get attached, and then… You said she was already an orphan. It would be beyond cruel to put her through that again.”

“I see. I did anticipate this issue, Wendall. I did not believe you would suddenly accept my proposal from such a simple gesture.”

Ray was wrong. As gestures went, this one wasn’t as simple as he made it sound. He was trying to hand me something I’d wanted all my life. That was no small thing.

“If you’ll allow, I believe I have a solution.”

My attention perked. I really wanted Ray to have a solution. The hissing noise turned into more of a soothing coo. I still wasn’t entirely certain what a scuttlebutt was, but it sounded damn cute.

Ray took my silence, and maybe my hope-filled eyes, as permission to continue. “As I said earlier, scuttlebutts are tribal creatures. They thrive when they have more than one individual within their tribe. I’m certain Johnny and Peaches are willing to become such members. And, as we both know, if Peaches desires something, Lucroy will follow. If it is agreeable, I can also spend time with her. Considering she is of Fairy, it would make sense to have a fairy as a member of her tribe.”

I cocked an eyebrow. Was that Ray’s angle? Give me the scuttlebutt and say he had to be around more to help take care of her? My sketchy look only got me a blank expression in return. I didn’t buy it. Ray knew exactly what he was doing. The thing I had to decide was if I cared. Could I put up with seeing Ray more often if it meant getting this little lady?

It was a stupid question, and my body moved before my brain caught up. “Can I pick her up?” I asked, already reaching inside the box.

“Let her sniff you first,” Ray instructed.

To be honest, I had no idea where this thing’s head was. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe scuttlebutts had more in common with hedgehogs because when I stuck my finger inside the box, she unrolled, and a twitching nose peeked out from a mound of fluff.

“Hey there,” I softly said, nearly stuffing my head into the box along with my hand. “Take your time.” I wasn’t certain if I smelled okay or not. Sedrick told me I didn’t smell bad, but I did have an odor of decay that no amount of showering removed. My rotting flesh didn’t make me smell any rosier.

Whatever she scented must have been okay. Letting out a shaky gasp, I stared wide-eyed as the scuttlebutt completely unfurled and scurried up my arm. Her legs were short, but her feet got a good grip on my flesh and shirt. A strong, prehensile tail unwrapped from around her round body, twisting around my upper arm as she perched on my shoulder. A tiny tongue darted out, licking my cheek while her small brown eyes sparkled.

I giggled. My reanimated body wasn’t ticklish, but if I’d been alive, my flesh would have prickled at the light, lapping touch.

She cooed softly, chittering by my ear. Her fur was even softer than it looked, and I leaned my cheek into it. Ray appeared pleased.

“She has taken to you quickly.” Ray didn’t just sound approving. He sounded oddly proud. “Scuttlebutts are known for their discerning character judgment. Had she found you offensive, her tail would have wrapped around your neck, and she would have attempted to strangle you.”

“Oh. Wait. What?”

“I had little concern. I did not believe she would react that way, and even if she had, as you do not require oxygen to maintain your current form, it would have merely been painful, not life-threatening.”

Ray waved the concern off with practiced, practical ease. I couldn’t necessarily disagree with his logic, but I still thought a heads-up would have been nice.

“Is there anything else I should know?” I mean, she seemed to like me well enough, but I wasn’t sure about anyone else, and I didn’t want to inadvertently get them killed. I wanted to be a responsible pet owner, and getting someone killed didn’t sound like the best way to meet that life goal.

“Scuttlebutts are carnivorous. They have hinged jaws and can open their mouths wide, much like a snake. Her mouth is also filled with tiny dagger-like teeth. Depending on where and the depth of her bite, she can maim or kill.”

Lovely.

“Does she need shots or anything?”

“As in vaccines?” Ray asked.

“Yeah. I know dogs and cats need them. I think ferrets do too. Horses get vaccines, not that I could ever afford a horse, but I think you get the idea.”

“I do, and no. Although the numbers have been few, scuttlebutts have occasionally ventured to Earth and have never seemed adversely affected. They are very hearty creatures in Fairy as well.”

“That’s good.” I scratched where I thought her back was. “Does she have a name?”

“Ilish called her Trinket, but you may feel free to change the name. According to Ilish, she was very small when found. He was uncertain if she would survive. But Ilish is very good at what he does and was able to bring her into young adulthood.”

I thought about it. I hated to change her name just because I wanted to. “Trinket will be fine,” I decided.

“Then it is settled. She will desire fresh meat. I believe that should not be an issue given your own diet.”

“Yeah. Muriel’s been bringing more brain tissue, but I think it’s obvious that’s not the solution she’d hoped. I’ll ask if she can bring other tissue too. Do you know how much Trinket needs? Is she like a bottomless pit, or is her appetite equivalent to her size?”

“I believe her nutrition meets her general size. However, I have seen larger scuttlebutts eat a surprising amount in one sitting. If they do so, they often do not require food for several more days.”

“Okay. Good to know.” Trinket snuggled in closer, fitting perfectly into the crook of my neck. That tail of hers made sure she held on tight. I figured I could even wash dishes with her like this.

Tugging on my bottom lip with my teeth, I couldn’t stop my grin. I hadn’t been this happy in…well, I couldn’t remember when. I didn’t know how to thank Ray, and I wasn’t certain I understood his motives, but regardless, what he’d given me was priceless.

“Thank you,” I finally managed. “Those words don’t seem sufficient, but they’re all I’ve got.”

“Your appreciation and apparent happiness are thanks enough.” Ray looked taken aback by his words, as if he either hadn’t meant to say them out loud or was surprised by their validity.

“Okay.” Oddly embarrassed, I found I couldn’t exactly meet Ray’s eyes. My gaze traveled back to my waiting water and dirty dishes. “I really should get back to work,” I said.

“I understand. Please do not hesitate to let me know if you have any questions regarding Trinket’s care. While I am no expert, I have resources and access to the information you require.”

“That sounds good, and Ray, thanks again. You didn’t have to do this, but…thanks.”

Ray offered a single nod before leaving. This time, I watched him go, and what was left of my heart ached a little bit more than usual. Petting Trinket, I whispered, “He really is unreasonably handsome.” And maybe, just maybe, a little more understanding and considerate than I’d originally given him credit.

Chapter Ten

Hellfire Rayburn

“Ray, you got a minute?” Johnny called out. I was near Dusk’s exit when I heard his voice. Expecting him to inquire about my interactions with Wendall, I turned but remained silent.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Johnny huffed. He looked more tired than usual, or maybe a bit more worried. “Listen,” he needlessly said while drawing closer. “Lizbeth just told me something.” Johnny licked his lips, and his eyes widened a fraction. “She had an odd encounter with Wendall earlier. Lizbeth said he was in the corner, staring off into la-la land. She had to call out to him a couple of times to get his attention, and when she did, Lizbeth said Wendall looked spooked.”

Having surprised Wendall on a number of occasions, I believed he startled easily and said just as much. “It has been my experience that Wendall is prone to surprise.”

“Yeah, I know, but she said it wasn’t that. And then Lizbeth said he asked her if she’d seen the lady that just left.”

I still didn’t understand the importance or Johnny’s obvious concern. “I would assume you had several female patrons in the bar tonight.”

Johnny huffed, clearly unimpressed with my sarcasm. “Yeah, we did, but we didn’t have any bald, tatted-up ones. And the ink wasn’t pictorial. Wendall said he didn’t know the language.”

My spine stiffened. Johnny had my undivided attention. “Did she give any further description?”

“Not much. Lots of ear piercings and curvy, but that’s about it, and you and I both know they can be all different body sizes and shapes. It might not be what I think, but—”

“But nothing good can come of a djinn’s interest.”

“No. Nothin’ good,” Johnny easily agreed.

My gaze wandered the bar. Few patrons remained, and those who did gathered their belongings and prepared to leave. Most likely, the djinn was already gone, and if they weren’t, if they did not wish to be seen, they would remain invisible to my eye. A witch or warlock would be able to detect one. On occasion, brownies could as well. Fairies couldn’t.

“Was there any evidence of a master?” Contrary to popular myth, djinn weren’t always controlled, although they held little to no power when not controlled. All were tied to an object, and it was rarely a lamp. If that object was owned by another, then the djinn was under their control and unreasonably powerful. That was why djinn protected their object of attachment, often hiding it in nearly impossible locations. Still, the lure of controlling a djinn drove many to risk their lives in the search and recovery of those precious items. And, once found, most djinn remained enslaved until their master’s death. They were forced to enact wish after wish. There was no limit to the number of wishes, only their content. The tattoos inked on their skin were written contracts that both allowed and limited their power. They were called restrictions, and those restrictions were the one autonomy djinn had upon creation. They set the rules. At the time of creation, if a djinn did not want to murder, that would be inscribed on their skin, creating a firm limitation.

Johnny shook his head and stomped a hoof in irritation. “Not that I know of, but I can’t say for certain. I don’t have a lot of information to work with, and I didn’t want to upset Wendall by asking him a lot of questions. Most likely, Wendall doesn’t even know what a djinn is.”

Johnny was most likely correct. While my interactions with him were few, I got the impression Wendall was naïve. He was no fool, and ignorance had passed him by. Naiveté was not the same as foolishness. He was painfully human and came with most of their misfortunes. And yet, he’d somehow escaped just as many of their mental and emotional pitfalls. Perhaps that was due to his minuscule fairy blood. Or, perhaps, that was simply Wendall Galen.

“Anyway, I thought you should know. I’m not sure what your interest is in Wendall, and as long as you don’t plan on hurting him, then it’s none of my business. But given your apparent interest, I figured you’d want to know. Plus”—Johnny hesitated—“I don’t like the idea of a djinn hanging about. I’ve heard too many stories. Most of them are probably half-truths and inflated nightmares, but there’s usually a kernel of truth in there, and if even a tenth of what I’ve heard is accurate, that’s trouble nobody wants.” Johnny huffed. “Anyone that goes looking to entrap a djinn is an idiot. That shit never ends well.”

Again, the faun wasn’t wrong. Djinns weren’t evil by nature, but no one liked being enslaved, and historically, they had no love for their masters. Those who controlled djinns walked a very fine line. Their wording had to be impeccable and beyond misinterpretation. Djinns were known to twist wishes into horrific nightmare scenarios created to destroy their masters.

“Thank you for informing me. I assume you will be extra vigilant.”

“Of course. I’ll let the boss know too. Lucroy’s welcoming to all species, but he’s properly wary too. I can’t imagine this will come as welcome news. The best we can hope for is that this djinn isn’t attached to anyone and was just passing through. Wendall’s an anomaly. He’s a self-aware zombie. Maybe she was just curious.” Johnny’s pinched eyes told me he didn’t believe his own optimistic thoughts.

I didn’t bother agreeing or disagreeing. As with all things, time would give us the answer whether we liked it or not.

Shaking out his fur, Johnny hooked a thumb toward the bar. “I better get back. We’ll be closing soon, and I’ve got to start shutting things down.” Heading back, Johnny twisted his head enough for me to catch a single golden eye. “By the way, that scuttlebutt was a good move. Wendall introduced us before I came out to talk with you. Wendall’s already head over heels for her. Can’t say I’ve ever seen that big of a grin on his face. No matter what comes of it, I’m grateful, and I’ll make certain everyone working at Dusk is tribe material. If Wendall…” Johnny swallowed hard. “If the worst happens, we’ll make sure Trinket is happy and well cared for. You have my word.”

“I expected nothing less,” I answered honestly. I wouldn’t have brought the scuttlebutt into this environment if I’d had any doubts.

Johnny’s pearly whites shone through his wide grin. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Perplexed, I said, “You may take it as you wish.”

Johnny threw his head back, cackling at the ceiling while clomping away. As my eyes tracked his progress, they landed on Wendall. He’d come out of the storage room and stood behind the bar, surrounded by Dusk’s employees. Trinket sat on his shoulder, tail still wrapped around his upper arm. She twisted and preened under the attention. Wendall didn’t exactly preen, but he did twist and turn, giving everyone an opportunity to drink in their visual fill. Johnny was right. Wendall looked happy. Maybe even giddy.

My hearts jolted, tripping over themselves and stuttering back to a survivable rhythm. Zombies didn’t glow. They didn’t radiate warmth or sparkle with pixie dust. And yet, in that moment, I doubted I’d ever seen anything more beautiful.

I blinked and then blinked again, wondering where that thought came from and why my body reacted. My cheeks were flushed, and my neck was warm. My palms were sweaty, and my fingers tapped out an unknown rhythm along my thigh. I couldn’t remember the last time my interest had been similarly piqued.

Confused, I turned from the warm scene, forcing my brain to more prudent and, in some ways, more comfortable pursuits. Hamish should have contacted me by now. True coincidence was rare. The strange human male who seemed far too interested in Wendall and now a possible djinn. It was difficult to believe the two weren’t somehow related.

Retrieving my phone from my pocket, I pulled up Hamish’s number and hit send. He answered after the first ring.

“I expected to hear from you earlier.”

Annoyance rippled down my back. “I was under the impression you were to contact me. Is that not how this typically works?”

“It is, and that was my plan. However, the human you asked me to investigate has proven more interesting than typical.”

Interesting was not always a positive word. “In what way?”

I heard a bit of shuffling on Hamish’s end before he began. “Doctor Arthur Stover, PhD. Age forty-one. History professor at Virginia State University. Not tenured. Currently living in an unassuming home within a few blocks from campus. He lives mortgage-free and owns a modest, older model vehicle. On the surface, a very dull and insignificant human.”

The surface more than implied something deeper. “And below the veneer?”

“Ah, that’s where things get a little more interesting. Dr. Stover comes from a lower middle-class family with no financial means to speak of. While respectable, Dr. Stover’s professor salary is not wealth-creating either. And yet, Dr. Stover’s real estate portfolio is impressive. He currently owns three multimillion-dollar homes—all mortgage-free. One in California, one in New York, and the other in Paris. I believe there could be more I have yet to locate. Dr. Stover owns a private plane and has a pilot on staff who is paid to be at his beck and call. So far, I have been able to locate no fewer than half a dozen vehicles, each of which cost more than his annual salary. I could go on, but I believe you are beginning to see the picture.”

I did, and that picture had a djinn filling the background.

“I see,” I answered in a clipped tone.

“Do you? Hmm…I would like to take a quick peek behind your eyes, Hellfire.”

A smirk twisted my lips. “A quick peek would only whet your appetite for more, Hamish.”

“Too true,” he answered with a put-upon sigh. “In all truth, you’ve sent me something interesting, and for that, I am appreciative. Life has been a little dull since Alpha Belview’s custody hearing.”

Walking toward my car, my eyebrows rose. “Did you truly believe you would win?”

“I believed it possible. Had the truth been kept from Phil, most likely the outcome would have been quite different.”

My stride ground to a halt. “Had the truth been kept from Phil, he would have died. He’d bonded to the house, a fact you knew and yet kept silent regarding.”

“A necessity while defending my client,” Hamish callously answered.

“It was cruel,” I countered.

“It was the job I was hired to perform. Some say you’ve gone a bit soft, Hellfire. Fairies don’t tend to socialize with lesser species as you do.”

A flare of anger flashed through my burning eyes. “Not all see them as lesser. The fact that you do is disappointing, yet not surprising.”

Hamish McIntyre was an excellent example of why other species didn’t trust fairies. Or, at the very least, why they kept their concerns to themselves. It was not in our best interest to keep them so fearful and at such a great distance that we did not catch small fires until they’d turned into uncontrollable forces of destruction.

Hamish only laughed, finding humor in my annoyance.

A nearly imperceptible crack echoed from my phone as my grip tightened. “Hamish,” my tone dropped arctic low, “if you believe me soft, perhaps we should meet and test that theory.”

Hamish’s laughter abruptly cut off. When he spoke again, it was with a far more respectful tone. “That will not be necessary, Hellfire Rayburn.”

I thought not. “I believe it goes without saying that if you find anything further, you will call. Immediately.”

“If you truly believed that, you would not have said it. Regardless, I will keep digging, and when more is unearthed, I will alert you.”

“Thank you, Hamish.” I didn’t wait for any reciprocating platitudes and ended the call. For a centuries-old fairy, it was amazing how short Hamish’s memory was. In general, fairies were not a species any should provoke. Some of us were more deadly than others. Queen Silvidia could foster life as easily as take it. I didn’t create life; I only ended its beating core. Hamish should really do something about his memory lapse before it got him into trouble.

Chapter Eleven

Wendall

“Oh, that is just the cutest little thing.” Muriel tickled Trinket under her chin. The little scuttlebutt leaned into the touch, cooing for all she was worth. I’d yet to see her negatively react to anyone I’d introduced her to.

Trinket slept next to me all night, curled up in what I was beginning to think was her favorite spot in the space between my shoulder and neck. With her tail wrapped around her body, she’d folded into a slumbering ball. I’d woken to her soft puffs of air against my neck. I’d been so relaxed and happy that I’d barely noticed the new skin lesion on my left ankle.

“I’m glad she likes you.”

Muriel sat on my love seat again.

“Ray told me she wouldn’t like everyone, and a negative reaction is very…different from this.”

Trinket slid down my arm, landing on my wrist and cautiously leaning toward Muriel.

“Hmm, I’m not that familiar with the species. We don’t get a lot of creatures from Fairy. Well, besides fairies.” Muriel softly chuckled as if she thought she’d made a joke. “I can’t imagine this little cutie doing anything that terrible.” Muriel pulled back, thinking better of her statement. “Then again, appearances are often deceiving. Looking cute and innocent could be advantageous. Placing one’s prey at ease can be a successful tactic.”

As if to prove Muriel correct, Trinket yawned. Just like Ray said, her hinged jaw opened wide, nearly forming a 180-degree angle. A row of needle-sharp teeth ran the circumference of her jaw. Trinket snapped her jaw closed and wrapped her tail around my arm, settling in as if she were still sleepy.

When I glanced up, Muriel’s eyes were wide, their whites bright against her dark skin. “Blessed be, that’s impressive.”

I nodded. “It is, and it’s the first time I’ve seen it.”

“Wouldn’t want to get your fingers caught inside that maw.” Muriel shook her head as the idea trapped itself in my brain and wouldn’t release. “I’ll be sure to bring some good pieces of flesh for her.”

“Maybe…” I hedged. “Maybe we should keep it to animal and not human. I don’t want her to get used to thinking people are on the menu.”

“No, sugar, that definitely wouldn’t do. I’ll be sure to label her food separate from yours.”

“Thank you for doing that. I could probably just go to the grocery and buy her a chicken or something.”

“True, but I bet fresher is better.” Muriel patted me on the knee. “And it’s no trouble. My zombies get called out to clean up all kinds of things. My contract with the state is one of my most lucrative. You wouldn’t believe all the roadkill.” Muriel appeared appropriately disappointed by the loss of life.

I’d found some raccoon meat in the fridge earlier, and Trinket seemed content with that. Belly fed, she settled in for another nap.

Muriel’s head tilted, and her gaze fixed on the ball of fluff. “I’m surprised Ray did this.” She waved a hand in Trinket’s direction. “Fairies aren’t necessarily known for their thoughtfulness.”

“Johnny said it was his idea.”

“Still, Ray thought to ask. That’s more than I ever thought him or any other fairy capable of.”

I shifted, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. Muriel and I hadn’t really discussed Ray’s offer yet. I had a bad feeling we were about to. I wasn’t wrong.

“You know, I can think of a lot worse fates in the world than being tied to a fairy. Maybe you should reconsider his offer.”

I stiffened. Trinket must have registered my unease because her eyes popped open, her lids slitted, and her posture stiffened. Her soft coos turned into hissed chittering. Muriel and I both looked at her.

“Reactive little thing, isn’t she?”

“Looks that way. We’re still getting used to each other. It’s a learning curve.”

“Just like a lot of things in life.” Muriel gave me a pointed look. We were no longer talking about the scuttlebutt.

“He’s a fairy, Muriel.” I shuddered. “There’s a reason other species fear them. Fairies wiped out a little less than half the human population when they took control.”

Muriel huffed. “And they probably should have done away with a few hundred thousand more. They gave humanity a choice, and humans made their bed. When they died, they lay in it too. About six feet under.” Muriel cackled again, enjoying her little joke.

When I didn’t laugh along with her, Muriel sighed and placed her hand back on my arm. Trinket gave Muriel’s fingers a lingering once-over. I’ll give Muriel credit. She didn’t flinch.

“Listen, sugar, I hear what you’re saying. Anyone with half a brain steers clear of fairies, but sometimes, that’s not possible. And sometimes, it’s best to embrace the beast instead of running in the other direction.”

“Are you calling fairies beasts?” I would love to hear Muriel say that to Ray’s perfectly handsome face.

“Beasts come in all shapes, sizes, and packages. Just like this little furry cutie sitting on your arm. You and I both know that fairies hoard information worse than any dragon I’ve ever heard of. After all these years, the rest of the species still don’t know as much as we’d like. But I’ll say this. Fairies might be scary as hell, but they’ve brought order and doled out justice. They follow the law, and at least there’s a law to follow. Their intervention has saved more lives than they’ve taken. The earth is healing. It’ll still be a few decades, maybe centuries, to recover all the damage done, but if they’d hung back, retreated into the land of Fairy, and washed their hands of us, then I reckon we’d all be a lot worse off.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. Probably,” I finally admitted. “But that doesn’t mean being permanently attached to one is something I want. Especially when…”

“When what?” Muriel leaned in, voice soft and cajoling.

“When he doesn’t want me. Not really. Ray’s following his queen’s order, nothing more. He made that perfectly clear, and I don’t want that.”

“Even if it saves your life?”

“Even then.” I nodded, completely convinced. “It’s not right. Maybe that wouldn’t bother some people.”

“Most,” Muriel interjected.

“Most,” I conceded. “But that’s not me. I can’t imagine living an eternity knowing I made my partner miserable.”

Muriel sat back. “You think Ray would be miserable with you? That’s a big leap. You two barely know each other. I don’t know if fairies can love or not, at least romantically. No one really knows that for certain. Obviously, they fuck each other, otherwise there wouldn’t be any fairies about.” Muriel grinned. “But love?” She shrugged. “I suppose you don’t need love to produce offspring. Attraction, sure.” She winked.

My smile was weak at best. “But that’s just it, Muriel. I can’t… I’m a zombie. You’re a very gifted priestess, but my flesh is just reanimated. It doesn’t… I mean, I can’t…” I sighed. If they’d been able, my cheeks would have been fiery red. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Oh, sugar.” Muriel’s palm rubbed against my leg in soothing motions. “You think that will be important to him?”

“I can’t see how it wouldn’t. I mean, I can be on the receiving end. I don’t know if I’d enjoy it or not. Some sensation remains, but not all, and none of it’s as potent as when I was alive. It’s eternal, Muriel. And from what I understand, once Ray shares that bond with me, he can’t be with another. That’s… That’s not right.” My back straightened as I pulled my resolution around me. “I can’t do that to someone. If Ray truly wanted me—wanted to be with me—then maybe. But he doesn’t want that. Not really. He told me I had a choice, and I’ve made mine.”

My fingers drifted into Trinket’s fur, and she started cooing again while snuggling into my skin. “I can feel her softness, but even that’s muted compared to how I used to be. I’m not complaining,” I hastened to add. “I’m grateful for the extra time you’ve given me. I’m just saying that the way I am isn’t enough, not for what Ray’s suggesting.”

Muriel remained silent, her gaze distant until finally she asked, “Did you mention this to Ray?”

“No. Not really.” I couldn’t imagine bringing that up with him. It was hard enough with Muriel. “It’s a moot point and would just be really embarrassing.”

“I think it might not be as moot a point as you believe, but it’s your decision. When you reanimated, and I realized you were different, I vowed right then and there to try to give you as much autonomy as I could. It wasn’t easy. I’m used to being in control of my zombies. It’s more difficult than you know, letting that go. But it was the right thing to do, and I’ve never regretted it. Even if this is your decision, I won’t force you to do otherwise.”

I sucked in unneeded air. I’d never even considered that as a possibility. Muriel did have control over me. It was easy to forget because she rarely enforced her abilities. The fact I hadn’t considered it was one part foolish and another part credit to her.

“Thank you,” I answered, the words barely audible.

Muriel waved me off. “I don’t want your thanks, Wendall. Basically, I’m allowing you to die all over again. It goes against what I want, what I think everyone who knows you wants. But I understand your reasoning, and I’ll respect your choice.”

I started to thank Muriel again but swallowed the words. Instead, I leaned into her, resting my head on her shoulder. Trinket scooted until she was in a more comfortable position. I didn’t fall asleep, but I did drift. My mind wandered down well-worn roads and thorny paths. I didn’t know why, but my mind became fixated on the beautiful female I’d seen in the bar. I wondered what she was.

Curiosity was, in itself, curious. Mine finally got the better of me, and I asked, “Have you ever seen a hairless species with tattooed writing all over? The one I saw was beautiful. Her ears were pointed. Larger than a fairy or pixie—wider and a little flatter to her head, and she had gold hoops and cusps all over them. She said the oddest things too…” My mind and voice drifted with the memory. It seemed almost like a dream.

What wasn’t a dream was Muriel’s tense, hard-as-a-rock body. Her soothing fingers clenched, tugging my hair.

“Um…Muriel?” If she pulled any harder, I’d be missing a chunk of hair I was certain would never grow back.

An eerie, crimson glow leaked into my small apartment. Trinket jumped to my opposite arm, chittering and hissing. Her fur stood up, doubling her size.

“Djinn,” Muriel hissed before she leaped up, heading for the door. A swift “Wendall, come” tugged at our bond, and I followed, unable to do anything less.

“You have a djinn problem, King Moony.” Two hours later, and if anything, Muriel was more agitated than before. “A djinn!” She paced. Muriel was stout, but that didn’t diminish her presence. “That is unacceptable.” I wasn’t sure if Muriel was speaking to Mr. Moony or to the air in general.

Johnny stood next to my boss, arms crossed and hoof tapping. “I called him earlier this morning before he went to bed. I just learned of it last night, and as far as I know, this was the first incident.” Johnny looked at me and asked, “Is that right, Wendall? Was that the first time you saw her?”

“I…” I thought back and finally nodded. “I think so, but to be honest, it’s all a bit hazy, kind of like a memory that’s hidden behind a bank of fog?” It came out as more a question than an answer, mostly because I wasn’t certain. “I’m almost positive she wasn’t there when I went to clean that section of the bar. And then, when she left, she was gone between one blink and the next.” Forcing the memory hurt a little, but I fought through the discomfort. “I remember thinking it was odd that none of the other customers seemed to notice her. She was really striking.”

“That is the way of the djinn,” Mr. Moony unhelpfully said. “They appear only to those they wish to.”

I rubbed my forehead, trying to wrap my mind around what was going on. “Are you saying I saw a genie? I was under the impression they were more myth than reality, or at least so scarce that few, if any, have seen one in hundreds of years. At least, that’s what Professor Stover said.” Trinket sat on my shoulder. She wasn’t melded against my skin. With her tail wrapped around my upper arm, she was alert, and her gaze remained sharp.

“I believe they prefer the term djinn. Is that correct, priestess?” Mr. Moony asked Muriel.

“Yes, yes.” She waved him off. “Genie, djinn… It’s all the same, just semantics at the end of the day.”

“I think those semantics might get your ass lit on fire,” Johnny grumbled under his breath.

“The point is”—Muriel pointed a finger in my direction—“she approached Wendall. She allowed him to see her. I’d daresay she wanted him to see her.” Waving me into motion, Muriel said, “Tell them what she said.”

Mr. Moony’s and Johnny’s gazes bored into me, their attention fixed. I hated being the center of attention and shifted from foot to foot. Trinket moved with me, flowing with my motion.

“Well, it was kind of confusing. I’m not sure I remember directly, but she said something about being sorry, that she hadn’t wanted what happened to me, and I got the feeling she felt the same way about what might happen in the future. She said something about wishes and that they weren’t her own.” I could have slapped my forehead. “Wishes.”

“She used that exact word?” Mr. Moony asked.

“Yeah, she did. I’m an idiot.”

“Not even close to one,” Johnny defended my questionable intelligence. “You’ve never met a djinn before. Neither have I, for that matter. At least not that I know of.” He scratched his cheek. “Funny thing. It’s possible all of us have met one sometime or another and had no idea. What might be the most interesting thing is that she showed herself to you as she truly is.”

“As usual, Johnny is correct,” Mr. Moony agreed. “The question remains, why?”

“Curiosity?” Johnny offered while waving a hand in my general direction. “Our Wendall here’s pretty unique. That’s one theory Ray and I bounced off each other last night.”

“Ray?” I perked up, attention sharp. “Why were you talking about it with Ray?”

Johnny dropped his eyes, looking abashed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be intrusive or anything. It’s just Lizbeth said something to me, and I was afraid it might be what I thought. I caught Ray while he was leaving, and unfortunately, that’s where his brain went too. I, uh… There seems to be some type of genuine interest there.” Again, Johnny waved a hand in my general direction, this time focusing on Trinket. “Djinns aren’t something to mess around with, and I thought it best to let him know.”

“I agree with Johnny’s assessment of the situation and am pleased he took action.” Mr. Moony supported Johnny. “Fairies fear very little, and although I would not say they fear djinns either, they are properly wary of them. Few creatures wield as much power as a fairy. Brownies are the obvious exception. Djinns are another.”

“Whoa,” I ineloquently let slip.

“Whoa is right.” Muriel stepped in closer, her gaze skipping from me to Johnny and Mr. Moony. “You’d need to ask a witch to truly get all the details, but djinn are crazy powerful. If it wasn’t for the object they’re bound to and the restrictions placed on them at creation, they’d be scarier than fairies. They might still be.”

I swallowed around that fear, going over Muriel’s words before latching on to “Witches? Why would they know?”

“Because,” Mr. Moony calmly replied, “they are djinns’ creators.”

Wait, what? “Could you explain that, please?”

“As much as I’m able,” Mr. Moony replied. “As I said earlier, for a full tutorial, we would need a learned witch. Not all know the history, and thankfully, very few, if any, living witches know how to create a djinn. I have been told the knowledge has either been lost or destroyed. I do not know if this is a truthful statement. I have a suspicion that somewhere the knowledge still exists, but I do believe that it would not be common knowledge for today’s witches.”

“And that’s a blessing.” Muriel all but sighed. “Despite the restrictions, most, if not all, witches fell at the hands of their own creation. Fear of death is probably the only stronger motivator than lust for power.”

“They died?” I asked. “How? Did the magical drain kill them?”

“Not as I understand it,” Mr. Moony answered. “Djinns don’t like being held captive and doing another’s bidding.”

“None of us would,” Johnny threw in.

I nodded my agreement.

“Djinns are intelligent creatures and were able to twist their creators’ wishes into their worst nightmares. It took time and patience, but since djinns are essentially immortal, they had a wealth of both. Death eventually claimed all those who created them, most at the hand of their djinn.”

“Shit.” Another completely ineloquent statement. Licking my always-dry lips, I asked, “Are we sure that’s what I saw?” I didn’t like the constipated looks on Johnny’s and Muriel’s faces. As was typical, Mr. Moony’s expression was unreadable.

Finally, Johnny said, “I suppose not, but I think the combination of what you saw and what she said sounds too much like a djinn to sweep under the rug. I’d like to say otherwise, but I can’t.”

“Agreed,” Muriel said with a nod.

“Unfortunately, we are still unaware of what the djinn was doing here.” Mr. Moony’s gaze drifted toward the corner of my encounter. “Her words were vague.”

“Maybe she was just talking about how I’m deteriorating,” I hopefully offered. “Johnny’s right. I’m kind of a zombie anomaly. She could probably tell something’s wrong.”

“I suppose,” Johnny slowly drawled.

“But you don’t believe that’s it?” I pointlessly asked.

Johnny’s raised eyebrows and wrinkled brow more than indicated he thought otherwise. In response, Johnny gave me an apologetic shrug.

“Somehow, I don’t think it’s that simple,” Muriel said. “It’d be a lot easier if it were.”

“Is it just witches, or do warlocks know about them?” I asked, thinking of Vander Kines. I knew him more in passing than personally, but he seemed on friendly terms with Mr. Moony and Johnny.

The room went silent, and even Trinket picked up on the tension. Gaze flicking between worried sets of eyes, I asked, “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Johnny finally answered. “Not really, it’s just…”

“There’s not a lot of good history there,” Mr. Moony finished what Johnny couldn’t.

Muriel scoffed. “That’s puttin’ things a bit mildly, but the essence is correct.” Twisting so she could see me better, Muriel appeared caught between sad and irritated. “Having been born into the time of fairy law, you’re pretty new to our world, Wendall. It’s fair to say that, in general, there’s not a lot of love lost between witches and warlocks. It’s better now than it used to be, but that’s only come after about five or six centuries. Time passes, and sometimes, it can water down the tang of animosity. These days, most witches and warlocks are at least tolerant of each other. Some are even friendly. A few hundred years ago, a witch and warlock sitting down and sharing a drink would have been unheard of.”

My fingers dug into Trinket’s fur, and her coos soothed the tightness in my chest. “Why?” Given the topic and the reaction to my question, I had to assume it had something to do with djinns.

Mr. Moony picked up the woven tale. “Witches and warlocks use magic to create, but warlocks often do so by breaking something in order to manipulate the magic.” Waving a disinterested hand in front of his chest, Mr. Moony said, “It is not something I truly understand, nor do I wish to. The important piece of the puzzle is that djinns were perceptive enough to understand that breaking their magical contract with their witch creator was just as good as manipulating them into dying.”

“And there were enough unscrupulous warlocks out there that took advantage.” Johnny’s fisted hands landed on his hips.

“That would depend on your point of view,” Mr. Moony argued.

“How so?” Johnny asked curiously.

Mr. Moony spread his hands out to the side. “From the enslaved djinn’s point of view, those warlocks were heroes. They righted a terrible wrong. For the witch…” Mr. Moony shrugged as if a witch’s passing was nothing. To a vampire, it probably wasn’t.

“So, you see”—Muriel scooted a little closer—“warlocks do know something about djinns, or at least they used to. There might still be some out there that do, but I’d wager not many, and certainly not the younger ones.”

“Like Vander?” I asked.

“Exactly like Vander,” Muriel agreed. “From what I understand, he’s a gifted warlock, especially for his fairly young age. Rumor has it he was trained by a brownie.”

“I can confirm that rumor,” Mr. Moony helpfully supplied. “Her name was Georgiana. Georgiana’s daughter, Byx, is currently his ward.”

“Well, I’ll be.” Muriel’s lips parted with surprise. “That’s a coup if I’ve ever heard one.”

Mr. Moony agreed. “It is a unique circumstance. Regardless of whether or not Warlock Kines could assist, he is currently out of state and thus unavailable.”

With his head tilted, Johnny rubbed his worry-wrinkled forehead. “That might be true, but I’ve seen him be friendly with a witch. I think it’s that same one you got the sprites from.”

“Matilda?” I couldn’t exactly tell if Mr. Moony asked a question or made a statement.

“That’s it, only I think most call her Mattie.” Johnny snapped his fingers with excitement. “I don’t want to stir the pot, but it might not be a bad idea to get her take on things.”

“I will contact her this evening.” Mr. Moony brought out his phone and typed something into it. Vampires weren’t unique in their reluctance to advance with modern times, a trap my boss had so far managed to escape. All the long-lived species had issues, or at least some of them did. Others thrived on the latest technology and swore it kept them engaged and more entertained than in previous centuries. Sometimes, I wondered if that’s why fairies allowed us humans to continue as we were without more interference. In a lot of ways, humans were good for other species. We were like that party guest no one really liked but always brought the best alcohol. So far, our benefits outweigh our negatives. Humans should take more care. That scale was far too even to find comfort in.

Trinket wiggled, slipping from my shoulder and crawling up my face, finally squatting on my head. Her tail wrapped around my neck. It wasn’t enough pressure to harm me, but it gave the others pause.

“What?” I asked, truly wondering what I looked like with a scuttlebutt as an impromptu hat.

Johnny rubbed his neck while looking decidedly pale. “No offense, Wendall. You know I like the little gal and all, but that just looks fuckin’ wrong.”

Reaching up, I stroked Trinket’s fur. “Weird or not, it’s fine. Not like I need to breathe anyway.”

“It is an odd comfort. No longer needing to draw breath.” The corner of Mr. Moony’s lip twisted just shy of a smirk. It wasn’t enough to show fang, but it was the most expression I’d seen out of him.

“Aaaand, with that, I’m out.” Johnny hooked a thumb over his shoulder and toward the bar. “This conversation just turned down a road I’d like to avoid. Wendall, I think it might be best for our customers if Trinket stays on your shoulder, or at least if she doesn’t wrap her tail around your neck like that.”

I wasn’t exactly certain how to convey that to Trinket, but I nodded and agreed all the same. “We’ll work on it.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you later tonight.” With a wave, Johnny left our little group and headed back to where he was most at home—behind Dusk’s bar.

“I should get going too,” Muriel said. “I still need to take the horde out on a couple of jobs tonight. The masses are getting hungry,” Muriel tacked on with a grin.

She started to leave, and I reached out, tugging her sleeve. “What about the djinn?” I asked. A lot had been discussed, but beyond contacting Mattie, I hadn’t heard a lot about an actual plan of action.

Gripping my forearm, Muriel gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, Wendall,” she said, an apology written across her face. “When it comes to djinns, I’m not much use. Truth be told, none of us are.”

“The priestess is correct.” Mr. Moony kept his distance, phone still in hand. “I am afraid that if this djinn is truly interested in you, or perhaps more accurately, if her master is the interested party, there may be nothing that can be done.”

On that parting thought, Mr. Moony walked away. Muriel offered me a sad smile before squeezing my arm again and heading for the door, leaving me alone with no one but Trinket and the words, well, shit, rolling through my head.

Chapter Twelve

Hellfire Rayburn

Professor Arthur Stover was…odd. Hamish was correct. Arthur Stover had his PhD in ancient history and specifically focused on ancient civilizations surrounding the Mediterranean. Arthur would enjoy meeting with the vampire council if they didn’t drain him dry first. For centuries, that was the area most ancient vampires called home. It wasn’t the cradle of their existence, but most believed it was close enough to their beginnings to make the oldest of their kind feel a sense of home.

Given that none knew where the first vampire came from, I thought the area might be more romanticized than truthful, but far be it from me to argue the point with an ancient vampire.

I wasn’t certain if the good professor noticed me, sitting in the back third of his classroom surrounded by much younger and more eager minds. Perhaps because I’d lived those times, I found his class profoundly boring. Perhaps my mind was simply too distracted to fully enjoy the topic. The reason didn’t particularly matter. I would not be taking Professor Stover’s test on the subject.

Charms were useful, even to fairies. There were rare occasions when one didn’t wish to be identified as a fairy. I appeared to be like any other dull human to those surrounding me. I wasn’t certain what the exact image was, only that it worked well and made me blend in with the crowd.

Professor Stover’s voice droned on. It reminded me of an annoying gnat or maybe a mosquito. I wanted to swat its incessant hum into nonexistence. Releasing my inner fire would expose me, and killing a human without proper justification would be against fairy law. We were as beholden to the rules as other species. As annoying as those restrictions were, Queen Silvidia was wise to bind her own subjects along with every other sentient being.

Fairies were not altruistic creatures. All of us craved power. Where we differed was what we chose to do with that power. Ruling over others held no personal appeal. However, there was no shortage of others who felt differently.

“I can’t believe she agreed to go out with you.” Two human males sitting in front of me didn’t seem interested in the good professor’s teachings either. Their minds meandered toward greener pastures as they covertly whispered to each other.

“I know. I felt like an idiot asking, but I thought, why the hell not? All she could do was tell me no.”

“Or to go fuck yourself.” The instigator of the conversation chuckled.

“Or that,” the other agreed.

“Where are you taking her?”

“I’m not sure. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d get this far. I haven’t given it much thought.”

“Let me think on it. I don’t think the usual stuff will do. You’ve probably just got one shot, so you’ve gotta make it count.”

Their heads bent closer together with barely audible conspiratorial whispers shared between them. I leaned in just a little bit, trying to hear their thoughts on what the idea of a perfect human date might be.

I didn’t catch much more. The professor’s tone increased, pushing dangerous triggers in my brain and snagging my attention. My irritation grew. I wanted to know what the two human males were conspiring. I wanted to break into their conversation and get their opinion on my own situation. One of them appeared quite knowledgeable on the subject if the other’s rapt attention was anything to go by.

My thoughts twisted. When had I been reduced to this? Eavesdropping on a pair of barely adult human males as they discussed the trials and tribulations of romantic dating. Hamish would find endless amusement, while others of my kind would be appalled to the point of shunning me.

But my queen had given me a command, and I’d promised to fulfill it. I needed to convince Wendall to accept my bond. The human-turned-zombie had thrown down a challenge, and Hellfire Rayburn did not shy away from such things.

My back straightened as every muscle went taut. My lips twitched, itching to grin. Unwittingly, Wendall had done the impossible—he’d piqued my interest. With sudden clarity, I realized I didn’t simply want Wendall to accept my bond because of my queen’s request. I wanted him to do so because he’d initially refused.

What a precious rarity. Centuries of existence easily became boring. Wendall was anything but. As I sat there, I realized I truly wanted to get to know Wendall better. I wanted to understand all the reasons he’d turned down my offer of eternal life. I wanted to know what his living life had been like and why he’d always yearned for a pet he could never have. I wanted to know what connection he had with Professor Arthur Stover.

In a word, I was curious, and curiosity could be a wondrous, dangerous thing.

My hearts tripped and fluttered into a rhythm I hadn’t experienced in centuries. Easing back into my uncomfortable seat, Professor Stover’s voice dulled into the background hum of a broken refrigerator as he was nearly drowned out by consuming thoughts of Wendall. I wanted to see the little zombie again. Too many questions were tumbling through my brain that would not be satisfied otherwise.

“I’m working,” Wendall hissed as I followed him. Dusk was moderately busy. Perhaps I should have come later. Wendall did seem busy. He was scurrying around the tables, lining the outer edges of the dance floor, collecting dirty dishes and glassware. The tub he had propped on his hip was almost full and looked heavy. I’d offered to carry it for him, and he’d flatly declined. Trinket was perched on his shoulder, tail wrapped around Wendall’s bicep. She seemed content and well-settled.

“I could assist with your activities,” I offered, although I’d never lowered myself to such menial labor. I did not find fault with those that did. I’d been born a warrior, and cleaning tables and filling drink orders did not fall into part of that job description.

Wendall vigorously shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re doing, and besides, this is what Mr. Moony’s paying me for.”

“I doubt he would mind, and you could show me what to do.” Honestly, I did not understand his protests.

“Ugh!” After slamming down his glassware bin on a nearby empty table, Wendall spun, his blue eyes glaring up at me. “What is your deal? Why do you suddenly care?” Slashing a hand through the air, he said, “No, forget that. I know why you care. Your queen ordered you to.” Wendall sounded disgusted as he defensively crossed his arms over his chest.

Trinket spat in my direction before snuggling deeper into the crook in Wendall’s neck.

Like a human toddler, I was inordinately pleased that I had Wendall’s undivided attention. Any attention—good or bad—was fine with me.

Relaxing, I clasped my hands behind my back. I’d left my hair loose tonight. One side fell over my shoulder, and the remainder waterfalled down my back. During our earlier interactions, I’d noticed Wendall’s gaze straying to my hair. I was not beyond using all the fairy charm I could muster and knew just how physically appealing others found me.

“I will admit, at first, that was my sole motivation.”

Wendall gave a dismissive grunt. “At first? Are you telling me now that has nothing to do with it?”

“No. Not nothing, only that something interesting has occurred. I find I am genuinely curious about you. It is a curiosity that stems within me and not from my queen’s command.”

Muriel and Johnny had backed up my own summation of Wendall’s character. He appreciated honesty and responded to it in kind. I saw no reason to lie or deceive.

The skin between Wendall’s eyes wrinkled. “Huh? What is that supposed to mean?” His gaze got caught on my long strands of crimson hair.

I took a step forward. Zombies didn’t necessarily have a pleasant odor. Most smelled faintly of decay. Wendall was no different, only there was the hint of antiseptic blended in. I suspected he used it on the necrotic areas of his skin. Even so, I did not find his scent unpleasant. Trinket’s musty odor wafted along with Wendall’s, creating a unique scent that was oddly comforting.

“At this stage of my life, very few circumstances hold my interest, and even fewer garner more than a raised eyebrow. You are pleasantly different.”

“I-I am?” Wendall’s tone went up an octave.

If he’d needed to breathe, his respiratory rate would have followed suit, and his heart would have beat madly. A pink flush would have lightened his cheeks. As it was, Wendall’s skin held the same pallor as always. His heart didn’t so much as twitch, and his chest remained frustratingly quiescent.

“You are,” I reiterated.

I dared to run my slender fingers through Wendall’s wavy blond hair. The strands were soft and slipped along my skin. Hair didn’t change much with death, and his current state likely reflected how it had been during life.

“Wh-what are you d-doing?” Wendall stuttered.

“What fairies do best—exactly what I want.”

Wendall swallowed. The music and activity surrounding us dimmed to next to nothing. I’d shown up tonight with no real goal in mind beyond speaking with Wendall. Unlike the two human males from Professor Stover’s class, I hadn’t formulated a plan of action. I’d simply walked in the door and gotten into Wendall’s private space. So far, my loose plan was working.

When Wendall did little more than frown, I said, “Go on a date with me.”

Wendall’s eyes became impossibly wide and round. “A d-date? Are you serious? You can’t be serious. Can you?”

“I assure you, I am quite serious. I believe that is the human tradition—dating.”

“It is, but I’m not human any longer. I’m a zombie,” Wendall needlessly pointed out.

“A zombie that has retained his human faculties. Your ideals have not changed with your zombie status.”

Wendall sucked on his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth. The motion did something odd to my chest and made my hearts skip.

“I… That’s true, but…I’m not sure you’d really want to go out on a date with me. I mean, we can’t exactly go to a local restaurant or anything. They don’t usually serve the kind of diet I require.” Wendall gave me an apologetic smile.

“Since my experience in this area is admittedly limited, I will defer to your thoughts. However, it is my understanding that sharing a meal is not always required on a date.”

“That’s true.” Wendall’s eyes pinched. “I don’t have much experience either. I, uh…didn’t really date much. When I was alive.”

“Then we shall be on equal footing.”

Wendall didn’t buy that and shot me a scathing look. “You’re a fairy, and I’m a zombie. I think equal footing went out the door the day I was born.”

I couldn’t exactly argue the point, but I could ignore it and planned to do just that when we were interrupted by a familiar and completely unwelcome voice.

“Wendall? Wendall Galen, is that really you?”

Wendall and I turned as a single unit. While my eyes narrowed and I felt the stirring of my internal fire, Wendall’s eyes widened with delight.

“Professor Stover! Oh my god.” Wendall rushed forward and threw his arms around Arthur, hugging him tight.

Trinket scrambled for purchase and pulled her lips back in a hiss.

“Wendall.” Arthur returned the hug, gently slapping Wendall on his back. “I thought that was you, but I’d heard… Well, I’d heard you were dead.”

Releasing the professor, Wendall took a couple of steps back, scratching the back of his head with his gaze firmly planted on his feet. “I… Yeah, that’s true.”

“And yet, here you are.” Arthur swept his hand up and down Wendall’s body. “And you’ve got… Honestly, I’m not certain what that is on your shoulder.”

Trinket fluffed up, appearing twice her size. She hissed once before it turned into a full-blown spat. With her lips curled back, her needlepoint teeth poked out below her fluff.

“Hush, Trinket.” Wendall attempted to placate his pet. “Professor Stover isn’t a threat. He was my history teacher when I was in college. For a short time, I was his teaching assistant. I really loved that position, and…I’m sorry I couldn’t finish my term, Professor.”

“Nonsense.” Arthur waved Wendall off. “It’s not like you didn’t have a good reason.”

“Yeah, I suppose death kind of fills the bill.”

“Indeed, it does.” Arthur moved closer.

My skin tingled with alarm. I didn’t want him touching Wendall again, and yet I had no claim to do more than stand there and stew.

Thankfully, Trinket wasn’t mollified and made her position clear. As Arthur moved in, Trinket lunged, opening her maw wide and snapping.

“Trinket!” Wendall was shocked. He’d never seen this side of the little scuttlebutt.

“Oh.” Arthur stepped back, nervously laughing the incident off. “It doesn’t look like she likes me much.”

While Wendall tried to calm Trinket, Arthur’s lips thinned, and his eyes narrowed, his gaze near murderous when he stared at the hissing bit of fluff on Wendall’s shoulder.

Deciding I’d been silent long enough, I shifted just enough to draw the professor’s attention. When confronted with an up-close and personal fairy, most humans flinched or, at the very least, took a cautious step back. Arthur did neither.

“Good evening, Professor,” I cordially greeted. “I must say, your attire is much different from the last time I saw you at Dusk.”

Unlike his last visit, Arthur Stover appeared every bit the professor he was this time. Gone were the clothes that didn’t quite fit correctly and obviously weren’t what the man was comfortable in. Instead, Arthur sported a pair of tan khaki pants and a light blue button-down covered in a creamy white sweater. Hardly bar attire.

Arthur’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, his surprise obvious.

“You were here before?” Wendall asked innocently. “Why didn’t you come see me then? Was I not working?”

I wondered if Arthur would deny his previous visit. I could see he was thinking about it. Annoyance flitted through his gaze in waves of irritation. I knew the instant he came to a decision.

With a hesitant and self-deprecating laugh I didn’t believe for an instant, Arthur said, “Busted. I was here a few nights ago. I’d heard a rumor and thought the person they were talking about sounded a lot like you. I was curious, so I came by and checked it out. To be honest, I didn’t know if I should say anything to you or not, so I left. The more I considered it, the more I wanted to see if it really was you and to find out what happened.”

“Oh, I suppose that’s understandable. The situation is a bit unusual.” Wendall fiddled with a glass on top of the pile in his bucket. I didn’t like his dejected, bent shoulders and distant gaze. The Wendall I’d come to know didn’t cower.

“I apologize, Wendall.” Arthur sounded contrite. “I hope my coming here hasn’t caused you undue pain.”

“Oh no.” Wendall perked. “Not at all. Please, don’t concern yourself.”

“I know you’re working, but perhaps I could steal a few moments of your time. I’d like to hear about what happened. If you don’t mind.”

Wendall nodded. “I think that can be arranged. Let me just check in with Johnny first. You can follow me up to the bar.”

For a frustrating moment, I thought Wendall had forgotten me. He hadn’t. “Ray, maybe we can discuss this further later.”

My chest eased. Wendall wasn’t outright refusing me. “Of course. Whenever you’d like.”

The nasty, spiteful fairy in me reached out and stroked Trinket’s fur. The little scuttlebutt leaned into my touch and never once hissed or tried to bite me. I gave Arthur Stover the victorious side-eye, ensuring he saw and noted Trinket’s reaction to me and her acceptance of my touch.

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.”

Chapter Thirteen

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.

“When has that ever truly stopped a djinn?” Aurelia’s head twisted enough that her eyes bored into mine. She was far shorter than me, and I had to look down to do so, but I held her gaze with my own fire-lit one.

“A fair point.”

“We always find a way. Time is our only constraint. Eventually, Arthur will learn this unerring fact.”

“While I find that comforting, time is unfortunately not my only constraint. Or perhaps a better way to phrase it is that Time is not my current friend.” My attention transferred from Arthur’s back to Wendall’s smiling face. I wanted to keep that smile. The world could use more smiles like that and should not be deprived of his so quickly.

“Yes. I am aware. I’ve shared that knowledge with Arthur, but he is insistent. He is a fool.”

“Insistent? About what?”

My interactions with djinns were minimal. None were certain how many were created, and even less certain how many remained. By witches’ accounts, the numbers were low. I did not know a single soul who thought that fact was unfortunate.

Regardless, I was unsure how willing Aurelia would be with information. Thankfully, she did not seem to have a restriction, and she was more than willing to share what she knew.

Audibly sighing, Aurelia slumped against the wall. “Arthur is insistent. Wendall was Arthur’s teaching assistant and was at the school late one night, working on a project Arthur had given him. Wendall entered Arthur’s office without knocking, potentially seeing something he shouldn’t have seen. He believes Wendall saw my object of attachment. Arthur also believes Wendall knows what he saw and can figure out where that object is kept.”

The pieces fell into place, and I didn’t like the picture they created. “Arthur Stover is responsible for Wendall’s death.”

“Responsible, yes. He was not behind the wheel of the car that killed that young man. No one was, but it was Arthur’s will.” Anger laced Aurelia’s words along with a hint of regret. “It was not what I wished.”

“But it was what Arthur wished.”

“It was.”

“And your restriction?”

Aurelia waved me off. “Easy enough to overcome. I was not behind the wheel either. The vehicle killed Wendall. I did not.”

“But you guided that vehicle toward him.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I did. As I said, getting around the restriction is easy. My witch was not crafty or specific enough when she inked and spelled my skin.”

Anger flared, and my eyes briefly lit. I pushed that anger down, barely keeping the strain from my voice. “If it is that easy, why not do something similar to your master. I’ve followed him, seen how unprotected he is. It would be nothing for you to take him out.”

Aurelia grunted. “It would if his first wish had not been that I was prohibited from causing or being the cause of any injury—fatal or otherwise. It was the wisest move that human has made.” Aurelia cocked her head to the side as if considering her words. “Yes, it was the smartest, but he is clever. I will give the human that. He does not flaunt what I have given him.”

“The expensive homes, vehicles, and offshore accounts,” I guessed.

“Hmm…that is correct. All of these he has kept secret. Others he works with know of djinns’ existence and believe we are real. Given Arthur’s archaeology scope, it would not be beyond belief that he could have stumbled upon one of my kind.”

“If he suddenly became unbelievably wealthy, someone else might get a little too interested.”

“Humans are pathetically greedy and infinitely devious and clever when it comes to satisfying that greed. Arthur no longer has friends. He only has others he fears will take what he feels he has rightfully earned.”

It was another pitfall of the djinn. Possessing an object of attachment might give one false security regarding control, but it also led most to mental collapse. As Aurelia said, Arthur no longer had friends, only potential thieves and enemies. He was monetarily wealthy beyond his wildest dreams, but that throne was a lonely one.

My gaze had yet to drift from Wendall and Arthur. Professor Stover’s interest in Wendall was more than disconcerting. The human had already demonstrated what lengths he was willing to go to. He’d murdered Wendall once. Twice was the definition of overkill.

“Arthur thought killing Wendall would be the end of it,” I mused aloud. “But it wasn’t. Death is not always the end one believes it will be.”

Vampires had more than proven that theory true. Zombies were the other obvious example, though you could argue how alive they truly were. Necromancers threw their own type of wrench into the afterlife.

“No.” Aurelia waved a hand in Wendall’s direction. “However, no one could have predicted this outcome. A fully cognizant zombie.” With a slight shake of her head, Aurelia appeared truly intrigued. “He is an interesting anomaly. It is unfortunate his reanimation is failing.”

My muscles went rigid. I did not like being reminded that Wendall’s second life was fleeting. For a moment, I considered regaling Aurelia with the perceived reason for Wendall’s deterioration but thought better of the idea. The djinn might happily offer up information, but I did not feel so inclined. It went against my very fairy nature.

Latching onto something Aurelia said earlier, I asked, “Does Arthur still believe Wendall is a danger?”

“Of course. To that human’s eyes, everyone is a danger. Wendall most of all. But I’ve watched that young human, and I can guarantee you he knows nothing. Perhaps he did see my object, but if so, he has no idea of its significance, and as impossible as it seems, even if he did, I doubt he’d covet it the way Arthur does.”

I found arguing impossible and allowed my silence to speak my agreement.

Inhaling deeply, Aurelia’s expression hardened. “Arthur’s mental state is deteriorating. Paranoia sank its ugly claws deep into his chest, poisoning his soul. He is insistent that Wendall knows something and that he is playing coy, waiting for an opportunity to steal me from Arthur.” Aurelia finished with a low growl. “Do you know how degrading it is? To be coveted in such a way. To never be seen for who you are, only what you can do—what you can give. I am tired of being little more than a possession.”

My mind snapped to attention. “What is it you wish for, Aurelia?” I finally turned my gaze from Wendall, focusing on the unhappy djinn at my side.

It was amazing to watch her anger morph into despondent desire. Longing festered deep within her sea-blue eyes. With a lax expression and eyes wide with desperate wonder, Aurelia’s words were soft. “What I wish…if only that were truly possible. My first restriction was that I could not wish anything for myself. But that only means I can’t make it happen. The restriction does not stop the desire.”

“And what is that desire?” I cautiously pushed, knowing this was somehow the key.

“Sleep,” she quietly answered. “I want to sleep, perhaps forever. I never want to hear the words ‘I wish’ again. I want my object of attachment kept somewhere safe, somewhere I never have to worry about another using me for their own gain.”

Over the centuries, I’d fought many battles. My hearts were hardened with blood and fire. And yet, I could understand that longing. There’d been a time when I’d longed for a similar fate. When fairy was at its worst, when war’s bitter wind constantly blew, when my abilities were honed, and the promise of death was my tithe to my queen, I wished for the peace of nothingness.

That peace was finally won, but not without cost. Prince Hanan was one of the greatest losses of that time, but he wasn’t alone. Once Fairy was stable, Queen Silvidia’s attention turned toward Earth, and in one sweeping movement, fairy law was put into place. I wouldn’t call Earth peaceful, but it was better than it was prior to fairy law. My life had slowed. Death was no longer my only calling card. In part, I’d found a semblance of peace.

Aurelia had not.

Silence ensconced our small area. More and more of Dusk’s patrons slipped into the early morning hours. Darkness shrouded their movements, the sun’s rays still a few hours away. Wendall tilted his head back and laughed. Trinket moved with him but remained vigilant. I had no idea what this duplicitous human said, but whatever it was made Wendall infinitely happier than anything I’d said. That thought soured my stomach.

“As I said, he is very clever.” Aurelia picked up on my unease.

“He’s manipulative,” I corrected, although I could also easily concede that the best manipulators were also quite clever.

“It won’t be long before he makes another wish, Hellfire Rayburn. He hasn’t done so yet because Arthur is uncertain if Wendall has revealed his secret to anyone else. When Arthur is certain he can gain no further information from Wendall, he’ll make that wish, and I will not be able to deny it.”

I understood all too well and nodded. “Can you tell me what your object looks like?”

“No.” The word was spoken with a layer of frustrated disgust. “It is one of my restrictions, as is telling you where my object is kept. I cannot simply grab it and hand it over either. As soon as my flesh touches my object, I am absorbed into it. That is where I find rest. It is where I sleep. Whoever picks up my object will have control of my actions. I will have no choice but to see their wishes fulfilled.”

It was a horrible situation. The more I spoke with Aurelia, the more pleased I became that the witches who created djinns were destroyed by their own monstrous creation. Only I was beginning to understand that it wasn’t the djinns that were monstrous, but the ones who’d created and caged them.

Chapter Fourteen

Wendall

I couldn’t believe how nice it was speaking with Professor Stover again. I’d loved his class, and I’d loved being his TA even more. I was a total geek when it came to Professor Stover’s archaeological finds. He’d traveled all over the world and gotten to see things I’d only dreamed of or seen in pictures. That was nothing like seeing the real thing, being in the same climate, under the same sun as those responsible for their creation. Walking in another’s footsteps was so much better than sitting in a climate-controlled library, flipping through journal pages.

I fondly remembered Professor Stover’s stuffed office. It was overflowing with books, papers, pieces of artwork he’d found on the dig site, and gifts from archaeological colleagues. Some might say his office made him a hoarder, but I didn’t think so. It simply spoke of a full life.

And now, here he was, sitting in front of me and telling me this was his last year teaching. I couldn’t believe it and said just as much.

“But why? You’re a great teacher.” I started to lean over the bar top, but Trinket hissed at the professor again, and I backed away. I still couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t warming up to him.

Professor Stover gave Trinket a wary eye but quickly turned his gaze back on me, and a smile curved his lips. “Another opportunity has come my way. It’s one that I’d be crazy to pass up.” His smile grew. I typically found Professor Stover’s smiles pleasant, but this one struck me as a little too much, as if his lips were stretched beyond what was comfortable.

“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what else to say and offered up my own smile. “That’s great.” I wasn’t sure if that was true or not. Professor Stover certainly seemed to think so.

The professor’s head tilted ever so slightly, and his eyes narrowed. “New technologies have opened up new exploration opportunities in the Amazon. Innumerable civilizations are waiting to be uncovered. All you have to do is get your hands on the latest maps and head into the jungle.”

I thought that was an oversimplification but didn’t say so. Instead, I went with what I knew of archaeology. “That sounds expensive. I’ll bet you had to work hard to get the proper funding.” Begging for money was part and parcel for most archaeologists.

That over-wide grin contorted Professor Stover’s face again.

I leaned back, trying to place a little distance between myself and that disturbing expression.

“Yes, I suppose so.” The word yes was drawn out like a reptilian hiss. “But I believe you know that’s not a problem for me.”

“I…” I wasn’t sure what to say. Was Professor Stover bragging? He’d run a lot of successful archaeological digs. Maybe his reputation was enough and donors were coming out of the woodwork.

After clearing my throat, I offered up an admittedly weak smile. I’d never really known Professor Stover to be a braggart, but I supposed I didn’t personally know him that well.

Finally, I managed to say, “I’m glad to hear that. I mean, it’s good that you don’t have to worry about funding.”

“No, I don’t think I’ll have to worry about that ever again.” Professor Stover’s uncomfortable grin remained while he gave me an equally uncomfortable wink.

My earlier joy in meeting up with him faded into a sea of confusion and unease.

“Yo, Wendall.” Johnny’s hoofed feet sounded loud in the quieting bar. “I’m sorry to break things up, but the dishes are starting to stack up. Lizbeth made a dent in them, but she needs to get going.”

“Oh!” I jumped away from the edge of the bar. It was still strange expecting my cheeks to warm with an embarrassing flush while they remained cool and forever pale. “I’m sorry, Johnny. I lost track of time. I didn’t mean for Lizbeth to do that.” My gaze flashed from Professor Stover to Johnny. Trinket’s tail cinched on my bicep, holding a little tighter as I threw the professor an apologetic “I’m sorry, but I need to get back to work.”

“Absolutely. I’m sorry for keeping you so long, Wendall. Especially when you’re on the clock.” Professor Stover sounded truly sorry.

“It’s fine,” Johnny waved us both off. “Wendall’s a good worker, and I know he’ll get the dishes done in no time.” Johnny gave me a friendly slap on the shoulder as he walked by.

“I better get going,” I said, already backing away with relief. “It was nice seeing you.” I wasn’t completely lying. It had been nice, at least in the beginning. I still wasn’t sure what it was toward the end. I wasn’t even sure why I felt uneasy, only that I did. Maybe it was because Trinket didn’t seem to like him, and so far, she’d liked everyone else.

“Maybe I’ll stop by another time so we can talk a little more. Or maybe you’d like to meet up outside of work. I’d suggest coffee, but last I knew, that’s not on the zombie menu.”

Ouch. I inwardly flinched as Professor Stover chuckled at his own humor. It wasn’t that I didn’t know what I was. The fresh brain tissue sitting in my fridge was a constant reminder, as was my deteriorating skin and quiescent heart. I hadn’t felt bad about what I was until that exact moment.

“Yeah, I, uh…I’m actually pretty busy here. You know you’re free to stop by, but I’m not sure how much free time I’ll have. It kind of depends on how busy Dusk is.” I wasn’t sure how to politely tell Professor Stover that I didn’t necessarily desire a follow-up to whatever tonight had been. We’d done a congenial meet and greet, but as he’d just pointed out, we lived in completely different worlds.

That too-wide smile was back and appeared more forced than ever. I took another step backward and ran into a solid wall of flesh, but unlike mine, the heart that beat beneath that chest was strong and felt like a bass drum.

“Wendall.”

I’d never heard Ray say my name like that. Or maybe I’d never felt safe when he said it.

“Would you like some assistance with the dishware?” Ray politely asked.

Reaching behind me, I grasped a chunk of Ray’s pant leg. Trinket leaned away from me and toward Ray, cooing for all she was worth. She is such a flirt.

“Yeah. That’d be great. Johnny said they’re really piling up.”

“I wasn’t aware fairies lowered themselves to such menial tasks.” Professor Stover made a tsking sound. “Truly fascinating.”

“We go where we are required,” Ray soundly answered, his voice calm and just as soothing as before. The hardened edge that sharpened his words wasn’t directed at me.

“Yes, I suppose that’s true.” Finally pushing away from the bar, Professor Stover gave me a nod and said, “It was good seeing you again, Wendall. I’m certain our paths will cross again.” Professor Stover’s gaze tracked to Ray and held steady. I’d rarely seen a human brave or stupid enough to have a stare-off with a fairy.

In the end, the professor just smirked and walked off with his hands stuffed into his pockets. I watched him until Dusk’s doors closed behind him. Only a few stragglers were left, but I couldn’t be bothered to look at a single one.

“That was weird,” I finally said, tone a little breathless.

“Not nearly as weird as you currently think,” Ray answered.

His breath across the top of my head made me realize my back was still plastered to his front, and my hand still had a death grip on his pants.

Pulling away, I released his pants and mumbled a hurried “Sorry.” I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for, and by the pinched skin between Ray’s eyes, neither did he. When he remained silent, I thought back on his earlier words and asked, “What do you mean?”

Instead of answering me, Ray said, “I believe there are dirty dishes that require attention,” before he turned and headed for the kitchen area.

Choking on my response, I startled and hurried after him. “Wait! You don’t need to help me. I can handle it.”

Ray didn’t verbally answer. He walked to the sink. Lizbeth had drained and refilled it with fresh, soapy water before she left. Ray rolled up the sleeves of his expensive shirt and filled the warm water with dirty glasses.

It was one of the most surreal experiences of my life. There I was, a zombie drying dishes as one of the most powerful fairies in the world washed. How in the hell had my life turned into this?

“He did what?” I asked, nearly breathless. My fingers had gone from strangling Ray’s pant leg to my own t-shirt. Mouth gaping like a fish, I choked out, “Wh-why? Why would Professor Stover do something like that?”

I fell onto my couch. My shaking legs didn’t have a prayer of holding me up, and I wasn’t in the mood to ask the impossible of them. My heart should have been pounding, not just lying there doing absolutely nothing. If there was ever a moment made for panicked overreacting, this was it.

“I can’t believe that.” I vehemently shook my head, tossing my wavy blond hair and getting some strands caught in Trinket’s fur. Thankfully, she held on tight with her tail as I’d unceremoniously flopped onto the sofa. “You have to be wrong.” I was clearly in the denial stage.

“Unless the djinn lied, I am not wrong.” Ray sounded so damn matter-of-fact. There wasn’t even a hint of inflection in his voice. Ray had just told me my former professor, a man I greatly admired, had ordered my death.

“Djinn?” That word penetrated my denial haze. “You spoke with her?” I stared up, amazed at how still and calm Ray was.

He looked like perfection made whole. They’d definitely broken the mold when he was born. I had no idea how anyone got a body that firm and defined. Humans struggled in the gym. I had a hard time imagining Ray sweating it out on the elliptical or lying flat on a workout bench lifting weights.

Actually, that wasn’t all that hard to imagine. It was a little too easy to imagine. Not that I thought that’s truly how he got so ripped. It was just an interesting mental diversion.

Swallowing that amazingly not disturbing thought, I forced my mind back on the here and now.

“Aurelia was actually very helpful and informative.”

“Aurelia? Is that her name?” If so, it sounded beautiful and old.

Ray nodded, and his gaze drifted toward me and, more importantly, at the area opposite me on the sofa.

“Would you like to sit?” I asked.

I wasn’t sure why Ray needed an invitation, but when he walked over and eased down next to me, I realized that was exactly what he’d been waiting on. Having him this close was odd. It was comforting but also a little nausea-inducing. Those two emotions were terribly at odds with each other.

Ray’s hair was so long he almost sat on it. He shifted it out of the way with practiced ease before he fully sat. The move was liquid-smooth and more fascinating than it should have been.

Without further prompting, Ray told me the whole, sordid story. Each word sounded less believable than the last. And yet, I didn’t doubt him. In the most bizarre way, it made perfect sense. Muriel told me the police and the detective she hired hadn’t been able to locate the car or driver. In this day and age, that seemed odd. Not impossible, but not all that likely either. She’d said it was as if they’d simply disappeared, and if a djinn was involved, that’s likely exactly what happened.

I sat there, taking it in and feeling my gut sink further into a looming abyss. When Ray finished, all I could do was sit there. At some point, Trinket found her way onto my lap. Her tail was wrapped around her body, and she softly cooed. Her body rumbled in a way that resembled a cat purring and had the same soothing effect. My fingers dug into her fur and kept up an unconscious rhythm.

“Wendall?” Ray’s unusually soft voice questioned, and his slender fingers found their way to my shoulder. Light pressure eased into my reanimated skin. I wasn’t as sensitive as I’d once been, but my brain still registered the gentle touch.

“I’m fine,” I stupidly said. That hadn’t been what Ray had asked, at least not directly. I supposed he hadn’t truly asked anything in particular. That didn’t matter. I sensed that was what Ray was truly after, and I offered a half-ass lie.

I wasn’t really fine. My body was deteriorating. I was decaying, and the one and only answer to my problem was something I wouldn’t—couldn’t—accept. I was a zombie. I was relegated to a lifetime of diminished senses and limited dietary choices. And I had a professor I’d once admired to thank for all of that. Not only that, said human wasn’t happy that even my second life had an expiration date and was also determined to steal that time.

“I do not believe that is completely true.” Ray didn’t exactly argue. He would have had to raise his voice to qualify as an argument.

I believe I shrugged, but I wasn’t sure. “I don’t think it matters if it’s true. It is what it is. There’s no changing things.”

“That is not entirely true. If you would accept my—”

I cut Ray off. “Not happening.”

I didn’t want to rehash that tired ground. Truthfully, it was damn tempting to take Ray up on the offer. But I wasn’t that selfish. I couldn’t imagine living for eternity knowing I’d taken something precious from him. Something he could never take back and never give to another. I would be condemning Ray to a loveless eternity. I still wasn’t sure if romantic love meant the same thing to fairies as it did to humans. I wasn’t willing to take the chance of taking something that meaningful away from him.

Ray went silent and rigid beside me. I could tell he wanted to say more and swallowed the words. I thought that took tremendous restraint and decided to change the topic.

“Do we know how he plans to take me out?”

It was a better question than it sounded. By the strictest definition, I was already dead. It wasn’t like a knife to the heart would kill me a second time. Poisoning wouldn’t do it either. Hell, I didn’t think even beheading me would totally end my second life. The thought conjured an image of me sitting on this same sofa, my head in my lap or maybe on the armrest as Trinket and I binge-watched TV.

“Aurelia did not expound upon different options. I will need to consult with Muriel. The only way I know to fully put a permanent end to a zombie is through fire or destruction of their priest or priestess.”

I jerked, and my eyes flew wide. “He wouldn’t… He couldn’t… We have to warn Muriel. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to her because of me.”

“I doubt you would be aware. Muriel’s death would instantly disconnect her reanimation, and you would cease to exist.”

I stared, eyes wide and mouth open in shocked awe. Was Ray even aware of how callous his words were? He said them with practical ease and sounded more thoughtful than disturbed.

Floundering, I searched for something to say until I finally managed, “That is not the point! I don’t want Muriel to die. Period.”

“Of course you don’t.” Ray sounded confused. “I did not mean to imply otherwise. I realize you’re fond of the priestess. I am not completely heartless.”

Now I sort of felt like an ass. “Sorry,” I managed. “I just…I don’t like even thinking of someone harming her, and with a djinn involved, it’s entirely possible that could happen.”

“Unfortunately, your concerns are valid. I will not sugarcoat the truth.”

“I don’t want you to do that. Just…” How did you tell a fairy to be a little less like a fairy? Was that even fair? I didn’t think so. Ray was what he was, just like the rest of us. “Never mind.”

Ray arched an eyebrow but thankfully left our awkward conversation to die on the verbal battlefield.

“So, Professor Stover hasn’t wished for my second death yet because he thinks I might have spilled the djinn beans to someone else, and he wants to know that before he offs me a second time. Is that about right?”

“Essentially,” Ray agreed, sounding oddly pleased with my summation.

Knowing he was pleased made me feel all warm and tingly inside. I think both feelings were more imagined remembrances than true feelings.

I sighed, long and tired. “But I don’t know anything. Honestly, I have no idea what he even thinks I saw. Well, I know he thinks I saw Aurelia’s object of attachment, but if I did, I have no idea that’s what my eyes landed on. Professor Stover’s office is packed to overflowing with stuff. I didn’t get far enough in my studies to truly know what was important and what wasn’t, let alone figure out a djinn-related object.” Leaning over Trinket, I planted my elbows on my knees and placed my chin in my cupped hands. I couldn’t figure out why Professor Stover thought I knew anything. Why would I? What exactly had been different when I’d walked through that door that made him think I saw anything out of place?

I searched my memory but came up with squat. I’d gone into Professor Stover’s office so often I didn’t even know what specific occasion had warranted my death.

Ray shifted a little closer, and his knee brushed against mine. His warmth seeped through his pant fabric and into my cooler skin. It felt good.

“While that may be true,” Ray said, “Arthur does not know that, and I believe, for the time being, that it would be wise to reinforce the idea that you do actually know something. Furthermore, it would be best to insinuate you’ve shared your story with others. The longer Arthur believes you hold information he requires, the longer we have to figure out Aurelia’s true object of attachment and retrieve it.”

“You think that’s possible?” I twisted my head to stare into Ray’s eyes.

They were really pretty eyes. Crimson ringed his large, black pupils. I’d seen that crimson expand, lighting with inner fire. I’d only caught glimpses of it, and Johnny told me I was glad it wasn’t longer. According to Johnny, I didn’t want to get a full glimpse of Hellfire Rayburn in his true form.

When I’d first met Ray, I figured Johnny was right. Each interaction with him made me question Johnny’s advice. I had a feeling there wasn’t anything in the world more amazingly glorious than Hellfire Rayburn in his full fairy wonder.

“I believe it is very possible. I do not believe it will be easy.”

“Few things are,” I said with a sigh.

“Debatable,” Ray answered with deadpan sincerity. “We should relay our latest information to Muriel and Lucroy. According to Aurelia, Arthur’s sanity is dwindling. I am not certain how much longer he will retain his logic, but if he still has that capacity, then logic would suggest Muriel as your most likely confidant. As the priestess who reanimated you, she could even have ordered you to tell her all you knew.”

“Yeah, but that would assume that Muriel thought I knew something to begin with. She didn’t even know me before my aunt and uncle sold her my body.”

“That is correct, but Arthur does not know that. The human sees conspiracies where there are none. It is not a stretch to believe his mind would wander down similar roads. It may be fruitful to foster those ideals.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to endanger Muriel.”

“Nor do I. I have my own fondness for the priestess.”

I wasn’t necessarily surprised to hear that. I’d had little experience with any fairy before Ray and had honestly been too afraid of them to go near. That probably spoke more to my intelligence than suggesting I was a coward. Even though I didn’t have a lot of personal experience, Johnny had made more than one comment regarding how much more personable Ray was. The very fact that he came into Dusk to socialize spoke volumes.

“Muriel will no doubt have her own opinions,” Ray went on. “I would not presume to put words into the priestess’s mouth. As for Lucroy, should we achieve our goal and obtain Aurelia’s object of attachment, I believe he and his beloved, Peaches, could be very useful.”

“Why?” I asked. “What do you intend to do with it?”

“I intend to honor Aurelia’s wish. Her object needs to be kept somewhere safe and away from greedy hands. She desires peace. She desires rest and sleep. It is convenient that her wish coincides with my own. It is difficult to destroy a djinn. The best outcome for all of us is eternal rest. Thankfully, that is exactly what Aurelia desires, and I intend to grant her wish.”

Chapter Fifteen

Hellfire Rayburn

As expected, Muriel was furious.

“I want him,” Muriel seethed. “After his heart stops beating, his carcass is mine.” A pale-red glow lit Muriel’s deep brown eyes as her priestess powers flared. “Zombification is fitting. He’ll be nothing like Wendall. That human will be like all the others—starving and forever empty. I’ll laugh as his reanimated body is scrounging the floor, licking it clean.

Muriel’s home vibrated with the low hum of power. A priestess’s home was an extension of herself, and Muriel’s reacted to her mood. Right now, that mood was pissed.

“No wonder we couldn’t find anything.” Muriel huffed and planted her fists on her ample hips. “Chances are the car that hit Wendall doesn’t even exist anymore, and if it does, it’s probably halfway across the country in some junkyard collecting dust and rust. A djinn. Who would have figured that?”

“No one,” I easily answered. “As you know, djinns are exceedingly rare.”

“And that’s a small mercy, to be certain.” Muriel released her clenched fists and eased her hands to her sides. “Well, we knew someone was controlling her, and I suppose now we’ve got our answer. The question is, what do we do about it?” A frown pinched her eyes. “One wish is all it’ll take to wipe all of us off the planet.”

I wasn’t certain I would go that far, but Muriel’s concerns were valid.

“Goddess, I wish the myths about djinns were true. Three wishes”—Muriel held up three fingers and waggled them toward my face—“if that’s all that asshole got, then we’d be home free, and Aurelia would be out of his clutches.” With a shake of her head, Muriel turned her attention back to her cutting board. I wasn’t certain what she was slicing, but it was juicy and had an unpleasant odor.

I had often wondered where that particular fallacy manifested. There was no limit to the number of wishes one could request. That would have been a very foolish limitation. Creator witches never imagined their djinns out of their personal control. It never occurred to them to set those types of limits.

Rolling her wrist, butcher knife still in hand, Muriel said, “I understand your reasoning, Ray, and I’m on board with it.” I’d already given Muriel the rundown of my earlier conversation with Wendall. “It’s a solid plan. For now. I can’t say I’m excited to be on a human-controlled djinn’s radar, but I’ll do it. For Wendall. I swear to all that is holy, that young man has some shitty karma, and I’ve got no idea why.”

Fairies didn’t believe in karma. We were the masters of our own destinies and didn’t wait for some ethereal force to mete out punishment. Still, I understood the sentiment.

“Wendall does seem rather innocent in all of this.”

Muriel scoffed and made a more forceful chop with her knife. “Understatement. Wendall deserves so much more than the deal he’s been handed. And yet…” Lowering her knife, Muriel’s gaze turned distant. “I’ve never heard a sour word from Wendall. He rolls with the punches life’s thrown at him and just keeps on plodding along in the most pleasant way possible. For someone whose heart no longer beats, he’s got the biggest and best one I’ve ever seen.”

Since I agreed, no argument came. “Wendall is very concerned for your well-being. He does not wish to place you in harm’s way.”

“Of course he doesn’t. Wendall wouldn’t be Wendall if he was okay with it.” Fondness lit Muriel’s words and brought a smile to her lips. “I like to think my own boy would have turned out like Wendall if he’d lived.”

“You had a son?” To my knowledge, Muriel only had two children, and they were both daughters.

Muriel’s smile turned wistfully sad. “For seven years.” Even that smile dropped from her face. “But not everything’s meant to live a full life. Wendall got more years than my boy, but they’re both tragedies.”

Muriel went back to chopping. I didn’t ask how her son died or if she’d tried to reanimate him. Considering most viewed reanimation as punishment for the wicked and not a reward for the saintly, I had difficulty believing Muriel would have done that to her own flesh and blood. Her statement went a long way to understanding Muriel’s attachment to Wendall.

I thought about offering my sympathies. That was polite etiquette. I didn’t think Muriel expected polite etiquette from me or any other fairy and kept my thoughts to myself.

“What a mess,” Muriel lamented as her chopping actions slowed. Lifting the cutting board, she slid the contents into a plastic container, closed the lid, and placed it in the refrigerator. I didn’t think she was commenting on her activities so much as Wendall’s lot in life.

“I assume you’re sticking like glue to him?”

I gave a slow blink. “Are you speaking about Wendall or Professor Stover?”

“In this case, Wendall, although Stover’s not a bad idea either.”

“I am attempting to divvy my time to the best of my abilities.” Time moved very differently in the land of Fairy. On Earth, I didn’t require the amount of sleep or even rest that other species did. I could go days without wearing down, and a few hours’ sleep was usually enough to recover my spent energy. Still, there was only one of me.

“I recruited another to help with Professor Stover.”

Hamish was still on Arthur’s electronic trail. I’d asked him to keep a visual eye on the professor also. Hamish’s fee was exorbitant but worth every penny.

“Good.” Muriel washed her hands before pulling out another cutting board and dropping something equally grizzly upon its surface. “I know Wendall’s reluctant to accept your offer.”

“He’s not reluctant. He refused.”

Muriel waved a clean knife in the air, this one even more wicked-looking than the last. “Semantics,” she argued. “The scuttlebutt was a stroke of brilliance. He’s already in love with Trinket, and every time that warm and fuzzy feeling hits him, thoughts of you aren’t far behind. That’s the way with well-loved gifts.”

Trinket was indeed a good present, but I did not think the small scuttlebutt would be enough and said just as much. “I do not believe it has changed his mind.”

“That’s true, but it’s gotten him thinking.” Muriel tapped her temple with the pointy end of the knife. “And no, he hasn’t exactly said as much to me, but when he says your name or speaks about you in general, his tone is different.”

“How so?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“For one, the fear is gone. Don’t look at me like that. You’re a fairy, and Wendall grew up human. He’s got a healthy fear of fairies, and that’s not wrong.”

If that was the only way in which his opinion had changed, then the road was longer than I’d previously anticipated.

“For another, there’s a softness to his voice now when he talks about you. That didn’t used to be there. He already thinks you’re dead sexy. We’ve just got to work on some of his other hang-ups.” Muriel’s lips twisted and puckered with thought.

I got the impression she knew more than she was letting on and considered pressing her for more information but didn’t. “I am uncertain if there is enough time for him to come around. His body is deteriorating as we speak.”

I’d seen another area of decay on his hand last evening. I’d refrained from commenting. Wendall was more aware of his body’s condition than me. He didn’t need my commentary.

“That is the question.” Muriel let loose a sigh. “I wish I knew the answer.” She let her knife drop, and its weight easily sliced through the questionable material on the cutting board.

I silently waited. Muriel was frustrated and took it out on a lump of unknown meat. I had no desire to replace that outlet. After several more hacks and chops, Muriel set the knife down while staring at her grisly work. The sight didn’t faze her.

“You’re right. Time’s not on our side. We’ve got two competing problems, and each of them is set on ending Wendall’s existence. Neither of us finds that outcome acceptable. Sounds like we need to step up our game.”

“I agree. Do you have a suggestion?”

Muriel was a gifted priestess, but moreover, she’d lived a long life and had more experience with humans than me. Some fairies were above asking other species for their advice. To my mind, those fairies were foolish. There was no shame in admitting ignorance. The only shame was not correcting it.

“About the djinn?” Muriel shook her head. “Sadly, no. That’s so far outside my wheelhouse that I don’t even know where the door is to get inside. I’m afraid that one’s all on you.” Muriel shot me an apologetic glance. “You use me however you think best. I’m not sure if you need my permission or not, but regardless, you’ve got it.”

Wiping her hands on a nearby towel, Muriel shifted and gave me the full brunt of her attention. “As for Wendall, I might have an idea or two. If you ask me, Wendall’s never gotten the attention he deserves. Now, I’m not talking about fancy, expensive things. I’m talking about genuine affection. That boy’s life became devoid of that the minute his parents died. He’s self-sacrificing, and while that’s an honorable trait, taken to the extreme, it can be damn detrimental.”

I gave a slow nod of understanding. “Wendall does not wish to bind my existence to his own. He views this as harmful to me.”

“Exactly.” Muriel snapped her fingers, and her eyes shone a bit brighter. “He doesn’t want to take advantage of you. Wendall can’t stand the idea of benefiting while that benefit causes another suffering, and he believes that’s what bonding to you will equal. We’ve got to turn that idea around somehow.”

I didn’t disagree but found it difficult to conjure a plan that didn’t require months to years of implementation. As we’d already discussed, Wendall did not have that kind of time.

“You need to woo him,” Muriel stated with authority.

I fought the automatic eye roll. “That is exactly what Queen Silvidia suggested.”

“Oh.” Muriel’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open before turning into a pleased smile. “Sounds like your queen and I might get along.”

I thought Queen Silvidia would like Muriel but didn’t say so. Instead, I said, “I have little experience in such matters.”

“Understandable.” Muriel seemed unflappable. “Like I said earlier, the scuttlebutt was a good start. You’ve got to appeal to what Wendall enjoys, and it seems to me you’re in a unique position to do just that.”

My cocked head and arched eyebrow must have clued Muriel into the fact that I had no idea what she was talking about.

“History. Wendall loves history. He was a history major. That’s how he met that asshole, Stover. Wendall wanted to travel the world and explore ancient civilizations. You can give him that from a first fairy point of view.”

I considered Muriel’s words before stating, “I was in Fairy for much of Earth’s history. I am uncertain how much I can contribute on that account.”

“Hmm, not a problem. I can’t imagine that Wendall would be particular to human history alone. My guess is he’ll be just as fascinated by fairy history or any other species you can regale him with. Wendall’s got a keen mind. Use it.”

Could it really be so simple? Did I just need to talk with Wendall? Fairy history was nearly as bloody and tragic as our human counterparts. Would he be interested in the twists and turns that had led to fairy law? Beyond my powerful gifts, I’d never viewed myself as overly interesting. I had one thing to offer my queen, and that was my physical strength. But that was not what Wendall needed right now, or at least, it wasn’t all he needed. My ability to turn half the globe to ash with little more than a thought wouldn’t impress my zombie paramour.

Knife back in hand, Muriel took a couple of steps closer, her eyes narrowed and lips little more than a thin line. Raising the knife, she tilted its business end toward my chest, where she assumed my heart was. I had no idea if she knew two hearts thrummed beneath the tip of her blade.

“Just one thing, Hellfire Rayburn.” Muriel used my full name, making certain I was listening. “I love that boy like he is my own, and, in a way, that’s not far off. I want him to live, but living a long life don’t mean shit if that life is full of pain. If you don’t plan on caring for him—and I mean really caring—then give this up right now. Don’t bind Wendall to your soul just because it’s what your queen wants. Do it because it’s what you want. Do it because Wendall is the best damn catch out there. Do it because you truly like Wendall. Do it because it’s what Wendall deserves. I don’t expect you to start spouting poetry and words of love. That takes time we don’t have. What I do expect is for you to treat Wendall like he’s the most precious creature in the world. If you just intend to bond and then run off and hide away in Fairy, then leave him to his fate. Bein’ dead is kinder than bein’ ignored, unloved, and unwanted.”

Finished with her threat, Muriel went back to her chopping block. The chunk of meat lying there didn’t stand a chance.

Chapter Sixteen

Wendall

It was my day off. I had one or two of them a week, and I hated having free time. Johnny and Mr. Moony thought they were doing me a kindness, but the reality was different. When I was working, I could forget about the five new spots that had shown up on my skin. The first ones were still there, growing in size every day. I thought they should itch, but they didn’t. All they did was ooze and stink. The cream I used helped with the smell. It also helped dry them up to a degree. I’d started putting bandages over most of them. Everyone knew what was underneath. Out of sight, out of mind sounded good to me.

Trinket yawned, unhinging her jaw and showing off all her impressive needle teeth. I tossed her a chunk of cow liver, and she merrily shredded and swallowed it. I swore she hummed when she ate. I wished I got that much pleasure from the brain tissue I forced down my throat daily. I’d gotten used to the concept, but the texture was a different matter.

“What do you think we should do today?” I asked while scratching the top of her head.

Or maybe it was her body? I wasn’t sure. Trinket was kind of a ball with eyes, a nose, and a huge mouth on the front. Her stubby legs were often hidden beneath her dense fur coat. Her toes were awesome. Their pads were soft but grippy. Between her toes and long tail, when Trinket was latched on to me, I didn’t think anything could dislodge her. I didn’t like to think about how that might help her if she had to hunt down her food.

Trinket cooed in response, nuzzling my arm before settling on my lap. I swore she was related to a cat for all the time she spent sleeping.

Sinking deeper into my love seat, I played with her fur, allowing her soothing softness and constant humming coos to lull me into peace. I forced thoughts of Professor Stover and his djinn out of my mind. I’d been dwelling on it too much since finding out. All stressing did was give me a headache. I hadn’t even known it was still possible for me to get one. Thoughts of Professor Stover proved me wrong.

Dwelling didn’t solve anything. I couldn’t go back in time and unsee whatever he thought I’d seen. Trying to figure out what he thought I knew only made my head pound worse. It was crazy thinking I’d been murdered over something I didn’t even remember. Maybe there was a reason I didn’t remember. Maybe I hadn’t seen anything at all. And even if I did, I had no idea of its significance, so it didn’t matter anyway.

I couldn’t imagine being that paranoid. A strange part of me kind of pitied Professor Stover. Sure, he might be financially set for life, but I didn’t think that level of monetary wealth was worth the trust he’d given up. Was living in constant fear really living? I didn’t think so, and it was a lesson I needed to take to heart because that’s exactly what I’d been doing. There was a good chance I didn’t have much time left, and it was stupid to waste it on worries I couldn’t change and had no control over.

Professor Stover could decide to end me any minute, and I didn’t think there was much I could do to stop a djinn. And even if he didn’t wish me eliminated, I was still deteriorating. Neither Muriel nor I had any idea how long my body would remain viable. It might be days, weeks, or maybe a few months. Neither of us thought I’d still be here a year from now.

No, sitting on the couch was stupid and wasteful. I had a day and night off, and I needed to make the most of it.

Pushing off the love seat, I settled Trinket on my shoulder and said, “Let’s get out of here. It’s been a while since I’ve been to the art museum. I can call a rideshare, or maybe Johnny will let me borrow his car. If nothing else, there’s always the bus.”

Trinket made a noise between a coo and a hiss that sounded like agreement. I wasn’t sure if they’d let her into the museum, but I didn’t want to leave her home alone. Like I’d thought earlier, time wasn’t on my side, and I wanted to spend every second of it happily. Trinket had become a big part of that joy, and I didn’t want to let her go.

I didn’t really need a coat, but I grabbed one anyway. I felt cold and heat, but not as acutely as the living. Wearing a coat would help me blend in and might be a good place to stash Trinket and smuggle her into the museum.

After grabbing my apartment key and phone, I headed for my door. My hand fell on the knob, and I jumped a mile when there was a knock on the other side.

I didn’t bother asking who it was. Muriel and Johnny were my only visitors, so I figured it had to be one of them. For some reason, no one ever used my phone. They just showed up at my doorstep.

Swinging the door open, I stared up and blinked. It wasn’t Muriel or Johnny.

“Ray?” I questioned while looking around his lean body, expecting to see someone else with him. “Is everything okay?”

He appeared so stoic, not that his expression differed from usual. It just seemed like maybe he was a little more tense than typical.

“Did something happen with the djinn?” That seemed the most logical explanation for his visit. Or maybe it was about Trinket. My hands fisted as wild thoughts circulated through my brain. He couldn’t be here to take her back, could he? She wasn’t a conditional gift, one that depended on if I accepted his bonding offer. Please, don’t let that be what this was about.

“I have no news regarding Aurelia,” Ray answered, voice flat and unreadable. “Nothing new has happened that I am aware of.” He sounded a bit more frustrated on that issue.

“Okay,” I drawled out. “Then what—”

“You were on your way out,” Ray interrupted. “May I ask where you are going?”

My mouth snapped shut, and my teeth clattered. Worries regarding Trinket faded and now seemed foolish. “It’s my day off, and I thought I might head out to the art museum. I haven’t been there since… Well, not since this.” I waved a hand over my reanimated body. “I thought it might be nice to revisit some of my favorite pieces.”

I didn’t know if fairies had museums in their world. Maybe that was a strictly human concept, although more than a few museums were spread across the country for some of the other species. Some seemed keener on the idea than others.

Ray’s demeanor instantly relaxed, and an odd half smile tugged at his lips. “Would you allow me to join you?”

“I… What? You want to go with me? To a human museum?” That seemed more than odd. “Listen, Ray, you don’t have to do that. I know you’re still working the bonding angle, but I’m telling you, whether you go to a human museum with me or not won’t make a difference.” I said the words but didn’t feel nearly as confident as I sounded. Not that I thought I’d change my mind, only that I hadn’t expected Ray to put that kind of effort into things.

“I find human history interesting. Fairy past is nearly as bloody. The loss of life was not quite to scale, but the horrors we visited upon each other are not so different.”

Tilting my head, I gazed at Ray. Fairies weren’t known for their sharing personalities and dolled information out in snippets that often did little more than whet human appetite and add gasoline to baseless rumors.

I truly considered telling Ray no, but honestly, the company sounded good. A couple of weeks ago, I never would have dreamed I’d find the company of a fairy soothing.

“Okay,” I finally relented. “If you’d like to come along, I think I’d like that. Do you have a car?” Fairies had a way of traveling without them. Fairies and brownies were the only species that could do that. I’d heard they used completely different methods, but I wasn’t certain any human knew what that meant. Regardless, fairies didn’t transport humans that way, and even if Ray had offered, I wouldn’t have been up for that type of adventure.

“Of course,” Ray easily answered. “Shall we go?”

I offered a polite, if wary, smile and said, “Lead the way.”

The museum was what I imagined a welcome-home hug felt like. I found an elusive sliver of peace when I walked through the doors. Ray drew so much attention that no one batted an eye at Trinket sitting on my shoulder. Despite my protests, Ray paid for us, and the poor human girl running the ticket booth gawked and screwed up his change no less than three times before getting it right. I’d been tempted to offer to come to her side of the booth and figure the change myself. In the end, that hadn’t been necessary.

Ray wandered the museum with me for over five hours. He never once complained or tried to hurry me along. He allowed me to drone on and on about different pieces and what they meant. I hadn’t been an art history major, but I enjoyed it enough that I learned plenty on my own in my free time. I’d almost forgotten just how much I enjoyed it.

Ray got a lot of second, third, and maybe seventh glances. He acted like it was nothing and kept his attention fixated on me. It was…odd. I couldn’t remember the last time someone watched me so closely. And not only that, but Ray listened. He asked pointed questions that made me realize he was paying close attention. He never seemed bored or acted like he’d rather be somewhere else. I honestly didn’t know what to do with that.

By the time we left the museum, I was pleasantly confused. At first, Ray’s direct attention made me nervous, but by the end, I found I enjoyed it. I liked having him by my side. I liked the idea that I wasn’t just talking to the air. It was refreshing in a way I hadn’t expected. When I was younger and living with my aunt and uncle, I’d tried to speak with them about what I learned in school and how fascinated I was with ancient cultures.

It hadn’t gone well. At first, they’d given me odd looks. They’d let me get a few sentences out before telling me I was weird and talking over me. I’d learned quickly to keep my interest locked away so it couldn’t be mocked. I think that was part of the reason I latched on to Professor Stover. He was a man who loved history and made a life of it. I stupidly placed the man on a pedestal, and he’d fallen with a spectacular splat.

It was a weird habit humans had. We liked thinking others were better than us or maybe something to aspire to. But at the end of the day, humans were just that. We all made mistakes, and many fell to our baser, less desirable tendencies. Everyone stumbled. It’s just that some of us fell from greater heights than others.

“I would ask if you would like to get a sugary treat before heading home, but I fear that would not be to your current palate,” Ray said as we walked toward the parking garage and where we’d left his car. Funny, Professor Stover said something similar the other night. Only, he’d said it with cruel mocking.

Ray’s comment was completely different, and my smile was automatic. I missed ice cream, cake, brownies, and every other sugary treat. Truth be told, I’d probably been addicted to sugar. And carbohydrates. It was a sad fact of life that those foods didn’t just taste disgusting now but passed through my body in painful, unrelenting ways.

“Yeah, I don’t think there’s a brain tissue food cart anywhere nearby,” I joked.

Ray laughed. It was low and so quiet I almost missed it, but it was there and sounded musical. “No, I suppose not.”

“But if you’d like something, we can stop somewhere on the way back to my apartment. There’s no reason you shouldn’t get a treat.”

Trinket’s tail shifted on my arm, loosening ever so slightly and easing the pressure on my bicep.

“I can easily get something later,” Ray considerately answered.

My chest warmed a little more. “Okay. If you’re certain.”

“Quite certain.” Ray’s steps faltered, and he gazed across the street. He didn’t seem tense, so I didn’t get too excited.

Turning completely in the direction his gaze lingered, Ray gave a delicate nod and asked, “Would you care to join me in the park? I believe Trinket might like the exercise.”

I stared at the small park across the way. It wasn’t big, but it had a few swings, benches, trees that would offer shade in the steamy summer months, and a water fountain or two. Since I had the night off, I shrugged and answered, “Sure, that would be okay.” Being winter, the park was all but deserted of human life. I saw a troll sitting on a small bridge and inwardly laughed at the stereotype.

To my surprise, Ray headed for the swings and sat. I followed suit and settled in a swing next to him. Trinket craned her body around, snuffling my hair and making high-pitched noises that I interpreted as excitement.

“Go on,” I prompted.

She immediately scrambled down my arm and took off for the nearest tree. I watched her leap across the frozen ground with a smile. I hadn’t seen her run and bound like that. “Maybe I should take her out more often. I feel kind of bad. I didn’t know she’d like that kind of thing.”

“Scuttlebutts enjoy the outdoors and use their tails to dangle from tree limbs.” Ray no more than got that out than I watched Trinket walk up the side of a tree, shuffle toward the end of a limb, and wrap her tail around the branch. She dangled like an opossum.

“Maybe I should set something up in the apartment.” I frowned while contemplating it. “I don’t think Mr. Moony would mind.”

“No, I do not imagine he would,” Ray easily agreed.

Silence descended, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Kicking off the ground, the rattle of the swing chain echoed through the frosty air. Ray didn’t swing as vigorously as me, but he did sway a little. Leaning back, I stared at the sky as my body rose and fell. I’d forgotten this feeling of pure freedom and sighed with pleasure.

“It is good to see you happy,” Ray softly said, breaking the stillness.

Sitting back up, I allowed my swing to softly still until I was barely moving. “It’s good to feel this happy,” I answered with a genuine smile. “It’s easy to forget what living is really like, what it was to be young and without a care in the world.” I was still chronologically young, but being murdered and reanimated into a zombie sort of tarnished my shiny, youthful worldview.

“I do not know if I can remember that far back.” Ray kicked off the ground, and his swing rattled. “I have been alive a long time and considered an adult for most of that time. Childhood seems a million years ago. Some would say I was called into service younger than I should have been. Even from a young age, my powers were apparent and desired.”

I kicked off the ground too. At first, our swings weren’t in sync, but they soon evened out, and when Ray rose, so did I. Leaning back, I watched the gray sky pass above. Winter’s sun was never as brilliant as the other seasons, but I appreciated its effort.

Without much thought, I asked, “What is it you can do?” I didn’t stop to consider if the question was rude or not. Curiosity got the better of me before I could engage my filter. I gripped the swing chains tighter as I bolted upright. “I mean…” I stuttered. “Most are afraid of fairies in general, but Johnny and Mr. Moony seem especially…” I mentally searched for the word and finally came up with, “Reverent when they speak of you. Respectful might be a better word.” My toes dragged the worn dirt path below my feet, slowing my swaying. “If you can’t say, then it’s okay.” I wasn’t certain if fairy abilities were confidential. My face painfully twisted in confusion.

Ray’s responding smirk was more amused than demeaning. There was a subtle difference I was beginning to learn.

“It is not a secret, though I do not make a habit of proclaiming my attributes. Only the weak are boastful. Those who are truly powerful have no need to do so.”

“Yeah, that holds true with humans too.” I’d seen it plenty of times in my short life.

“As to your inquiry, my abilities are in tune with fire.”

“Whoa.” My grip tightened. My attention became fixed. “Like, you burn things?” I ran my gaze up and down Ray’s body and couldn’t figure out how that might happen. I’d touched him a couple of times, and he hadn’t felt overly hot.

“Easily,” Ray solemnly answered. “When I was young, it was more of a curse than a welcome gift. There were several…incidents that I do not wish to recall. Given such a destructive ability, it was imperative that I gain control quickly. Perhaps that is why I was considered more capable than others my age.” Ray casually shrugged as if it weren’t important or, perhaps, was simply a moot point. Holding his hand palm up, a small flame danced upon his flesh. It flared up and then calmly retreated back to little more than a flicker. Ray’s skin was untouched by the heat.

I swallowed painfully. One of the first things Muriel told me after I’d been reanimated was that little could harm me except fire. That seemed to hold true for nearly every species. Even the mightiest fell beneath fire’s breath. And here, sitting beside me, was a fairy that could control that equalizing factor.

“Is Queen Silvidia afraid of you?” I asked, voice hushed. “I know she’s powerful, but I don’t think even she’s impervious to fire.”

Ray made a fist and promptly extinguished the flame. “No. I would never betray my queen. But even if that were a concern, she could easily end my life before I got close enough to be a threat.”

“Wow.” My eyes felt huge, and for a hot minute, I was afraid my eyeballs might pop out of my head. Given that I was a zombie and my flesh was deteriorating, it wasn’t such a foolish thought. Thankfully, my eyeballs stayed where they were supposed to, leaving only my completely inadequate response as my sole source of embarrassment.

“Wow, indeed.” Ray sounded amused again. “And to think you are related to her.”

I scoffed and pushed off the ground again, restarting my swing. “By, like, how many distant generations?”

“I’ve no idea, though we could probably trace your lineage if you desire.”

I shook my head. “Not really. I don’t think it matters much. Whatever fairy blood I’ve got is so diluted that the only positive it’s given me is retaining my mental awareness.”

Ray didn’t swing as much as me. Instead, he gently swayed. “And it is that same fairy blood that is causing your deterioration. It is fighting Muriel’s hold. Are you resentful?”

It didn’t take me long to answer. “No. I’m not resentful. I’m grateful. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it royally sucks, but if it weren’t for my fairy blood, then I never would have gotten to know Johnny, Lizbeth, Mr. Moony, Peaches, and you.” I barely hesitated on the last. “Not to mention all the others I’ve met while working at Dusk. I don’t regret the extra time I’ve gotten, even if it’s too short.”

Ray’s swaying stopped.

I squirmed beneath his fixed gaze. Dragging my feet, I brought my swing to a halt again and asked, “What?”

With a slow blink, Ray’s usually hard lips softened into the gentlest of smiles. “You are a unique individual, Wendall. When my queen ordered me to bond with you, I had not thought I would like you so much. I saw it as a task and duty that I would fulfill just like every other request she has ever made of me. I was surprised and…upset when you declined my offer. I thought I had failed my queen.”

“And now?”

“And now, I find myself less upset about failing Queen Silvidia and more dismayed at failing you. I also believe I will miss your company when you are gone.”

Imaginary warmth bloomed within my chest, and my gaze became fixated on my feet. “I don’t know about all of that. I’m sure you could find someone else that—”

“Not possible,” Ray interrupted. “You forget how many centuries I’ve been alive, Wendall. Trust me when I say you are very special. Your second death will be everyone’s loss.”

I wasn’t sure what I would have said. Trinket frantically scrambled up my leg, zooming up my arm, and perched herself on top of my head. Her tail wrapped around my neck probably would have been suffocating if I’d needed to breathe. Once situated, she started hissing and spatting up a storm. Sounds I’d never heard erupted from her giant maw.

“Trinket, what the—”

“It is the way all scuttlebutts respond when they sense a threat.” Aurelia stood to Ray’s left. Despite the cold, her long-sleeved flannel was still tied around her waist, leaving a thin tank top as cover and exposing a litany of impressive ink. In the dim winter sun, Aurelia looked even more stunning than before.

Well, shit. This can’t be good.

Chapter Seventeen

Hellfire Rayburn

I was on my feet before I consciously realized the motion. My internal fire flared, rustling to life and easily at hand. Should I wish it, my flaming sword would be within my hand faster than Aurelia could blink. I could burn the entire park to ash in less time than it took to apologize for the act. And yet, I did not think any of that would be enough if Arthur Stover wished it otherwise.

I kept my arms at my sides, feigning ease. My fingers remained tense and flicked here and there. It was one of my common tells, something I’d never been able to train away. My actions were little more than wasted effort.

Wendall’s hand effortlessly slid into mine. His gentle grip was oddly soothing and quieted my fidgeting fingers. His skin was cool against mine but not cold. Trinket’s fur brushed against my neck, making me realize Wendall was closer than I’d thought. I couldn’t afford to take my eyes off the djinn long enough to check on his exact location.

“Whatever happens, Ray. It’s okay.” Wendall’s softly spoken words sliced through my hearts.

It is not okay. That thought rang through my mind, gaining speed and potency. The more time I spent with Wendall, the more I realized the truth of that statement, and not just for my queen’s sake. I did not want to lose Wendall. It was a harsh reality that made me queasy and distinctly on edge.

“Be at ease, Hellfire Rayburn.” Aurelia’s right eyebrow quirked up when she saw our linked hands. The edge of her lips tilted at nearly the same angle. Her response only made me grip Wendall’s hand harder. She would have to come through me to get to him. I had little doubt what that stance would earn me, and yet I found I did not care.

“I was not aware I was anything but,” I bluffed.

Aurelia’s haughty, high-pitched laughter indicated her disbelief. “Maintain your pretense if you wish, but regardless, my current master did not wish me here. I come of my own volition.”

“You can do that?” Wendall shifted at my side.

“The one that holds my object of attachment does not control my every action.” Aurelia’s tone quivered with irritation. “If he wishes me back, then I will have no choice but to obey.” Unbridled hate filled those words.

“I’m sorry,” Wendall softly said. “I can’t imagine what that would be like. No one should be forced to do what someone says against their will.” Tugging on my hand, Wendall finally pulled my gaze from Aurelia, and I found myself staring down into deep wells of blue. “Can’t fairies do something about that? Can’t they break the pattern?”

“Sadly, no,” I answered. “Djinn are witch-made, not fairy.”

“What about the witches then?” Wendall innocently asked while waving a hand in Aurelia’s general direction. “It’s not fair to them.”

No, it wasn’t fair. But no one knew what would happen if djinn were allowed off-leash. What if there was no control or countermeasure to their enormous power? A djinn in the hands of someone like Arthur Stover was a tragedy, but one that could eventually be resolved. An untethered djinn could wreak unimaginable horrors on the world. Then again, so could Queen Silvidia. Was there truly a difference? I wasn’t sure, but I also wasn’t sure I wanted to take the risk.

Aurelia’s amused grin slipped, leaving plush lips drawn into a thin line. “You are unusually kind. Especially for a human. You are also impossibly naïve, but I do not hold that against you. Some would, but not me. It is amusing you believe witches would undo what they’ve done. Even today’s witches who understand their past follies would be reluctant to do so. If it were even possible.”

“Oh.” Wendall sounded equal parts confused and sad.

I decided to step in. “It is uncertain if a witch could even undo the magic. Witch magic is more creative than destructive. If it could be done, most likely it would take the cooperation of a witch and a warlock. However—”

“That is unlikely to happen,” Aurelia said.

“But I thought some witches and warlocks got along now.” Wendall’s nose crinkled in the most endearing way. “Vander and Mattie seem to get along fine.”

Thankfully, Trinket stopped hissing and spitting, and her warnings were little more than low, humming grumbles of displeasure.

“They do, but I doubt they’d find it wise to unleash a djinn,” I answered.

“Hellfire is correct, little zombie.”

Wendall stiffened beside me, and I wasn’t sure if he was opposed to being called little or a zombie.

“I would like nothing more than to be free of my object of attachment, but even I would think the two of them foolish to do so.” Flicking something off her barely covered breast, Aurelia said, “Currently, I am at peace with the world and wish little more than rest. However, times change, and I cannot guarantee my feelings in the future will be that…benign.” Her grin was truly wicked. “I was not created with benevolence.”

Wendall scooted a little closer, and a barely audible “oh” slipped through his lips.

Trinket scuttled down from his head, looping her tail around his bicep and snuggling against his neck in what I took as an attempt at comfort.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined enjoying a human cuddling up at my side, and yet that’s exactly how I felt with Wendall snuggled in beside me. It felt right in ways I never could have expected.

What I’d said earlier was painfully true. I would truly miss him if I couldn’t convince Wendall to accept my bond. Wendall calmed my fire in ways little else had been capable of over the years, yet he also lit a fire within me. It was the fire of protection. It was the fire of want. It was the flickering, unsteady flame of desire.

Inhaling, my senses took in Wendall’s unique scent. Antibiotic ointment was at the fore of that scent, the tell-tale stench of decay resting just underneath. It wasn’t the perfumed roses that romantic tales were based on, but it was real. It spoke the truth and held no secrets. It reminded me of what Wendall was and what was at stake. It was both calming and anxiety-inducing.

Settling my mind, I brought my attention back to Aurelia. “If you are not here on the behest of your master”—Aurelia cringed at the word—“then why are you here?”

With oceanic eyes narrowing, Aurelia fisted her hands. The words tattooed on her skin flared and glowed. “He’s getting worse,” Aurelia finally stated.

“Arthur?” I needlessly clarified.

“Who else? That human is convinced Wendall knows about my object, and he’s also convinced he’s told another.”

I nodded, more pleased than dismayed by the admission. “That is not entirely unwelcome news. May I ask whom he believes Wendall told?”

“My guess is you already know.”

“Muriel?” Wendall gasped. “But I don’t want her involved. I told you that I—”

“And I spoke with the priestess, and she asked me to propagate the lie,” I answered. “Do you truly believe any could convince Muriel to do differently? I might be a fairy, but even my powers are limited.”

I could almost hear Wendall’s teeth grinding before he begrudgingly said, “No. I know she’s stubborn.”

Muriel was more than stubborn. She was a mamma bear protecting her cub, and few creatures, no matter the species, were more dangerous than a mother protecting her offspring. Wendall might not be genetically related to Muriel, but she’d reanimated him and thought of him as her own child. Nothing I could have said or done would have swayed her to do any less than what was best for Wendall. And, what was currently best was keeping Arthur Stover mentally wrapped up in his conspiracy theory that Wendall had shared his knowledge with another.

There was no convincing Arthur Stover that Wendall knew nothing. In fact, I wasn’t certain that was the case. I thought it likely Wendall had seen Aurelia’s object of attachment, and perhaps, with time, he might have figured it out. With time, he might still. But as Muriel and I had discussed, in this case, time was not a limitless commodity.

“So, the priestess knows?” Aurelia asked.

“She is well aware,” I confirmed, “and more than happy to assist in the subterfuge.”

Aurelia cocked an eyebrow but remained silent, leaving her obvious question unasked.

“It seemed prudent,” I offered. “If Arthur believes Wendall has retained the knowledge and kept it to himself—”

“Then he’ll be more likely to eliminate Wendall quicker.” Aurelia caught on quickly. “It is a decent plan but has flaws. Arthur’s paranoid psychosis grows by the minute. He will not allow a perceived threat to stand for long. He…” Aurelia glanced off to the side, her face twisted with what appeared to be disgust.

“Aurelia, what has happened?” She was a beautiful creature, and Arthur Stover was an unattached, possessive, and mentally fragile human male. I didn’t like the sudden swoop of my stomach or the worries my mind conjured.

Again, Aurelia caught on quick. A little too quick for my peace of mind. “He can’t do what you think.” She barked out a pain-filled laugh. “Oh, he ogles me, and his imagined thoughts turn my stomach, but he’s too afraid of me to be turned on enough to do what you’re thinking.” Aurelia placed her hand on her lower abdomen and ran her fingers over a string of hidden words. “My creator witch was devious, but she wasn’t completely without care. Perhaps a part of her wondered if she would inevitably lose control of her creation. She placed safeguards for me. Being forced into sexual situations that are not my choosing is one of my restrictions. Even if that was one of his wishes, Arthur could not force me.”

“Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick.” Wendall slapped a hand over his mouth. As long as he stuck to a diet of brain and body tissue, Wendall’s constitution should be stable. However, diet alone didn’t take into account other types of disgust.

“We have to get her away from him,” Wendall pleaded, his own reasons long forgotten and his only concern for the djinn herself. “I don’t care if he can’t do anything or even if he’s too scared to. Just the fact that Aurelia has to put up with that kind of thing is… It’s unthinkable.”

“We will,” I said with confidence. I still wasn’t certain how that might happen, but I couldn’t accept any other outcome.

“I have no sway over his actions.” Aurelia was matter-of-fact and unapologetic. “Arthur knows I despise him. At this point, he takes any suggestion I make as an attempt to escape his grasp. Most likely, I’ve made the situation worse. Arthur told me he believes I’d rather have Wendall as my master.” Something softened in her eyes. “He is not wrong.”

Wendall jerked, taking my clasped hand with him. I wondered if he was even aware of the contact. I liked to think that our connected hands brought him the same level of comfort it brought me.

“I don’t want to be anyone’s master,” Wendall vehemently protested.

“And that is why you would be infinitely better than Arthur Stover,” I easily answered, saving Aurelia the trouble.

“The fairy is correct. I cannot tell you what you saw or even if you truly saw it. What I can tell you is that you must try to remember. Arthur is a clever human. He’s surrounded himself with both truly ancient objects and fake replicas that easily confuse the eye. Any number of these things will look like a good possibility. I wish I could be more illuminating, but—”

“Let me guess,” Wendall said with a sigh. “It’s one of your restrictions.”

“Unfortunately.”

“I’m starting to have a love-hate relationship with these restrictions of yours,” Wendall groused.

Aurelia’s smile was full of teeth and malicious intent. “Trust me, little zombie, the feeling is mutual.”

Chapter Eighteen

Wendall

I stared at the circular object swinging from Muriel’s hand and frowned. “Is that really supposed to hypnotize me?” I sounded dubious because I was dubious. I’d always been skeptical of hypnotism. Not because I thought things like that were completely bogus, but I just didn’t think it would work on me. That was probably arrogant thinking, but regardless, it was what flashed through my brain now.

“Well, it sure as shit won’t work if that’s your attitude,” Johnny huffed. We’d decided to try this down in the bar, mostly because squeezing Johnny, Mr. Moony, Peaches, Ray, and Muriel into my little apartment seemed like an impossibly tight squeeze.

“Johnny’s right.” Peaches fluttered nearby. I might have sneezed if I’d needed to breathe. Golden pixie dust filled the air, and when Muriel did sneeze, Peaches snapped his wings shut and offered up a contrite apology. Walking closer instead of flying, Peaches got down in my face and said, “You’ve got to keep an open mind.” He said it with a smile and a confident nod, as if that’s all I needed to follow his instruction.

“Muriel.” Mr. Moony’s cool voice was like a glass of refreshing water on a hot day. Or, at least, what I remembered it tasting like. “I have not heard of hypnotizing the reanimated dead before. Do you truly believe it is possible?”

Muriel huffed. “You’ve never heard of it before because every other zombie doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together. Wendall’s different, and no, I have no idea if that means this will work or not, but right now, I don’t have a better idea. Do any of you?” She pointedly stared down each and every pair of eyes in the room.

Peaches shifted toward Mr. Moony’s side, and his arm immediately pulled him in closer.

Johnny stomped a cloven hoof and shook his head.

Ray said nothing.

“That’s what I thought.” Muriel inhaled and pushed her chest out, throwing her shoulders back. “Now, if the peanut gallery is done with their piddly-ass comments, I’ll get busy, and we’ll see if this has a prayer of working.”

Muriel’s gaze softened when her eyes settled back on me. I was sitting at a table. Trinket was in her usual spot, snuggled up to my neck. Her fur rubbed along my latest spot. I’d quickly slapped a bandage over it this morning when I woke up and saw it staring back at me in the mirror. I didn’t want Trinket getting the antibiotic ointment on her fur.

“All you need to do is relax and concentrate on my voice, Wendall. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

Muriel knew I’d do anything for her, and my nod made her eyes crinkle with her smile. “Good. Do you have any questions before we get started?”

I shifted and asked, “Even if this works, how will we know if I saw anything? I didn’t recognize it then, so what will make this different?”

Instead of Muriel, Ray stepped closer. His hand found its way to my wavy hair, tucking a strand behind my ear. He’d been a little touchier since our impromptu meeting with Aurelia in the park. I couldn’t say that I minded.

“That is what we are all here for. Muriel will attempt to take you back to Professor Stover’s office. All we need is for you to look around, describe what you see, and maybe note the professor’s reactions when your eyes land on a particular object. It will most likely be subtle, something you mentally wrote off or didn’t fully contemplate. Simply relay things as you see them and leave the rest of it up to us. That’s what we’re all here for.”

“Ray’s right,” Johnny said with more confidence than he’d had before. “All you gotta do is look around. You’ll be safe. It’s just traveling back into your memory. Right, Muriel?”

“Correct. The whole process should be painless.” I wasn’t sure if the bravado coloring Muriel’s tone was false. I liked to think she was as confident as all that, but she’d readily admitted she’d never done this with a zombie before.

“Okay. Let’s do this.” I wiggled my body, trying to ease the building tension. It sort of worked. Honestly, Muriel’s calm, soothing voice did more to relax me than my own efforts.

“You’re gonna do just fine, sugar,” Muriel’s coo was different from Trinket’s, but they had similar effects. “You just leave all the heavy lifting to me.”

It was surprisingly easy to fall into Muriel’s lulling voice and soothing tones. I trusted her completely and readily placed my body and mind into her care. The round object started swinging in front of my face, and I did as Muriel said and tracked it with my eyes. I wasn’t sure how hypnosis works for living humans. As Muriel’s zombie, she could control my actions. I didn’t know if she was actively controlling me now, but whether she was or not, I fell into her trance frighteningly easily.

Before I knew it, I was back in Professor Stover’s office. It was just like I remembered it, but that was probably the point. Since we were relying on my memories, the place should look just as I remembered it.

I could see it all so clearly, maybe even more clearly. It was like everything was bright, highlighted, and oddly 3D. It was even more cluttered than I thought, or maybe it looked that way because I could see each and every object so clearly. Professor Stover was in the far corner, back to me and body turned so I couldn’t see his face. He didn’t know I was there.

“There’s so much to look at. It’s overwhelming.” My voice sounded far away, but not as far away as Muriel’s answering one.

“I know, sugar. Tell me what you see. Is the professor there?”

“He is.” My head felt heavy. I wasn’t sure if I nodded, but I might have. “He’s in the corner. Not sure if he knows I’m here or not.” A shot of fear ran through me—one that was new and due to more current memories. “I don’t want him to see me.” I shrank back toward the door I’d walked through, the one I knew led to the hall and away from Stover’s office.

“It’s okay. He can’t hurt you. It’s just a memory, Wendall. That’s all it is. Let’s leave Professor Stover where he is for now. We’ll take advantage of his distracted interest.”

“How?” My gaze swiveled around the room, but I didn’t move a foot closer.

“It’s your memory, sugar. You can go where you want and leave the professor where he is. No reason to interact yet. Just think of him like a statue. He only comes to life when you want him to.” Muriel’s voice blanketed my insecurities. I trusted that voice and cautiously did as she said.

Professor Stover wasn’t exactly statue-still. I could see his arms moving, or maybe his hand. With Stover turned away from me, I couldn’t see what he was doing, but I got the impression he was reading something. His head was bent, and his left hand was stuffed in his pants pocket. I knew he was moving his hand because the fabric rustled and turned.

I walked deeper into the room, staring at the clutter. Small statues sat haphazardly next to ancient-looking stone discs and frayed books. Two filing cabinet doors were halfway open with manilla envelopes hanging out as if the drawers were stuffed too full to completely close.

Plaques littered the wall, most of them slightly askew. Professor Stover’s achievements were everywhere, and yet it appeared like he could have cared less about their appearance. I got the feeling they wouldn’t even be on the walls if someone hadn’t framed and mounted them for the professor.

An old, beat-up metal framed desk sat off to the side with barely enough room for a person to squeeze behind it and make it to a rolling chair with cracked faux leather. A laptop computer lay on top of a pile of papers with little yellow and orange Post-its scattered around. A stray pen and a couple of highlighters could be seen here and there. The cup that looked like it was supposed to hold those pens was stuffed with a dying plant instead. Only one or two leaves were still barely holding on to life.

“Wendall?” Muriel called my name. “Describe what you see.”

“Where do I start?” It all just seemed so overwhelming.

“Pick a corner and go around like a clock.”

I twisted, starting in the corner to my left, and began rattling off what I saw. I had no idea if any of it was what we were looking for. I knew what some things were, but most I just described. There was so much, and yet time slipped by unnoticed. Just as Muriel promised, Professor Stover stayed in his corner. The man didn’t even look at me. I was in charge.

After I’d made my way around the room, I stared at his desk. Some things I couldn’t see well and decided to squeeze in behind it. Again, Stover didn’t so much as twitch.

“That’s all I see,” I finally said. “Nothing stands out.” Was it possible to feel disappointment while under hypnosis? I didn’t know, but that’s how I felt. I also got the impression I let everyone down. I was still in that room, and I’d almost forgotten about Stover standing in the corner.

“That’s good, sugar. I think it’s time to speak with the professor. Can you do that for me?”

I jerked and shook my head. “I don’t…I don’t want to do that.” Everything had been fine. As long as Stover stayed in his little corner, I was good. Why did we need to rock that calm boat? I’d already listed everything that was in the room. What more could they want?

“It’s okay. Feel that? On your right hand?” Muriel asked, her voice as soft and reassuring as ever.

I hadn’t felt anything until Muriel planted the idea. Now that she had, I did feel something. Twisting my hand, I reached for that pressure and found warm flesh.

“Ray’s here. He’s got you, and he’ll keep you safe. We both will. Remember, it’s your world. Stover can’t hurt you there. You control everything. Nothing bad happened in that office, and nothing bad is going to happen there this time.”

I stared at Stover’s back. His actions seemed repetitive, as if on a time loop that kept endlessly repeating. Maybe that’s exactly what this was. While I’d been looking around, Stover had kept doing the same activity again and again, patiently waiting.

You can do this. I gave myself an internal pep talk. It’s my world—my mind.

“Just act normal, Wendall. Greet the professor like you always did.”

Knowing what I did now, that was easier said than done. My world. I repeated. My memory.

Squaring my shoulders, I gripped the papers that suddenly appeared in my hands, just like the last day I’d been in Stover’s office.

“Professor Stover,” I said, taking a step forward. “I’ve finished grading the freshman tests, and I put their scores in the computer like you asked.”

The response was immediate. Stover whipped his head around, eyes wide and brows raised. There was a torn and nearly shredded book in his right hand that he snapped closed. The sound echoed through the room and made me jump. My responding nervous laugh was automatic and mimicked that day months ago.

“Wendall,” Stover said, his voice a little breathless. His left hand jerked out of his pocket as he turned, Stover’s keys dangling from a chain tightly gripped within his hand. “What are you doing here?” Had that hard glint been there before? Or had my imagination added it? The grim line of Stover’s lips made him look unapproachable. Gaze worriedly flicking between me and his office door, Stover licked his lips while taking a hasty step back.

“I’ve got the papers graded,” I repeated, seemingly unaffected as I walked farther into the room and laid my stack on top of another on his desk. “You better get these sorted, Professor.” I laughed again, completely oblivious to the car that would jump the curb and end my life in just a few short days following this memory.

“Oh.” Stover hurriedly stuffed his keys back into his pocket, but the object on the chain caught on the fabric. I caught what looked like wood or maybe pottery of some kind. I twisted my head, trying to get a better look.

“Is that an amphora? It’s a cool reproduction. I didn’t know they made keychains like that. Did you get it on one of your digs?”

Stover shoved the amphora out of sight, and his hand followed the object’s path. I could see the fisted outline beneath his loose pants pocket. The stack of papers I’d piled on top of his desk began toppling, and I reached out and grabbed them before they could flutter to the floor.

“Wow, you really do need to clean off your desk,” I chuckled while shifting paraphernalia this way and that, desperately trying to make a spot for the desk’s newest burden. “If you need some help sorting, just let me know. I don’t mind organizing things.” I wasn’t a stickler for organization, but I liked it when everything was in its place.

“Thank you, Wendall,” Stover tersely answered. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s a bit like organized chaos. It may not look like, but I know where everything is.” He laughed. “I know it doesn’t appear that way.”

“Hey, whatever works for you.” I smiled back. “I know you’re busy. I got everything done with the tests. You’ve just got to hand them back.”

“Thank you again. I’m not sure what I’d do without you, Wendall.”

My neck prickled, and my stomach felt like lead as I heard me respond, “I don’t think that’ll be a worry.” Oh, how wrong I’d been.

“No? I suppose one never knows. Life seems never-ending when you’re young.”

“I suppose so.”

I wanted to wipe the remembered grin from my face. I wanted to stomp forward, get up in Stover’s face, and punch him square in the jaw. Muriel said this was my world, but I was trying to stay as close to the memory as possible. I didn’t want to alter it, and besides, it’s not like socking Stover would get me anywhere. It might have offered a bit of satisfaction, but it would have been hollow, especially if changing the memory caused me to miss something important.

“I better get going,” I said, my voice light and full of naïve ignorance.

“Take care,” Stover answered.

His lips pulled into a thin smile, and his eyes didn’t necessarily look hard, but they did appear thoughtful. I hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. Why would I? Professor Stover was a busy man and often had a lot on his mind. Or, at least, that’s how I’d always thought of him. Looking back on things now, I didn’t think I was exactly wrong, but I’d probably misjudged what had so thoroughly preoccupied his thoughts.

I walked out of Stover’s office. The hall I entered was dark. It was late at night, and the building would close soon. As Professor Stover’s teaching assistant, I had a key to the building, but I didn’t like being there at night with most of the lights turned off. There was something infinitely creepy about large buildings typically filled with commotion whose voices were now silenced.

The hallway grew darker, and Muriel’s voice pulled me toward a pinprick light at the end. The light was warm and grew brighter. It pushed away the shadows and pulled me toward it. I went willingly and with an infinite sense of relief.

“Wendall? Sugar, you with us?” Muriel’s deep brown skin and even deeper brown eyes pulled me from my stuporous memory and back to the here and now. Her warm, welcoming smile crinkled the skin around her eyes. “Welcome back.”

I blinked. My gaze flickered from face to face. Johnny was beaming at me like a loon. Peaches’s wings furiously beat while he clung to Mr. Moony’s arm. Golden pixie dust covered the room in a golden haze, filtering the light and giving everyone an ethereal glow.

Pressure on my hand pulled my attention to my right. Ray was there, crouched low so his gaze was even with mine. His eyes swam in mesmerizing flames. Without much thought, I reached out and ran the pads of my fingers down his soft skin. Those ocular flames flared before banking low.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “I know it’s silly, that it was just a memory, but I was scared. I didn’t want to get Professor Stover’s attention. Knowing you were with me helped.”

“I am pleased to hear it.” Ray gave my fingers another squeeze,

I cried out in pain.

“Wendall?” Muriel and Ray’s voices blended together in surround sound. “What’s wrong?” Again, they mimicked each other, and I couldn’t tell where the words came from.

Yanking my hand free, both my arms wrapped around my cramping gut. “H-hurts,” I managed to say past gritted teeth.

“What hurts?” Ray asked. I didn’t think I’d ever heard him sound panicked, but that was exactly what came through.

“He used up a lot of energy,” Muriel answered. “Wendall might be different from the others, but he’s still a zombie.” Her voice quieted as she turned her head and ordered, “He needs food. There should be something in his refrigerator. The containers are labeled. I just brought over some fresh brain yesterday. Grab that one and a couple more if he’s got them.”

“On it,” Peaches chirped and was off in a dash of golden dust.

“Damn, he’s fast,” Johnny muttered, but his words were little more than a distant hum against the fresh cramps painfully doubling me over.

I’d never felt this hungry before, this desperate. I wanted to eat, and right now, I didn’t care where that food came from.

Ray grabbed both my arms, pulling them away from my abdomen. I didn’t know if it was what he intended, but I folded into his arms. Ray’s neck was there, blood pulsing below the surface. I didn’t want the blood, not like a vampire did. The flesh was what appealed, and it smelled sooooo good.

I could feel my self-awareness fading. Hunger was all I knew, and it was a desperate craving that pushed every other thought aside.

Ray’s flesh was so soft, so supple, and so delicious. I bit down. Zombies had human-grade teeth. We didn’t slice through flesh like a vampire. We painfully gnawed. Ray’s body stiffened, but he didn’t push me away. He cupped the back of my head, holding my face and mouth to his shoulder.

God help me, I chewed. Feral sounds came from somewhere, and I only distantly realized they emanated from me. Ray’s blood tasted salty-sweet, but that wasn’t the real prize. Firm muscle met my teeth and tongue, and I sank into my meal.

“Got it!” I thought Peaches yelled, but I couldn’t have cared less while I continued tearing at the tissue beneath my mouth.

I felt a tug on my head, and my growls intensified. I had no intention of letting go. Another firmer tug tried again, but I just latched on harder.

“Wendall! Release.” Muriel’s order stabbed through my brain, and my jaws instantly went slack.

I whimpered as someone dragged me away from Ray’s bloody, shredded flesh. I keened, desperate for food. Something infinitely better than Ray’s flesh was shoved into my mouth. The bits of brain came faster and faster. It was an endless stream that filled me and returned my conscious thought.

The pain subsided, and I sagged in relief. That feeling was short-lived as horror flooded in to take its place.

Ray.

I’d never seen anything so macabre, and it was made all the worse at the realization that I’d been the cause. Images flashed through my mind, and it was as if they were a movie with characters I didn’t recognize filling the role of fairy prince and zombie monster. I knew which player I was in that film, and my stomach turned.

Ray’s shoulder looked like it had been put through a meat grinder. His shirt was blood-soaked, and the tissue was ragged and torn. It looked like he’d been attacked by a wild animal, and I needed to look no further than the nearest mirror to see the face of that beast.

No pressure built behind my eyes. Tears were something I could no longer produce. Had I been able, they would have streamed down my face in a never-ending flood. The feeling was there with no actionable release.

My mouth opened and closed repeatedly. I needed to speak. I was capable of it again. I needed to use my words to try to explain the unexplainable. At the very least, I needed to apologize, and yet I couldn’t think of a word or phrase adequate enough to apologize for what I’d done.

My gaze flicked around the room, searching for the voice I didn’t have. In a way, I found it. No one seemed as horrified as me. Pity. That’s the emotion I saw shining through. Johnny and Peaches’s expressions were pinched by it. Mr. Moony hugged Peaches a little tighter, and I knew it was meant as comfort. Muriel just looked apologetically sad.

And then there was Ray. I had no idea what he thought. He just sat there, knees bent and on his haunches. He didn’t even raise a hand to cover his gnawed shoulder. He didn’t ask for a towel or the biggest Band-Aid in the world. No. He just remained where he was. Flames no longer lit his eyes, and yet they were anything but dull. Crimson encircled his blown pupils. He didn’t blink. He just stared, his face an impassive mask of nothing.

No one spoke. Trinket was even silent. I wasn’t sure when she’d moved from my shoulder to my lap, but she sat there, eyes wide as she looked up at me.

“Ray, I—” Nothing. A big fat, nothing came out of my mouth before I wailed like a wounded, dying animal.

Slapping my hands over my mouth, I felt the wetness of Ray’s blood. Quickly pulling my hands away, I stared at my crimson-splashed palms and repeated that earlier sound. Since my reanimation, I’d known what I was. I didn’t hate Muriel for it. I hadn’t even hated myself.

Until now.

Throwing myself out of my chair, I pushed past Muriel and Johnny. I heard shouts behind me, but I didn’t listen. I just ran. The stairs to my apartment were closest, and I clamored up them. The door slammed behind me, barely missing Trinket as she dashed through. After throwing the lock, I ripped my bloody shirt over my head and scrambled for the bathroom.

The shower was scalding hot, and yet I barely felt the heat. I scrubbed every inch of my skin. Fresh patches of necrotic skin sloughed off and plugged the shower drain. I was crouched on the shower floor, water running over me and building up from the plugged drain, when Muriel found me.

“Well, aren’t you a sight.”

She reached in and shut off the water. I just stared ahead. I couldn’t have cared less about my nudity. Muriel had seen a hell of a lot more than my bits in her lifetime, and I figured to her, parts were just parts by now.

The filthy water I was sitting in drained away. Muriel must have cleared the tissue away. A pale blue bath towel appeared before me.

“Come on out of there, sugar. Let me dry you off, and we’ll sit and talk a bit.”

It wasn’t a command, but I still did as Muriel asked. I got up on shaking legs and wiped the water from my flesh. Muriel tsked when she saw what I’d done to my skin.

“Your flesh is precarious enough as it is, Wendall. I don’t imagine you did it many favors just now, but I can’t see how I can blame you much either. I imagine if I were in your shoes, I would have acted about the same. Go on and get dressed, and I’ll meet you in the living room. We’ll have us a nice chat.”

Muriel shuffled out of my bathroom, which was far too small for two grown humans to be in at the same time. Trinket was sitting on the bathroom counter, and her large, worried gaze followed me around the room as I put on a fresh pair of underwear, lounge pants, and a t-shirt.

“Sorry, girl,” I offered. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” I hadn’t meant to scare anyone, including myself.

I stood there, staring at the bedroom door. I was dressed, and Muriel was in the other room. I didn’t want to speak to her. My feelings were so mixed up, I hardly knew where to start. I was scared, worried, and perhaps most of all, embarrassed. I’d used Ray as a chew toy, and I’d liked it. More than liked it. I’d been desperate, and if someone hadn’t pulled me off, I could have easily killed him. His flesh wouldn’t have been enough. I’d wanted something more, something that was safely locked away beneath his skull.

“Stop starin’ at the door and get your ass out here, Wendall.” Again, it was an order I could refuse. “You’ve got nothin’ to be ashamed of, sugar.” Muriel shot a verbal arrow at the heart of the matter, and with a final run of my fingers through Trinket’s fur, I reached for my bedroom door, pulled my big boy pants up, and headed into the living room.

Chapter Nineteen

Hellfire Rayburn

“Wendall,” I yelled while reaching out to grasp his retreating body. My shoulder ached, but it was already healing. Soon, the mending itch would outweigh the pain.

“Leave him,” Muriel said while holding her arm out as a blockade. I vaguely thought it amusing she assumed such action would truly stop me. There must have been something in my demeanor that clearly conveyed my feelings because Muriel turned the brunt of her attention on me and said, “If you go up there right now, I guarantee you’ll just make it worse. He’s scared.”

“I am well aware,” I gritted. “And being alone right now will only fuel that fear.” I made a move to get past her again.

Muriel either foolishly or bravely placed her body in front of mine.

“Priestess,” I ground out. My internal fire pulsed. Heat surrounded us. The air filled with its precious warmth.

“Ray.” Lucroy’s steady, cool voice sliced through my fire but didn’t bank it. “Innocents are present, including Wendall.”

My eyes slammed closed, and my fingers curved into tight fists. Lucroy was right. If I lost control, I’d likely burn Dusk to the ground, and the slamming of Wendall’s apartment door proved he hadn’t run far.

Pulling on every ounce of practiced control, I managed to bank my flame. With great effort, I asked, “What do you propose, priestess?”

“Give me a few minutes alone with him.” Muriel stepped back, giving me some much-needed breathing room. “It’s my fault.” Her gaze drifted toward the stairs. “I should have thought about Wendall’s needs before placing him under hypnosis.”

“You said it yourself,” Peaches defended Muriel. “You’ve never done something like this with a zombie.”

“He’s right,” Johnny agreed. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

While the faun might be correct, I was hardly in a forgiving mood and maintained my silence.

“It’s not just that,” Muriel said with a heavy sigh. “He’s never known true hunger. I try not to let my zombies get to that point. As you just saw, the consequences can be…dangerous. I make certain they’re fed well, and given the violence we’re surrounded by, that’s not nearly as difficult as it should be. Wendall’s never experienced that level of hunger before. He’s so human-like, it’s easy for us to forget what he truly is. What I turned him into.”

We all knew Muriel regretted turning Wendall into a zombie. The outcome could have been far worse, but she was still smarting over being so thoroughly deceived by his aunt and uncle.

“I’m sorry, Ray,” Muriel said. “I know you want to go and check on him, but I think he needs to hear from me right now. I’ve obviously got a lot more experience with zombies. I need to make him realize that what he just did was beyond his control.”

Her words made an obnoxious amount of sense, and I gave a slight nod of approval.

It was all Muriel needed. She turned from our small group and headed for the stairs.

“I heard him lock the door,” Peaches said. “How is she going to get in?”

“She’s got a key,” Johnny reassured. “We both do.”

“As do I,” Lucroy added. “Given Wendall’s current…condition, we thought it best to have adequate access.”

Johnny grunted and made for the bar. “I don’t know about you lot, but I need a drink.” Waving a hand toward my shoulder, Johnny asked, “You need anything for that? I’m not sure how fast fairies heal.”

“It is already on the mend.” Typically, I would have thanked him for his concern, but I didn’t feel overly magnanimous right now. I itched to follow Muriel up those stairs. I didn’t like remaining where I was. Something inside demanded that Wendall needed me, not the priestess. That wasn’t logical in the least, and I had no idea what to do with this new need.

“That’s fast.” Peaches sounded appropriately impressed. “Lucroy heals quick, and so does Sedrick. Pixies heal faster than humans but not nearly as quickly as them.” Peaches’s nose scrunched in thought. “I’m not sure about warlocks.” He looked to Lucroy. “Vander was under the weather for a while after what happened with Letty Fox.”

“They heal slower than pixies, but if they are gifted enough, they can manipulate magic into healing them faster. Witch magic is better, but warlocks manage.” Lucroy ran his long, slender fingers through Peaches’s hair, and the pixie leaned into the touch.

“I’m glad.” Peaches sounded relieved. “It had to be really hard on Parsnip. It’s always so difficult seeing the ones you love in pain.”

My hearts skipped a beat and stuttered over themselves. Was that why I felt this way? Was I in love with Wendall? I internally scoffed. It was far too soon, and I didn’t feel like I knew Wendall well enough to claim such an emotion. Besides, I wasn’t certain I knew what romantic love felt like. What I could say for certain was that I cared for him, and I didn’t want Wendall in pain. I hated thinking I might be the cause of that pain, even if it had been inadvertently done.

A glass of amber liquid scooted across the counter. “Don’t worry, it’s not that burnt rum shit that Vander likes. This is the straight-up version.” Johnny poured himself a glass and flung the liquid down his throat. I was far less dramatic, but I also enjoyed the burn.

“I…” Peaches stuttered. “I don’t mean to be rude, but have any of you ever seen anything like that before?”

“With a zombie? No,” Lucroy answered. “I have seen many vampires in the throes of blood lust, and it is somewhat similar. The damage I’ve witnessed to the flesh has also been similar. When vampire fledglings are consumed by want, they are not always as delicate in their feeding.”

“Delicate,” Johnny mocked while holding a fresh glass of rum up in mock salute. “That’s a flowery way of saying it, boss.”

Lucroy inclined his head in agreement.

Peaches rubbed the fresh-looking vampiric bites on his neck and flushed. “What about you, Johnny?”

“Can’t say that I’ve ever seen something like that, but mostly, I’ve just been around Muriel’s crew, and she seems to keep them well-fed enough.”

“She does,” I replied. “It is part of her contract.”

As Wendall’s actions just demonstrated, zombies could be dangerous. Priests and priestesses had to obey certain rules under fairy law, and one of the most important ones was keeping their reanimated creatures fed well. Muriel was a model priestess in that regard.

“The hypnosis must have expended far more energy than any of us imagined.” Lucroy’s fingers continued combing through Peaches’s hair.

“I suppose so,” Johnny easily agreed. “The question I’ve got is if it was worth it or not because I gotta say that I’m not too pleased with what it did to that boy up there.” Johnny pointed his glass in the direction of Wendall’s apartment. “That had to have scared the shit out of him, and I don’t like it.”

Everyone knew Johnny had a soft spot for Wendall. It was difficult to find anyone who didn’t, Professor Arthur Stover excluded.

Lucroy’s fathomless black gaze found mine, and we shared an understanding nod.

“The amphora,” I answered.

“That thing on the keychain?” Peaches asked. “I thought Wendall said it was a reproduction. That doesn’t seem right. Why would something like that be a djinn’s object of attachment? Were there even reproductions of those kinds of things when Aurelia was created? Goddess, my head is starting to hurt.” Peaches lightly shook his head and placed his fingers against his temples.

“Do you need to get back to the orchard?” Lucroy checked his watch. “It has only been a little over two hours, but if—”

“No, it’s not that.” Peaches flew up and kissed Lucroy on the cheek. “But thank you for keeping track. I think my head just hurts thinking about all this, and combined with worrying about Wendall, it’s making for some painful mind soup.”

I cocked an eyebrow at the oddly descriptive choice of words. Lucroy didn’t bat an eyelash.

“I do not believe the amphora was as fake as Wendall believed,” Lucroy answered.

“Agreed. Most likely, Wendall assumed it was given that it was attached to something so modernly mundane as a keychain. Amphoras come in all shapes and sizes depending on the need. Small ones were created for precious oils and perfumes sold in small quantities. They would have been commonly ubiquitous centuries ago. It could have been easily hidden and carried on one’s person.”

“Huh.” Johnny knocked back a little more rum before slamming his glass down on the counter. “I would have expected something larger, but I suppose that makes sense. If it’s something you have to carry and keep close at hand, you’d want it to be easily mobile.”

“I get that, but why do you think it was that in particular?” Peaches asked. “Wendall described a lot of stuff in that office. That professor sounds like a pack rat.”

“The pixie has a point.” Johnny gave Peaches a salute with his nearly empty glass.

“He does,” I agreed, “but I find it interesting that in his memory, Professor Stover had no reaction to Wendall’s presence until he turned and noticed the amphora.”

“Yeah, but he wasn’t even looking at Wendall,” Peaches argued. “He didn’t know he was even there. He just responded when he knew Wendall was in the room, and he’d been there a bit before Professor Asshole knew.”

“My beloved makes a good point. However, I have to agree with Ray. I find it difficult to believe the professor would leave this object lying about if he were worried about another seeing it. He would keep it close at hand and would not want to let it go. That said, the professor did have another object in his possession when Wendall entered the room.”

“The book!” Johnny smacked his hand on the counter. “Can that be an object of attachment too?”

“My understanding is that anything could be,” I answered. “The book could be a possibility, but it would be in danger of deteriorating. It does not seem as likely a choice.”

“Fair,” Johnny huffed.

Lucroy ran a hand down Peaches’s throat, skimming over his bite marks. Peaches shuddered and made a warm, giggling sound. “I believe the book could be the object, but the amphora is more likely. Either way, as to Johnny’s earlier question, despite Wendall’s unfortunate response, I do believe the procedure was worth it.”

“As much as I hate it, I agree, Lucroy.” Muriel shuffled off the last step. When I craned my neck around her, I was disappointed to see she was alone.

“Wendall?” I couldn’t help but inquire.

“Better, but he needs time.” Muriel sounded truly apologetic. “Give him a little space, Ray. Wendall’s a big ball of guilt right now. He’s smart and will figure things out, but right now, he’s running more on feeling than logic, and that’s got him twisted up.”

“But you explained it to him, right?” Peaches flew from Lucroy’s side to Muriel, scattering dust behind him. “He knows we don’t think badly of him, right?”

“Logically, he knows that.” Muriel fisted her hands on her ample thighs, and her dress swung around her ankles. “We’re all what we are, and Wendall’s no different, but sometimes being reminded of our less desirable traits isn’t all that welcome. Wendall got a big slap in the face today, and it’s gonna take him some time to come to terms with it.” Walking toward me, Muriel craned her neck so she could get a good look at my shoulder. “I told him you were probably already healed by now.” She patted me on the arm and took a couple of steps back.

Muriel wasn’t wrong. Decades had passed since I’d felt the itch of healing skin. It wasn’t welcome, but it wasn’t foreign either, and I’d much rather experience this slight discomfort than the incapacitation of injury.

Settling back against the bar, Muriel waved at Johnny. “You gonna pour an old lady one of those or not? Whiskey, not rum.”

“Old my ass,” Johnny chuckled.

“Older than you, pretty faun.” Muriel winked.

Johnny flushed several lovely shades of pink. He slid Muriel’s drink along the bar, and she took a healthy sip.

“Ahh, that just about hits the spot.” She took another couple of gulps before setting the glass back down and squarely looking us in the eyes. “So, book or amphora?”

“We were just discussing the possibilities before you returned,” I answered. “While we are uncertain, Lucroy and I believe the most likely object would be the amphora.”

Muriel nodded. “It’d have a better chance of weathering time and be less affected by the elements. My understanding is that a djinn’s object of attachment is charmed to withstand a lot, but they aren’t completely indestructible.”

“Would that do it?” Peaches flew a little closer to Muriel but snapped his wings closed before the area could refill with dust. “Destroying their object. Does that kill a djinn?” He sounded one part curious and two parts horrified.

“Theoretically,” Lucroy answered.

“But…it’s not really her fault,” Peaches protested. “Aurelia doesn’t want to do the things she’s done. I don’t think murder is the way to go about things.” With arms crossed, Peaches flew a little higher so he could stare each of us down. “I don’t think Wendall would want that either.”

“Neither do I, but if it comes down to her, me, or Wendall, I know which side of the fence I’m going to plant my feet.” Muriel had to look up to speak with Peaches.

“It would be a last resort,” I finally answered. “Fairy law is clear on the matter and sides with Peaches’s assessment of the situation. Djinns are rarely considered at fault for their actions.”

“That seems a little too convenient.” Johnny wasn’t impressed.

“Slavery is hardly convenient,” I defended fairy law.

Johnny’s downturned gaze and crossed arms were his form of contrition. “I didn’t think of it that way,” Johnny apologized. “It’s just that they’re so scary powerful, it’s hard thinking of them as victims.”

I understood. “It is important to remember that djinns did not ask to be created or bound. While my interactions with them have been few, several djinn are not wholly sane. I find Aurelia to be remarkably sensible. Her bitterness seems to be under control. Perhaps enough centuries have passed that she has managed to move on from her hatred.”

Peaches shivered. Lucroy’s arm immediately pulled him in closer, and Peaches willingly snuggled in. A pang of…something shot through my core. Considering I’d never felt it before, I didn’t immediately recognize the emotion as jealousy. When Peaches needed comfort, he’d gone to his beloved. When Wendall needed comfort, he’d quickly run from my sight.

“The more I learn about djinns, the more I feel sorry for them,” Peaches softly said, voice muffled against Lucroy’s shirt.

“While I can understand the sentiment, do not allow your kindness to cloud your actions.” I didn’t want anyone in this room harmed by sentimentality. “No matter how they were created, djinns are dangerous. A tornado does not ask to be created, and yet it destroys without mercy.”

Johnny grunted. “I don’t think the tornado’s a sentient being.”

“Is it not?” I argued. “Gaia might think differently.”

Johnny’s eyes flew wide, and his mouth dropped open. I didn’t wait for him to come up with an argument. I had no idea if tornadoes were sentient or not. Gaia was not my queen, and her destructive whims were of little concern.

“Somehow, we need to secure the amphora and book,” I said. “The amphora seems most likely, but it would be unwise to ignore the book.”

“Too bad Wendall didn’t get a good look at it,” Johnny accurately lamented. “Sounds like that professor’s office is riddled with old, falling-apart books. Not sure we’ll be able to figure out which one in particular he had in his hand when Wendall found him.”

“While that is true,” Lucroy answered, “I do not believe it would be a book the professor leaves lying about. As paranoid as Aurelia claims Stover has become, it would go against his nature to allow it out of his grasp for any period of time.”

“That’s true,” Peaches agreed while gently patting Lucroy’s chest.

“Indeed, it is.” I contemplated our options and lightly shook my head. “I could easily enter Stover’s office undetected, but it is doubtful the amphora or book are there. Since we believe Aurelia’s object of attachment is small enough to be carried on his person, it is unlikely we can simply pluck it from some random resting place.”

“And as soon as we go after it, that asshole will make a wish, and Aurelia will fry our asses.” Johnny planted his elbows on the bar and rested his chin in his cupped hands. “This is a pickle.”

“No doubt about that,” Muriel agreed before swallowing the remainder of her whiskey. “But I, for one, am worn out. No one does their best thinking when they’re exhausted. It’s best we all get some rest and maybe contemplate the issue. We can reconvene and hash things out when we’re all a bit fresher.”

While I didn’t require the same amount of rest as the others, I understood the sentiment. I wasn’t necessarily physically tired, but I was emotionally strained. Without thought, my gaze drifted toward the stairs leading to Wendall’s apartment.

Muriel caught the action. “Give it some time, Ray. Wendall needs to process what happened. He’ll come around.” She patted my shoulder while passing and heading toward the door.

“How much time?” I mused.

“I’ve never met a human as able to roll with change as Wendall,” Muriel answered. “If we had more time, I’d say take it.”

“And since we do not?”

“Stop by tomorrow.”

Muriel walked out the door. Johnny muttered something unintelligible and disappeared into the back room. Lucroy guided Peaches to a corner booth and hugged him tight. I stood there, alone with my disparaging thoughts and a tether connected to my chest, the end leading up a short flight of stairs and ending behind a closed door. Each and every day, that tether pulled a little tighter.

Chapter Twenty

Wendall

I thought about asking Johnny for the night off. He would give it to me. He might even be relieved I asked. But I couldn’t do that. One more night or a dozen, eventually, I’d have to crawl out of my apartment and face the music. Muriel said no one would judge me, and she was probably right. It wasn’t judgment I dreaded; it was the repeated look of pity I’d seen splashed across their faces. That was the one thing I couldn’t stand and didn’t want.

Glancing in the mirror, I fiddled with my bandaged neck. The patch of necrotic skin had grown, and it was more difficult to cover. It was the side Trinket typically settled on, and her fur would cover a lot of the garish white. I’d put on a long-sleeved shirt tonight, trying to cover as much of my remaining skin as possible. So far, the deteriorating patches of skin had stayed away from my face, but it was only a matter of time before they popped up there too.

With a weary sigh, I turned from the mirror. I no longer saw my sandy, wavy hair or bright, pale blue eyes. My wasting flesh was all I could focus on.

“Ready?” I asked Trinket.

She was sitting on the back of the love seat, her gaze, as always, fixed on me. In response, she loudly yipped and sprang from the couch to my shoulder. For such a tiny thing with legs I rarely saw, she had an impressive vault.

“Guess so,” I chuckled while giving her a few scritches on what I thought was her chest.

Trinket leaned into the touch and cooed.

With Trinket in tow, I opened the door and headed down the stairs. Habit made me take a deep breath. The music below was still low. Dusk wouldn’t officially open for another hour. We had a few stragglers, mostly the families of existing workers. Mr. Moony didn’t mind. This time of year, when the sun went down early, a few of his nestmates lingered also. Mr. Moony didn’t charge his nestmates for blood. I wasn’t sure if all vampire kings and queens were so magnanimous, but I got the feeling my boss was a rarity.

“Hey, Wendall.” Lizbeth was setting up her station, getting glasses of all different shapes and sizes ready. “Johnny’s in the back.” Lizbeth tilted her head toward the door leading to the supply room and the washing station. “He told me to send you on back when you got here.” Lizbeth shot me a warm smile. Her hair was bubblegum pink today. She’d worn this color before, and it was one of my favorites. The bright pink glowed under Dusk’s lighting, making Lizbeth look less human.

“Thanks, Lizbeth.”

Trinket made a happy chuffing noise, and Lizbeth’s grin turned mushy. I swore she had cartoon hearts in her eyes. Lizbeth was tough as nails, but when it came to Trinket, she turned into a pile of goo.

Pushing through the door, I easily found Johnny. He was in the storeroom going over the inventory. There were already several bottles he’d pulled and piled around him. It was the typical routine. Johnny was restocking the front of the bar.

“Johnny,” I said while attempting to steady my voice. I thought his name still came out a little frog-like, but Johnny just turned and gave a wide smile.

“About time you got here.” Johnny pointed to a shelf higher than the reach of his arm. “I need that one and the blue bottle over there.”

Not wasting time, I retrieved Johnny’s order. I wasn’t tall, but I barely had to stand on tiptoes to grab them. With cloven hooves, Johnny didn’t have the same luxury.

“Thanks, Wendall. I’ve got a couple more things to get, and then you can help me move these out front.”

“Sure thing.” I stood there, twiddling my proverbial thumbs, my anxiety ratcheting up as the silence dragged on. I shifted my weight, alternating between fisting my hands and rubbing them against my pants.

“Stop fidgeting, and don’t say shit,” Johnny ordered, and I clamped my mouth closed on whatever nonsense I was about to spew. “You think what you did yesterday is the weirdest shit I’ve ever seen?” Johnny scoffed. “Not even close, kid. It’s fine. You’re fine. We’re fine. Got it?”

It was like Johnny had just pulled the electric cord charging my body. I slumped and would have slid into a relief-filled puddle if not for a nearby shelf. “Thanks, Johnny.”

He waved me off. “No thanks necessary. Now, make yourself useful and take some of these bottles to Lizbeth. She’ll know what to do with them.”

I reached for the bottles, grabbing as many as I could safely transport.

“Oh, and Wendall,” Johnny snickered, amusement lightening his voice. “Try not to slough off any skin on them. That’ll gross Lizbeth out.” Johnny cackled.

My chest eased. My body was dying—again. We could ignore the necrotic elephant in the room, or we could laugh in its face. I, for one, chose laughter.

“Ass,” I muttered without heat.

“That’s a donkey, and I’m a faun.” Johnny pointed an accusing finger in my direction. “Goddess, what are they teaching human kids these days?” Johnny threw me a wink that made me laugh.

I was still chuckling when I reached Lizbeth.

“What’s so funny?” she asked with an arched brow.

I shrugged. “I think you had to be there.”

Lizbeth seemed nonplussed and scratched Trinket. The scuttlebutt leaned into the touch and chirped, immediately melting Lizbeth’s heart.

“God, she’s cute.”

I couldn’t disagree and simply answered, “Yeah, she is.”

I thought of Ray and the gift he’d given me. I could never thank him enough for Trinket. After yesterday, I wasn’t even sure I’d see him again.

A sharp pain lanced through my chest, and I furiously rubbed it away. I hated what I’d done to Ray. By all rights, he shouldn’t want to see me ever again, and yet those thoughts sucked all the humor from my body. Ray must have thought he truly dodged a bullet. After yesterday, there was no way he’d still want to bond with me. Not that I would if he still did.

Would I?

Dusk was busier than usual. I was glad. The crowd kept me too busy to contemplate my earlier existential crisis. With determination, I set aside thoughts of Ray and tried to tell myself I wasn’t disappointed when I didn’t see him in the bar. Ray was busy. He was a fairy lawyer and most likely had cases he was working on. And if not, from what I understood, he was pretty high up in fairy court life. Or at least Queen Silvidia counted on him for a lot. Ray didn’t have time to hang out with a zombie who’d decided to make a snack of him yesterday.

“It’s not all about you,” I scolded myself while viciously attacking a rather dirty glass.

I’d seen Bax drinking out of it earlier. Johnny kept large glasses around that were specifically used by trolls and the occasional ogre. They had big hands, big mouths, and big tongues. Everything about trolls and ogres was massive, including their appetites and thirst. They weren’t neat creatures and ate and drank with sloppy abandon. Pete’s and Bax’s glasses were almost always covered in thick mucous. I dropped more than a few glasses due to their weight and slipperiness.

I tried not to think about the goo sticking to the glass as I cleaned it. Who was I to judge? Trolls and ogres ate rotten meat. I ate brains. We were both equally gross.

“How you doing?” Lizbeth peeked her head through the door.

“Almost done,” I easily answered.

Trinket had moved from my shoulder and was sitting on the back of the sink. Her tail occasionally dipped into the water, and she flicked it at me. Each time, she tottered back and forth and made a sound that I figured was her form of a giggle. I’d taken to splashing her back, and we were now covered in questionably dirty water.

“Same,” Lizbeth shot back. “I just need to mop, and then if you’re good, I’ll take off for the night.”

By now, it was early morning, but Lizbeth and I thought of it as night. It was still pitch-black outside.

“I’ve just got another bin full to wash, and then I’m done,” I assured her.

“Cool.” Lizbeth released a tired huff. “Busy night. I can’t complain about the tips.” Lizbeth offered to share her tips with me since I helped clean up. I probably should have taken her up on it, but I’d refused. Some days, I found some extra cash stuffed into one of my pockets. Lizbeth was sneaky like that.

“See you tomorrow, Wendall,” Lizbeth said, and the door swung closed behind her.

“See you,” I muttered, even though she was probably too far away to hear.

“Just you and me now.” I flicked water at Trinket again, and she chuffed and squirmed with glee.

Johnny had to take off earlier. Leon was still around and about somewhere. He’d taken over the job of closing up the bar, and when Mr. Moony wasn’t around, he often stayed in the underground apartment. Now that Peaches’s cottage was renovated, Mr. Moony spent nearly every night out at the orchard. I wasn’t sure if Leon planned on moving into the basement apartment permanently or not. Vampires were very particular about their homes, and very few were allowed within them.

As if conjured by my thoughts, Leon slipped through the door. His footfalls were silent, and I wouldn’t have known he was there if not for the squeaky door hinges.

“Lizbeth said you’re almost finished.” Leon’s voice was just as husky and cool as Mr. Moony’s. Nearly every vampire I’d met sounded similar.

“Almost. Just this last bin.” And I was about halfway done with it.

“Good. Thank you for your hard work tonight.” Leon wasn’t skimpy with the praise. He was a bit more animated than Mr. Moony, but just a bit.

“Of course.” I turned and gave him a hinted grin.

I didn’t know Leon like I knew Johnny, but I liked him. He’d never been anything but kind to me. Vampires weren’t necessarily known for their altruistic ways, but Mr. Moony treated his nest differently and cherished the vampires under his care. Only it wasn’t just vampires. Mr. Moony considered Johnny part of that nest. He considered all Dusk employees that way, and just like all leaders, their example filtered down the chain of command.

“I’m going to lock up. The sun should be up in the next couple of hours. I’m not staying here today.”

“Okay.”

Leon probably needed to get going if he wanted to be safely inside when the sun broke the horizon.

“Rest well,” Leon said before pushing off the counter and walking out the door.

I appreciated the sentiment. I didn’t need to sleep. I often did sleep, but I didn’t need it. I did, however, need rest. It was one of those initial lessons Muriel ingrained in me. Rest kept the hunger at bay, and after yesterday, I understood those warning words so much better.

I finished up the dishes, laying the last batch of glasses out to air-dry. I’d put them up when I started my next shift.

Trinket’s tail splashed through the draining water. She probably needed a bath in clean, fresh water. Maybe we could shower together.

“Come on, you.” I held out my arm, and Trinket scurried up, tail wrapping around my bicep as always. “Time to head up to our home.” It was weird thinking of my tiny apartment that way. It was small but felt more like home than anywhere I’d lived since my parents’ deaths.

Trinket cooed her agreement and nestled into the crook of my neck. The bandage I’d placed there was rough around the edges from all her rubbing. It would need to be changed, but since I had to take a shower anyway, that would be necessary regardless.

Stretching my overworked lower back muscles, I pushed my shoulder against the door, swinging it open and landing in the space behind the bar. I’d expected the place to be empty. Instead, a crimson-haired fairy sat on a barstool, casually sipping an amethyst-tinted liquor.

“Ray?” I gasped and felt lightheaded with relief, joy, and trepidation. “What are you doing here?”

Chapter Twenty-One

Hellfire Rayburn

Wendall was appealingly mussed. His shirt was wet, along with wisps of hair that were darkened and damp. Trinket looked worse. Her fur stuck up in odd patches of dampness, and her tail dripped with water. Wendall didn’t seem to mind the constant liquid dripping down his arm.

My intended’s eyes were wide, showing off their brilliant blue. Muriel said the reanimation hadn’t changed Wendall’s eye color, that it was his true blessing. Blue was one of my favorite colors. It reminded me of the soothing, cool feel of water. When I was younger and not in control of my fire, I’d often scorched myself, and my mother had soaked me in a nearby lake as I healed.

“What are you doing here?” Those words rang through my mind. They weren’t said with accusation, but I couldn’t interpret the tone behind them.

I glanced around the empty bar and answered, “I would think that obvious.” There was no one else here. Why else would I be at Dusk?

“I…” Wendall stuttered, and his gaze fell to the floor.

I didn’t like that one bit.

“I just meant…I mean, after yesterday, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you stayed away, and I never…” Wendall’s voice faded at the end.

“Is that so?” I leaned back, contemplating the unsurprising statement. “Muriel advised I should give you time. Otherwise, I would have followed you yesterday. Was the priestess wrong? Or perhaps you require more time?” I cocked my head to the side, my free-flowing crimson hair following suit.

Wendall’s gaze tracked its movement, once more reminding me how much he liked my hair. I was not above manipulating that desire and had left my hair free and loose with purpose.

“Oh.” Wendall clasped his hands together.

Trinket remained silent, and I got the feeling she was napping. The scuttlebutt didn’t view me as a threat.

Clearing his throat, Wendall’s gaze danced around the bar, looking anywhere but at me. “I don’t need any more time, but I do think Muriel was right about yesterday.”

“Hmm, it is fortunate then that I chose to heed her advice.”

Wendall’s feet shifted, and he looked distinctly uncomfortable. I began doubting the sincerity of his words. “Do you wish me to leave?” I wanted to do anything but, and yet I would if Wendall wished it. I had no desire to cause him distress.

“What? No! I mean, no, I don’t want you to leave. I… It’s just a surprise, that’s all. I thought you might show up earlier, and I kept looking around but didn’t see you, so I just kind of thought…” Wendall ended in a shrug.

That sounded infinitely better. Wendall had been looking for me, and if I read the situation correctly, he’d been disappointed by my absence. Pushing up from my chair, I left my glass where it was.

Wendall’s gaze remained fixed on it, and his lips twisted with thought.

“The glass bothers you?” I speculated.

“No, not really. It’s just that I finished cleaning everything, and now there’s one more that’s dirty.”

“I do not believe Johnny would be dismayed by this fact, and Leon was the one that poured my drink, so he is very well aware. Still, if it disturbs you, I can wash it myself.”

“No, that’s silly. It’s just a glass, and I can get it tomorrow before my shift starts.”

I didn’t like the thought of Wendall cleaning up after me, but I let it go and got down to the reason I was here. “I would like to spend some time with you. If you’re not too tired.” It was the end of Wendall’s shift. It would be insensitive not to consider his fatigue.

“I’m not too tired,” Wendall answered and then scrunched up his nose. “But I probably smell. Trinket and I both do. I’m not so sure you want to be in close quarters with us right now.”

Now that I was closer, I detected a faint, unfamiliar odor coming from Wendall and, presumably, Trinket. It wasn’t his usual scent of antibiotic ointment and underlying decay. It smelled of dirty dishwater.

“Would you like to shower first? I do not mind, but if it would make you more comfortable—”

“Yes.” Wendall eagerly bobbed his head. “If you don’t mind waiting.”

“It is no hardship,” I assured.

“Okay.” Again, Wendall’s gaze traveled the bar. “Do you want to wait down here or…?” His head tilted toward the stairs.

“I do not mind waiting in your apartment as long as you are comfortable with that.”

“Oh.” Wendall nervously waved me off. “That’s fine. It won’t take me long to shower. The bandaging will take a little longer, though.”

“Perhaps I can be of assistance.” It had been a few days since I’d been able to take stock of Wendall’s condition. It would be wise to take advantage of the situation.

“If you want,” Wendall murmured, his words barely audible.

“I want,” I reassured and followed Wendall up the stairs and into his small apartment.

I settled on the love seat while he made a beeline for his bedroom and the adjoining bathroom. Soon, I heard the sound of the shower turning on, and I settled in, resting while I waited.

True to his word, it didn’t take Wendall long to shower. He exited in a cloud of steam wearing a loose pair of basketball shorts, a towel draped over his shoulders, and a soaking-wet Trinket in his arms.

“She’s still pretty wet.” Wendall grinned.

His teeth weren’t exactly straight, but I suspected he’d had braces as a child, and they’d done an admirable job.

Trinket scurried out from under the towel Wendall had thrown over her and shook like a dog. Her fur puffed out, and Wendall threw his head back and laughed. The sound was musical and filled the dead spaces lurking deep within. Now that I’d found such a joyful sound, I couldn’t imagine living without it again. Would it even be living at that point?

Wendall’s easy delight was infectious, but it didn’t cover the myriad of deteriorating skin splotched over his body. At a quick glance, there were well over a dozen, maybe two, and that was just on the front. I had little doubt the back of his body was much better.

Unable to hide my gaze, Wendall’s amusement faded. “It’s a lot worse. I know.” He scratched the back of his neck, his posture full of shame.

“There are several more areas,” I conceded. It wouldn’t do either of us any good to ignore the issue. “Do you have your ointment?”

Wendall nodded while walking to the nearby kitchen counter. “At this rate, I’ll need to get another tube soon.”

“I am happy to purchase whatever you need,” I answered. Scooting forward on the couch, I pointed toward the coffee table and said, “Sit.”

Wendall gave me a slightly dubious glance before following my order. “I can get the ones on my front. It’s the areas on my back that are a little tougher.”

“I’m happy to do all of them, but let’s start with the areas troubling you more.”

Twisting on the table, Wendall sat with his legs crossed, his mottled back on full display. I swallowed a hissed breath. Wendall’s back was so much worse than the front. The areas of necrotic skin were larger than the healthier patches. I stared, and pressure built behind my eyes. It had been so long since tears had formed that I first mistook the pressure for flame. Only the wetness slipping down my cheek corrected me.

I was glad Wendall was looking away from me. I didn’t want him to see my weakness. I needed to be strong. I wasn’t the one who was dying. This wasn’t about me.

“Does it hurt?” I asked, careful to keep my voice devoid of the internal devastation lurking there.

“Not really,” Wendall answered. “It feels a little weird but not necessarily painful. You’re not going to cause me pain when you apply the ointment,” he assured.

“That is fortunate.” A tiny spark of relief filled me. I didn’t like the thought of Wendall in pain, and while his continued deterioration was bad, at least it didn’t come with physical agony. I could not speak to the mental toll it had to be taking on him.

We sat there in silence as I spread the ointment over his body. Wendall had given me several large Band-Aids and wraps to use. I strategically placed them, but it was impossible to cover all the areas. When I was done, I asked him to turn around.

Wendall did so and reached for the ointment. I pulled it away and batted his hand. Without a word, I liberally smeared it along his chest and arms. Wendall’s legs had a few areas, but not as many as his torso. Tilting his head, Wendall exposed the length of his neck, and I applied the ointment there also. Despite the patchy marks, Wendall was still beautiful. I could envision what his unmarked skin would look like and felt heat flow south, filling my cock.

Wendall either didn’t notice or ignored my reaction. When I placed the final bandage over his neck, I stared at Wendall’s covered groin and asked, “Are there other areas?”

If he’d been capable, Wendall would have flushed. “There are, but I think I can handle those.”

“I do not mind. I—”

“I mind,” Wendall softly answered. “Not that your touch would incite anything embarrassing.” His gaze drifted to the side, and his shoulders slumped. “That’s kind of the problem.”

My eyes grew dry as I stared. Before I could comment, Wendall asked, “How’s your shoulder?”

“My shoulder?” My brain couldn’t remember why that might be a problem.

Low chuckles of mirthless laughter escaped Wendall’s lips. “Must be okay if you can’t even remember it was injured. I kind of used you like a chew toy yesterday.”

“It’s fine,” I hurried to reassure. “It was healed before I left the bar.” That was a bit of an exaggeration, but not much.

Wendall’s answering grin was apologetically sad. “I’m glad. I didn’t even… I wasn’t even aware of what I was doing. That was the scariest part. If Muriel hadn’t been there and ordered me to release you, I’m not sure what I would have done. The hunger was all-consuming. It was all I could think of, and I wanted…more.” Wendall said that final word with a depth of self-loathing I hated.

“It is in your nature, and I do not judge you for it. At the time, I was happy to supply what you required.” There wasn’t a hint of dishonesty in my words.

Wendall’s eyes opened impossibly wide. “You don’t judge… I could have killed you, Ray. When I say I wanted more, what I wanted, what I craved, was up here.” Wendall tapped his head with his forefinger. “I would have done anything to crack your head open and spill what’s inside.”

“As if you could have done that.” I wasn’t being flippant, merely honest. “I am a fairy, Wendall. Had I wished it, I could have burned your body to a crisp. My fire no longer harms me. I was never truly in danger.”

Body snapping taut, Wendall glared at me before his eyes softened. “I get that. But what I also get is you wouldn’t have done that, not even to save yourself.”

An argument was on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to scoff and tell him he was a fool. Fairies did not sit idly by while they became food for another. And yet, those words faltered. Would I have allowed Wendall to truly harm me? If that’s what he needed to sustain himself, would I have sacrificed myself?

The fact I wasn’t certain frightened me. With the exception of my queen, my answer would be a swift and sure no. And yet I faltered. Would I have allowed Wendall to kill me? I didn’t believe so, but not for the reasons there should be. When the hunger dissipated and Wendall’s senses returned, knowing what he’d done would devastate him. That, more than thoughts of self-preservation, would have moved me to action.

Wendall sighed. “That’s what I thought. Although, if you’d asked me that a couple of weeks ago, I wouldn’t have been able to figure it out.” Shifting closer, Wendall’s bare knees knocked against my clothed ones. I wanted to rip the fabric and bare my flesh. I wanted Wendall’s decaying body next to mine.

Grasping my hands, Wendall slid our fingers together. He had a patch of decay on the surface of his left hand, but his palms and fingers were still beautifully intact.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Ray.” Wendall’s words were whisper-soft and full of affection. “Even when I thought the only reason you wanted to bond with me was due to an order, I still didn’t want to hurt you. That hasn’t changed, although my reasons have. I like you.”

Like wasn’t the emotion I aimed for, but it was a good start and perhaps more reasonable given the little time Wendall and I’d spent together.

“I like you too.” My feelings ran stronger, but I didn’t want to frighten Wendall.

“I know.” He gave a faint grin. “Like I said earlier, it’s hard for me to believe, but I do know that. If things had been like this between us when you asked me to bond with you, I might have been tempted to say yes.”

My spine snapped to attention, and my mind became laser-focused. “My offer still stands.”

“Yeah, I figured. But I said I would have been tempted, not that I would have agreed.”

“I do not understand.” It had been centuries since I’d felt this unsure about life. Wendall’s reactions upended my carefully crafted worldview. That wasn’t such a bad thing. Centuries of living became monotonous. Life was for living, not remaining stagnant.

“I know you don’t.” Wendall’s gaze drifted down while his expression went slack. “You know, in the beginning, I had a lot of reasons why I told you no. The primary one was that I didn’t want to be with anyone who was with me for no other reason than they’d been ordered to.”

I started to protest but swallowed the words. Denying it would be disingenuous.

“And then I got to know you.” Wendall peeked up, those blue eyes pale against his blond lashes. “You brought Trinket into my life. You made an effort to find out what I needed, and you filled that need the best way you could. Sure, you probably expected something out of it, but you didn’t push.” He grinned. “You gently cajoled, but trust me, I know what pressure feels like, and that’s not what you did.” Wendall’s grin slipped, and his gaze turned downcast again. “You might scare the shit out of most, but so does Muriel, and I’m not afraid of her. Just like I’m no longer afraid of you. But I am afraid for you.”

I balked, rearing back into the love seat cushion. “Afraid? For me?” The idea was beyond ludicrous that a human-turned-zombie would be fearful for me. Maybe Wendall’s mind hadn’t survived reanimation as well as Muriel thought.

“Not physically,” Wendall reassured. “I’ve only seen a fraction of what you can do, and I know you’re more than capable of physically taking care of yourself. What I’m talking about is in here.” Wendall leaned forward and laid his palm over my twin beating hearts. As his eyes slipped closed, his soft expression pinched into one of pain. “It’s so steady, like a never-ending song.” Grabbing my hand, Wendall brought my palm to his chest, a lonely echo of nothingness below. “That’s something my heart will never do again, Ray. Even when bonded, it won’t bring my body back to life. All the bond will do is stabilize and hopefully repair my reanimation. Blood doesn’t flow through my veins. While I can feel love and affection, my body can’t react to those emotions. I can’t cry. I can’t blush. I can’t get hard. I can’t be the lover you deserve, and that is why I can’t accept your bond. I won’t do that to you, Ray. I won’t sentence you to that endless eternity. I care about you too much to do that.”

I sat there, completely dumbfounded. My once-thickening cock lost interest. I had not considered all the implications of Wendall’s zombie status. He, on the other hand, had removed his blinders and looked the problem in the eye.

My hearts painfully thudded, and I wondered if Wendall could tell the difference in their cadence. I considered Wendall’s words. I understood his concern and could appreciate what he said, but what I also knew was that I did not relish the thought of living eternity without him by my side.

“Physical intimacy is important and desired, but it is not the whole of a relationship.”

“Not the whole,” Wendall whispered, “but an important part.”

“Perhaps to some but not all.” I would not lie and say I didn’t enjoy sex. I’d had numerous partners over the centuries and enjoyed every encounter.

Wendall pulled away, severing not only our physical connection, but also the emotional one. His expression blanked, and his eyes deadened.

“I won’t condemn you to this.” Wendall waved a hand down his body. “It’s not fair, Ray. The more attached you get to me, the worse it will be for you. In here.” He tapped his chest. “I won’t allow myself to be that selfish.”

Wendall stood, and Trinket scrambled after him. “It’s been a long night. I think you should leave now.” He didn’t wait for my answer. Wendall walked away, and I was left with the nearly inaudible snick of his bedroom door closing.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Wendall

Leaning against my bedroom door, I waited until I heard my apartment door close. My eyes squeezed, and I slid down the door until I sat on the floor. Trinket slid with me, her fluffy body cradled within my lap. I’d never wanted to cry so badly and been so incapable. I’d rarely hated my zombie body as much as I did then. I craved the release crying would bring. Would it solve anything? No. Would it make me feel better? Maybe.

It was bizarre, knowing the reaction that should be there and expecting it to happen when nothing manifested. There was no buildup of pressure, no stinging eyes, no damp face, no snot collecting in my nose. My eyes were as dry as a bone, and nothing I did short of dumping water in them would change that fact.

Gripping Trinket tight, I buried my face in her fur. Bless her little scuttlebutt heart, Trinket cooed and licked my fingers. Comfort had always been wishful thinking where my aunt and uncle were concerned. It was nice having it given so freely. But all the while, I knew I had Ray to thank for the warmth blanketing my lap.

“It’s not fair,” I said, knowing it was a ridiculously tired lament. “I know how stupid and unproductive that is.”

Trinket cocked her body, those big brown eyes innocently blinking up at me.

“Life isn’t fair to most, and I had a better life than a lot of humans.” It was a sadly true statement.

Leaning my head against my bedroom door, a reluctant smile pulled my lips. “It’s crazy. If I weren’t a zombie, I doubt I’d have met Ray. It sounds like Queen Silvidia didn’t know anything about my existence until I died and was reanimated. If I’d lived, I probably wouldn’t have gotten to know him, and I wouldn’t have known about my fairy blood.” I didn’t think the latter would have been so bad, but the former made me incredibly sad. “Even if I can’t be with him, I’m glad I’ve gotten to know Ray.” It was probably a selfish thought, but I allowed it. While alive, I’d been human and hardly perfect.

“I believe he feels the same about you.”

My head jerked, followed by my body. “Holy shit.” I jumped up and squeezed Trinket tight.

The most beautiful female stood in my bedroom. Her hair was so pale it was nearly clear. Flowers bloomed throughout its haphazardly perfect strands. Eyes swimming in peach seas fondly gazed at me through equally pale lashes. Equal to my height, the female was barely covered in a gauzy dress that touched the floor. Her elongated, tipped ears peeked through her thick hair and were tucked behind something that looked like an iris.

“Hello, Wendall,” she said, her voice liquid-smooth and soft as silk. “I apologize for not coming to see you sooner. As Queen of Fairy, it is difficult for me to leave and be away for any length of time. When we were attempting to settle the Earth, I found it necessary to leave more frequently. I am pleased to say that, at present, it is no longer an issue.” Her full lips smiled wide, crinkling the skin around her eyes.

“Queen Silvidia?” I asked with hushed awe.

“Just Silvidia. We are related, after all.” She cocked her head to the side, and her peach eyes danced with mischief. “My nephew. Had I known of your existence…” She ended with a pain-filled sigh. “Things would have been much different.”

Still squeezing Trinket, I remained plastered to my bedroom door. I couldn’t believe the Queen of Fairy was standing in my cramped little bedroom. I could list a thousand others who would cut off their right arm to be where I was.

Her gaze traveled around my small bedroom. I couldn’t exactly interpret her expression, but when she turned her attention back to me, she said, “It is a little starker than I imagined.”

I’ll bet. Plants were literally growing and blooming from her body. Compared to my sterile little room, Queen Silvidia looked like a freaking greenhouse.

“Shall we sit and maybe talk for a moment? I’m afraid I don’t have much time, but I would like to know you better.”

How could I say no to the fairy queen? Short answer: I couldn’t.

“S-sure,” I managed and was glad I’d made my bed before leaving for work. At least I didn’t look like a complete slob.

“Lovely.” Less than two steps brought Silvidia to the edge of the bed. She sat with fluid grace and patted the spot next to her. I kind of felt drugged for all the resistance I managed. I didn’t think I sat with nearly as much grace and instead kind of dropped down onto the bed. Up close, it was easy to scent Silvidia’s bountiful floral bouquet. It should have been overwhelming, but it wasn’t. She smelled exquisite. Much better than my necrotic, antibiotic-covered flesh.

“My sweet Wendall.” Her delicate fingers cupped my face before shifting through my damp hair. “Hanan would be very pleased.”

“My…” I wasn’t sure what number of greats you’d place before his name. I finally settled on “My fairy side.”

She nodded, and her grin fell into soft reflection. “He was my brother, and I loved him dearly. There was no sibling rivalry between us. Hanan never wanted to rule.” She laughed, and it sounded like music. “Truth be told, neither did I. However, I was the strongest and, perhaps, the scariest of us.” Silvidia grimaced. “Inciting fear can be a double-edged sword, and I’ve played both sides of that sharp blade.”

I had so many questions, and yet my mind drew a blank. All I could do was stare into the swirling depths of her eyes. Thankfully, Silvidia didn’t need me to speak.

As her fingers traced the bandage on my neck, Silvidia’s lips thinned, and her eyes briefly flared brighter. “I have not felt this useless in millennia. I can end life with a thought and revive it with only slightly more effort. But I can do nothing for you.”

“Why not?” My words sounded far away, as if my head were stuffed in a bag.

“Sadly, there is no life left in you to resurrect. My power requires a spark to reignite. Once something is truly dead, there is nothing I can do, and you, my dear, are well and truly gone. Physically, at least.” Her smile returned, and she pushed my hair behind my ear. “Thankfully, your mental capacity remains. Who you are, at your very core, your personality persists. For that, I am eternally grateful. If she will accept my gratitude, I must reward the priestess who reanimated you. It is my understanding that she has looked after you since. Is that true?”

“It is. Muriel’s been great. She’s like a mother to me.” She was so much more, but that was the fondest compliment I could think of.

“That is fortunate.” Her fingers slipped from my face and gripped my hand. She didn’t squeeze, just wound our digits together. Trinket cooed and licked her skin. Silvidia offered a contented and maybe an amused sigh.

“She is a lovely scuttlebutt. I am pleased Hellfire thought to gift her to you.”

“Me too. Trinket’s been great.” Again, I felt like I was downplaying my words.

“I advised Ray to woo you, but I was surprised by his chosen route.”

Speaking Ray’s name brought me out of my fog, and I almost withdrew my hand from hers. “You shouldn’t have ordered Ray to do that.” I was confident no one else spoke to the fairy queen the way I just had, but I couldn’t help it. “Ordering Ray to bond to someone for an eternity, to link him in that way to another he didn’t even know or have feelings for… That was cruel.”

Head tilted to the side, Silvidia stared at me with wide, amused eyes. “You believe so?”

“I do.” How could she not? Was that what power did to someone? Did it erase your compassion? Did it remove your ability to see another’s perspective? If so, then I was happy I’d never been granted an ounce of power in my short life.

“Hmm, perhaps. Then again, it seems he has grown fond of you.”

I would have flushed if possible. “That’s not the point.”

“Isn’t it?” She shrugged as if it weren’t important. “Regardless, I believe it will all work out for the best.”

This time, I did pull my hands away, wrapping them around Trinket and pulling her close again. “I won’t accept the offer,” I stated. “So unless you plan on forcing the issue, then it’s a moot point.” Fear flooded me. I hadn’t considered that a possibility until the words fell from my mouth.

My panic was obvious, and Silvidia placed a single finger over my lips, halting my ensuing word vomit. “Be at ease, Wendall. I already informed Hellfire that I will not do that. The decision is yours. I only suggested he use whatever means available to make you change your mind.”

My cheeks puffed out, and Silvidia removed her finger with a playful grin and light in her eyes. She appeared ready to say more when her eyes went distant. I got the distinct feeling she might be physically inside my bedroom but was somewhere entirely different in her mind.

With the gentlest of sighs, Silvidia’s shoulders rounded before she squared them. “I am afraid I am needed elsewhere. My duties call me home.” Rising, she cupped my cheeks before leaning over and kissing my forehead. “Fear not, Wendall. I am not used to losing and have no intention of doing so with you. The path might be winding and full of shadows, but the end solution will make itself clear. All you need to do is be mindful and recognize the solution when it comes.”

Before I could say another word, Silvidia opened a tear in the atmospheric fabric of my room and walked through. The rip closed behind her, leaving only her floral scent and my confusion behind.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Hellfire Rayburn

“You look like a righteous thundercloud,” Hamish accused while walking beside me.

He was careful and kept a few feet between us, not that it would save him should I unleash the turmoil brewing inside. My internal fire was desperate for release. As I stood outside Arthur Stover’s residence, I’d considered on more than one occasion allowing that fire free rein and burning his home to ash—hopefully with him in it.

Caution stayed my hand. As quick as my fire was, it might not be quick enough to eliminate Stover before he could wish his way out of the inferno. One could only imagine the swift retribution that would follow.

“Do you have something of import, Hamish? Or are you simply here to annoy me?” If it were the latter, then Hamish was playing a dangerous game. He was usually savvier than that.

Quietly contemplative, Hamish followed my gaze toward the unassuming building Stover called home.

“He is clever,” Hamish finally started. “For a human.”

“Humans are often clever. Thinking otherwise is what has gotten us into trouble in the past.”

Queen Silvidia had contemplated stepping into human affairs decades before she finally acted. However, there was always this niggling hope that humanity would find its way through the darkness. There were points of shimmering light, but those were nearly always snuffed out by their darker element.

“Hmm, I will not argue the point,” Hamish conceded. “This one has been wise with his wishes and covered his enormous wealth well. He currently has enough money to live ten lifetimes and never want for anything.”

“And yet that is still not enough.”

“Apparently not,” Hamish agreed.

“What do you believe Stover desires?”

There had to be something. If not, he would have already quit his job and moved on. There were endless ways of doing it. Given the means at his disposal, Stover could go anywhere he wanted. He could disappear, and none would be the wiser. He could hide from any who sought to take the djinn from him. So, why hadn’t he done that? What was still tethering him to this solitary, lonely existence?

Hamish grunted. “He wants what all who gain supposedly limitless power want—everything. Stover is the type of man who never has enough. He will never have enough wealth, enough professional accolades, enough recognition. I doubt the man could ever truly find love at this point. He is far too paranoid now to ever accept that another truly desires him and not what he has to offer.”

If that were the case, Stover was far more dangerous than I’d initially considered. When he was done with Wendall, what was next? If Stover desired power and authority over all, then at some point, he would need to go after Fairy itself.

“Are you suggesting—”

“It is only a matter of time,” Hamish agreed. “As per our agreement, I have kept a close watch on the good professor. His recent interests are a bit skewed from his previous studies.”

“Which were?”

“Ancient human development and civilizations. Naturally, with his interest in djinns, those interests also encompassed witchcraft, but only as it pertained to djinns.”

“And now?”

“Professor Stover has expanded his research and is actively seeking any and all information regarding Fairy. Thankfully, there is not much to be found. However, I doubt that will stop him for long. As you know, humans cannot enter Fairy on their own.”

“One of us has to be with them,” I acknowledged.

“Yes. But it is conceivable that with the djinn under his control, Stover could find a way in. If the djinn cannot access Fairy directly, it would be child’s play for her to force a fairy to escort Stover into our homeland.”

Breath hissed through my lips, and my exhale was full of smoke. I wanted to scream that Stover wouldn’t dare do such a thing, but I knew better. Instead, I asked, “Have you informed our queen?”

“I have. Interestingly, I had to call her back from an earthly visit.”

My gaze finally tracked Hamish’s way. He didn’t return my gaze but kept his attention on Stover’s house. A couple of lights were on, but I’d yet to see the human walk by a window.

“Wendall?” I asked. Just saying the name shot a pang of longing through my beating hearts.

“She didn’t say, but I believe that to be a fair assumption.” Hamish was one of the few fairies who knew of Wendall’s status and importance. There were times when Hamish and I fought on different sides, but only where the law was involved. When it came to the protection of Fairy and our queen, there was no discord between us.

“And her reaction?”

Hamish shrugged. “As you would expect. Queen Silvidia rarely shows true worry. She thanked me for the information and then proceeded to say that you had the issue under control. I did not feel arguing was wise.”

I silently disagreed. I didn’t believe for a second that I had any aspect of this situation under control. While I appreciated my queen’s confidence in my abilities, I did not want to disappoint her or myself.

“Have you spoken with the djinn again?” Hamish asked.

I relayed Aurelia’s impromptu visit with Wendall and me in the park.

All Hamish had to say was, “That is disturbing.”

“It is. I am concerned about Stover’s mental health. From what I have seen and given Aurelia’s warning, he is becoming increasingly unstable. I believe we have already lost any opportunity to appeal to his logical side.”

“I believe that opportunity was lost the moment he wished for Wendall’s death,” Hamish agreed. “Wendall was unaware of the importance of what he saw.”

He still hadn’t even with the hypnosis. “Lucroy, Muriel, and I believe the object of attachment is most likely the amphora on Stover’s keychain.” I’d filled in Hamish on Wendall’s recall of Stover’s office, minus the zombie chomping that followed.

“Agreed. The book is still a possibility, but it seems less likely.”

“We need to get the amphora away from him.”

“Again, I agree. Do you have a plan to do that?” Hamish raised a single eyebrow while eyeing me from the side.

“If so, I would hardly be standing outside his home.” Not that I had anywhere else to be. Wendall had made his feelings clear, and I didn’t know what to do with that. I’d been repeatedly running our discussion through my head. Did I leave him alone? Everything in me screamed that was the wrong answer. I wanted to be with Wendall for whatever time he had left. He’d made it clear he would never accept my bond. Wendall thought it a selfish act. I was beginning to think it might be more selfish of him not to accept.

“And where, exactly, would you be if not here?” There was a hint of arrogant mischief in Hamish’s tone.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I kept my gaze pinned on the house, searching for something. The truth was, watching Stover wasn’t getting us anywhere. I wasn’t even sure if he knew we were there. Aurelia would certainly know, but I doubted she’d be willing to give up information without a wish forcing her hand. The djinn wanted away from Stover just as badly.

When I didn’t answer, Hamish remained blessedly quiet. When he finally did speak again, he said something wholly unexpected. “She asked this of you, Hellfire. There were others Queen Silvidia could have asked, but she didn’t. She chose you. I will not lie. A part of me was angered by this. A larger part was relieved. I do not envy you this task, but I do envy our queen’s trust in you. I mirror that trust. You will find a way, Ray. You always do.”

Hamish’s footsteps quietly fell to silence as he walked away, leaving me alone again with my brooding. He was right. There were others Queen Silvidia could have asked. I hadn’t questioned her decision. She wasn’t just the most powerful of us but also the wisest. There was always a reason behind her perceived madness. I only wished I could figure out that reason now.

Icouldn’t stay away from Wendall, and after three hours of staring at Stover’s home, I gave up trying, climbed into my car, and headed to Dusk. It was a Saturday night, and Dusk was even busier than it had been the night before. Bax waved me through the line, and only a couple of patrons balked. When they saw I was a fairy, each and every one offered profuse apologies that I couldn’t have cared less about.

The music was loud, the cacophony of voices rising above and around it nearly mind-numbing. I wasn’t sure how anyone could find this form of entertainment desirable, and yet the throngs of patrons in Dusk and other similar businesses more than spoke of how wrong I was.

Wendall was busy. He scurried between the numerous bodies. Maybe not with ease, but he was small enough that he could wiggle his way through and barely make contact with anyone. Privately, that made me pleased. Trinket was on his shoulder. She rarely left his side, and Wendall didn’t appear to mind.

I planned to head to the dishwashing area, where Wendall would no doubt be up to his elbows in dirty glasses later when Dusk cleared out. For now, I was happy to find a wall and assist in holding it up. As I made my way around, a large, husky figure drew my attention. It wasn’t just that lone figure but the three beta wolves surrounding him that truly caught my eye.

My jaw clamped tight enough to be uncomfortable. Changing direction, I easily found my way to the table.

“Arie Belview,” I said, holding back my innate distaste. “I was under the impression that you detested vampire bars.”

Arie remained seated, a glass of what appeared to be water coolly sitting in front of him. Perspiration danced along the glass edges while Arie ran his fingers down the side.

“It’s a bar owned by a vamp and not exactly a vampire bar,” Arie just as frostily answered. “I have every right to be here. I’m not threatening anyone in Sedrick’s little pack.” The betas surrounding Arie snickered as if he’d made a joke. I didn’t find the reference humorous.

“That is good to know. I would hate to dirty King Moony’s bar with werewolf blood.”

Arie stiffened, and his betas growled. Their sounds were silenced when their alpha held up his hand. “Are you threatening me?”

“I am only reminding you of the agreement you made prior to Alpha Sedrick Voss’s challenge.” Those like Arie Belview needed reminding—frequently. He needed to be reminded that there was someone with more power than him constantly watching, just waiting for the moment he slipped up.

“Consider me reminded, Ray.” Arie’s words were clipped and a little garbled, making me wonder if he’d lost control of his shift and had a mouth full of wolf teeth. If so, he quickly got himself back under control and said, “I’m just here checking out the scenery. I caught wind of something interesting and thought I’d personally look into it.”

“Something interesting?” At Dusk? I had a niggling feeling I knew what that something, or more to the point, someone, was and wouldn’t like Arie’s answer.

“A mentally competent zombie. We all know those shouldn’t exist. No priest or priestess can reanimate the dead and bring back their consciousness as well. The flesh is one thing. The soul is something completely different.”

I couldn’t disagree and silently stood there.

“Given the area we’re in, I assume the priestess is Muriel. I want to see this zombie in action before I approach her with a proposal.”

Sometimes, I wondered if Arie Belview was truly this arrogant or if it was an act. I suspected it was something hardwired into his core.

With a mirthless smile, I said, “Let me save you some time, Alpha Belview. The zombie you are referring to is a one-off. Muriel has said herself that she is unsure how he was reanimated so completely.” I didn’t want to give away too much information. Arie Belview didn’t need to know about Wendall’s unusual genetics.

“Hmm, that might be so, but if she did it once, it’s conceivable she can do it again. If this zombie turns out to be as good as I’ve heard, it would be worth it to find out.”

I gritted my teeth. I wish I could say that only Arie Belview would think so, but that would be a lie. If Muriel truly could create zombies of Wendall’s caliber, then that would be a dangerous and potentially profitable endeavor. Arie could create armies of nearly indestructible individuals, and if he controlled the priest or priestess holding the zombies’ reins, then he would indeed be a powerful alpha.

Arie Belview and Arthur Stover were cut from the same greedy cloth. There would never be enough anything for them in the world. You could never make those types of individuals happy because they would always want more.

“And you believe Muriel would be open to your generosity.”

Muriel would never take money from Arie Belview, especially for something like this.

Arie shrugged. “Money talks, and if she won’t do it, then maybe another will. Muriel’s not the most powerful priestess around.” Arie turned his head and grinned, his eye teeth glinted in Dusk’s strobe lights.

Money did indeed talk, but you’d have to have a lot of it to persuade a priest or priestess to do as Arie wished. Thankfully, what Arie wanted couldn’t be done. In the end, it was a moot point.

Still, I said, “That’s a lot of money to throw away. You might as well light a pyre and throw it on top.”

“Money’s not as hard to get as most think. You’ve just got to be willing to do what’s necessary to get it.” Arie’s grin flashed once more as he held up his glass of water in a salute.

Timing inexorably bad, Wendall’s face popped through the crowd, a half-full bin of dirty glasses attached at his hip. When he looked up, our gazes instantly connected, and his mouth slipped open.

“Ray, I…I didn’t think you’d be here tonight.”

Arie’s betas stirred, and their noses twitched. Arie was a little more subtle, but it was obvious he knew exactly what Wendall was. The nearly feral grin stretching Arie’s lips made me want to rip his head off.

“So, this is the little human zombie.”

Wendall reared back, and the glasses in his bin clattered. Arie hadn’t gotten Johnny’s memo about addressing Wendall and calling him out on his zombification.

Pushing the rude comment away, Wendall asked, “Can I clear any dirty glasses for you?”

Arie leaned forward, nose twitching more noticeably. His feral glee dimmed a hair. “You smell a little worse than other zombies I’ve been around. It’s a disgusting combination of rot and medicinal ointment.”

Wendall flinched, and Trinket wildly chittered. She scrambled down Wendall’s arm, and with her tail firmly wrapped around his wrist, she lunged forward. Mouth open wide, she was ready to tear Arie a brand new hole. Dropping his bin of dirty dishes, glass shattered as Wendall took a chunk of Trinket’s fur and tugged her back to his side. She just barely cleared the area where one of Arie’s beta’s clawed fingers raked the air.

Hugging her to his chest, Wendall’s wide, blue eyes stared with disbelief.

Arie simply sat there, a sneer of disgust curling his lip.

“What is that thing?”

I reached up and yanked the beta who’d attacked Trinket back. I’d only meant to carry him a few feet away but wound up throwing him into the wall. He slid down the surface and landed on his ass. I offered no apology and walked to Wendall’s side.

“That”—I pointed at Trinket—“is something you don’t want to mess with, Alpha Belview. Had Wendall not pulled her back, she would have ripped half your face off with one chomp.”

Arie scoffed. “She would never have gotten close enough. She would have been slaughtered first.”

Wendall gasped, and I glared before my gaze slid to the beta wolf still lying on the floor. To my knowledge, Arie hadn’t even glanced in his direction. “If that unlikely event had taken place, the life of the one responsible would be immediately forfeit. Trinket is a gift from the land of Fairy, and we do not take kindly to one of our own being slaughtered.”

Arie’s jaw painfully tightened, and a tick formed in his cheek. With his arms crossed over his chest, his beefy build strained the fabric of his bespoke suit. A low, amber glow emanated from his eyes as our gazes met. I didn’t flinch and returned the glare, allowing my fire to burn bright.

Looking away first, Arie’s attention shifted to the easier target—Wendall. He ran his gaze up and down Wendall’s body as if he were goods for sale. “Something is very right and very wrong with that zombie. Tell me”—Arie leaned an elbow on the table, placing his body closer to Wendall—“when were you reanimated? Even if it doesn’t last as long as a typical zombie, I might find you useful.”

“Useful? What in the hell does that mean? I don’t work for you.” Wendall sounded confused and outraged all at once.

Arie just shrugged and rolled a dismissive hand through the air. “Not you in particular. I assume Muriel is your maker, and if she did it once, then she can do it again.”

Wendall frowned and answered, “Doubtful.”

“Exactly what I said, only I believe I was a bit more forceful regarding the situation.” I placed my hand on the small of Wendall’s back and was rewarded when he pushed back into my touch.

Trinket was still in his arms, hissing and spitting her fury. At that moment, I would have given anything to place Trinket and Alpha Sedrick Voss together in a challenge ring with Arie Belview. Watching the two of them rip Arie to shreds would be fine entertainment indeed. Perhaps we could even sell tickets to the event. We could donate the money to all those Arie had wronged over the previous decades.

Arie’s grin was placating. “You’ll forgive me if I do not take your word for it.”

“That is about the only thing I would be willing to forgive,” I easily answered. “If you wish to waste your time and dignity, then please, by all means, approach Muriel with your…proposal. I will enjoy hearing the priestess recount the details of your meeting.”

Wendall nodded. “Me too. Like Ray said, you can ask. She’ll tell you the same thing.”

The lack of care or doubt in Wendall’s voice made Arie hesitate. His mouth thinned, and his eyes lost their amber hue.

Arie’s growing disinterest was welcome. I didn’t want his greedy hands or mind anywhere near Wendall. I also didn’t like where Arie’s intentions clearly ran. If it were possible to create more zombies like Wendall, Arie Belview would find the priest or priestess who would take his money and create a nearly indestructible army. Weres could be reanimated, although from what I understood, it took more energy, and their aggressive behavior was more trouble than it was worth. If Arie could control them better, he’d slaughter his own pack to get what he wanted. As it was, only humans were routinely turned into zombies.

I caught Johnny’s eyes through a break in the crowd. The faun looked ready to leap over the bar and barrel through Dusk’s patrons. I gave a discrete headshake, which he accurately interpreted and eased down.

It appeared as if Arie was getting ready to leave when something even more tempting caught his eye.

“We need to speak.” Aurelia suddenly appeared at my side. Her flannel hung off one shoulder, exposing sections of inked skin. “Something’s changed.”

Change wasn’t always bad. In the case of Arthur Stover, I doubted it would be anything pleasant.

Arie rose, eyes wide with their amber glow back in full force. He pushed his recovered beta to the side and took two steps closer. His nose twitched with renewed interest, and his jaw hung slightly slack.

“It can’t be.” He licked his lips as his gaze rapidly darted up and down the length of Aurelia’s petite form. “They don’t exist anymore. It’s only a myth.”

Aurelia’s Caribbean blue eyes glanced Arie’s way, and her mouth twisted with obvious disgust. “Wolf,” she said with more than a hint of distaste. “Your aura reeks.”

Arie either didn’t care or didn’t hear her words. He stared, gaze fixated on the tattoos covering nearly every inch of Aurelia’s body. Most of them were covered, but it wasn’t difficult to understand the ink was there.

“Djinn,” Arie said with awe. “I’ve heard the stories but assumed…” He licked his lips and looked for all the world like a human child on Christmas morning. Arie’s arm rose, his fingers stretching forward.

“Don’t,” Aurelia commanded. I’d never heard her voice so ice cold. “You are not my master, and even if you were, you would not be allowed to touch me.” It was one of Aurelia’s restrictions. In this case, it wasn’t so much a restriction as a gift.

Arie’s hand dropped as if he’d been physically slapped.

“You have a master?” Arie’s gaze snapped between me and Wendall. I was tempted to lie and claim ownership.

Wendall’s conscience beat me to the fib. “It’s not us,” he protested while sounding genuinely appalled by the very idea.

I could almost see the wheels of Arie’s mind working. Holding a djinn’s leash would offer untold possibilities. I had no idea if a djinn could break a pixie bond, but I’d bet my life that would be Arie Belview’s first wish. I couldn’t imagine it being one of Aurelia’s, or any djinn’s, restrictions. What witch would have even considered anyone wanting to do something like that?

“Alpha Belview,” Leon’s smooth, cool voice drifted up beside me, somehow cutting through the pounding music setting Dusk’s dance floor on fire. “I was not aware you were here tonight. Is there something I can help you with? Perhaps a message you would like me to relay to King Moony?”

Arie reluctantly pulled his attention away from Aurelia. He glanced between Leon and the djinn as realization hit him that Leon wasn’t surprised by her presence. Arie Belview was out of the information loop, and his displeasure was clear.

“No message,” Arie all but growled. “Just needed a drink.”

Leon glanced down at Arie’s half-touched drink. Lifting a single eyebrow, he said, “I was not aware that Dusk offered such a fine glass of sparkling water. I will praise Johnny for his impeccable taste. As always, King Moony will be pleased with his staff.” Leon offered a smile that hinted fang.

With another low, lumbering growl, Arie turned and walked toward the exit. His three betas dutifully followed. Not for the first time, I wondered what about Arie Belview inspired such loyalty. Perhaps it was not so much loyalty as fear. As always, I was relieved I wasn’t born a werewolf.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Wendall

Leon glanced down at the bin at my feet. Broken glass littered the inside but had been contained there. At least it hadn’t scattered across the floor. I wasn’t sure if there were any salvageable glasses left inside. Cuts didn’t really bother me, so I was more than happy to go through and see what was still usable. Still, I felt bad about the broken ones.

“I’m sorry,” I said while bending over and picking up the bin. Glass shifted, and it was clear there were a lot of pieces. Trinket scrambled up my arm, latching her tail around my bicep while her feet gripped my shoulder. “I kind of dropped it earlier.”

“Saving Trinket,” Ray added. “Your reflexes were thankfully quick. I hate to think what might have happened otherwise.” Ray focused on Trinket. “That was unwise.”

She chittered at him.

He shook his head. “I understand completely. The alpha werewolf insulted Wendall, and you were defending your tribe. However, there are more subtle ways of doing so. What do you believe it would have done to Wendall if something bad had happened to you?”

Trinket’s angered chittering stopped. I could feel her slump on my shoulder, and when she made a noise again, it was a soft coo. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost say she sounded apologetic.

“She’s sorry,” Ray said as if reading my mind. “Trinket is young yet and reacted without forethought. As I said, I do not disagree with her intentions. Had Arie continued, there is a fair chance I would have acted unwisely also.”

That made me wonder, “Would you get into trouble?”

“If I attacked and killed Alpha Belview?” Ray clarified.

I nodded.

“If it was done without provocation, yes. Even fairies are subject to our own laws.”

“Then I would have gotten into trouble as well,” Leon said. “I would have had no choice but to act in King Moony’s best interest, and that interest clearly lies in Arie’s death.” Waving a hand at the bin of broken glasses, Leon added, “Don’t worry about that. Just take it back and throw the lot into the garbage.”

“But I can—”

“It is only glassware, not heirloom jewels. The glasses are easily replaceable. You and Trinket are not.” Leon settled his hand on my shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.

“As interesting as this is”—Aurelia didn’t really sound that interested—“I did come with a purpose, and it wasn’t to discuss that horrendously tainted soul that just left.” Aurelia’s gaze flicked toward the exit door. “A word of caution: do not allow one of my kind into his possession. If you do, I don’t believe you’ll live long enough to regret it. Then again, he does seem the sadistic type. He might keep you alive just so you can watch the world you know and all those you care for burn.”

She blinked before turning to face us again. “The wolf is an issue that should be addressed, but it will need to wait. You have more pressing matters.” Aurelia cocked her hip. Her ripped jeans bunched around her military-grade boots.

“As you mentioned,” Ray softly said, his voice carrying over the music, “perhaps we should go somewhere more private.” The music was loud enough that I doubted most could hear us over it, but given the number of weres around, I wouldn’t bet on it.

“Why don’t you head up to Wendall’s apartment?” Leon suggested. When I started to protest, he held up a hand and said, “I think I can help out for a little while. I’ve cleaned my fair share of tables and glasses. I’ll be fine.”

I wanted to tell him that wasn’t the point, that it was my job and that was what I was being paid for, but then I thought of Muriel. It wasn’t just my life on the line where Professor Stover was concerned. Others were in his crosshairs, and I had a responsibility to them also.

Conceding, I handed my bin of broken glass over to Leon’s outstretched arms and led the way to the stairway. I headed up first. Ray trailed behind me, and Aurelia followed him. We reached my door without incident. I unlocked it and headed inside. The music from below wafted up but was little more than a hushed reminder of what it was downstairs.

“Would anyone like some water?” It was really all I had to offer. My body no longer needed fluids, so I didn’t stock anything in the fridge. I could rustle up some tap water, though.

“No, thank you,” Ray answered. His fingers slid through my hair, angling down my cheek and landing on my bandaged neck. When I tried to pull away, he tightened his hold.

“Wendall, look at me.”

I didn’t want to. I wanted to keep staring at his broad chest. That seemed far safer.

“Wendall. Please.”

Maybe my heart didn’t still beat, but it was capable of feeling, and right then, it caved under the sweet tone and gentle plea. I looked up, and my gaze caught with Ray’s.

“I know it is difficult, but put Arie Belview’s words from your mind. His opinion means less than nothing. He is not even good enough to be the bacteria consuming your flesh.”

I cringed. It wasn’t exactly poetry, but the sentiment was…kind. Maybe.

“Thanks, Ray.” I offered what I hoped was a grateful smile.

“Hellfire is correct,” Aurelia spoke up. “Djinns can see to the heart of another’s soul, and that werewolf’s is as black as any I’ve ever seen, and believe me, I have seen some of the worst the earth has to offer.”

I leaned around Ray and said, “I didn’t know djinns could do that.”

“Nor I,” Ray agreed.

“It is not something others generally ask,” Aurelia answered as if it weren’t that important. “Those who desire our services rarely care about the state of another’s soul.”

“That’s…” I didn’t know what that was except, “probably true.” I shot a glance in Ray’s direction, but his attention was now on Aurelia.

“It has come to my attention that Stover has developed an interest in my homeland.” Ray didn’t exactly sound accusatory, but he didn’t sound friendly either.

Aurelia shrugged him off. “Arthur has many interests. I do not pay attention to them all.”

Ray’s passive face grew a little tighter. “No? While that is understandable, I would think such wayward interests would have given you pause.”

“Why would I care about Fairy?” Aurelia sounded truly perplexed. “It means nothing to me.”

“Spoken like a true djinn,” Ray deadpanned.

“I am what I was created to be.” Aurelia didn’t exactly sound like she was defending herself, only pointing out a fact that should have been remembered. “I am assisting you now because I loathe my current master, just as I have detested all who’ve come before him. I have no wish of my own to harm others. Mostly, I am indifferent to the whims of others. But I tire of the control. I did not lie when I told you that I wish only for peace and sleep.”

“I know the feeling,” I said with a sad grin. “I mean, not since I was reanimated. I don’t get physically tired, but emotionally… Yeah, that’s still a thing, and when I was alive, I felt both. It sucks, and I wouldn’t wish what’s happened to you on anyone.”

Aurelia cocked her head. Her eyes were impossibly blue and lit from within. I got the feeling she was staring right through me, or maybe more accurately, into me.

“You are a rare specimen, Wendall Galen. Your soul remained intact when you were reanimated. I can see it clearly, and it is…different.”

“Bad different?”

“I am uncertain, but I do not believe so.” Aurelia kept staring, and I began fidgeting. Trinket shifted so she didn’t fall off my shoulder.

Quiet filled my small apartment until, finally, Ray said, “Given your disregard for Fairy, I assume what prompted your visit is not associated with Stover’s newest obsession.”

“It is not.” Aurelia’s body quickly shifted, and her gaze thankfully swiveled away from me. “Stover has done something to my object of attachment.”

“Done something?” I took a step toward Ray, subconsciously seeking him out. “What does that mean?”

She shook her head. “I am not completely certain, but he found a witch to do something to it.” Aurelia said the word, witch, with unfettered loathing. “He used a large chunk of his ill-gotten gains to pay for a protection charm—something layered over the already attached spells.”

“Do you know what this charm does?” Ray’s tone was cold.

“As I said, it is a protection charm. None may touch my object of attachment that mean him harm.”

I sucked in an unneeded breath. “Anyone that means him harm?”

Ray’s body tightened and went deathly still. When I questioned, “Ray?” he remained there, staring straight ahead. Warmth filled my apartment as the temperature steadily rose. “Ray?” I said again, this time using a little more force. Thankfully, he snapped out of it.

“He is a clever human,” Ray said with reluctant admiration. “A far too clever human.”

My gaze darted between Aurelia and Ray. “What does that mean? For us?”

Slowly, Ray’s muscles eased. He was less physically tense, but I didn’t think he was emotionally less tense. “Hamish and I spoke earlier in the evening. Given the latest threat to Fairy, we decided action needs to take place sooner rather than later. Stover is human. He has to sleep sometime. Fairies and brownies can go where we like. We do not need doors or windows. Our methods might be different, but the result is the same. Although risky, Hamish and I thought it worth it.”

“Worth what?” I shifted so I could give Ray my full attention. “What were you planning on doing?”

Ray glanced Aurelia’s way. “I had thought of asking Aurelia if she could inform me when Stover fell asleep. I could be inside his room with little more than a thought.”

Ray’s simple plan easily manifested within my mind. “You thought you could grab the amphora while Professor Stover’s sleeping.” It was so painfully easy, I couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t already done it and said just that. “What have you been waiting for?”

“It is not a riskless plan. Stover is paranoid enough that he is most likely a light sleeper. If he woke up and realized my intention, all he would need to do is make a wish, and Aurelia would have to enact it. If it were simply my life at stake, I would have already done so. However, should I fail, Stover would quickly and efficiently come after you and Muriel. I had not thought it worth the risk and decided to try to formulate a better, less dangerous course of action.”

My face scrunched in thought, my lips twisting this way and that. “But then you found out about his interest in Fairy.”

“Hamish discovered this fact and relayed it to me tonight. Forgive me, Wendall, but this swayed my decision. I—”

I waved Ray off. “You don’t have to explain. I get it, and Muriel would too. It’s not just us anymore. It’s all of Fairy. Of course that changed your mind.” I didn’t begrudge Ray’s thinking or his decision to finally act. “Unfortunately, it looks like it might be a little too late.”

Ray’s underlying growl could respectfully compete with any were I’d heard. “Correct. I definitely mean Stover harm. I cannot see a way around that.”

I tumbled that thought around and asked Aurelia, “What exactly happens when someone that means Professor Stover harm touches your object?”

She shrugged. “I am not completely certain. Only that it would be meant to disable, punish, or kill.”

“Shit,” I whispered. “Kill?” My eyes grew huge with concern. “Could something like that kill you, Ray?” He was a fairy and damn near indestructible, from what I understood.

“It is possible,” he answered after some thought. “Reluctantly, I am not immortal. Close, but fairies can and do die.”

I most certainly didn’t like the sound of that. I wanted to stomp my foot and claim otherwise, but seeing as how Ray was a fairy, I figured he knew a lot better than me. Besides, hadn’t Prince Hanan been killed? Ray had also mentioned that the fairies’ past was nearly as bloody as humans’.

“It’s more than possible,” Aurelia said. “I doubt a witch charm could truly kill a fairy, but it could incapacitate one long enough for Arthur to make a wish. All he would need to do is wish me to drain a fairy of their power. After that, they would be easy to destroy.”

I gaped like a fish. “Steal their power?”

“More like drain their magic,” Aurelia corrected. That only sounded worse.

“No.” The word started out slightly more than a whisper and grew in tone and volume until it was a roaring, “No! Ray, you can’t let that happen. I won’t let it happen.” I violently shook my head. “I’ll go to Professor Stover right now and tell him I don’t know anything, that I didn’t tell anyone anything, that…”

My voice died. The problem was I did know something, and I had told someone. Maybe it was unknowingly, but that didn’t change the facts. Ironically, if the professor hadn’t murdered me, I wouldn’t have been reanimated into a zombie. I never would have met Muriel, Johnny, Mr. Moony, or Ray. I wouldn’t have thought anything about the amphora. Professor Stover had created his own informed monster.

Still, he didn’t know that. Professor Stover didn’t know anything. I wasn’t the best liar, but I could give it a damn good try if Muriel and Ray’s lives were on the line.

“You will do nothing of the sort,” Ray said, voice flat and matter-of-fact, as if the decision was his and his alone.

“I won’t let something like that happen to you. I won’t,” I emphasized. “Given my deterioration, I won’t last a lot longer anyway. It’s foolish to sacrifice anyone else. I—”

“No, Wendall,” Ray insisted, cupping my chin in his slender, confident hands. “Even if I were okay sacrificing you—which I am definitely not—what makes you believe Stover will stop with you? He’s developed a disturbing fascination with the world of Fairy. One success will fuel others. Soon, Stover will believe he is invincible, and his ambitions will only grow to accommodate those desires. With Aurelia under his control, there is a fair chance Stover will cause irrevocable harm. I find it doubtful he could truly destroy my home and queen, but he could cause a lot of damage in the process.”

“Hellfire is correct,” Aurelia readily agreed. “Arthur has a keen and gluttonous mind. It is a damning combination. He must be stopped, and to do so, you must find a way to remove my object of attachment from his possession.”

“And keep it out of even more dangerous hands,” Ray amended.

Aurelia inclined her head in agreement. “That, my dear fairy, is entirely in your hands.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Hellfire Rayburn

I needed rest—badly. Though my usual requirement was minimal, it was not zero. What I needed did not matter. Rest could wait.

“You don’t look well, Hellfire.” Hamish met me in the park Wendall and I’d visited just a few short days ago.

“Nor do you.” It wasn’t an accusation, more a statement of fact.

Hamish made a sound between a hum and a sigh. “It is difficult finding time when you’ve tasked me with something this interestingly disturbing.”

Fairies often had a way with words. We could diminish a thought with a few well-placed and picked syllables. It was a gift, or perhaps it was more a game. No other species could physically compete with us, and we’d finally gotten bored beating up on each other. We needed a new game to play, and since physical prowess was off the table, we’d chosen words as weapons and wielded them against our newest opponents. We were still the top predator where words were concerned, but our success was not a foregone conclusion. There were precious few members of other species that enjoyed our word swordplay and excelled in the competition. Fairies considered those individuals preciously priceless.

I leaned against the tree Trinket had dangled from. Hamish mimicked my position. “I assume you do not meet the requirement to touch the object either?”

“No. I cannot feign intending Stover no harm. His interest threatens Fairy. Once the djinn’s object is in my hands, my first task would be Stover’s elimination.”

“Same.” I could not fault Hamish, not when I felt the same. “Any fairy would feel likewise.”

“Agreed.” Hamish kept his answer tightly clipped.

I’d been tossing around ideas, each one as worthless as the last. Only one seemed plausible, though it was dangerous in its own right. It would place a lot of trust in Aurelia—trust I did not think wise. Aurelia herself did not believe it wise.

Desiring Hamish’s opinion, I said, “Wendall asked an insightful question.” I couldn’t remember the exact time or day, but I remembered his words.

“It must be his contribution of fairy genetics,” Hamish coolly said.

“Perhaps, although it might be his human naiveté.”

Hamish grunted. “You mean ignorance.”

“The line is indeed a fine one,” I agreed, unsure which reason was behind Wendall’s intriguing question. “Wendall asked if Aurelia’s connection to her object of attachment could be severed.”

Hamish shook his head. “Only the original witch that created her could undo her own spells, and it is my understanding that Aurelia’s creator, just like all the other witches that created djinns, is long dead.”

I stood there, allowing a weighty silence to fall. “Not a witch, but a warlock.”

Hamish stilled, and his muscles drew taught before he finally answered, “Impossible. While a warlock might be capable of dismantling the spells, he would need to understand them to do so. Warlocks are masters at weaving threads of magic, just like witches, but to undo a witch-made spell, they would need to have a witch that could explain some of the finer sigils. No witch would work that closely with a warlock. It would give away too many secrets.”

While I didn’t disagree, I did think Hamish’s thinking was a little too mired in the past. “And if I said I believe I know a witch and warlock that might be able to see past that and work together?”

Hamish ground his teeth, working his jaw back and forth as his mind processed my words. Seconds turned into minutes, and yet I remained silent, allowing Hamish to mull. Finally, he said, “The thought has…merit. However, the risks of success and failure are staggering. Should you fail, Stover will end us all. And if you succeed—”

“A powerful djinn will be set free, untethered and uncontrollable. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Aurelia can be recaptured, and her essence bound again.”

“Witches claim that knowledge is lost.”

“And we are simply to believe them?” I raised an eyebrow while shifting my gaze toward Hamish. “Do you truly believe them honest in that regard?”

“No, but finding a witch that either has that knowledge or knows where to find it would be difficult. Finding one that will admit it will be tedious.”

Hamish was right, but I thought I might know where to start and said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“You can’t be serious?” Matilda stared up at me.

Her large green eyes were so bright they were almost painful to look into. Wild strands of red hair haphazardly shifted around her shoulders, its golden highlights catching in the sun filtering into her greenhouse. Plants of every kind surrounded us, and the air was pleasantly warm and humid. Matilda’s curly hair frizzed in the dampness, and she eagerly pushed it out of her eyes. Each time she tucked it behind her ear, it bounced right back out.

“I am afraid I am deadly serious.”

Matilda’s pink cheeks paled. The watering can in her right hand shook, and when she set it down, some liquid splashed out.

“Gaia, please tell me this is some type of sick fairy joke. Or maybe a test.” She aggressively nodded. “I’d go for that right about now. You’re just testing me to see if witches are telling the truth.”

I would not put it past fairies to do that, but in this case, I was far from disingenuous. “Her name is Aurelia.”

Matilda frantically waved her hands in the air. “I don’t want to know its name. Djinns are…they’re…I don’t even know what to say beyond they are our biggest mistake. They are a blight on witch history, and it is one we do not take lightly. Djinns are our shame.”

“As they should be.” I could not argue the sentiment. “But that does not negate the fact that they still exist, and your species is responsible for that existence. You bear a responsibility in the matter.”

“I bear it?” Matilda slapped a hand on her chest. “Why me? I mean, witches are more than plentiful. I’m not the only one out there.”

It was another point I couldn’t argue. “That is true. You are, however, a very capable witch.”

“Pfft, there are plenty of capable witches out there and ones that are a lot more powerful than me.”

“While that may be true, you are the only witch I know of who has a fondness for a certain warlock.”

Matilda’s head snapped back, and her eyes momentarily widened. “Vander? What’s he got to do with this?”

I didn’t mistake the undertone of protective wariness.

“For this to work, I believe a witch and warlock will need to work together. Warlock magic to break the bonds. A witch to point out the weakness in those bonds and then to reinstate the magic.”

Matilda’s pallor turned a distinct shade of green. Her steps faltered. Thankfully, there was a stool nearby, which she heavily sat upon when her knees grew too weak to hold her.

“Sweet Gaia. You want me to… You want me to do what every witch has sworn to never do again. I…I can’t do that, Ray. Please, don’t ask me to even think of doing something like that. Enslaving djinns was beyond wrong, and you want me to do that. How can you ask that of me?”

Two steps brought me to Matilda’s side. “Do not think I ask it lightly.”

She choked on a sob. “I’d hope not.”

“Would it help if I told you the djinn herself does not believe she should be left unbound?”

Matilda’s watery eyes flicked up, their green just a little brighter. “What are you saying? That she wants to be enslaved? Who would want that? Djinns murdered their witch captors. And not just their witch creators. Eventually, all djinns manage to kill their masters. They don’t like being told what to do with absolutely no choice in the matter. No one would. I can’t believe you’ve found a djinn that just happens to think differently.”

“No, not exactly. Aurelia is like all others. However, she is remarkably sane and without the bitter animosity most hold. Aurelia is well aware of what she is and freely acknowledges that any djinn, including herself, is far too powerful to have no constraints. As Aurelia said, currently, she has no desire to destroy the world. But desires change, and she cannot claim her feelings won’t change.”

It was difficult to define Aurelia’s temperament. On the one hand, she was dismissive of the threat to Fairy. On the other hand, she seemed irritated by Stover’s wish to injure Wendall. It was an odd dichotomy I did not fully understand. I was uncertain if djinns had souls. They were created creatures. Their witch creators had argued that they were tools and should be treated as such. But there was no arguing their sentience. In the end, witches had to concede the point, and when that was accepted, their shame multiplied.

Head hanging, Matilda’s curls covered her face. The scent of her tear-filled eyes covered the fresh smell of earth and green. “Before I would ever agree to anything, I would need to speak with Aurelia herself. I won’t…I won’t do something so heinous to another creature without their permission, and even then, it will be…difficult.”

“I will not claim to understand, but I will try to respect your thoughts and feelings. Aurelia typically finds me, but I will attempt to find a way to contact her and advise her of the possible plan and also that you wish to speak with her.”

“Okay.” Matilda’s voice was soft and defeated. “Have you spoken with Vander yet?”

“No,” I admitted.

Vander Kines owed me a debt for sparing his warlock abilities. Given his willful transgression, under fairy law, I could have stripped him of his warlock gifts. It would have meant a cruel and early death. Given that Parsnip had bonded with him, that would have also killed the pixie. This little glitch introduced a gray zone in fairy law that I was willing to take advantage of. Vander had agreed to look into the illegal pixie trade and also aid Wendall. Although different from my original purpose, Vander’s skills were still necessary to protect Wendall’s existence.

“You should call him,” Matilda said. She was unaware of what Vander had already agreed to. “I think he’s out west somewhere with Parsnip. If you call Vander here, he’ll need to bring Parsnip too.” Matilda looked up, and she had a wane but warm smile. “They’re kind of a package deal now that they’re bonded in the pixie and warlock way.”

“As expected.” I hadn’t thought to ask Vander to leave Parsnip behind. Even if they weren’t bonded, I’d learned that pixies could be stubbornly firm when it came to those they claimed. Peaches would not leave Lucroy to fend off the vampire council. Philodendron would not leave Sedrick, Dillon, and Ruthie to Arie’s violence, and Parsnip would not leave Vander to Letty Fox’s deadly schemes. Many foolishly thought pixies were weak. I’d once been one of those foolish individuals. Hamish had been too.

Any and all humor fled Matilda’s face, and her shoulders sagged. “You may not believe me, but I don’t know how to create or bind a djinn. However…I think I know someone who might, and if she doesn’t, then she probably knows where to find the information. She’s old, and I’m not sure if she’s still alive or not.” Matilda gazed off to the side. “I don’t think witches intentionally lied about the knowledge being lost, but so few retained it or know where to find it that it might as well be lost. We don’t discuss it, and even the most troubled witch wouldn’t consider it.” With a disturbingly sad grin, Matilda gazed up at me and said, “The fact that all witch creators were murdered by their djinn kind of acts like a permanent deterrent.”

I didn’t thank Matilda. I hadn’t lied when I’d said, as a witch, Matilda bore a level of responsibility for our current predicament. Until the last djinn passed from the earth, witches would be held accountable. That did not mean I took any pleasure in my request.

“When will you know?”

“I’ll make the inquiries today.” A slight quiver ran through Matilda’s voice. “Will you contact Vander today?”

“I will do so as soon as I leave. Time is of the essence. I do not know how long Stover will remain inactive. Currently, he seems content to wait and gather information. However, Aurelia is concerned about the state of his mental health. His paranoia grows. I believe the spell he had placed on the amphora supports this. It would be in our best interest to resolve the issue quickly.”

Matilda grimaced but nodded. “Understood. I don’t care to drag it out either. I can’t imagine stewing on this is going to make my actions any more palatable.”

“No, it won’t.” I simply agreed.

Slapping her thighs, Matilda pushed off her chair. Her feet held even though small tremors still assaulted her body. “I’ll contact you as soon as I know more. I would expect that to be no later than this evening.”

“I will await your call.” With nothing further to say, I walked out of the pleasantly mild greenhouse and into the bitter chill of winter. The cold didn’t affect me as much as others, but I did have a preference for the other seasons.

Walking to my car, I pulled out my phone and dialed Vander’s number. He answered on the fourth ring.

“What can I do for you, Ray?” Vander’s tone was steady with only a hint of trepidation.

“You are needed in Rutherford Haven. How soon can you get here?”

There was a minuscule pause while Vander softly spoke with someone in the background. I could only assume it was Parsnip.

“Parsnip says we can leave anytime. He’s online now looking up flights.”

“When you have something confirmed, send me a text with the information. If I require your presence sooner, I may come and retrieve you myself.” Fairies didn’t often drag others through the beyond, but unlike brownies, we could transport another.

“As long as Parsnip’s part of those travel plans, I’m good.”

I answered with a clipped “of course” before ending the call.

Climbing into my car, I considered my next actions. I needed to speak with Lucroy and Peaches. I also needed to bring Wendall, Muriel, and Johnny in on the burgeoning plan. However, first on that list was finding a way to contact Aurelia. Matilda required assurances, and I would do my best to supply them. Perhaps I shouldn’t have spoken for the djinn, but I did not think I was wrong regarding her feelings.

Leaning my head back, I sank into the softness of the driver’s seat. Hamish was right. I looked and felt like hell. If I kept pushing myself, soon, I would be no good to anyone. I needed rest, and although I hated prioritizing it, it was necessary. Speaking with the others could wait. Contacting Aurelia couldn’t.

Decision made, I turned on my car and made my way out of Matilda’s parking lot. I did not envy the phone call she was no doubt currently making. I didn’t envy any of the tasks laid out before us.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Wendall

I stared at my hand. I’d woken up this morning missing more skin. I figured I’d lost about a third of my surface area. I looked diseased.

“Stop picking at it,” Muriel scolded. “That certainly isn’t helping things.” She slapped my hand away, but it was difficult to heed her advice. It kind of reminded me of a peeling sunburn, and I’d never been able to leave those alone either.

Muriel sighed and took my hands in hers. She didn’t seem to mind my decaying flesh. “Listen here, sugar. It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

I wasn’t completely certain which particular situation Muriel was going on about. Was she talking about my continued deterioration and eventual second death or releasing Aurelia from Professor Stover’s enslavement? The chance of solving one of those issues was very close to zero, let alone both. I hadn’t said as much, but I’d already resigned myself to my eventual fate. Right now, I had to keep fighting for everyone else. Ray was right. Stover was far more dangerous than I’d thought. He’d do anything to keep Aurelia and evidently had even greater aspirations than any of us could fathom.

Why did it always work that way with the bad guys? Why did they never have enough? It was like they had an endless pit at their core that could never be filled. No amount of money, power, sex, drugs, or things could ever fill it. It was an incurable disease.

Muriel patted my hands before letting them go. She’d picked me up at Dusk earlier and driven me out to Peaches’s orchard. It was late afternoon. Since bonding with his beloved, Mr. Moony could be up at any time. He still preferred the night and was a little more sluggish in the day, but it wasn’t too much of a hardship, and from what I understood, he didn’t have to worry about bursting into ash. We could have met at Dusk, but I think Ray was trying to be considerate. At least as considerate as fairies generally were.

Muriel offered to bring Johnny, but he stayed behind at the bar. Dusk wouldn’t open for another four or five hours, but Johnny often worked during the day too, and he said there was too much to do, and we could fill him in later. Ray must have been okay with that.

Muriel stopped the car outside Peaches’s boundary. I couldn’t feel anything, but she could and knew exactly where to park. She said it seemed rude to just barge in. We were a little early and decided to wait until Ray showed up.

An SUV lumbered up the long drive, coming to rest beside Muriel’s smaller vehicle. I thought it might be Ray, but it wasn’t him at the wheel. It was Parsnip.

“Wendall.” Parsnip rolled his window down and leaned his head out. “It’s good to see you again.” Pixies were gorgeous creatures, and Parsnip was no different. His multihued gray tones were shot through with rivers of aqua. I was quite certain Parsnip’s colors were one of a kind. He’d been afraid his viewers wouldn’t want to see a faded pixie. He’d probably lost a few fans, but he’d gained far more than their loss.

I felt worse than plain beside him. It had been a couple of weeks since we’d seen each other, and I knew what I looked like. Parsnip didn’t so much as flinch. His lips didn’t purse in disgust, and his gaze didn’t waver.

“It’s good to see you too,” I sincerely replied. “How’s the show going?”

“Long,” Vander answered, leaning over Parsnip and waving at me from the passenger’s seat. “And dry. It’s hot during the day and freezing at night.”

Parsnip rolled his eyes. “At least it warms up there during the day. It’s cold here all the time.” Parsnip made a twirling motion over his temple with his finger and mouthed, “He’s crazy.”

“I heard that,” Vander accused.

Parsnip grinned.

“Ray said you’d be here.” Muriel leaned over me, much the same way Vander did Parsnip. “Glad to have more members of our little group.”

“We need a name,” Parsnip proclaimed.

“A name for our group?”

He firmly nodded. Vander started to say something, and Parsnip waved him off. “Don’t strain your brain. I’ll think of something.”

“I’m okay with naming things,” Vander protested.

“Oh, please. You named your shop Warlock Wishes. It’s so lame I almost didn’t walk through the door.”

I didn’t see the problem. I thought the name was cute. Although, cute probably wasn’t what a powerful warlock had in mind.

“Well, I’m glad you found a way to overcome your aversion.” Vander pulled Parsnip to him and peppered his cheek with kisses. Parsnip made a show of protest but ended up giggling and wiggling so much that he nearly fell out of his seat.

My inescapable grin made my cheeks hurt.

Their antics continued until Muriel shouted, “Ray’s here.”

I twisted in my seat. Something inside lit up at the mention of his name. As untrue as it probably was, I felt safer when Ray was around. He filled up all the insecure holes that had been relentlessly punched into my psyche by my aunt and uncle.

Shifting, Trinket scurried from my arm and plopped on top of my head. She wrapped her tail around my neck but kept the pressure light.

“Should we get out?” I asked Muriel. The sound of Parsnip and Vander’s doors slamming closed answered my question.

“Looks like,” Muriel offered before extricating herself.

I quickly followed and immediately walked to Ray.

“Good afternoon, Wendall,” Ray greeted me first.

His fingers drifted through my hair. I leaned into the touch but was mortified when he pulled his fingers free, and part of my hair followed. Strands of my blond hair were entangled within his fingers. Silence filled the air as everyone stared. No one said a word. There was nothing to say.

Shaking the hair free, Ray placed his hand on the small of my back and simply said, “I believe we are expected. Has Matilda arrived yet?”

Vander shook his head. “Not that I’ve seen, but Parsnip and I just got here.”

“We’ve been sitting for about ten minutes,” Muriel offered. “Unless she got here even earlier and her car’s closer to the cottage, then I don’t believe so.”

Ray glanced at his watch. “It is still early.”

“If Mattie said she’ll be here, then she will,” Vander confidently defended.

“I have little doubt,” Ray reassured. “Regardless, I do not see the point in standing in the driveway when we are expected. Come, Wendall.” Ray led me away from Muriel’s car and toward his. When I turned and glanced her way, Muriel shooed me on and simply walked to her car, got in, and started up the drive.

Well, I guess that’s that.

Mattie showed up about fifteen minutes after the rest of us crowded into Peaches’s small cottage. It was tight quarters, but no one complained about the scent of decay that had to be wafting off me. Ray stayed close by. He stood, allowing me to sit. He seemed to like walking and talking. It took twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes to explain his insane idea to the rest of us.

Peaches was so good. It was clear holding still was difficult, but he managed and didn’t flood the room with dust. Parsnip was equally considerate even though it didn’t look nearly as taxing on him.

“Do you really think that will work?” Parsnip asked. He sounded more curious than doubtful. Sitting on Vander’s lap, Parsnip turned and asked, “Is this even possible?”

Vander glanced at Mattie. The witch’s face was pinched, and she had dark circles under her eyes. “Theoretically,” Vander answered. “Mattie, what are your thoughts?”

Mattie’s chuckle was less than mirthful. “Oh, I’ve got so, so many, Van, and few of them are good.” She swallowed hard. “But from what research I’ve been able to do, I think, like you said, theoretically, it is possible. Frighteningly so. It’ll take time, though, and I’m not sure how much we have.”

“How much time?” Lucroy asked.

“And why do you think it will be limited?” Peaches threw in before Mattie had a chance to answer the first question.

“At best, a few minutes,” Mattie answered before she grimaced and added, “At worst, hours, maybe days, and that’s bad because as soon as Stover figures out what we’re doing, we’re toast.”

“Agreed,” Vander said, voice deep and melodic. “I doubt the murderous professor is just going to sit around and wait for us to free his most prized possession.”

I hated that was the way Aurelia was thought of. A possession. No sentient creature should ever be thought of that way.

“Can djinn magic get through a pixie bond?” Parsnip asked while his gaze raked the room. “Vander’s bonded to me. Fairy magic can’t get through that. If djinn magic is the same, then as long as I’m near, I can keep Van safe.”

“No one knows for certain,” Mattie apologetically answered, as if the lack of knowledge was her fault. “I don’t know that any previous attempts have been made.” She shrugged and then dropped her shoulders, looking utterly defeated.

“And that wouldn’t help Mattie out,” Peaches said. “We could always try here at the orchard,” he offered, and Lucroy went stone silent. “I could keep Mattie and Vander behind my barrier.”

Lucroy’s black eyes shifted to crimson as he stared over Peaches’s head toward Ray. Remaining silent, Lucroy let Ray take the verbal lead.

“While that is a generous offer, I doubt it would work and would place you and your orchard in peril,” Ray answered.

“I don’t see why.” Peaches crossed his arms over his chest and stood straighter, chin thrust out.

Mattie took up the cause. “Peaches, djinns are masters at figuring out work-arounds to their restrictions.” She swept her arms out, indicating Peaches’s home and orchard. “How far does your orchard extend? What are the limitations of your boundary? Aphids made it through because they harbored no intentional ill will. It would be nothing for Aurelia to figure a way in, and most likely, that would end in the destruction of your trees and land. It wouldn’t be her fault, and I doubt she’d find any joy in the act. If Stover wishes her to destroy you, her magical enslavement requires her to fulfill that wish by any means possible.”

“Djinns are very creative in finding those means,” Ray added.

Peaches deflated, and Mr. Moony hid his relief behind Peaches’s head. Pulling his beloved into his arms, Mr. Moony whispered something I couldn’t hear into Peaches’s ear. His pixie nodded in agreement and let the matter drop.

“Can the time be reduced?” Ray asked.

Vander and Mattie shared a doubtful glance.

“Honestly,” Vander answered with a sigh, “we’re not sure. It’s not like either of us has done this before, and we don’t exactly have another djinn to practice on.”

“I’ve read and memorized the spells used to create djinns.” Mattie looked like she could throw up any minute. “I hate having that knowledge, and when this is over, I want to discuss a forgetful charm with you, Vander. That’s warlock magic, not witch.”

“You know I’ll help however I can,” Vander reassured.

“I do, and that’s what I’m counting on. I don’t think I could do this with any other warlock.” Mattie didn’t have to say she wouldn’t trust another. “Georgiana bound us together. You learned from the best, and she trusted you with her knowledge. I’d be disrespecting Georgiana if I didn’t feel the same.”

“High praise.” Vander sounded genuine. “I wish Byx could be here to hear you say that.”

Mattie shook her head. “You and I both know it’s best to keep her as far away from this nonsense as possible.”

“Not that she’s happy about it.” Vander shuddered. “She zapped me a good one right before Parsnip and I walked out the door. I swear, she gets stronger and stronger every damn day.”

“That’s as it should be,” Parsnip scolded. “Besides, you probably did something else to deserve it.”

“Me?” Vander mocked. “Never.”

“Idiot,” Parsnip lovingly said. The two of them certainly had an interesting relationship. I didn’t think I’d thrive in their snipping atmosphere, but it obviously worked for them, and the adoration in their eyes spoke volumes.

“The point is,” Mattie got us back on track, “it will take time for me to locate the spells, and then I’ll have to point them out to Vander and explain their weak points. Djinns are heavily magicked. It’s layer upon layer of castings, and they’re stacked on top of one another tightly. A djinn’s restrictions are the outermost layer. Their connections to their object of attachment are deep down in their very core. We’ll have to pick that apart without destroying Aurelia.”

“And to even get to that layer, we’ll have to weed through the others,” Vander added.

“Aurelia’s aware of all this?” I asked, suddenly worried for her safety. Others might think that was foolish, but I didn’t care. She might have caused a lot of death and damage, but I doubted any of it was her desire. In a lot of ways, she was the worst victim of all.

“She is aware,” Ray assured.

Mattie nodded. “I spoke with her earlier today.” Mattie’s voice was rough and sounded pained. “I…Ray is correct. For a djinn, she seems oddly…calm.”

Muriel had been quiet, and her thoughts were lost to me. She finally spoke up and introduced a whole new fear into the conversation. “I hate to bring this up, but you’ve already told us that djinns are creative and find work-arounds to their restrictions. Do you think that’s what Aurelia might be doing? It would be the ultimate coup. She claims releasing her is a bad idea, yet it is the only solution. Aurelia conveniently says she’ll just sit by and allow herself to be bound again. What makes any of you believe her?”

Silence filled the room with only the sound of the crackling fire and Trinket’s soft breaths against my skin. That silence spoke volumes. No one knew for certain, including Ray.

“I cannot discount that threat, priestess,” Ray finally spoke. “It is a risk.”

“A risk we must take?” Muriel asked. “Is there really no other option.”

I wanted to blurt my earlier offer, the one Ray had handily shot down. My lips closed on the words. Ray was right. It wouldn’t end with me. If that were the answer, I’d have already driven out to Professor Stover’s house and offered myself on the silver platter of his designation.

“Well, that sucks balls,” Vander summed up. Parsnip didn’t scold him, and I got the distinct impression he agreed with his bonded mate. I thought all of us agreed.

“So, we’re doing this?” Peaches asked and couldn’t stop his fluttering wings this time. Dust filled the air. Vander, Muriel, and Ray covered their noses. The rest of us were either unaffected or didn’t need to breathe.

“Looks like,” I answered.

Peaches sighed, and his wings stilled. “Well, I suppose it’s been a hot minute since I’ve done anything incredibly dangerous and stupid. I guess I’m due.”

“Well said.” Vander held up his hand, and Peaches gave him a hearty high five. The slap of Parsnip’s hand quickly followed. The rest of us simply stared and wondered at pixies’ optimistic nature. Maybe it wasn’t optimism at all. Maybe it was simply making the best of a shitty situation.

“So, when are we doing this batshit crazy operation? And where?” Vander asked.

Mr. Moony’s lips thinned, and he looked terribly put-upon. “Dusk seems appropriate enough. I do not relish the thought of damaging the bar, but it was built to withstand hurricanes and various species’ foolish anger. It seems the best choice.”

Peaches leaned up and planted a warm kiss on Mr. Moony’s cheek. “That’s kind of you.”

“It is practical, not kind,” Mr. Moony protested.

Peaches didn’t argue. He simply gazed up at Mr. Moony with knowing eyes.

“Okay, we’ve got a location. How are we going to get this asshole there?” Vander questioned.

“Leave that to me and Hamish.” It seemed like Ray had an answer to nearly every question, except maybe the most important one. Was this going to work, or was it going to come back and bite us all in our collective ass? And if we did fail, how many others would pay the price for our failure?

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Hellfire Rayburn

Paranoia is a dreadful mental condition. I’ve seen its insanity consume too many otherwise intelligent minds during my centuries-long life. Fairies were just as susceptible, if not more so, than any other species. Those with the most to lose were often the most susceptible to its pitfalls, and Professor Arthur Stover had a lot to lose.

“You truly believe this will work?” Hamish asked. Since we’d already discussed the overall plan, I did not believe he was speaking about our endgame but the here and now. “You think Stover will fall for this?”

“We will use his growing psychosis against him.”

Stover was greedy. Currently, there were two ways we could exploit that greed. One was claiming knowledge regarding what Wendall did or didn’t know and who he’d told. The other, more useful bit for us was Stover’s interest in Fairy.

“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.

“I regret nothing,” I answered, unwilling to insult his intelligence by claiming his scent was sunshine and roses.

Wendall’s pale blue eyes were as bright as ever. The decay assaulting his skin had so far skipped that wondrous sight. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“I do.” Cupping the side of his face, I ran my thumb over his deteriorating flesh and asked, “Does it hurt when I touch it?” I’d asked before, but I wanted to make certain nothing had changed.

“No.” Wendall tried to shake his head but wasn’t able to move much with my hand holding his face. “It feels a little weird and different, but it doesn’t hurt. If anything, it doesn’t feel much at all. I think that’s why it’s weird.”

As the skin deteriorated and peeled away, he lost feeling in the area. I should have expected that. “I’m sorry.” It was perhaps the most useless two words I’d ever spoken. Those words did nothing, including conveying the magnitude of my sorrow. Selfishly, that sorrow wasn’t restricted to Wendall alone. I already mourned his loss and felt it deep in my bones. Wendall’s second passing would change me in ways I could hardly fathom but knew would not be for the better.

“I know.” Wendall reached across my chest to pet Trinket. She cooed in appreciation. “She really was the absolute best present you could have ever given me, Ray.” Lifting his chin, Wendall’s gaze bored into me. “You’ll take care of her, won’t you? When I’m gone, you’ll make sure Trinket’s safe and loved?”

I didn’t bother arguing the fact that Wendall would, indeed, be gone soon. “I could do nothing less.”

Wendall’s grateful grin broke my heart. “Thank you. Between you and everyone at Dusk, I know she’s in good hands. Muriel said she’ll keep providing food for her.” Wendall softly chuckled. “This little gal has a bigger appetite than me, and her food’s just about as gross. We make a disgustingly good fit.”

“Her diet will not be a problem, even if Muriel is no longer able to provide sustenance.” I would speak with Ilish directly and source the best food possible. Trinket would never want for anything. Except what I could not give her—Wendall.

Laying his head on my shoulder, Wendall relaxed against me. Nearly all species feared fairies, including humans. It was…odd to have another so willingly close, so relaxed and at ease in my presence. It was a feeling I’d never sought, but when gone, it would leave a gaping hole in my soul.

“Do you think this will work?” Wendall softly asked. “I’d be lying if I said I’m not worried. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt. Professor Stover has already done enough damage, and I think he’s willing to do a lot more.”

Wendall wasn’t wrong. “I believe it is the best hope, no matter the risks.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think trusting Aurelia is wrong. Given what happened between me and Professor Stover, I’m probably not the best judge of character, but I get a good vibe from her.” Wendall chewed his bottom lip before he amended. “Well, maybe not a good vibe, but I don’t think she’s lying when she says she just wants to rest. Also, she agreed that djinns shouldn’t be completely free. She’s terribly self-aware. I’m not sure I have as good a handle on my own psyche as Aurelia.”

“You have not lived for over three thousand years either.”

Wendall jerked back, eyes round. “Three thousand? Seriously? I knew she was old—”

“At least that old. I doubt Aurelia herself knows her exact age. Witches began experimenting with djinn creation a little over thirty-five hundred years ago. All known djinns were created within a five-hundred-year period.”

“Wow.” Wendall laid his head back on my shoulder. “That’s amazing.”

“It is, but Aurelia hasn’t walked the earth for that amount of time. Most djinns spend decades, if not centuries, peacefully sleeping within their object of attachment. They are summoned into worlds that have changed dramatically from the last time they were awake and active. It is a very dissociative existence.”

“No wonder they’re not all sane,” Wendall mused.

“It would not be a life I would choose.”

I wasn’t sure anyone would. Djinns were all-powerful, but that power came with too high a price. Besides, djinns didn’t benefit from their power. Others did, but not them. For a djinn, there was no upside. Even life eternal was its own form of enslavement.

Trinket moved from me to Wendall, slipping into his lap and cuddling close. Wendall’s fingers dug into her soft fur, and he contentedly hummed. “You know, it’s amazing how the most dangerous creatures are wrapped in the cutest or most beautiful packaging. Scuttlebutts, sirens, fairies…I’m sure there are others.”

I smirked. “And which category do I fit into? Cute or beautiful?”

Wendall’s soft giggles tickled against my skin. “Depends on what you’re doing. You, Hellfire Rayburn, are always beautiful. But sometimes, on rare occasions, you can be cute too.”

“Please, do not repeat that to anyone else. It would ruin my reputation.”

Wendall playfully slapped my chest, and warmth exploded behind his casually endearing touch. Without thought, I captured his wrist and held his palm to my chest. Wendall quickly stopped trying to pull it away and snuggled in a little closer. I could not fathom how much I was going to miss this.

Pulling Wendall’s hand up, I pressed my lips against his palm.

“Ray, don’t. I couldn’t get all my skin covered. That section is—”

“Still a part of you,” I interrupted. “Allow me to do with it as I wish.”

“I…and what you wish is to—”

“Kiss it. I want to touch every part of you, Wendall. There is not a single inch of you that I find repulsive. No matter how bad it gets, even at the very end, I will want to touch and be near you. I do not find your scent offensive. I do not find your deteriorating flesh a deterrent. You are simply Wendall, and I cherish every last cell.”

Wendall sucked in a breath. His lips twisted in what appeared to be frustration. “I hate this. I want to cry. Everything in me says tears should be rolling down my cheeks, but there’s nothing. My cheeks should be flushed, and my cock should be an uncomfortable rod stuck in my pants. But my body won’t do any of those things.”

I understood now why zombies didn’t retain their conscious thoughts, their souls. It was a far worse cruelty. Wendall remembered how his reactions should be, but they were as lost to him as his beating heart. Conscious zombies were cruel beyond what even nature would allow.

Words were lost to me. Leaning down, I pressed my lips against Wendall’s. His lips were slightly chapped but soft and pliant. Wendall gasped, and I took the invitation to slip my tongue inside, running it along the seam of his lips and along the edges of his dull, human teeth. His tongue tentatively met mine, and he groaned, leaning farther into the kiss and grasping my shirt in his fisted hands.

Seconds ticked by, and I had no desire to either count them or move from my current actions. Nothing in my life had ever felt this fulfilling or right. Had I control of Aurelia, I would have wished for time to stop, forever stuck in that blissful moment.

But I did not have control of the djinn, and Trinket didn’t appreciate being squashed between us.

Her squawking grew in pitch and finally forced us apart. Trinket’s continued barks and chittering pulled Wendall’s attention to her and brought a fond chuckle. “Sorry, Trinket.” Wendall vigorously scratched the top of her head. “We, uh…kind of got carried away there.” Wendall’s shy grin lit me up from within.

“Apologies, Trinket.” I followed Wendall’s lead, and Trinket calmed before scurrying out of Wendall’s lap and back onto his shoulder. She must have deemed it safer territory.

Wendall’s humor turned into something quieter. His expression eased, and he looked at me with a softness I’d never seen before.

“Thank you, Ray.” His smile was sadly grateful. “I never thought…” He lowered and shook his head. “I don’t think it matters what I thought. Life seems oblivious to our plans and just goes on however it likes. I think maybe the secret might be to stop fighting its path and learn to roll with life’s ups and downs. It’s hard to give up control, but when you do, the world’s joy opens up and welcomes you with open arms.”

I’d been wrong. One didn’t have to live a hundred or even a thousand years to gain wisdom. Wendall Galen had discovered life’s secrets in a little over twenty precious years. The world truly was about to lose something infinitely special.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Wendall

Customers were thin, and nearly all of them were vampires, but Dusk wasn’t a ghost town. A few vampires hung around outside, forming Dusk’s typical entry line. Pete was still at the door. Bax had wandered in and was having a conversation with Mr. Moony. Johnny kept the blood coming, and Mr. Moony’s nestmates greedily drank it down. Leon had to step in once or twice to school some of the younger vampires. Evidently, there was a fine line between taking too much and too little. They all wanted to be at peak strength, but drinking too much placed vampires in a type of blood coma. Johnny described it like babies finishing a bottle and contentedly lying down for a nap. It was weird thinking of vampires like babies, but I thought I understood.

Ray’s unexpected kiss and cuddles carried me into the evening in a more relaxed mood than I’d imagined possible earlier. I wish I could have kept that feeling wrapped around me like a protective coat, but that was impossible, and soon I was so jittery that Johnny sent me to the back to clean the few dirty glasses.

Eleven turned into eleven thirty, which slowly rolled toward midnight. Hamish and Ray seemed confident Professor Stover would show. I wasn’t so certain, and Vander and Mattie were having doubts too. Stuck in the back with me, hidden out of sight, Vander, Parsnip, and Mattie were huddled together. Parsnip was trying not to flutter his wings, but occasionally, Mattie’s sneezes were quickly followed by Parsnip’s apology.

“You want to go out and hang with Peaches?” Vander asked.

“No,” Parsnip said with a sigh. “I’m sorry I’m so nervous. I don’t mean to be, it’s just—”

“There’s a lot to be nervous about, Parsnip,” Mattie soothed. “No need for apologies. If I could fly, I’d most likely be spinning circles around the room.” Mattie waved her hand in front of her face. “It’s so small back here. It’s a bit on the claustrophobic side.” I’d never thought of it that way, but we typically didn’t have three full-grown individuals and one pixie with wings fluttering about.

Parsnip shifted as far to the side as possible. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should go out and sit with Peaches. It’s just…I don’t really want to leave Vander. I know it’s getting late, and it doesn’t look like he’s going to show, but just in case Stover does pop in, our bond might keep him safe, and I don’t want to—”

“Hush.” Vander pulled Parsnip to his chest and held him close. “We’re all a little high-strung, and no one wants you to be anywhere you don’t want to be.”

I had no doubt that Vander had tried to keep Parsnip away, just like Mr. Moony had asked Peaches to stay at his orchard. Neither pixie thought much of that idea and insisted on being with their partners. I couldn’t blame them. I may have rejected Ray’s offered bond, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be away from him now. Given Professor Stover’s interest in me and the fact I worked here, no one thought it was a good idea for me to be MIA. I don’t know what I would have said if they’d asked me to hide out somewhere else. I know I wouldn’t have been happy and would have argued.

Mattie checked her watch again and sighed heavily. “As much as I’m not looking forward to this, I’m to the point where I just want to get it over with. I don’t think my nerves can take another day or seven of this crap.”

“Can’t argue that,” Vander agreed while rubbing circles on Parsnip’s back between his wing muscles.

Perched on my shoulder, Trinket knew something was up and hadn’t been her typical, playful self. She was stiff and alert. When her tail tightened around my arm, I knew something had changed.

Vander and Mattie sucked in harsh breaths at about the same time, and Parsnip asked, “What is it?”

“She’s here,” Mattie answered, fingers grasping the fabric covering her chest. “I’d never felt a djinn before Aurelia. I’m glad I already met her or else I’d be a worthless puddle on the floor. The first time we met, I was a worthless puddle. It’s hard to describe the immense magic emanating from her. It’s…”

“Overwhelming,” Vander supplied. “Those had to be some powerful witches back in the day.”

“They were,” Mattie acknowledged. “But there was a price to all that power and greed, and they paid heavily for their arrogance. In many ways, witches keep paying.”

I considered Mattie’s presence and thought I understood. She wasn’t personally responsible for their creation, but she still showed up and was trying to help clean up, or at least contain, the mess.

Mattie walked toward the wall, getting closer to the bar proper.

“Can you read the lines from here?” Vander asked, following close behind.

Mattie’s eyes scrunched, and the skin between them deeply grooved. “Some. I can at least get a handle on the outer spells. I can start to weed through them to what’s below, but…” She sucked in her bottom lip and nervously chewed. “Something’s blocking the deeper ones. I can sort of track them down in Aurelia, but just like the other day when I met her, I can’t follow them to her object of attachment. I thought at the time it was just because of distance, but now…I think something is blocking me.” Mattie sounded confused.

“Blocking you?” Vander asked. “Let me see if I can ferret that out.” Closing his eyes, Vander deeply inhaled, holding his breath before releasing it in a long, controlled exhale. Parsnip stayed by his side but moved so he wasn’t touching him. A handful of seconds later, Vander’s eyes snapped open, and he cursed, “Son of a bitch.”

“You found it?” Mattie asked.

“That’s one clever bastard. He’s been a busy human. My bet is he’s got the amphora wrapped in a dampening cloth.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

Parsnip nodded like he’d been about ready to ask the same thing.

“It’s a spelled fabric that hides what’s hidden below,” Vander answered with disgust.

“Even magic?” Parsnip asked.

“Especially magic,” Mattie answered.

“Well, shit.” Vander ran his black-tipped fingers through his hair, ruffling the gray tinting his temples. “That just made things a shit-ton more complicated.”

“We’ve got to get it out from under there.” Mattie’s fisted hands landed on her hips, and her skirts swayed with the movement. “I am not going to keep putting myself through this shit. This ends tonight.”

While I appreciated her determination, I wasn’t sure how we were going to act on it. We were trying to keep Mattie and Vander’s presence secret as long as possible. As a human, Professor Stover wouldn’t know they were here. He could wish for Aurelia to tell him, but so far, he had no reason to do that. We needed to keep it that way.

“Will Ray know that?” I asked no one in particular.

“Doubtful,” Vander answered. “Although, fairies are so secretive that it’s hard to say.”

“So, someone needs to make certain and try to… I honestly have no idea.” Parsnip’s wings fluttered before he snapped them closed. “The whole point is that no one can touch the damn thing because we all want to rip this Stover guy a new one.”

Vander’s grin was positively wicked.

Mattie’s matching one made my skin crawl.

“What?” I asked. They both looked far too pleased, given the circumstances.

“That’s not exactly true,” Vander answered Parsnip’s earlier comment.

“Vander’s right,” Mattie triumphantly agreed. “Stover is smart. I get why he covered the amphora, blocking out its magical signature. If you’re not looking for it, you wouldn’t even know it’s there. But we are looking, so Vander and I can pick it up. To me, it’s kind of like a black hole.”

“It’s similar for me,” Vander said. “But if I look hard enough, I can see it. It’s canceling magic, and that’s in a warlock’s wheelhouse, not a witch’s. Regardless, the point is that the canceling magic means anyone can touch the fabric. Once the fabric is removed, we still won’t be able to touch the amphora itself, but we can conceivably get it away from Stover.”

It opened up possibilities, but I still wasn’t sure if it helped more than hurt us. Either way, Ray needed to know. Grabbing an empty bin, I headed for the swinging door. Three pairs of eyes turned my way, each shimmering with questions.

With a shrug, I said, “Someone has to go out there, and I’m the logical choice.” With a little salute, I pushed through the swinging door, trading places with a couple of vampires. They were two of the youngest. I’d heard Leon say they were little more than fledglings. Mr. Moony was starting the extraction.

Johnny’s eyebrows rose when he saw me, but he just nodded and poured another glass of blood. Ray was in a corner opposite Hamish and Professor Stover. Muriel wasn’t here. She’d wanted to come, but no one could see a need, and given that Ray had planted the seeds that Muriel knew Professor Stover’s secret, everyone thought Muriel’s presence might make him more skittish and suspicious.

I picked up a couple of empty glasses and placed them in my bin, making my way around the tables. I risked a glance in Hamish’s direction. Professor Stover leaned heavily on the table. He looked eager and a hell of a lot more frazzled than the last time I’d seen him. In school, Professor Stover had always looked casually well put together. Some days, he was a bit rumpled, but he was always clean, his hair was neat, and his ties straight. Currently, Professor Stover seemed to be channeling Albert Einstein’s barber. His gesticulations were choppy and near frantic, and he kept licking his lips. His left hand frequently ventured into his jacket pocket. Most likely, that’s where he kept the amphora.

Aurelia was nowhere to be seen.

“She’s around,” Ray whispered into my ear. He’d snuck up behind me and wrapped his arms around my middle.

I leaned back into his touch. Trinket twisted on my shoulder so I could get as much fairy contact as possible.

“How did you know that’s what I was thinking?” I whispered back.

“You’re logical. It’s not difficult following your train of thought.”

Setting my bin down on the table, I twisted in Ray’s arms, wrapping my hands behind his neck and letting my fingers dance through his hair. It was a beautiful crimson waterfall. It was a crime fairies didn’t let everyone get a feel of their silken strands.

“Hamish looks irritated,” I said. “Is that wise?”

“Very. Stover would be infinitely more suspicious if Hamish acted more interested. It is difficult for fairies to acknowledge ignorance. We are a proud race. When we desire information, it is common to act apathetic while gathering it. We do not wish to seem too eager or grateful.”

“That’s kind of…” I wasn’t sure and settled on “devious.”

“I will not argue the point.”

Going up on tiptoes, I took a chance and kissed Ray’s cheek. His sudden inhale and shivering skin gave me more confidence, and I repeated the action. I wanted to keep peppering him with kisses, but my actions weren’t purely motivated. Getting in close to his ear, I whispered, “Vander says there’s some type of magic-canceling cloth wrapped around the amphora. Mattie can’t get a read on the magic attaching Aurelia to it. We need to get the cloth off.”

The only hint Ray heard my words was a minuscule firming of muscle.

“How are we to do that when it is untouchable?” he soundly asked.

“Vander and Mattie agree you can touch the cloth. You still can’t touch the amphora, though.”

“Interesting.” Ray’s whispered reply ghosted over my skin, oddly skipping the necrotic areas and causing a patchwork landscape of feeling. “Walk with me,” Ray suggested, and I followed.

We’d barely gotten into a shadowed hall when Ray gave me a final kiss. It would have been breath-stealing had I needed the oxygen. “Hopefully, I won’t be gone long.” Ray gave an uncharacteristic wink before taking two steps back. Raising his hand, he used a single finger to tear a hole in the space between us. Without another word, he slipped through.

Less than thirty seconds later, all hell broke loose.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Hellfire Rayburn

I considered texting this new information to Hamish. He had his cell phone out on the table, and we’d agreed to use that as a form of contact should he need any further instruction. Hamish had taken to periodically checking nonexistent texts and disregarding them with equal frequency. Sometimes he typed something and placed the phone back on the table. It kept up the apathetically disinterested façade well. Not that it was much of a true façade. I didn’t think Hamish was acting in the least.

When I learned I could touch the cloth surrounding the amphora, I decided action was better than further scheming. Perhaps I’d grown too eager to be done with Arthur Stover. Given my feelings for Wendall, that was completely possible. I’d accepted my objectivity was a thing of the past.

Whatever the excuse, action was my choice. It did not go as planned.

I reentered the space directly behind Stover’s chair. Hamish didn’t so much as glance in my direction. Stover shouldn’t have known I was there. I had not considered he’d wished for Aurelia to alert him if anyone sneaked up on him. To her credit, Aurelia bent that wish and waited until after I’d reached into his pocket and removed the magically wrapped amphora. Thankfully, Vander and Mattie were correct, and I wasn’t adversely affected.

I’d hoped to disappear to the back, leaving the way I’d come, and get the amphora to Mattie and Vander. We could shake the hated thing out onto a countertop so Mattie could get a read on the magical sigils.

It was the simplest of plans. It failed miserably.

Aurelia’s forced warning alerted Stover before I could get away. Leaping up, Stover’s crazed eyes danced from Aurelia to the cloth-wrapped amphora in my hand. Screaming, “Thief,” Stover didn’t dive for me. Instead, he had Aurelia do his dirty work and yelled, “I wish for you to stop him!”

With a huffed sigh, Aurelia’s lips pinched, and a brief “apologies” slipped past her lips before she sliced her hand through the air, sending me sailing back into a wall. The amphora fell from my grasp, rolling out of the fabric and dancing across the floor.

An eerie silence fell throughout the bar, with only the blaring music in the background. One of Lucroy’s vampires was nearest the amphora. Before she could be warned, the vampire reached out to grasp it. Fingers at least three inches away, a bolt of what looked like lightning shot out. The vampire stiffened before seizing and falling to the floor. Lucroy sprang into action and was at her side in an instant.

Lucroy’s cold expression didn’t tell me if she was still alive or not. Peaches’s fluttering wings filled the area with golden pixie dust. It was his relief-filled gaze that let me know the vampire was revivable.

The flash of lightning was enough, and all of us stared down at that small piece of pottery like it might lash out at any moment. Stover’s maniacal laughter grated along my spine. With effort, I stood, straightening out my clothing and setting myself to rights. Hamish also stood. His gaze wasn’t exactly accusatory, but he didn’t look terribly impressed with my efforts either.

“Didn’t expect that, did you?” Stover stepped forward.

Aurelia shifted farther away and gave him a look so full of loathing that I halfway expected the human to dissolve under the acidic glare.

I lifted an eyebrow and stared at the seemingly innocuous piece of ancient pottery. “I was unsure what to expect,” I truthfully answered. Stover appeared momentary confused before his gaze latched onto the spot directly to my left. It was the area Wendall had taken up residence. His hand immediately found mine, and our fingers intertwined. Stover didn’t miss the movement.

“Can’t say I saw that one coming,” Stover said, tone flat.

I couldn’t read the human. Was it jealousy? I didn’t think so, but I couldn’t put another name to it.

“I suppose you told him too.” Stover was close enough that he leaned over and reached for the amphora.

This time, Trinket acted too quickly for Wendall to stop her.

“Trinket, no!”

She didn’t listen. Diving off Wendall’s shoulder, Trinket barrel-rolled once she hit the ground. Quick as lightning, her tail flicked out, the tip smacking into the amphora. The scuttlebutt was quicker than the amphora’s magical protection. The amphora skittered across the room, smacking into the wall. Trinket didn’t escape unharmed. As the amphora rolled along the floor, it shot out that same lightning streak, squarely smacking Trinket. The smell of burned fur filled the air, and her small body stilled.

Wendall screamed and dove for her, scooping her still-smoking body into his arms. “Trinket.”

He shook her, and relief barreled through me when she weakly chittered. Her eyes remained closed, and I could barely make out the slight rise and fall of her shallow breaths. She was alive. I could only hope she remained that way. Lucroy’s vampire was still unconscious.

I went to Wendall’s side and leaned over his shoulder. My slender fingers stroked Trinket, but she didn’t respond anymore to my touch than Wendall’s.

When I glanced up, Aurelia stared at me with blank eyes. Only her thinned lips indicated she found fault with the situation.

“Serves the little furball right,” Stover said while turning to walk in the direction of the amphora. He pulled up short.

Overcome with concern for Trinket and Wendall, I hadn’t seen Lucroy move. Peaches was with him, forever at his side. They formed a wall between Stover and the amphora.

The professor smirked while his fingers twitched and fisted at his sides. “You think that will stop me? I don’t have to have it in my hand to control the djinn. I was the last one to touch the amphora. Until that changes, I wield the djinn’s power.”

“She has a name,” Peaches protested, arms crossed over his chest and wings furiously beating. “It’s Aurelia.”

Golden dust covered the area and wafted toward Stover. He grimaced before a heavy sneeze broke through. Pulling out a handkerchief, he covered his nose and glared daggers in Peaches’s direction.

With a muffled breath, Stover did the unthinkable. “Aurelia,” he mockingly said, “I wish the pixie were dead.”

Lucroy roared, and with a horrid cracking sound, his body twisted into the killer vampires were known to be. Talons erupted from his fingers while all his limbs elongated. Sharp eye teeth snapped in Aurelia’s direction.

Surprisingly, Aurelia simply stood there. I fleetingly hoped the reason for Aurelia’s inactivity was because Vander and Mattie had found time to disable the magical bonds holding her to the amphora. I was sadly wrong.

“Djinn,” Professor Stover hissed, but still, Aurelia did nothing.

“Specifically, what pixie do you want destroyed?” Aurelia leaned against a nearby wall as if bored. “I’m afraid there are a lot of pixies in the world. I live to serve your wishes and would not want to disappoint you by murdering the wrong pixie.”

If the situation weren’t so dire, I would have found it amusing. She was stalling as only a djinn could.

Stover looked like his head might explode. Throwing an arm out, he pointed in Peaches’s direction. “That pixie.”

Aurelia didn’t bother looking and said, “There could likely be pixies on the other side of the wall, walking by. I’m afraid I still need more direct information.”

With his teeth gritted, Stover looked furious. He didn’t know Peaches’s name, or if he did, he couldn’t remember it. He did, however, figure out a work-around. “Fine. Aurelia, I wish for you to kill the vampire king, Lucroy Moony, and his beloved pixie. Is that specific enough for you?”

Eyes narrowing, Aurelia gave a reluctant nod. “It is.” Turning, her heavy boots sounded ominous as they landed, one foot after another. Vampiric hissing filled the bar, and as one, all the vampires left started for Lucroy’s side.

“Hold,” Mr. Moony managed to hiss through a mouth full of fangs.

“Lucroy, we won’t—”

Lucroy held up his taloned hand, stopping Leon. Crimson-filled eyes stared across the room, ordering Leon to keep the other vampires away. Lucroy wouldn’t sacrifice his nestmates.

“Coward,” Peaches accused from behind Lucroy’s looming form. “You can’t even do your own dirty work.”

Stover reached into his waistband and pulled out a gun. “Oh, I could. I doubt this would do much to King Moony, but I don’t think pixies are nearly as immune to human-made bullets as vampires.”

Lucroy roared again, his crimson-filled eyes now focused on Aurelia as she moved steadily closer.

“Keep Trinket close,” I whispered in Wendall’s ear before I moved away.

Heat filled the room as I finally released my inner fire. When I glanced back at Wendall, his eyes were wide, and his mouth had slipped open. I didn’t know if anyone had previously informed Wendall what my true form looked like. It wasn’t a secret. Peaches, Lucroy, Sedrick, and Phil had seen it up close and personal a few months ago. Those stories would pale in comparison to seeing it with one’s own eyes, of feeling the warmth of my unleashed heat.

I’d been told my fiery form was beautiful—in the scariest way possible. Fire licked along my back, coalescing into wings. Deep red leather armor covered my body, and a flaming sword filled my hand. My eyes were equally filled with fire, and my crimson hair floated around my body on heated air currents.

Wendall hugged Trinket tighter. Instead of taking a step back like he should have, Wendall took a step forward. Hamish was there to stop him. Placing a hand on Wendall’s shoulder, Hamish calmly said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. This is Hellfire Rayburn at his most lethal. He would be devastated if he inadvertently harmed you. Stay by my side and watch what a true fairy can do.”

Thankfully, Wendall did as Hamish asked. Only, it didn’t go the way Hamish said it would. It didn’t go the way any of us thought it would.

Chapter Thirty

Hellfire Rayburn

Hamish was by Wendall’s side. I would need to thank him later. Assuming there was a later. I’d hoped the witch and warlock would have been able to dismantle the ties binding Aurelia to her object of attachment by now. They’d said it could take hours, and that was time we didn’t have. Each passing second proved just how limited our time truly was.

I didn’t want to harm Aurelia, but it looked like that choice was swiftly being taken from my hands. Throwing up a wall of fire between the djinn and her prey, I moved closer. “I will not allow you to harm anyone within this building.”

Stover laughed. “As if you can stop her.”

I desperately wanted to prove Stover wrong, but the distant look in Aurelia’s gaze was enough to make me believe he was more right than I wanted to believe.

“There is nothing you can do,” Aurelia said, her voice devoid of emotion. “There has never been anything anyone could do.”

She started to raise her hand. Centuries of instinct guided my hand and plunged my flaming sword forward. The blade might have been made of fire, but its edge was as sharp as the finest human steel. Within an inch of Aurelia’s body, my sword bent, and its fire flared outward and harmlessly away.

I funneled more energy into the flame, and yet it did nothing but deplete me. Dropping my arm, I pulled my sword back, staring at the reformed flame, useless for the first time in my long life. I caught Lucroy’s stoic glance and knew he understood the enormity of the situation.

Aurelia’s object of attachment lay against the wall. It appeared deceivingly harmless. It wasn’t. That amphora was the bane of our current existence, and I wanted it gone. In a hail of fire, I threw every ounce of heat at the hated thing. Aurelia simply stood there, that same mask of indifference plastered across her face.

As predicted, my fire did nothing. The amphora was charmed to resist destruction, and not even fairy fire could prove otherwise. When the brightness of my fire dissipated, the amphora remained where it was, not a single scorch mark along its surface.

“Aurelia,” Stover impatiently said his djinn’s name.

“You did not wish for a specific time frame for their destruction,” Aurelia tried.

“Now,” Stover gritted. “I want them killed right now. Not in two minutes, not in two days, and certainly not in two years. Now, djinn.”

Straight-up murder was one of Aurelia’s restrictions, but as always, there were ways around it. She’d proved that when she’d murdered Wendall. Technically, the car had been responsible for his injuries.

Without raising her arms or doing anything that even appeared to be enacting magic, Aurelia’s Caribbean blue eyes lit from within, along with half a dozen visible tattoos. Only the regretful cast of her eyes showed she despised her actions.

“Ray,” Wendall gasped, immediately drawing my attention and gaze.

Knives of all different sizes and shapes filled the air behind the bar, their business end aimed at Lucroy and Peaches. Two of them looked large enough to sever Lucroy’s head from his body. Beyond the sun, it was the surest way to kill any vampire. In Lucroy’s case, it might be the only way.

I could do nothing as the knives sailed by. I’d never felt this useless in my life. Thankfully, my colleagues were more useful than me. Roots shot up through the floor, throwing cement and flooring to the side as they formed a barricaded wall around Peaches and Lucroy. When I looked at Hamish, he’d transformed into his true fairy self. Wings made of enormous leaves stretched from his back, and his skin was a green sheen of veined foliage.

“Peaches could have done the same.” Hamish shrugged, as if what he’d just done wasn’t that impressive. “He’s been away from his orchard too long. Otherwise, my intervention wouldn’t have been necessary.”

The knives landed in the wood with a thud. They quivered and tried to dig deeper, but Hamish’s roots were too thick and strong. It wouldn’t hold forever, and we both knew that. Stover did too.

The human appeared wild or maybe manic. Fragments of sanity shifted through his glazed eyes, but they were too few and not nearly enough to gather into anything useful.

A devious smile lifted his lips. “I wondered if my djinn would be enough to take on a fairy. You’re giving me an excellent opportunity to test that theory. Thank you, Hamish. Meeting you tonight truly will prove informative. Aurelia, I wish for you to kill the fairies, Hamish McIntyre and Hellfire Rayburn. Now.”

Stover’s wishes were becoming more specific, leaving Aurelia little wiggle room. Still, she tried. “You wish me to do this before or after dispatching the vampire and pixie?”

“Before,” Stover gritted, patience obviously waning.

Hamish moved away from Wendall, directing him to stay where he was. Wendall’s protests went unheeded by both of us. I would not risk him further, and neither would Hamish.

“You have gotten me into the most troublesome situation, Hellfire. I’m afraid we will need to renegotiate my fees when this is over.” I appreciated Hamish’s levity but couldn’t share it.

“I regret to inform you that I do not believe compensation will be possible.”

“Don’t be so glum. The evening is not over yet.” The corner of Hamish’s lip tilted in a parody of a grin.

I wasn’t certain what he found humorous, and then I felt it—magic. All around us. It was a wall of protection separating us from Aurelia. She walked forward, tapping at the air. The protection would have been invisible to humans, and Stover was nothing if not painfully human.

“What are you waiting on?” he demanded.

“This.” Aurelia tapped a finger against a seemingly invisible barrier. Magenta lines spiderwebbed out and away from her digit. “Warlock-made and witch-supported.” Again, Aurelia spat the name witch from her mouth, more curse than description.

“Thought it was time we joined in on the fun.” Vander Kines exited the back room, quickly followed by Parsnip and Mattie. “It was kind of getting boring and cramped back in that room,” Vander joked while shoving one hand into his pants pocket and wrapping the other arm around Parsnip.

“It was getting a little stuffy,” Mattie added with far less humor.

Her eyes danced with worry, and when our gazes connected, she frowned and shook her head apologetically. I wasn’t completely certain what the apology was for, but given the fact Aurelia was still under Stover’s control, I could only guess they hadn’t been able to dismantle the magical ties connecting her to the amphora. I wasn’t sure if there simply hadn’t been enough time or if the task was more impossible than they’d imagined.

The point was moot. Our plan was dead in the water. Aurelia either couldn’t be freed, or it would simply take too long to do so. Either way, we were little more than sitting ducks, waiting on Stover’s next wish.

“Magic?” Stover stared around him with wide, wild eyes. “I don’t see anything.”

“Of course not,” Wendall said. “You’re human. I don’t see it either, but I kind of feel it.”

Wendall was right. There was a buzz in the air, as if the molecules were charged and waiting for something to act upon. My fairy fire didn’t affect Aurelia or her amphora. Hamish’s abilities only worked because they formed a solid barrier that human-made knives couldn’t get through. Witch and warlock magic seemed more effective.

“Magic,” Stover repeated, this time with a note of distaste. “Those that have it act so damn superior. You think you’re so much better than the rest of us.”

Considering all species but humans had some level of magic, the rest of us referred to a lot of other species.

“Bet you wouldn’t feel so superior without it.” A new, dangerous gleam lit up Stover’s eyes.

“Hellfire,” Hamish cautiously said. “He wouldn’t.”

“I think he would,” I answered, my tone hushed.

“We need to leave. Now.” Hamish raised a hand, ready to rent the air, but it was already too late.

“Aurelia, I wish for you to strip everyone in this room but yourself of magic. Now.” Stover sounded immensely pleased with himself. I wasn’t sure if he understood the true repercussions of his wish. Out of all the scenarios I’d imagined tonight, this possibility had never entered my mind.

Gasps of disbelief rang through the room, along with worried chatter. The din of noise was nearly overwhelming.

Head hanging, Aurelia’s shoulders slumped before she shook herself and raised her head. Her eyes blazed, and every visible tattoo shimmered. For the second time, she offered a verbal apology. “Forgive me” was all I heard before pain tore a scream from my soul. My knees hit the floor, tears flowing like rivers. I grasped my chest, willing the pain away, but it didn’t diminish. It grew. I was being hollowed out, stripped of my magic. It would kill me. Hamish too. Death magic kept vampires alive, so it would take Lucroy and his nestmates. Vander and Mattie would survive for a time. But even if Stover didn’t kill them today, they’d fade and die horribly. Peaches would die soon after Lucroy, and Parsnip would fade with Vander.

And Wendall…I wasn’t sure what would happen to him, and my brain could no longer think past the agony ripping through me like uncontrolled waves. Those waves continually rolled outward, taking my very essence with them.

Everyone else’s screams were little more than muffled background noise, impossible to parse out and separate. We were all dying. None of us would live long enough to warn Queen Silvidia. None of us would live long enough to do a damn thing.

When relief slammed into me, I was no longer on hands and knees but lying completely on the floor. My cheek pressed to the cool, welcoming wood. The pain receded, leaving behind pinprick shocks tingling here and there.

I gulped, taking in heaping breaths of soothing air. My head spun, and my ears rang. Despite that, Wendall’s precious voice managed to make it through.

“Enough, Professor.” Wendall sounded far away and yet close by at the same time. “It’s enough,” he repeated, voice immensely sad yet steady when he said, “Aurelia, I wish for you to please give back the magic you’ve taken.”

He wished? The relief I’d felt magnified tenfold as the tide changed and my magic flowed back into me. When I was steady enough to raise my head, I found the most magnificent sight. Wendall stood there, the amphora gripped within his hand, Aurelia by his side, and Trinket’s still-limp body cradled to his chest.

“Wendall.” My voice cracked and strained, but it was enough to catch his attention. When Wendall turned to face me, all the relief I’d been granted slipped away like water. Wendall had saved us, but the price…

The price was far too high.

Chapter Thirty-One

Wendall

They were dying. No matter how much she hated it, Aurelia was killing them. Their screams echoed through my ears and tore a hole through my soul. All of them, powerful and gifted in their own rights, were little more than twitching ants lying on the floor. Pain was all they knew. It would be the last thing they felt before they were taken before their time.

Trinket’s shallow breaths were barely detectable. A small whimper echoed past her lips as she was stripped of her magic too. No one was spared, including me. My only saving grace was that it didn’t hurt. Muriel’s reanimation magic was rapidly ripped away. Staring at my arm, I saw my skin decay before my very eyes. The process that had slowly been depleting me sped up, and soon, I would be nothing but a rotting corpse.

My fate was inevitable. Theirs was not.

Aurelia’s amphora was just lying there, a couple of inches from the wall Trinket sent it flying into. Professor Stover wasn’t paying a bit of attention to me. I was the least dangerous one in the room. A human-turned-deteriorating-zombie. The only magic I had was what Muriel allowed me to borrow, and it was only enough to keep my body strapped together with duct tape and a little bit of magical glue.

I was nothing in Professor Stover’s eyes. I’d been nothing the day he wished for Aurelia to murder me, and I was still nothing.

If I was truly nothing, then that meant I had nothing to lose.

With Trinket cradled to my chest, I moved toward the amphora. With the loss of his magic, the roots Hamish had thrown up around Mr. Moony and Peaches crumbled to dust. Mr. Moony was on the ground, curled in on himself. He looked nearly human. Peaches was hunched over him, tears dripping onto the vampire’s face. Peaches’s wings fluttered madly, but no dust formed, and they didn’t lift him off the ground. He looked like a dull façade of the pixie he’d been.

I pushed away the tragic image and refocused on the amphora. Hesitating wouldn’t do me any good. I walked with purpose and bent over. I waited for the shock of protective power, but it didn’t come. My fingers touched the rough surface, and still, nothing.

Scooping it up, I held the simple pottery in my hand. It felt lighter than it should. Something that held the capacity to cause so much harm should be heavier. I squeezed it tight and said, “I wish Aurelia would stop draining everyone’s magic.”

The silence wasn’t immediate. Painful wails were slow to dissipate and left lingering whimpers in their wake. The skin along my fingers sloughed, attaching to the amphora like lichen.

“Wendall.” Aurelia was suddenly in front of me. Her eyes were wide, and she stared at the amphora in my hands with relief. “You’re able to touch it. How?”

I wasn’t sure and just shook my head. Little bits and pieces of my skin fell like ash as I moved. “I don’t know. I—” I had no idea what to say except, “Enough, Professor.”

Peaches’s continued tears pulled my gaze, and I repeated, “It’s enough. Aurelia, I wish for you to please give back the magic you’ve taken.”

Head tilted back, Aurelia closed her eyes and sighed with immense relief. That relief was echoed by nearly everyone in the room. Only that magic didn’t do anything to me. It was Muriel’s magic that had been taken, not mine, and so it returned to her. Instead of improving, I only worsened. When I heard Ray call my name, I turned, and I saw fear in his eyes for the first time.

I smiled, cracking my lips further. I wanted to apologize for leaving him before we’d truly had a chance to do much of anything. I wanted to go to him and thank him for everything he’d done and for making my second life better than any dream my mind could have conjured.

Professor Stover wouldn’t let me.

A shot rang out, followed by two more. Instinct made me drop Trinket, saving her from the following two that hit me square in the chest. The first ripped through my shoulder. I glanced down at the holes. There was no pain. No blood. There was nothing but torn, necrotic tissue, roughened around the edges and singed with the heat of the passing bullet.

Professor Stover’s crazed eyes glared at me through a haze of unkempt hair. With lips pulled back, he appeared halfway feral as he unloaded the remainder of his clip into me. The results were the same.

“Aurelia, I wish you would disarm Professor Stover.”

Unlike before, she didn’t ask me when I wanted him disarmed. She was by my side one minute and by his the next, with the warped gun in hand as she squeezed and twisted the metal into something unusable.

Professor Stover took a stumbling step back, the word “no” on repeat, as if that were the only two letters he remembered.

“Wendall,” Ray’s soft voice whispered across my dying flesh, dissipating even more pieces. “Sweet, precious, Wendall.” Ray slipped his fingers through my hair, and it easily pulled away from my head, lovingly wrapping around his fingers. He stared at the strands with slack sorrow.

I held out the amphora and said, “I’m not sure why, but I can touch it.”

Ray’s eyes traveled to my open palm, and his lips pulled into a sad grin. “It is because, even now, you do not truly wish harm on him.” Ray’s lips thinned, and his voice became clipped when he spoke of the professor. “You pity him, but you do not wish to harm him, not as I do.”

“No, I…” I wasn’t sure what to say.

Ray was right. I didn’t want to hurt Professor Stover. Even after everything he’d done to me and everyone else, I felt sorrier for him than anything. While I understood he’d brought this upon himself, I couldn’t imagine the life he’d been leading. I remembered the Arthur Stover who’d taken me under his wing, the one who’d been kind and discussed his research with enthusiasm. He was the man who’d asked me to be his teaching assistant and promised to help me get into graduate school. Maybe he hadn’t been good before he found Aurelia’s amphora, but he’d been good to me. I didn’t wish him harm. I just wanted him to stop. I wanted Professor Stover back the way he was. It was a wish I didn’t think even Aurelia was capable of.

Turning from me, Ray’s fiery wings reappeared, his flaming sword by his side. “It is not a sympathy I share.”

In the end, Trinket’s speed beat Ray’s. I hadn’t even known she’d recovered until I saw her leap through the air, mouth open wide.

Professor Stover never stood a chance. Trinket clamped onto his neck and bit down hard. She tore half his neck out in one gulp.

Blood poured as Professor Stover fell to the ground, pointlessly holding fast to his neck. Trinket tore a fair section of his trachea out too, and it wasn’t long before Professor Stover stopped moving, his body limp on the floor, more lifeless than my own.

We all stood there. I wasn’t sure if anyone else was stunned to silence or if I was alone in that regard. Trinket sat on the floor, licking her bloody fur and proudly chuffing. Ray appeared miffed the scuttlebutt stole his thunder.

“Queen Silvidia will be most amused.” Hamish chuckled. He didn’t slap Ray on the shoulder, but he looked like he wanted to. “In fact, I believe I shall go and tell her how her most fearsome warrior was beaten to his prize by a young scuttlebutt.” Hamish’s laughter followed him as he rent a tear in the atmosphere and slipped through.

I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to laugh or cry. Considering I wasn’t capable of crying, the choice seemed clear. “I can’t believe it’s over.” My legs gave way, and I slipped to the floor.

Ray caught me and eased my descent. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I probably wouldn’t have felt the pain of landing. Nothing hurt like it should. Professor Stover’s bullets wouldn’t have ended my second life, but they should have hurt a hell of a lot more than they did.

Ray’s eyes were full of pain. Those beautiful crimson rings shouldn’t look like that, especially with me as the cause.

“I’m sorry,” I said while lifting a finger and tracing it across his cheek.

Little flecks of my skin flaked off, some of them sticking. I had to look and smell like a horror film extra. Ray never flinched. He just gazed down at me as if I’d hung the moon and then informed him I was taking it away again.

“What are you apologizing for?” Peaches asked as he fluttered nearby.

Golden pixie dust once more filled the air, and I didn’t think anyone was about to complain about it. There was too much relief that all their magic had been restored. Mr. Moony was by Peaches’s side, an arm wrapped around his waist.

Mattie, Vander, and Parsnip scooted close, filling in the bubble around me. Parsnip placed himself between Peaches and Vander. I was glad the two pixies got along so well.

I couldn’t see Aurelia, but oddly enough, with her amphora in my hand, I could feel her. It was an odd thrumming that sang through my body. I vaguely wondered if it would feel more pronounced if my body were more intact.

“Is everyone else okay?” I asked. There’d been a lot of vampires in the bar, and I couldn’t see Johnny anywhere.

“Leon and Johnny are attending to my nestmates. They required feeding after…that.” Mr. Moony’s voice dripped with disgust.

“But they’re okay?” I wanted to be certain.

“They will be fine,” Mr. Moony reassured me.

“I’m so sorry.” Mattie grabbed a section of her dangling necklaces and twisted them. “After the dampening cloth was removed, I could see the magical threads, but they were… It’s difficult to explain, but the best I can say is they were too tightly woven. I think with more time—”

“Over a year, maybe two,” Vander huffed.

“Yes, a year at least, Vander and I’d be able to dismantle them, but not within the few minutes we were allowed.” She shook her head, and reddish blond curls swam in my vision. “There wasn’t much we could do beyond creating a barrier to keep Aurelia from hurting you.” She grimaced. “I suppose that didn’t work out the way we planned either.”

“To the contrary.” I heard Aurelia’s voice but still couldn’t see her. “The boundary was effective. I would have figured a way around it eventually, but in the short term, it worked.”

“Stover was more devious than any of us thought,” Parsnip said on a huff. “And I thought Letty was crazy.”

Vander kissed Parsnip on the temple and soothed, “That witch was crazy. Stover just happened to be afflicted by the same condition.”

Trinket scrambled up onto my chest. Maybe I hadn’t looked in a mirror, but given what I could see of my arms and hands, I had a fair idea of what the rest of me looked like. No one flinched, and Trinket settled onto my chest as if there weren’t holes shot through here and there.

Thankfully, she’d managed to clean Stover’s blood from her fur. “Hey, sweetie, you did good.” I cringed at the last. I wasn’t necessarily praising her for killing Professor Stover. “If you hadn’t gotten that amphora away from him, then I wouldn’t have been able to grab it. But please, don’t ever put yourself in that kind of danger again. I’m not gonna be here to look after you.” Again, I wanted to cry and hated that my body was incapable.

“This sucks,” Parsnip said about the same time Peaches screamed, “This isn’t right.”

“Can’t we do something?” Parsnip waved a hand down at me.

I gazed up into Ray’s eyes, thankful that my own were still hanging in there.

I knew what he wanted me to say, but even if I were tempted, my body was probably too far gone for even Ray’s fairy magic to reanimate.

“We should call Muriel,” Peaches said. “Give me your phone, Lucroy. I know you have her number on speed dial. We’ll need her anyway to clean up this mess.” Peaches started rooting around in Mr. Moony’s pants pocket.

“My love.” Mr. Moony grabbed Peaches’s wandering hands and held them tight. “There is nothing more the priestess can do.”

Peaches’s mouth slipped open, and his eyes went impossibly round. The red puffiness surrounding his golden eyes grew as tears reformed. “What do you mean? There has to be something. We can’t just sit by and let Wendall…” Peaches ran out of steam, and his head planted into Mr. Moony’s chest.

“Johnny,” Mr. Moony’s voice raised slightly. I vaguely heard Johnny’s reply before Mr. Moony said, “Please contact Muriel. Tell her… Tell her she needs to get here. Quickly.”

I didn’t hear Johnny’s answer. Maybe he didn’t say anything. Sometimes, there simply wasn’t anything to say.

I felt like apologizing again. Instead, I handed Ray the amphora. Now that Professor Stover was dead, the reason behind the magical casting no longer existed and wouldn’t react. It had nothing to protect.

“Here,” I said, pushing it into his palm. “Keep Aurelia safe. Let her be at peace.”

Ray’s fingers wrapped around the amphora, squeezing so tight I was afraid it might shatter. His eyes slipped closed, and his crimson lashes darkened with unshed tears. “If only I could wish for your life to be returned.”

“It is one of my restrictions,” Aurelia answered. “For the first time in my long life, I regret that is true.”

“It was a wise restriction.” Ray didn’t sound like he appreciated Aurelia’s maker’s foresight.

I managed a smile and tried to touch Ray’s face again, but I couldn’t move my arm, and my lips cracked and peeled when I attempted a grin. My body wouldn’t last much longer, and I wasn’t certain if Muriel would need to be here to remove what remained of her reanimation magic or not. If worst came to worst, Vander could probably break the magical connection. My vision hazed, and my ears increasingly felt like they were stuffed with cotton. I kept my gaze trained on Ray’s face and took comfort in Trinket’s small weight.

It wouldn’t be long now.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Hellfire Rayburn

This can’t be happening. Everything in me rebelled against the idea of losing Wendall. It was too soon. We should have had more time. I’d never viewed Time as the enemy, but I now did. It took everything I had not to force my bond on Wendall. He’d hate me for it, but maybe it would still work, and that would be worth all the animosity in the world.

Holding his failing body, I knew he was too far gone. There was too little left for my bond to adhere to. Within a matter of minutes, Wendall would be gone, and I’d be left alone. Funny, I’d been alone for centuries. It never occurred to me that would be an undesirable state. Now, nothing sounded worse.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

I barely heard Matilda, and her words were so nonsensical that I dismissed them.

Vander didn’t. “What do you mean?”

Wendall’s pale blue eyes grew distant and faded. The barely there grin teasing his cracked lips lessened until they were little more than a peeling line slashed across his face.

Matilda’s voice grew in volume. “Aurelia’s restriction, it doesn’t have to be one.”

My head snapped up, gaze zeroing in on the witch as I said, “Explain.”

Licking her lips, Matilda’s gaze flicked around wildly. “Aurelia’s restrictions are breakable. I can show Vander the threads of magic, and he can break them.”

Lucroy’s gaze lowered to Wendall as he asked, “I do not believe we have enough time for that. Earlier, you said it would take a year, maybe more.”

Matilda furiously shook her head. “That was for the spells binding her to the amphora, but—”

“Her restrictions are more superficial,” Vander finished, excitement filling him. “Fuck, you’re right.” To the rest of us, he said, “Think of it like an onion. The restrictions binding Aurelia to the amphora are at the very center. Mattie and I’d have to get through all the other layers to get to that one, but her restrictions are something different. They’re the outermost layer. It’ll take, what…two, maybe three minutes to break through that?”

“Give or take,” Matilda easily agreed.

Gripping the amphora tight, I thought of asking Wendall. I thought I needed his permission for this, but when I gazed back down, his eyelids were closed. My hearts thudded and skipped at least two beats.

“He’s still there,” a breathless Muriel said as she sped into the room, dropping to her knees beside Wendall’s too-still body. “Oh, sugar. What did that man do to you?” She swiped her fingers under her dripping eyes. “I felt the drain but couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it. And then my magic slammed back into me, and I knew…I was already on my way here when Johnny called.”

Wendall was beyond giving consent. “Muriel?” I questioned, and thankfully, the priestess knew what I was asking.

“For what it’s worth, I’ll take responsibility. As long as Aurelia can bring Wendall back—soul and personality intact—I say let’s do it.”

It wasn’t the same as what I’d asked. Wendall wouldn’t need my bond. He wouldn’t feel as though he’d stolen my future. Wendall didn’t understand that his permanent death was what would steal my future.

“Do it,” I said. “Do it now before it is too late.”

“On it,” Vander assured.

I didn’t glance up to see what they were doing. I could feel the magical manipulation, but that was all. I wasn’t a witch or warlock. I was as useless as ever. Aurelia didn’t say a word. Matilda and Vander spoke with each other. I heard Matilda guide Vander to the specific strands forming this restriction. I should have asked Matilda if she could reform it afterward. That should have been important, but I couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Muriel, is he still…?”

There was no way to tell. Even when conscious, Wendall didn’t need to breathe. There was no pulse to go by. His skin slipped from his body each time I shifted his weight. I stopped doing so when I got his head on my lap.

“Barely. I’ve added a bit of magic. I think it’ll hold his soul inside for a little longer, but not much. We need to hurry.”

Muriel took in a surprised gasp, and I barely kept from jerking when Vander broke through Aurelia’s restriction. They’d only dismantled one, and the release of magical energy was enormous.

“Done,” Vander and Matilda triumphantly said in unison.

Gripping Aurelia’s amphora, I wasted no further time. “Aurelia, I wish for you to bring Wendall Galen back from the dead—body, soul, and personality intact.”

“Gladly,” Aurelia answered.

She didn’t need to move closer for her magic to work. It flowed into Wendall’s body. Flesh reformed before my very eyes. It was like watching a time-lapse video. New skin formed, covering the necrotic areas and healing from the inside out. His fallen hair grew out, replacing what had been lost. His lips plumped, and his skin pinked. Hand on his chest, I felt the moment Wendall’s heart beat. Its first two attempts were stuttered and hesitant, but it soon formed a steady rhythm, and within seconds, Wendall tilted his head back and took a gasping breath. That first was followed by a second and then a third, each one steadying and evening out.

Trinket hopped up and down, twittering madly. Her tail flipped wildly around her body, and she tapped her feet with joy.

Blinking, Wendall’s eyelids fluttered open, revealing his stunningly beautiful pale blue eyes. Only now, when I looked a little closer, that blue shifted like an ocean tide. Wendall groaned and tilted his head, revealing a slightly tipped ear. The point wasn’t as sharp and pronounced as a typical fairy, but it wasn’t human-round either.

When I glanced up at Aurelia, she shrugged. “You did not specify a human body, so I took some liberties and enhanced his fairy heritage. This should extend Wendall’s natural life span. I believe he will also be capable of producing his own fairy bond, although I cannot be certain. Consider it a gift of thanks.”

“R-Ray?” I’d never heard anything so beautiful as the sound of Wendall’s timid, unsure voice. “What…what happened? I—” Wendall inhaled and grasped the fabric covering his chest. Eyes wide, he inhaled again and again. “I… My heart. It’s beating. I can feel it.” An unsteady smile tugged his lips, and tears filled his eyes, dripping down his face. Wendall touched the wetness and stared disbelievingly at his damp fingers. “Tears.” Awe filled his voice. “I can make tears.”

“Never seen somebody that happy about crying,” Muriel said, her own tears running down her cheeks.

Wendall sat up, and Trinket leaped into his arms, cooing and rubbing against his face.

“Hey, sweetie.” Wendall laughed when Trinket’s fur tickled his nose.

“Wendall!” Peaches launched forward, falling to his knees and hugging Wendall and Trinket to his chest. Golden pixie dust filled the air, and I covered my nose. “Goddess, we all thought we’d lost you and…and that was completely unacceptable. Don’t you ever scare us like that again.”

“Peaches.” Lucroy’s smooth, cool voice pulled his beloved away.

“I know, but I’m just so happy Aurelia was able to bring him back. And look at him.” Peaches grinned, wide and happy. “All alive and everything.” Smacking Wendall on the shoulder, Peaches flew back up and snuggled into Lucroy’s side.

Reaching out a hand, I offered my assistance, and Wendall eagerly twined his fingers with mine. Standing, I brought Wendall up with me. “Ray,” he breathlessly said. “What happened? I… Peaches is right. I’m alive, like, well and truly alive. I’m not a…”

“Zombie,” Muriel finished. “No, sugar, you’re not mine anymore, and I’ve never been so happy to say that.”

When Wendall’s big eyes blinked up at me, I gave him a rundown of what happened, and his mouth clipped open with shocked surprise. When I finished, I said, “I hope you are not angry. I would have asked your permission, but you were too far gone by that point.”

“And if you are angry, then you can blame me,” Muriel verbally stepped in. “Ray asked me, and I’m the one who gave final permission.”

“Not angry,” Wendall said. “My heart’s pounding within my chest, my cheeks feel flushed, and if I hold my breath too long, I become lightheaded. I’m about as far from angry as possible.” He stared at his pink-tinged nails. Blood circulated again, and his body hummed with life. Wendall’s hair flopped in his face, and when he went to tuck it behind an ear, he pulled up short. “What—”

“Aurelia brought a little more of your fairy blood into play,” I answered. “Just in case you’re curious, the changes are subtle but most appealing.”

Wendall’s cheeks pinked.

I skimmed my fingers down Wendall’s cheek, and something calm settled in his eyes. “Most appealing,” I repeated in a hushed whisper.

“You were always beautiful,” Parsnip hurried to say. “Zombie or more…alive.” Knowing his history, I understood Parsnip’s thoughts.

“Thank you, Parsnip,” Wendall said.

Vander planted a tender kiss on Parsnip’s cheek. “How did I get so damn lucky?”

Now Wendall wasn’t the only one blushing. Parsnip tried to say a word or two but stumbled too many times and finally gave up.

“Holy shit!” Johnny pushed through the crowd and grabbed Wendall tight, spinning him around.

Peals of joyful laughter filled the room. When he set Wendall back down, Johnny held him at arm’s length. Trinket had thankfully wrapped her tail around Wendall’s arm and had somehow managed to hold on. “Don’t even think about leaving me high and dry now that you’re back in the land of the living. You’re one of the best damn employees Lucroy’s ever hired.”

“I’m here as long as you want me. I might want to go back to college someday, but I think I’ll start with online courses first.”

Despite what happened with Stover, I wasn’t the least bit surprised Wendall wanted to go back to school.

“Fair enough.” Johnny slapped Wendall hard on the shoulder. “I think we can figure something out.” His gaze swiveled to the Stover’s body, and Johnny’s nose scrunched in distaste. “Muriel, I don’t suppose you could do something with that.”

“Oh, I’ve got plans for him.” Muriel clapped her hands together, maniacally rubbing them. “Don’t you worry. The carcass will be gone within the hour,” Muriel promised.

I didn’t question what she planned to do with that carcass but suspected I’d see Arthur Stover again, picking through the dead remains of the most recent roadkill.

“Wow,” Wendall said, his wide eyes mimicking his surprised tone. “Looking at his dead body doesn’t make me hungry at all. In fact, it churns my stomach.”

Muriel chuckled softly.

Wendall’s cheeks turned an even deeper shade of embarrassed crimson.

“If none of you need Peaches and me further, I need to get him back to his orchard.” When Peaches started to protest, Lucroy gave him a stern look, and Peaches deflated. “You know I’m right.”

A reluctant nod was Peaches’s only form of agreement.

“Before you leave, I would like to ask the two of you to guard this.” I held out Aurelia’s amphora to Peaches.

Eyes wide, Peaches’s wings thrummed to life, lifting him off the ground so that he was staring down at Aurelia’s object of attachment.

“Us? Why?” Peaches’s gaze swam through the room, finally landing on Aurelia. “If any of us keeps it, I think it should be Wendall.”

As I’d predicted, Wendall didn’t want the responsibility and shook his head. “I don’t want it.”

Attention on Peaches, I said, “It is safest with you. I can think of no better, safer place than your orchard. As Lucroy’s beloved, you share his long life. That, combined with your bond with the land, will help safeguard Aurelia’s object of attachment. I can think of no better keeper than a pixie and a bonded one on top of that.”

Peaches still didn’t reach for the amphora. “Phil would be a better choice. He’s bonded to Sedrick’s house. No one is getting in that he doesn’t approve of.”

“Phil would be a good choice,” I agreed. “However, two young werewolf children live in that house, and Phil’s life span will not outlast yours. It is best to keep the amphora somewhere safe for as long as possible.”

Peaches wings drooped when I spoke of Phil’s lessened life span when compared to his own.

Instead of looking to Lucroy for his thoughts, Peaches addressed Aurelia. “Are you comfortable with that decision? It’s your life. I want to respect your wishes.”

The hard planes of Aurelia’s face eased. I’d never seen her so relaxed. “I do not believe anyone has said that to me before.”

“Well, they should have,” Peaches assuredly stated.

“Be that as it may, they have not. As to your question, I agree with the fairy. Consider me in your care.”

I reached for Peaches’s hand and dropped the amphora into his waiting palm. Peaches stared down at it as if it were precious. In a way, it was.

“I promise to take good care of you. You said you wanted to rest, and I’ll abide by that. I can’t one hundred percent guarantee I will never call on you for your help, but know that if I do, it will be because of a dire situation. I will never wish you to do something that makes you uncomfortable.”

Aurelia’s eyes slipped closed, and she released a deep breath before saying, “I’d like to sleep now.”

Softly smiling, Peaches said, “Aurelia, I wish you to sleep. Rest peacefully until you’re needed again.”

With a relieved sigh, Aurelia tilted her head back as her body slowly went from solid to mist. The same Caribbean blue of her eyes, Aurelia’s misty form swirled in the air before coalescing and filtering into the amphora resting within Peaches’s palm.

Silence filled the room. It was finally over, and the outcome was better than anything I expected. Aurelia had taken Wendall’s life, but she’d returned it too, and if I had to guess, I’d say what she returned was better than what she’d taken.

“I’ll keep it safe,” Peaches promised as Lucroy shuttled him toward the exit. “I promise,” he added as they headed out the door.

“It’s a good choice,” Parsnip said. “Phil would have been a good one too, but I understand Ray’s reasoning.”

“What about you?” Vander asked.

Parsnip shook his head. “Too much temptation.”

“Probably right,” Vander agreed. “You ready to head out? I’m sure Byx is chomping at the bit with worry.”

“I sent her a text letting her know we came through okay, but you’re right. She’ll want to see us as soon as possible.” Parsnip flew up and pecked Vander on the lips. It was a tame show of affection. Grabbing Vander’s wrist, Parsnip flew toward the exit. “Nice to see you all again. I’d say let’s do it again soon, but I’d be lying.” He blew all of us a dramatic kiss while still tugging on Vander.

“See you, Mattie,” Vander waved over his shoulder, eagerly following Parsnip’s lead.

“I believe that’s my cue to leave as well,” Mattie said, sounding even more exhausted than before. “I need to update my coven. The Magical Usage Council will want to know what happened as well. I won’t speak a word regarding where Aurelia’s amphora is located. I think the fewer who know, the safer Peaches and Lucroy will be.”

“Agreed,” I easily answered. “Thank you for your assistance today, Matilda. I do not like to think where we would all be if you had not agreed to offer your services.”

Mattie waved me off. “It’s as you said. As a witch, Aurelia was my responsibility. All djinns are. I’m pleased things worked out the way they did. I believe we were all very fortunate today. If that is the only djinn I ever meet, I will consider myself fortunate.”

“As will I,” I agreed again.

“Wendall.” Mattie wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tight. “I’m so happy you’re still here with us. Losing you would have been a true shame. The world is definitely a better place with you in it.” Releasing Wendall, Mattie nodded Muriel’s way and said, “I’ll see you later, Muriel.”

They waved to each other before Mattie left our diminished group. I was considering pulling Wendall in closer when a shimmering light slit the atmosphere.

The scent of flowers preceded Queen Silvidia’s entrance.

“Oh, Wendall.” She said his name like a prayer. “How wondrous you are.”

A spike of undesired jealousy sliced between my hearts. Wendall was wondrous, but he was mine to cherish that way. Regardless, I did not think it wise to question the Queen of Fairy. I did not think that was wise at all.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Wendall

“My queen, you should not have come. It is not safe.” Ray bowed.

At some point, I’d taken hold of Ray’s hand and had no intention of letting it go. My gaze flashed to Professor Stover’s deceased body, and a chill ran down my spine. I agreed with Ray. A few minutes earlier and Queen Silvidia could have been caught in his web. Through Aurelia, Professor Stover would have drained Queen Silvidia of her magic. I had no idea what that would do to Fairy but couldn’t imagine the outcome as positive.

“Nonsense.” She waved Ray off and took a step forward. Queen Silvidia’s gossamer gown flowed around her, pooling on the floor. The edge of her dress dragged along the blood pooling around Professor Stover’s torn-out neck. The material soaked it up and transformed the entire dress crimson.

“Hamish informed me what happened. The danger is past, and my nephew has been restored.” Queen Silvidia closed the distance and cupped my face within her palms. “I can see him in your eyes,” she said, voice heavy. “Hanan had lovely eyes that rolled with the ocean currents. Hamish told me you’d been remade, this time, a little heavier on the fairy blood.” Queen Silvidia winked, and my body slouched within her grasp. She had the prettiest eyes. They drew me in, and I couldn’t remember why I’d been upset earlier. Everything was so peaceful, so clear and—

Pain radiated through my hand as Ray squeezed tight. I jerked. My gaze finally pulled from my aunt’s mesmerizing eyes. Queen Silvidia’s laughter filled the bar as she released my raised chin.

“Thank you, Hellfire. Sometimes I forget.” I wasn’t completely sure that was true, but I didn’t know my aunt well enough to say for certain.

At a loss for words, I stared, mouth slightly open as Queen Silvidia shifted her attention to Muriel.

“Priestess.” Queen Silvidia tilted her head. I think it was a show of deference and appreciation. Ray’s hushed gasp gave me the feeling that it wasn’t something my aunt did often. “You have my undying gratitude. Were it not for you and your skills, I would have lost Wendall before I knew I even had him. Hanan’s bloodline would have come to an end, and should I have ever learned of his existence, I would have been devastated.”

“I…” Muriel threw me an uneasy glance before she pulled herself together and said, “The pleasure was mine. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t owe me a thing. Knowing Wendall has been payment enough.”

“How sweetly naïve,” Queen Silvidia chided. “The young are always so precious.”

I didn’t think the belittlement was intentional.

Muriel’s cocked eyebrow and pinched lips told me she was just as confused. Muriel remained silent, keeping her thoughts to herself. Despite her youth, it was a wise decision.

With her thanks given, Queen Silvidia dismissed Muriel and moved her attention back to me, or more precisely, Trinket. “Come here, you darling girl.”

Trinket scampered down my arm and into Queen Silvidia’s outstretched ones. “Hamish told me what you did. What a magnificent creature you are.”

Trinket preened, cooing and rubbing her furred head against Queen Silvidia’s now crimson dress.

“Go on,” she prompted. “Go back to Wendall.”

With hardly a look back, Trinket did as told, planting herself on my shoulder.

Hands clasped in front of her, Queen Silvidia took Ray and me in, her gaze straying and fixating on our entwined hands.

“The djinn did a great service,” she said. “I can feel Wendall’s fairy bond. It is quieter than most but still present. Now, when the two of you bond, it can be as equals.”

Ray tried to release my hand, but I wouldn’t allow it and squeezed down tight. Ray sounded unsure when he answered, “Wendall and I haven’t had time to discuss it. I…I am unsure if that will be the outcome.”

I appreciated that he didn’t want to speak for me.

“As for myself,” Ray continued, “I truly desired the bond when Wendall was a zombie, and his rebirth has not changed my desire.”

An indistinct sound echoed up from deep within my chest. My heart pounded, thudding heavily and sparking welcome discomfort. I wanted to say something, but every word that came to mind seemed insufficient.

The sweetest smile curved Queen Silvidia’s lips. With her head tilted to the side, her white hair haphazardly shifted over her shoulder. A row of blood-red roses bloomed along the line, trailing down and blending in with her dress. Running her fingers through a length of Ray’s crimson hair, my aunt lovingly said, “Seers are called that for a reason, Hellfire.”

“Seers?” Ray sounded as confused as I felt. “I do not see what that has to do with the current situation.”

“Mm-hmm.” Queen Silvidia’s gaze grew distant. “There is no reason you should.” She gave another indulgent smile. “It wasn’t me the seer came to, but Hanan. It was shortly after you came to court. Hanan told me one of our seers came to him and told him of a vision she’d had involving you.”

Ray shifted and pulled me a little closer. I went easily and laid a hand along the length of Ray’s abdomen. I didn’t know anything about seers and asked, “Are we talking about what I think we are?”

Ray’s nod was hesitant. “Seers are…dangerous. Their visions don’t always come true, at least not in the way one expects. Visions are often shrouded and cryptic. Being a fairy seer is considered more of a curse than a blessing.”

That sounded ominous.

“Hellfire is correct. As with most visions, this one was confusing. It was centuries ago, long before it was necessary for us to intervene in human affairs. You can imagine Hanan’s confusion when the seer told him that she saw one that was of his lineage—more human than fairy—bonded to you.” Queen Silvidia smiled sadly. “Not long after, Hanan was killed. At the time, no one knew he’d sired a child. Visions are one of multiple possibilities, and I’d thought this one was doomed when Hanan died. Centuries passed, and Hellfire did not give his bond away. That only solidified my impression that the one that had been meant for him was destined never to be born.”

With a beatifically mischievous smile, Queen Silvidia said, “Do you truly believe I would have asked Hellfire to give his bond away, to commit himself to a life with one he had no knowledge of, for my own selfish reasons?”

“Wendall is the last of Prince Hanan’s line. It was not a selfish request,” Ray quickly answered.

“It was a little selfish.” My voice was barely audible and held more than a hint of reprimand.

Queen Silvidia gave me an indulgent smile. “I was not privy to the seer’s full vision but was hopeful. I am pleased that hope was not misplaced.” Pulling me into her arms, my fingers finally twisted away from Ray. The loss left my skin cold and barren. “I hope to see you in Fairy soon. But for now, I will leave you to your life. Take care of Hellfire for me. He has been loyal to a fault, and I fear I’ve asked more of him than any queen has a right.”

“Happily,” I easily answered, my cheeks flushing.

Queen Silvidia released me and laid a hand on my chest. “One heart, not two, but that one heart is worth a thousand.” Leaning in, she kissed my forehead. “Be well and call on me if needed. I am always at your service.”

A vertical tear appeared, and Queen Silvidia walked through the rift. It closed behind her, leaving dead silence in her wake.

“Well, that was…intense,” Muriel said. “In all my years, I never thought I’d meet the fairy queen.” With a headshake, she pulled out her phone and got down to the business of planning Professor Stover’s removal.

“I can’t decide if she’s sweet or devious.” My gaze was fixed on the spot Queen Silvidia exited.

“She is both and so much more. Do not try to contain her within an ideological box. It is impossible,” Ray said with a matter-of-fact tone. “Above all, Queen Silvidia stands by her word. Should you need her, she will come.”

I twisted my hands this way and that. “I can’t believe this is my life. My very much alive life. How did I get this incredibly lucky?”

Ray’s gaze seemed stuck on where my aunt had been standing. “I doubt luck had a lot to do with it, but at the same time, I gave up hope of defining how the universe works long ago. Was your fate predestined? Was mine? Millennia ago, we were in a random vision. But if there is one thing fairies learn regarding visions, it’s that few come to fruition. They are too temperamental to trust.”

Raising my head, I gazed up at Ray. I’d never trusted anyone as much as I did him. Grabbing his hand, I rested his palm on my chest. The gentle thrum of my beating heart was steady, and I hoped it soothed him as much as it did me. With a cheeky grin, I said, “Looks like my blood is flowing again.”

“That it does,” Ray easily agreed. The smug grin teasing his lips hinted he liked where this conversation was going.

“That brings up a lot of possibilities,” I teased. With a wide grin, I went up on tiptoes and pulled Ray’s face toward mine. Licking my lips, I said, “You know, I think I’d like to try kissing you again. I think it might feel a little different now that I’m alive again.”

“Perhaps we should do an experiment.” Ray’s voice was close to a purr as he leaned down.

“Perhaps we should do a lot of experimenting—oh.” My words turned into gentle hums of pleasure as our lips met.

I hadn’t kissed a lot of lips over my short life. Regardless, I was certain no others would taste as divine or be as addicting. There would never be another set I’d want to touch. Whether Ray and I eventually agreed to share our bond or not, there would be no other. It seemed like a bold thought, yet it wasn’t foolish. Some things were simply known, and my devotion to the fairy flicking his tongue in and out of my mouth was one of them.

“This is nice,” Ray softly said, and I couldn’t begin to find it in myself to disagree. We’d been lying in my bed for the better part of two hours. I’d fallen in and out of slumber at least twice. When I’d apologized, Ray just ran his fingers through my hair and told me I was as enchanting asleep as awake. My face felt like I had a sunburn, and I’d twisted my head and burrowed into my pillow.

“Just nice?” I gently teased. My smaller body fit perfectly within the curve of Ray’s larger one. His arm was draped over my hip, and Ray’s fingers traced nonsensical patterns along my skin. Each pass of his fingernail sent fresh shivers of pleasure fracturing across my very alive flesh.

“It’s perfection,” Ray answered with a sigh.

Snuggled up to the crown of my head, Trinket lay there like a fuzzy hat. She rolled onto her back, exposing rarely seen feet and short, yet agile, legs. Her tail lazily swayed this way and that, and a constant rumbling coo of contentment played as soothing background music.

We’d retreated to my apartment while Muriel’s zombies cleaned up what was left of the not-so-dearly departed Professor Arthur Stover. I didn’t want to stay and watch. It was too soon. Maybe it would always be too soon.

Shyness consumed me when we first walked through the door. Ray was having none of it. While we had what now equated to an eternity to explore each other, Ray had seemed desperate to touch me. We sat on my love seat, making out like teenaged humans. Our light pawing and exploration had quickly led to heavier petting. I felt fully acquainted with Ray’s lips, tongue, and mouth. My heart eagerly embraced life and beat like a champion. It thrummed comfortably within my chest, moving blood around my body, much of which happily headed south, plumping my cock.

I’d practically leaped into Ray’s lap when he palmed my responsive dick. Embarrassment tried to consume my joy, but I didn’t let it and slammed my mouth back on Ray’s. Ray was just as hard, if not harder, than me. Neither of us indulged our desires to their final outcome. That level of pleasure could wait. We were exhausted. We both needed rest and…time. The possibilities were too new. My new life wasn’t solely human-based. Aurelia had increased my fairy blood, and neither Ray nor I knew what that meant, if anything.

Physically, I was subtly different. My ears were finely tipped, my eyes swirled like a calm, rolling ocean, and my highlighted hair had new color variants. Aurelia said I’d live longer than a human, but did that mean my life span would be the equivalent of a fairy? Would I heal as quickly as Ray did? Queen Silvidia said she could feel a fairy soul bond within me, although it was quieter than a typical fairy. I wasn’t sure what that should feel like and needed time to explore my new existence and understand what that meant for my future.

“You’re thinking very hard, Wendall.” Ray’s tone remained soft. “Would you care to share?”

Would I? It was odd to have someone I felt comfortable talking with. “I was just wondering about the new and improved me. I’m not sure what to expect. I don’t think my wants have changed much. My needs will surely be different.” My sigh was light with relief. “Certainly, my dietary needs have…expanded.”

“Indeed. I doubt you’ll currently find anything in your refrigerator appealing.”

“Eww…no. Trinket will still like it, I’m sure.” I reached up and ran my fingers through Trinket’s fur. She cooed a little louder but didn’t truly wake.

“And those wants? You said they haven’t changed much.” Ray was fishing, but I didn’t mind.

“Oh, those wants are still very present. Fortunately, now I can fully explore what that means.” Turning, I faced Ray.

His tender smile and brilliant eyes tugged at my beating heart. I slid my hand up, resting my palm on the side of Ray’s smooth cheek. The position was intimately soothing. Working my way up, I traced a line from his cheek to Ray’s eyebrow, lowering my fingers again until they slipped along his lips. The pad of my finger slid across that plump surface before I lowered my hand and tangled my fingers in Ray’s crimson hair.

“You have the softest, prettiest hair I’ve ever seen. I want to drape it over my naked body and roll around in it.” My cheeks flushed with the admission. “I know that might sound creepy, but—”

“From anyone else’s lips but not yours.”

“Good.” The grin slipped from my lips as fear slipped in. “Promise me I’m not going to lose you now.” I sucked on my bottom lip. “I know that’s not fair of me to ask, but I’m asking anyway.” I swallowed hard. “You don’t have to stay with me now. You don’t have to keep trying to convince me to accept your bond. You…you can go anywhere and do anything or anyone you want. I don’t have much to offer you. I’m currently living rent-free in a tiny one-bedroom apartment above a bar. I’ve got a scuttlebutt, a fridge full of brains and bits of flesh, and I’m just a helper at Dusk. I have no idea what my future looks like or where I’m going. I…” My words trailed off, and my eyes slipped closed.

With his fingers on my chin, Ray tilted my face and ordered, “Look at me.”

Slowly, I did as asked.

Ray’s crimson-ringed eyes danced with low-banked fire. “I’m not going anywhere. There is only one criterion dictating where I wish to be, and that is your presence. I need nothing else. It is I who worry that you will tire of me. You have a thousand and one opportunities before you. I’m old, Wendall. Some days, those years are heavier than others. When I’m with you, the past is but a whisper on the wind. I have not looked this forward to the future in countless centuries. I will be by your side until you demand Queen Silvidia remove me.”

My grin returned with a vengeance. “You really mean that. Don’t you?”

“With everything I am.” Ray sounded so certain. “One day, I hope to share my bond with you just as I hope you’ll give yours to me. Finally, time is no longer against us. There is no need to rush.”

I didn’t feel the need to lay claim to Ray, at least not right this second. He was mine just as I was his. There was no clawing, desperate need. There was simply the gentle knowledge that it would eventually be. I was as certain of that as anything. It was a peaceful thought and settled my heart.

“Sleep,” Ray said, keeping his voice low. “I will be here when you wake. If you’ll allow, I will be the last face you see when you close your eyes and the first you see upon opening them.”

I shifted closer and threw my leg over Ray’s, entwining our calves. “Muriel told me she wasn’t sure if fairies could fall in love.”

“I assure you, they can and do. You need look no further than the fairy lying in your bed. Now, rest. Your body is exhausted, and the naps you’ve taken aren’t enough. As I said, I’ll be here when you wake.”

I tenderly ran my fingers across Ray’s cheek. “I love you, Ray. Now and always. My bond already belongs to you. You have but to claim it.” Leaning in, our lips found each other again. Plush and soft, Ray poured his love into that kiss, and I felt it tickle my soul bond.

Pulling away, I laid my head on my pillow but kept our foreheads touching. Our breath mingled, and my heart slowed into an even rhythm. I fell asleep to that sound, its warm lullaby pulling me under with pleasantly curious taunts of the future.

When Ray and I did share our bonds, it would be little more than a formality. We were already connected. My imperfectly reanimated life into a zombie paved the way to the awaiting, fantastical future. I had no idea what my human-fairy body had in store for me. I only knew that the fairy lying in my bed would be integral to it. Ray said he’d never leave me, and I believed him. What he’d soon learn was that went both ways. I was just as smitten with my fairy as he was with me.

Love was a fickle mistress. I’d been fortunate she’d chosen to stop and knock on my door. I’d been even more fortunate I’d chosen to open it and allow love in.

Epilogue

I needed another whiskey but couldn’t be bothered to get up to get one. My mind wouldn’t stop turning.

Djinn.

They still existed, and the possibilities were beautifully endless.

Finishing off what was left in my glass, I set it back on the arm of my chair. My office was my sanctuary. No wolf—beta or otherwise—would dare enter without prior permission. It was a hard and fast rule that only the most foolish or naïve broke. And those who did never repeated that mistake.

The fire dwindled to little more than sputtering flames and cinders. I didn’t need the warmth. Werewolves ran hot enough, but I still found the crackling flame soothing. It helped me think, and right now, I needed that mental stability.

“I need more money,” I said. The walls didn’t answer back. I didn’t expect them to. “Cash is the key.” Or, more to the point, cold, hard cash was the means to get what I wanted. And what I wanted was revenge.

Sweet, savage, deadly retribution.

A low growl slipped through my lips. Before Sedrick Voss and his pixie mate, no one had beaten me. That defeat opened an unwelcome door. My pack had yet to offer an official challenge, but as time progressed, it wouldn’t be long before some randy upstart thought they could best me. I didn’t doubt the outcome of such a challenge, but they were tedious and consumed precious time. They undermined my overall authority and fostered doubt. I didn’t have the patience for either.

Twirling my empty glass, I thought over my possibilities. Cash flow was less of a problem now than it once was. Who knew ogres would pay so much for a pixie? I’d known they became easily addicted to that damn dust, but I hadn’t known just what lengths they’d go to feed that addiction. Trafficking the pixies wasn’t exactly easy, but the group I’d helped bring together was capable, discrete, and most of all…greedy. It was a lucrative business, and right now, I needed all the extra funding I could get.

My beta, Johann, finally found a warlock that might be able to break a pixie bond, but he wasn’t promising anything and was demanding a shit-ton of cash to try it. He’d also said it would take time. Possibly years.

Another growl filled the room, this one louder than the last. I didn’t want it to take time. I wanted that damn bond broken yesterday. I wanted Phil to hurt, and I wanted Sedrick there watching every second of every minute Phil suffered until he’d wasted away to nothing and his heart beat its last.

Dillon and Ruthie were mine. I’d murdered my own damn daughter to get them, and Sedrick Voss had swooped in and stolen them out from under me. If it hadn’t been for Phil…

My claws broke free and cut into my chair’s worn leather. They wouldn’t be the first claw marks, and they wouldn’t be the last.

Eyes closed, I concentrated on the crackle of the dying fire, allowing it to clear my head and focus my thoughts.

“A djinn,” I said with reverence.

A wicked smile pulled my lips. I’d heard about that idiotic human, Stover’s, death. The djinn he controlled was no longer his. I wasn’t certain where she’d wound up, but I could bet they’d either taken her object of attachment to Fairy or given it to Peaches or Phil for safekeeping. They’d squander her away inside their protective barrier and keep anyone else from playing with the delectably powerful creature.

That djinn was currently beyond my reach, but where there was one djinn, there were others. The key was finding them, and that’s where cash was king. It was amazing all the impossible things one could find when payment was limitless.

Somewhere, out there in the world, was a djinn waiting to be found and unleashed. And I was just the alpha werewolf to hold its leash.

The world needed to become reacquainted with the fact that no one dismissed Alpha Arie Belview.

No one.

Like What You’ve Read?

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Available and Coming Works by MJ May

The Reaping Covetous Series:

Sow What You Reap: Reaping Covetous I

Dead Women Tell Tales: Reaping Covetous II

Dying to Reap You: Reaping Covetous III

Brother’s Keeper, Brother’s Reaper: Reaping Covetous IV

Ashes to Ashes: Reaping Covetous V

Pushing Up Roses: Reaping Covetous VI

Reaping Consequences: Reaping Covetous VII—End

M/M Fantasy Romance: Perfect Pixie Series

Perfectly Imperfect Pixie

Perfectly Perfect Pixie: Peaches’s Story

Perfectly Charmed Pixie: Parsnip’s Story

Perfectly Perplexing Zombie: Wendall’s Story

Book Five coming in 2024

M/M Mystery Romance: Maverick Insurance Mysteries

No Good Deed

Goes Unpunished

Book Three coming in winter/spring 2024

Acknowledgments

I’m not sure if it takes a village to make a writer, but I believe it takes a village to make a writer’s books more enjoyable. My village consists of friends, coworkers, editors and proofreaders, and two- and four-legged family.

I am thankful that I stumbled upon Michelle Rascon. Michelle gets the first crack at editing my books, and she has always offered constructive criticism along with praise. She continues to open my eyes to glaring mistakes, and I learn new things with every book I write. Hannah VanVels Ausbury proofread and polished my writing into something infinitely more enjoyable to read. I don’t believe I can ever thank them enough for all their hard work.

The book cover for Perfectly Perplexing Zombie was done by cheriefox. As always, Cherie did a great job and made the cover beautiful.

Longtime friends can be hard to come by and, in my case, are exceedingly rare. I will be forever grateful that Kathy and I sat down across from each other almost thirty years ago. Biology lab wouldn’t have been half as fun without her, and my life would have been infinitely duller had either of us picked a different seat or table. Thank you for reading my raw writing, even when the genre isn’t one you would usually pick.

My furry, four-legged family is my sanity, heart, and home. I have no idea how people live without pets; I only know that I would simply be existing, not living, without mine. Newton and Fennik are my compasses. They humble me, remind me the world isn’t always as fucked up as it seems, and give me a smattering of hope the human race can do better. Or at the very least, that the human race needs to do better.

Author Bio

MJ May lives in the Midwest with her cat, Newton, and dog, Fennik. She is passionate about her furry children, the wild birds eating her out of house and home, and her garden. MJ May is a firm believer that changing the sheets on your bed with a housecat involved should be an Olympic event. Scores should be based on speed, accuracy, creative cursing, and how many times you have to toss a cat off the bed.

Connect with MJ May at her website: https://blogawaywithmjmay.com.