“Thanks.” I peered at him as he blinked blankly in my direction.
“Have you ever eaten here before?” I asked.
“I work all day at the flea market and then do a night shift elsewhere. I don’t make time for candlelight dinners.”
And I thought
I
was a loner.
Matt returned and brought us the bottle of wine. Quinton offered to pour me some, but I declined.
“I had some meds this evening and it wouldn’t go well with it.” Speaking of meds, I actually felt less anxious for once, which was strange, since by now I should’ve gone into a full-blown panic attack over the prospects of something outside my usual routine. No TV dinner while I watched my regularly scheduled programming.
My metabolism was so quick, drugs usually hit me fast, so I’d expected the worst. But other than a strong urge to line up my silverware, I felt like I’d made positive progress this evening.
“Your invitation to dinner surprised me.”
I glanced up to see him take a sip of his wine. Time to make conversation. “As coworkers, we don’t get a chance to talk much at work. Either I’m helping the customers at the register or you’re doing the beast-of-burden thing in the back.”
I cringed inwardly after I said “beast of burden.” I was definitely out of practice on this dating thing. Perhaps my next stab at small talk should involve speculating on the weird ingredients whose scent emanated from
his car? I knew he wasn’t running a meth lab, but the guy carried around enough embalming fluid to mummify half the township.
“I don’t get out much.” He leaned forward and tried to smile. His toothy grin had a rather maniacal appearance. “From the way you’re always working behind the counter it seems like you needed the dinner too.”
“Do I look that busy?”
“Unfortunately, you do. You’re always on time to work, and when Bill needs you to stay late you never argue. Well, if you argue I never see it.”
I nodded at the appropriate times while he talked about his life in South Toms River. He’d moved here a few years ago from Iowa to settle down closer to the sea. He’d hoped to refine his craft before starting a family to continue his legacy. It didn’t take long for me to realize I wasn’t attracted to him.
I tried to steer the conversation away from fornication and families with the first thing that came to mind. “Did you know Bill’s so old he tanned leather during the Dark Ages?”
He was about to answer when we had unexpected company. Now, most folks expect their waiter to show up to check on them, but I noticed something different about the guy carrying our food. Not only did he have hanging flesh and caved-in eyes, he also had the distinct scent of the undead.
Quinton turned to see what I’d frowned about. “Oh, shit.”
I hadn’t expected to hear him curse. But who wouldn’t when one of the undead you’d conjured showed up to serve you dinner—in your waiter’s uniform.
“Where is the boy?” Quinton’s face turned sour. His voice took on a musical nuance and flowed through my body from my toes to my fingertips.
“I am yours and serve only you, Master. Your waiter was unworthy.”
Now I knew why I didn’t date. If Aggie were here right now, I believe “I told you so” would be her eloquent words.
I squirmed uncomfortably in the seat as a worm dropped out of the zombie’s sleeve. I planned to leave the
former
waiter a large tip. If he had a pulse, that is.
“Leave the food on the table. Once I have excused you, you’ll return the uniform to the original owner. You have disobeyed me and henceforth will suffer the consequences.”
When the food was placed in front of me, I knew I wouldn’t touch it no matter how much the hungry wolf wanted to eat. I’d been served by a guy whose rotting limbs were bound together by duct tape and magic. Who knows what germ-laden microscopic body parts had fallen into my lasagna?
“I think I should call it a night,” I murmured.
“Don’t worry about Neil. It was an honest mistake.” Quinton waved his hand as if everyone had a zombie show up with their dinner once in a while.
“I thought I was hungry, but, well, the smell kind of killed my appetite.”
“What smell? I use only natural ingredients when I conjure the dead. He should smell of rosemary and myrrh.”
Rosemary and myrrh, my ass. He smelled like my brother’s shoes on a bad day. To my werewolf nose, it was no different than if I’d jammed my nose into a funky armpit.
I placed my napkin next to the plate of bubbling lasagna. The aroma drifted to my nose, but I couldn’t think as I watched Neil stand there obediently before his master. With these kinds of incidents going on, how the hell did necromancers ever hook up?
I imagined two necromancers trying to get it on, with
their undead minions standing by with a condom. I shoved the intruding thought away and said, “I’ve lost my appetite and I think I should head home.”
“Look, you really don’t need to go.”
Neil left his post to block my way. “Master is speaking and has asked you to stay in your seat.”
I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore the uncomfortable churning in my stomach. “Tell your—friend to move, please.” With twitching hands, I fished a few bills from my purse.
With a single nod from Quinton, Neil moved out of the way.
The stench from the walking corpse filled my nose as I passed it to leave the table. For some reason, even though the evening had been a disaster, I felt like I couldn’t just leave Quinton.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at work. I hope you—find the waiter’s body.” As I headed out the door, I flinched from my words.
Find the waiter’s body?
If there was a top-ten list of bad date lines, mine had to be in the top five.
To avoid any zombies who might’ve been displeased with my dinner performance, I hurried to my car. I placed the key in the lock, but it was too late. I smelled the presence of strangers surrounding me.
T
hey
smelled of sand and salt from the shore. Three members of the Long Island pack swept in around me. Their dark eyes went from black to glaring yellow.
I froze in place. With no allies around me, I was screwed.
“We caught a pretty one lurking around at night alone,” said the one closest to me. He wore a black leather coat and jeans, and his dirty blond hair flowed to his shoulders.
“I would think so, Clive,” whispered another voice. From the corner of my eye, I spied a man leaning against an Oldsmobile. He cocked his head in my direction.
Clive came closer and I closed my eyes as fear surged through my body. My mind wanted to flee, but somehow my body shut down and my legs turned to jelly. Why did the wolf choose to remain still now?
My attacker’s breath smelled of pizza and beer. Such things shouldn’t have frightened me, but the way he drew in a deep breath and examined me for a few seconds made me shake. He’d know soon enough.
“She’s not of the pack. But I smell the alpha on her for some reason.”
I feared my legs wouldn’t hold me up. I continued to grip the key lodged within the lock and glanced at my
wide-eyed reflection in the car window.
Move it! Don’t just stand there!
The two others moved closer to me. Clive grabbed my hand and yanked the keys away.
“You seem meek enough,” Clive purred as his fingers clutched a wad of my hair. “Can I keep her, Derek?”
Derek’s hand flew up to deny the request. He moved like a leopard approaching its prey. He looked about as good as a hungry viper would to a mouse. His face was marred by a long scratch that went from his forehead down to his chin. He grinned to reveal enlarged canines. The third man smiled too, revealing gold teeth that gleamed under the parking lot lights.
My hand quaked within Clive’s grip.
“There’s something different about you.” His nostrils flared before he ran his nose against the back of my skull.
I mewled and tried to move forward, but Clive’s grip on my hair locked me in place. My pulse thundered in my ears, making it difficult for me to plan an escape.
“Inferior stock,” Derek mumbled.
“But I want her,” growled Clive.
“That doesn’t matter. No wonder she’s not part of the pack. Kill her.”
My eyes widened as spots appeared in my vision. Tears stumbled down my cheeks. This wasn’t my time. Not like this—
“You left your coat.” All of us turned at the same time to see the zombie named Neil holding out my light jacket. Of all the times to have the undead show up.
How come no one smelled this guy approaching?
“What the hell is that?” asked the third attacker.
An ominous voice reached us from the building. “Is there a problem, gentlemen?”
In the distance, Quinton stepped into the light. Hope
flooded my body, then reality hit. I wished Thorn stood in his place.
Derek barked, “Fuck off! And take your decomposing pet with you.”
“The lady is under my protection tonight. You should leave her alone.”
Even though I’d brushed the janitor off, he hadn’t taken it to heart.
Derek and Clive guffawed. Then Derek took a step forward and ripped one of Neil’s arms from its socket. The zombie’s limb flew through the air and plopped down in front of Quinton. Bits of gray flesh fell on his shiny black shoes. A finger landed on his shoulder and Quinton removed it.
Derek turned to his cohorts. “Rip him apart. I don’t need any adversaries in Luther’s way when he gets to town.” The two others advanced on Quinton.
But the guy just stood there as two deadly werewolves closed in on him. I tried to scream out for him to run, but my mouth refused to move. I closed my eyes while Derek sneered, “Since you stood up to us like a man, we’ll end your life quickly, necromancer.”
A series of footsteps, and then the overwhelming smell of moss and earth hit my nose.
“I’m not worried about that.”
The heavy footsteps paused and I opened my eyes to see that we’d been surrounded—by an army of the undead. Quinton had conjured hundreds of zombies with a silent siren call.
The two men took several steps forward, but Derek halted their progress.
Gold Tooth sneered, “We can take them.”
Between clenched teeth, Derek said, “Shut up, Ty!” He cursed under his breath. “I don’t like these odds. No matter how hungry you are for a fight.”
I blinked again and again at the circle of the undead. Men and women stood shoulder to shoulder with their empty eyes focused on us. A mysterious, opaque fog had drifted in and covered their legs.
Derek frowned. “This isn’t over. You shouldn’t have interfered in our business. If you value your life, you’ll leave the area.”
One of Quinton’s eyebrows rose and a grin spread across his pale face. The man may have round-trip tickets to Creepyville, but he also has the balls of an African elephant. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
Derek backed away and headed for his car. Clive released me and shoved me to the ground before following him. My hands scraped against the sidewalk to catch my fall. Thanks to swift werewolf healing, the burn lasted only a few seconds before my body began to heal the opened skin.
In the distance, the army retreated into the shadows while Quinton walked toward me. He offered a hand to help me up, but I refused. (He’d just pulled a zombie’s finger off his shoulder. A
decomposing
finger.)
Quinton waited while I dusted myself off. I had to say something—he had rescued me.
“Thanks. I appreciate what you’ve done for me.”
“Not a problem.” He gazed at my mouth and licked his lips. “Do you want me to give you a ride home?”
I was grateful, but I’d also been creeped out enough for the evening. “I’ll be fine. I have someone staying at my house, so I won’t be alone.”
I turned away to look for my keys on the ground.
He offered them to me and said, “This may seem awkward, but even with what’s happened tonight I did have a good time.” I offered a small smile as he cocked a wide grin. His pale skin contrasted starkly with the deep color of his eyes.
“Yeah, before the dead waiter showed up we had some pleasant conversation.”
He blurted, “Don’t worry about our first waiter.” He made a gesture toward the restaurant. “I made sure the boy’s in good health.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Quinton might drive a Death Mobile and reanimate the dead, but he did have gentlemanly tendencies. “That’s good news. ’Cause, boy, did he deserve the tip I left him.”
“That he did.”
Our conversation died away so I took a step back. “Thanks for an interesting evening, Quinton.”
As he walked away he whispered, “It was my pleasure, lady. See you at work tomorrow.”
I jumped in my car and gunned the vehicle out of the parking lot. The screech of my tires offered minimal comfort as I sped home.
The ever-optimistic Aggie saw my wild eyes as I entered the house. “Are you all right?”
I pulled off my shoes and mumbled, “I don’t even know where to begin.” The heat in the house didn’t prevent the chill running over my skin. The familiar stacks of boxes didn’t offer me their usual comfort. Such trinkets couldn’t fire guns.
“Did he try to cop a feel or something? I told you—necrophilia.”
“Actually, he was plenty interested in my flesh-and-blood body. But he wasn’t the worst thing I had to endure.” I sat down on my couch and rested my face in my hands. “I got big problems, Aggie.”
She plopped down beside me, but her presence didn’t push away the feeling of Clive’s hands on my body. I whispered, “The Long Island werewolves are here. And they’ve marked me for extermination.”
* * *
With the threat of death hanging over my head, I wasn’t surprised when Thorn called me a few hours later.
“I heard something happened. Are you all right?”
By this point, I was calm, but Aggie relieved my fears by standing guard in my living room.
“Yeah, you didn’t need to call.” Yes, I did need to hear his voice, but I wouldn’t admit such things.
“I need to finish another sweep of the area, but I’ll stop by your place later to check on you.”