Coveted

by Shawntelle Madison

  I tried to think of something serious to say, but Aggie opened her mouth first.

  “Alex, you should be more careful. How do you know she doesn’t have a venereal disease or something?” She turned to me with a frown. “Can nymphs get crabs or something?”

  “I wish I could tell you.” I raised my voice and leaned into my brother as we approached our cars. “Since I can keep my legs closed, I’ll never have to worry about that.”

  Alex harrumphed. “I made a mistake. I never thought nymphs could get knocked up!”

  I laughed. “Do you ever read Greek myths?”

  Aggie couldn’t contain her laughter as she joined in the fun. “Yeah, I remember reading something about Zeus jumping into the sack with anything that had a vag.”

  “If you could keep this quiet for a while, I’d appreciate it.” His face turned serious and his eyes darkened. Maybe Alex was the father.

  I grabbed his arm. “Is it yours?”

  “I’m not sure, but Karey’s not the type to sleep around.” He ran his fingers through his blond hair. I envied the glossy color he’d inherited from our mother.

  “Well, give me a call later if you want to talk about it.”

  He nodded and headed over to his truck. I more or less had expected my parents to match him up with a nice Russian werewolf girl from the big city. My brother was wild, but I’d never predicted an unplanned pregnancy with a tree nymph in his future.

  Chapter 6

  After two days of watching my back, I didn’t want to venture out at night. Not the best way to start dating. But no matter what my problems were, I had to take a positive step toward feeling normal. And normal people went on dates.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Aggie asked. “I can hook you up with the pharmacy technician at Walgreens.”

  I frowned as I stared at my clothes on my bed. That poor human would never know what hit him. “Are you my date pimp now?”

  “I’m your common sense trying to knock you over the head.”

  The dark purple blouse and jean skirt that Aggie had helped me select left me wary. My hands began to sweat, and I paced in front of my bed. Before I’d set it down, I’d pressed the blouse against my cheek. No matter how nice these clothes were, to my nose they smelled brand-new and artificial. In contrast, my usual clothes had a familiar feeling that would bring comfort—but they wouldn’t help me reenter the pack.

  Aggie sat on the floor with a bowl of barbecued potato chips in her lap. “You okay?”

  I took a deep breath. “No, I’m not.”

  “I can call this guy and tell him you’re not coming.”

  “It’s not him. It’s the clothes.”

  Aggie’s eyebrows lowered. “All you need to do is put them on.”

  With clenched fists, I tried to suppress a rising panic. The rapid staccato of my heart echoed in my ears like the thunderous hooves of Clydesdales. “I know that.” I squeezed my eyes shut as I tried to imagine myself wearing the clothes. I tried to visualize myself in them with a smile. A strained smile, but an attempt nonetheless.

  I reminded myself: This is what normal people do.

  Stifling heat filled my face, but I picked up the purple blouse.

  Aggie touched my hair in concern. “Do you take medicine for your panic attacks?”

  “I used to. But, well, the side effects didn’t agree with the wolf.”

  “Yeah, I was lucky I didn’t need medication for my problem. My parents simply locked the fridge door.” She touched the jean skirt. “Maybe you could take a pill tonight to help you through the worst of it,” she suggested.

  I faintly remembered the last time I took the drugs—shaking wildly as the wolf tried to escape the calm the pills forced on my body. Maybe the side effects wouldn’t be so bad. It’d been several years since I’d taken the happy capsules.

  I handed Aggie the blouse while I went into the bathroom to take half a pill. As I downed it, I thought with dread, Bottoms up.

  Aggie waited patiently while I took the next twenty minutes to put on the blouse and skirt. She commented briefly that she was glad I’d given myself two hours to prepare. “Is he picking you up?”

  “No, I’m meeting him there.”

  “That’s good. I felt uncomfortable about him taking you home in his hearse.”

  “He doesn’t have a hearse. It’s a black station wagon.”

  She rolled her eyes and popped a chip into her mouth. “I spotted it in the parking lot at The Bends the other day. You might as well call it the Death Mobile.”

  Even with Agatha’s snippy quips about Quinton, I still found myself headed to Roger’s Place to meet him. Diners were heading inside, with a few casually waving in my direction.

  For once, I almost felt normal. But as the local hermit-in-training, my appearance at the local Italian place still attracted plenty of interest.

  “Nice to see you out and about,” said the owner of the flower shop down the street from The Bends.

  I kept glancing at my watch, wondering if Quinton was running late. He still had four minutes, but I like punctuality.

  Through the long window in the doors, I spotted a tall shadow and my heart leapt. Part of me wanted Thorn to appear and take Quinton’s place. Instead, the necromancer made his appearance holding a bouquet of red roses. He lumbered toward me wearing a suit jacket, and a nice pair of slacks.

  I couldn’t suppress the smile that broke out on my face. I hadn’t expected him to be, well, not that bad-looking. Dark circles lined his eyes, but his irises were a fairly attractive midnight blue. Under his cologne, I caught the faint scent of sawdust and salt. (What the hell did he do with those zombies?)

  I scratched my hand faintly as he offered the flowers.

  “For you,” he grumbled in his deep voice.

  “Thanks. You ready to eat?”

  “Yeah.”

  As we took our seats, I hoped our conversation would progress beyond three- to four-word sentences.

  The waiter brought our menus and we read them in silence. “I highly recommend the lasagna tonight.”

  Our waiter, a high school kid named Matt, did such a good job selling the lasagna, we placed two orders and Quinton added a bottle of wine. And then we sat there staring at each other.

  He broke the silence with, “You look nice tonight.”

  I touched the collar of my blouse self-consciously. It had been a while since someone had noticed my attire, but I guess if one wears the same thing every day it doesn’t make much of an impression.

  “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.

  Chapter 7

  They 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 n
eed 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.”