SHIVER: 13 Sexy Tales of Humor and Horror (36 page)

“What about Sean and Marie? They were taken away by the police?” Raj added.

“Actually, they’re down the block having a cup of coffee. Everyone was in the charade, including Sam and Destiny. They’re drama students at the local college.”

A minute or two passed before everything came pouring out like explosive diarrhea. “You’re fucking telling me we drove through Cowville, USA to stay in this Agatha Christie piece of shit house. And Sam, or whatever the hell his name is, was hitting on me for no reason, but to get your jollies off? To top it off the worse offense: A poor Danish had to die on my behalf! What about the matzo balls? Were they real? Or were they just store brand biscuit dough that had no special meaning to anyone but me?”

“Aww, what happened? Did she figure it out?” Ryan said with disappointment as he came into the room.

“You!” I turned ready to charge Ryan like a bull seeing red. “This was your stupid idea?”

“I thought it would be a great Halloween prank—”

Before he could finish what he was about to say, I charged him and we both went crashing to the ground. I hit him over and over, screeching something about dead Danishes and mythical matzo balls while Miles, Renee, and Raj tried to pull me off what would be a very dead Ryan if I had my way.

Later that night and many scratches on my arms later, Miles and I walked into his house. Dilion and Kelly where on the couch watching television. “Dad, Moxie! Your home early, I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

“We thought we’d come back early and spend time with you.” Miles picked up his son and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“I was just going to tuck him into bed,” Kelly said as she stood up and turned off the television.

Dilion turned in Miles’s arms. “Moxie, will you read me a bedtime story?”

“Sure, bud. Go brush your teeth and I’ll be right in.” Miles put Dilion down, and he scurried off to get ready. Miles and I said our good-byes and thank-yous to Kelly for looking after Dilion.

“You okay?” Miles asked, rubbing the scratches on my arms.

I let out a small laugh. “I’m fine. Ryan fights like a girl.” Miles followed my laughter and kissed my arm and then kissed my lips.

“Get Dilion settled and then come to bed. Then I can show you my spooky ghost hiding under the sheets.” He winked as he took our bags to the bedroom.

I walked into Dilion’s room and found him already tucked in to his bed. “Moxie, tell me one of your stories.”

“Are you sure? This one could get scary.”

“Yes!”

I grabbed an extra blanket off Dilion’s bed and took the flashlight, which he kept on his nightstand. I turned off the light and covered my head with the blanket. Then I turned the flashlight on and pointed it to my face. Dilion giggled as he crept under the covers even more. I began my horror story.

“On a dark, spooky night. There was a beautiful woman who was in a graveyard. She was being followed by something very rare. It was something she’d only read of in books, and she didn’t believe it truly existed.”

Dilion peeked out from under his blanket. “What was it? Lost treasure? Someone who was killed?

“No. Something far worse.”

Dilion gasped.

I moved my eyes side to side, pretending to look if someone was listening, and then whispered, “It was the perfect matzo ball.”

THE END

About the Author

As a little girl it was always a dream for Z.B. Heller to become She-Ra Princess of Power. Since this dream was unobtainable, she spent what was probably way too long in college trying to "find herself". Becoming an artist scratched the creative itch until the stories in her head were getting to be too loud for her to get anything else accomplished. She lives in St. Louis with her husband, son and Flemish Giant rabbit, Chloe. In her spare time she likes to read, stalk celebrities on Twitter and create the type of art that people scratch their heads about.

Connect with Z.B. Heller

Website:
www.zbhellerbooks.com

Facebook:
www.facebook.com/pages/ZB-HELLER

Twitter: @zbheller

Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7948170.Z_B_Heller

Email:
[email protected]

Mailing List:
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Other books by Z.B. Heller

The Chronicles of Moxie

Scary just got sexy

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my mom, Lee.

Thanks for all your help, guidance, love and support.

And for always being there. Love you Mom!

Jerry Finney blinked
at the zombie blocking the sidewalk in front of him. He did not have time for this today.

He was running on empty as it was, having spent the last three days tracking down a thirteen-year-old runaway. He’d delivered the girl to her grateful parents around two that morning and grabbed a few hours of sleep before Mickey, his mutt, had nudged him awake, ready for their morning run.

A dark-haired dominatrix walked up to the zombie and handed it a carryout cup of coffee and a donut. The couple smiled and waved at Finn then moved down the sidewalk.

He hated Halloween.

He slugged back the last of own lukewarm coffee as he walked into the small strip mall that housed his private detective agency, Finney Investigations. As he absently perused the newspaper, the headline of a jewelry store heist caught his eye, and he prepared himself for the rash of calls he’d get today from concerned businesses looking for extra security details.

More business was always welcome. The sleepy, small town of Pleasant Valley didn’t have a huge ration of crime, but he did all right. Caught up in the chase to find the runaway girl, he’d missed an appointment with a new client the night before and needed to call and make amends. Maybe he’d offer to take the guy out to lunch. His empty stomach rumbled at the thought of a greasy cheeseburger and fries.

A flash of color caught his eye, and he sighed at the dark-haired woman standing in front of Finney Investigations. Just looking at her, he knew she brought trouble. Another thing he didn’t need today. Most days he’d be happy to start his morning with a woman at his door, but this one wore a flowing purple robe and a bright-colored scarf tied around her long hair. All she was missing was the pointed hat with a spider dangling from the edge.

Today
was
Halloween, but unfortunately she wasn’t in costume.

This was how she dressed every day. The color of her robe changed, but her style didn’t. She called herself Madame Zia, and she wasn’t a client; she was his neighbor and a certifiable kook.

Her office sat down the hall from his, her door declaring her a renowned psychic who offered to read palms and tarot cards. She claimed to offer enlightenment, but his experience with psychics taught him that the only thing they “lightened” was the wallet of anyone gullible enough to want their services.

They’d been office neighbors for close to a year now, but he didn’t think they’d ever spoken more than a few words as they’d passed in the hall. So why was she standing at his door, wringing her hands and looking like a 17
th
-century damsel in distress? Maybe someone had stolen her crystal ball.

“Can I help you with something?” He nodded at her outfit. “Aren’t you running late for Potions class at Hogwarts?”

She raised an eyebrow, revealing the deep green of her eyes. He’d never stood this close to her before, and damned if she wasn’t kind of pretty. “I’ve already taken Potions and mastered Magic 101.” She let out an annoyed sigh. “Not very original, Mr. Finney.”

Touché. At least she had a sense of humor. He nodded. “Call me Finn.”

“We seem to have a problem, Finn.” She pointed to the door of his office, which stood slightly ajar, the wooden molding splintered.

“Son of a bitch.” He moved to stand between her and the door, and tilted his head to peer through the open crack. “Did you call the cops?”

“No, I just got here. My door looks the same. I was getting ready to call the police when I noticed your office had been broken into as well, and then you walked in.”

He dropped the paper and the empty coffee cup and pushed her protectively behind him. “Stay here.” Instinct took over, and he reached for the gun strapped into the harness across his shoulder. Holding it in front of him, he nudged the door open with his foot and cautiously stepped inside.

His one-room office had been ransacked. Papers and files spilled off the desk and onto the floor. The painting on his wall now hung upside down. It looked as if a strong wind had swept the room.

The remains of a fast-food lunch were strewn around the overturned wastebasket, and a pool of soda soaked into the rug. His file cabinet drawers stood open and had obviously been searched.

“What the hell?” Plaster dust littered the floor, and he peered up to see one of his office chairs hanging upside down, one leg firmly embedded in the ceiling. “How did that get up there? Somebody must have been on drugs to do that.” He glanced around the room. “Whoever did this is gone now. It’s too messy to tell for sure, but I don’t see anything missing.”

He crossed to the big oak desk and tried the drawers. “My desk is still locked, and that’s where I keep anything of value.”

Hearing no response, he looked up only to realize he spoke to an empty room. Madame Zia had vanished.

***

Zia hurried down
the hall to her office. Fear gripped her throat. She recognized the type of destruction in the private eye’s office. The presence of evil oozed from the walls, and she feared the same manifestation would be waiting for her.

She probably should have waited for Finn; he had the gun, after all. But no gun was going to help in this instance.

Besides, he acted like such a jerk. He didn’t even know her, and yet the first time they’d actually spoken, he’d mocked her clothes and made a joke at her expense. Who did he think he was?

The private eye had always been aloof, barely acknowledging her as they’d passed in the hall. She’d thought being next door to a private investigator might be exciting, but the times she’d walked by his office window and seen him inside, he’d always had his head bent over the computer, a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose.

It seemed to her that the detective business was fairly boring, and so was the detective.

Although she had to admit a thrill had shot down her spine when he’d pushed her behind him and pulled out his gun. Standing so close to him, his strength had been evident by the way his muscles bulged as he drew his gun. And he smelled amazing.

She’d wanted to close her eyes and inhale his aftershave, the musky scent doing funny things to her insides. A small scar lay under his ear, and she’d been tempted to run her finger down the white line and then along his neck.

The boring, sandy-haired detective was younger than she’d first assumed, probably in his early thirties. Close to the same age, she wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair of reading glasses. The ones he wore made him look older and hid a fairly handsome face.

She’d always been a little intrigued by him, but his stodgy demeanor and standoffish attitude had made attempts at getting to know him almost impossible.

Now she knew he hadn’t been worth the effort. Not only did he seem boring, but he acted stuck-up as well. Then what had her fantasizing about running her fingers along the scar on his neck and still smelling his scent?

His reaction to the office break-in had been the most excitement she’d seen in him since they’d met. But this was not the kind of excitement she needed in her life.

Her office contained more than just a workspace. It was her sanctuary. The place where she offered help to the needy and healing to the broken.

Her business meant everything to her. She’d worked hard to create a soothing environment filled with positive energy. It was decorated in jewel tones with a mystical motif, and the comfy furniture and a trickling fountain made her clients feel at ease. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with old spell books, candles, and baskets and jars holding crystals and herbs.

She eased open the door and gasped at the broken glass and destruction of the room. It looked like a tornado had spun through the room. She took in the bright red sprays of blood spattered across the gold-painted walls and let loose a scream of terror.

***

Finn rushed down
the hall. The woman really was crazy. Still, he didn’t want her to get hurt. Who knew if the guy who did this was still around?

A blood-curdling scream filled the air. He reached for his gun and sprinted for the psychic’s door.

Zia crashed into him, throwing her arms around his waist. Her warm body trembled in his arms. “There’s blood. So much blood. Someone was murdered in my office.”

He gave her a reassuring squeeze then gently pushed her behind him as he cautiously approached her door. “Stay behind me. I’ll check it out.”