Speakeasy Dead: a P.G. Wodehouse-Inspired Romantic Zombie Comedy (Hellfire Universe Historicals) by Vicky Loebel Page B

partly empty.” Ruth raised a lid.
    “They were all full last night.” I dumped glass in a can and filled a bucket at the sink.
    Priscilla led Beau to the highboy cabinet and began showing him her alchemy ingredients and herbs. She unlatched a hidden compartment, opened a tin and then, giggling of all things, passed it to Beau.
    The actor inhaled, clutched his heart in appreciation, and sighed.
    I mopped spilled brandy off of the floor. Ruth finished stacking crates.
    Something moaned in the coal room.
    Could that be wind? I cocked my head and heard voices arguing outside, against the background of a rumbling motor. A deep rumble, I thought, not Bernie’s car. Someone was in the alley.
    Priscilla shut the herb cabinet. Beau eased her toward the stairwell door.
    “ Merci beaucoup , most gracious lady,” he said, bowing. “You are too kind.” He clasped her hand against his chest.
    Priscilla simpered. For one instant, my heart burned hot with jealous rage.
    “If you permit,” he told Priscilla, “I shall aid in the cleaning before I follow, non? ” He bent and kissed her fingertips. “ Au revoir? ”
    “ Bien sûr .” Priscilla floated into the landing. “ Au revoir .”
    The door slid shut. We held our breaths, waiting to see if she’d come back.
    After a moment’s pause, Beau turned to me.
    “And that, ladies and gentlemen.” His feet rapped out a vaudeville shuffle. “Is how we wow the folks back home in Buffalo!”
    “Beau!” I raced over and threw my arms around his chest. “Beau you’re alive!”
    “Clara!” Beau spun me in a circle. He had the most beautiful blue-gray eyes.
    My heart thudded with happiness so hard it hurt my teeth.
    “Clara.” Beau dropped me. “You rotten louse!”
    “I’m not!” I cried. “It’s not my fault!”
    “You dragged me to this hellhole.” He stepped forward, raising one fist.
    I backed away.
    “Hey,” Ruth called from the coal room.
    “I’m ruined. Finished!” Beau snarled. “Trapped mixing cocktails inside this rotting corpse, thanks to you.”
    “You’re not rotting. At least, I don’t think so. Not yet!”
    “My god. I must look ghastly.” Beau dropped his fist and grabbed the oil lamp off the workbench, carrying it to a gleaming copper still. “Quick!” He stared intently at his reflection. “Fetch some pomade!”
    “You look perfect. That was incredible the way you charmed Priscilla.”
    “I’m not perfect.” He shrugged his dinner jacket straight. “I’m a zombie , you little nit. And you and I are not on speaking terms.”
    “Hey,” Ruth called again. “There’s stuff back here you ought to see.”
    “I’m so sorry.” I grabbed Beau’s sleeve. “I tried to save you. I didn’t mean to turn you into a zombie. I tried!”
    Dark eyebrows lifted in surprise. “ You turned me into a zombie?”
    “A demon tricked me. I’ll make it up to you after the contest. After we teach Ruthie to dance.”
    “Not me, sister.” He spit into his palms and swept his hands back through his hair. “I’ve been watching that lady cripple dance partners all morning.”
    “But I need help. We’re both in this together. If things go wrong….” Hans would claim ten pints of Woodsen blood. I’d probably survive, thanks to the hellfire left from last night. But if I didn’t, that would be bad for Beau. “Well, I don’t know.” I shuddered. “You might get hurt.”
    “That won’t happen,” Beau stated. “Because I won’t be here.”
    “Did I mention,” Ruth called, “you ought to come back and take a look?”
    “Good bye.” Beau strode away.
    I chased him to the secret door. “You can’t leave me.”
    “Farewell, Clara.” He turned and took me in his arms.
    My insides melted. “Oh.”
    “We shall not meet again,” Beau murmured. “Remember, oh Voodoo Queen, what might have been.” His lips touched mine.
    Something inside boiled up and burned my skin. Until that instant, I’d never truly lived. My heart, my body,