Page 39 of Someone Save My Midlife Tonight

He took it as a dare. Bingo. The gauntlet had been thrown down. There was no going back now. I refused to make eye contact with anyone in the room. If I did, I would laugh and that would undermine my focus. I’d been in many deadly battles with Immortals. Never had I participated in a dance battle until today. I seriously hoped this would be a one and done. I’d much rather lop the head off my enemy than chasséfor my life. But when in Rome, or rather my badly furnished living room…

Shitty Ritchie countered with a jazz square and a hitch kick. I knew I could win this battle. The knowledge that it would be bloodless was a bonus. Gram had made me take dance lessons as a kid—ballet, jazz and tap. I hated it back then, but was grateful for it now. I returned his volley with a grapevine and a fan kick. I was sure I pulled my hamstring, but didn’t let the fact that there was a zingy, white-hot fire shooting down the back of my upper thigh slow me down. Weakness would not be tolerated in a dance-off for intel.

“You go, gurl,” Jennifer yelled, toasting my stupidity with a bottle of red.

“Watch this,” Shitty Ritchie snarled.

He attempted to one-up me with an arabesque into a barrel turn. It was sloppy but impressive. Didn’t matter. I had an ace up my sleeve.

“Is that all you got, dingleberry?” I asked.

“You can do better than Shitty Ritchie?” he demanded.

“You bet your flaming bahookey I can. Back up,” I warned the crowd.

I started with a single time step. I did it on the left side and the right. I was sure I heard Gideon chuckle. I ignored it. He would pay later. Shitty Ritchie couldn’t believe his eyes. I wasn’t done. I advanced to a double time step—left and right. The little turd’s mouth fell open in envious shock. However, I still had more. The pièce de resistance? The triple time step. I might have missed a few sounds, but the overall execution was outstanding.

“Top that, shart stain,” I yelled.

Shitty Ritchie bowed his head in submission. “You win,” he admitted morosely. “Your time step wassublime.” He eyed me for about a minute too long. I was worried he was about to offer me his sperm. “Would you be willing to teach me the time step?”

That wasn’t what I was expecting. Shitty Ritchie was crazily unpredictable—with a stress on the crazy part.

“What will I get in return?” I shot back. Nothing in the Immortal world was free.

He tucked his sweatshirt into his sweatpants, licked his hand and slicked his hair back. Of course, it sprang right back up immediately. Little dude was every kind of weird. “I will increase the number of wishes to seven thousand and seventy-seven in exchange for you teaching Shitty Ritchie the time step—all three, single, double, and triple.”

“Dang good deal if you ask me, nard hole,” Candy Vargo let me know.

I agreed. “Deal,” I told Shitty Ritchie. “So, grant my wish. I wish to know the origin of the minions,” I repeated.

“Wish granted,” he replied. “As I said, they are not Angels or Demons. Nor are they regular Immortals. They are the risen dead that the Higher Power steals from graves. It molds them and creates them into killing machines that do Its bidding. Since their souls have already left their bodies, their flesh is easily manipulated.”

“Whoa Nelly,” I said. “You’re telling me that the Higher Power is creating an army of zombies to hunt people?”

Candy Vargo dropped an f-bomb. Gideon growled. Charlie was furious, and his power started leaking out. June had to quietly remind her husband to tamp it back. Breathing was necessary. Heather’s tattoos began to dance up her arms, creating a macabre picture. Tim frantically took notes.

“Rephrase,” the little jerk snapped.

“Oh my God,” I muttered. The wish thing was getting old fast. “How about we dump the wish crap and I’ll add on a cramp roll, a Buffalo and a Maxie Ford to the dance lesson?”

Shitty Ritchie took the bribe under consideration. But of course, he had extra terms.

“Include a shuffle ball change and an Irish and you have yourself a deal.”

“Done,” I said. “So, is It or isn’t It creating a zombie army?”

“It is,” he replied.

Heather was on her feet in an instant. She grabbed the Book of Immortal Law and rifled through the thousands of pages.

Shitty Ritchie watched Heather. He shook his head as she frantically searched the book. “Page five hundred and two,” he said.

She looked up at him confused. “What?”

He rolled his eyes. “Turn to page five hundred and two. You will find what you’re looking for.”

Heather followed the instructions. Her eyes quickly scanned the page. The Arbitrator between the Darkness and the Light paused and looked up at Shitty Ritchie. Her smile was wide. “Outstanding.”

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