“But he’ll see me, know me, and when I hurt him, he’ll be afraid of me, right?”

I nodded. “Right…”

“That’s perfect. So, you’ll do it?”

“Are you honestly going to use an axe on your deceased husband?”

She nodded, and her face was very firm and sure of itself. Her eyes glinted and the gray seemed to get even darker, like clouds before it storms. “Oh, yes, I am. I’m going to chop the bastard up while he begs me to stop. I want him to think I’m killing him for real.”

I studied her face and wanted to ask if she was joking, but I knew the answer. “You want the last memory you will ever have of your husband to be you chopping him up?”

She nodded.

“How long were you married?”

“Almost twenty-five years,” she said, which made me put her on the almost-fifty side of forty, though she didn’t look it.

“A man who you married, lived with, slept with, loved at some point, for twenty-five years, and you want to play axe murderer all over his ass?”

“More than anything in the world,” she said.

“What did he do to piss you off this much?”

“That’s none of your business,” she said, and her face said she believed I’d accept that answer. Apparently now that we’d agreed on a price she thought she could be arrogant.

“It is if you want me to raise him. Some crimes, some magicks, some problems in life can affect a zombie, make it harder to control. What did he do that was so terrible?”

“He told me he never wanted children. That they would interfere with his business and our social circle, and because I loved him I abided by his rules. Other friends would skip a few pills and come up accidentally pregnant, but I played fair. Chase didn’t want children so we didn’t have them.” Her eyes were distant as if seeing something other than my office, something sad and faraway.

“If you wanted children then I’m sorry that he cost you that chance.”