Undead and Unappreciated (13 page)

Of course we were.

Depressed beyond all measure, I drove home.

B
efore I could drive myself through a plate glass window, my cell phone rang. Jessica? I clawed it out of my purse. “Hello? Jess? Hello?”

“Hi, Betsy. It's me, Nick. Berry,” he added, like I could forget. Nick was a Minneapolis cop.

“Oh, hey.” I was disappointed but worked on not showing it. “Who's dead now?” I joked.

“Several people, but that's not why I'm calling. Listen, I haven't seen your new digs, and I just got off. I thought I'd come over and say hi.”

“Oh. Look, I'm glad to have you over, Nick, but why now?”

“Well…” I heard an odd sound in the background and realized he was chewing on a Milky Way. Nick abhorred donuts. “This is going to sound a little out there, but I haven't been able to get you out of my mind lately. I mean, you gotta admit, that whole thing last spring where you almost died and they had a fake funeral and all—”

“Yeah, last spring was a real laugh riot.”

“And then this summer with all the dead bodies—I guess the killer moved on, because there hasn't been one like it in about three months—but you were sort of in the middle of that, too—and…I don't know. I just thought it'd be fun to stop by, catch up.”

“Well, sure.” Come on into my parlor, big boy. Actually, the last thing I wanted was the cop who had known me in life nosing around in Vampire Central after my death, but I couldn't think of a way to say no without arousing his suspicions. “I'm on my way there now. I'm guessing there's no need to give you the address, seeing as how you're the man and all.”

“See you in twenty,” he confirmed.

 

I hurried into the mansion to straighten up but realized Jessica's corps of home helpers (the cook, the gardener, the garage guy, the downstairs guy, the upstairs lady, the plant lady) was way ahead of me. The place was immaculate and freshly vacuumed. Marc's car was gone, but Jessica's was in the garage, so I darted up the stairs and knocked on her door.

“Jess? Detective Nick is coming over to play Welcome Wagon, which isn't much good in the way of timing, but seriously, when
is
the best time for a cop to come over? When you're not a vampire,” I answered myself. “Anyway, if you want to come down, we'll be in”—Where? Where was a vampire-free zone?—“one of the parlors. I think.”

I went to the basement and found Tina sitting a prudent distance away from George, scribbling notes, while he crocheted an endless chain in sunshine yellow. He'd churned out about thirty feet so far and didn't look up when I shrieked.

“You gave him a hook?” I could hear a car pulling in and didn't wait around for Tina's answer. At least George was occupied.

Nick was waiting at the door, and I played ditz and “forgot” to give him a tour. We ended up shooting the breeze in the small sitting room just off the front hall.

“This place is amazing,” he said, staring. As always, he was easy on the eyes. My height, blond, broad-shouldered, tan. Ooooh, a tan! It was really great to see someone with real color in their cheeks. “You and Jessica are really moving up in the world.”

“Ha!” I replied. “Jess pays for the whole thing.”

“Well, yeah.” He grinned boyishly. “I figured. Have you found a job yet? Not that you need one, I guess…” He gestured to the room.

I
didn't
need one since I had the whole queen thing going, but I wasn't telling him that. Likewise, I didn't dare tell him about Scratch. I couldn't prove to a live person that I legally owned it. I sure didn't need a cop snooping into it.

Nick wasn't just any cop. He'd known me in life but, worse, had fallen under my vampiric spell after I died. Sinclair had ended up making Nick forget quite a bit from last spring. But it was a worrisome thing sometimes; we honestly didn't know what he remembered or if Sinclair's mojo would wear off.

“You look great,” I said, changing the subject. “You're so tan! Where'd you go?”

“I just got back from Grand Cayman. Me and a bunch of the other guys saved up for about a year and a half. It's really not that expensive if you go in a group. Actually, that's sort of why I'm here.”

“I can't go to Grand Cayman with you,” I joked. I wasn't up to pushing the new sunshine allowances.

“No, no.” Of course not. Why would a healthy red-blooded male want to date a corpse with badly polished toes? “One of the guys was looking for a new place to go to an AA meeting, and I knew from my brother that they had a good group at the Thunderbird—on 494? Anyway—”

“You were there the night I went,” I said with a sinking feeling. It was definitely weird the way Nick kept stumbling back into my life. What were the chances?

“Well…yeah. And it's none of my business at all…”

“One of the
A
s stands for
Anonymous,
” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I know. My brother did the twelve steps a couple years ago. I just—I guess I was surprised to see you there,” he finished lamely.

He
was surprised! Was my luck
ever
going to take a turn for the better? “Well, it's nothing I like to talk about,” I said, sort of telling the truth.

“Sure, sure, sure,” he said quickly. “I understand. I just wanted you to know…well, sometimes it's a hard thing to talk about. It's like nobody else can possibly get it, right?”

“Right,” I said, on surer ground.

“So I just wanted you to know that if you ever wanted to, you know, just talk…” He trailed off and smiled at me, which made the cute laugh lines in the corner of his eyes crinkle in a friendly way.

I nearly wept; it was beyond wonderful to have someone be nice to me, to be concerned with my problems. Well, that wasn't fair; Laura was nice, and Jessica
had
been concerned until I'd hurt her. It wasn't Laura's fault Sinclair was taken with her. What guy wouldn't be? And it wasn't Sinclair's fault he'd decided I'd given off negative vibes one too many times.

Poor Nick didn't have a clue, but he cared. That counted for a lot.

“That's so sweet of you. I really appreciate it.” We'd been sitting next to each other on the little peach-colored love seat, and he was inching closer to me. Maybe he had an itch. “And I promise I'll keep it in mind. But I really don't want to talk about my dumb problems right now.” My incredibly lame, stupid, dumb problems.

“I just—wanted you to know,” he breathed, and then he kissed me.

Oh, yay! No, boo. No, yay! I let him go for a few seconds, quite enjoying the feeling of a warm mouth on my cool one. I could hear his pulse thundering in my ears. He smelled like chocolate and cotton.

It was actually kind of nice. He liked me. He'd always liked me. Of course, since I'd died he'd found me way more attractive, but I tried not to take advantage of it. Except for that one time. Which Nick didn't remember. I was pretty sure. But anyway…not taking advantage of innocent policeman.

Although without much difficulty I could. He was so nice, so great-looking, so earnest—and as a cop, he'd come in
real
handy. I could—I could—

Take him.

I could get rid of this annoying thirst for the moment, that's what I could do. I could—

What are you waiting for?

—get a little warmth, a little happiness, be needed, be touched, be wanted.

It would be so easy.

I jerked away, actually throwing Nick to the floor. It
would
be easy. Real damn easy. Which is why I couldn't do it.

Is that why I read the Book…to learn how to be an asshole vampire? Is that what I learned from hurting Jessica—take what I wanted when I could get it? Is that how my mom raised me? Is that the kind of queen of the dead I wanted to be?

“Jeez, I'm so sorry,” Nick said from the floor, apparently overlooking the fact that I'd thrown him on his ass. His face was red with blushes. “I'm really sorry, Betsy.”

“No, no, it's my fault!” I was shouting to hear myself over his pulse, which alarmed him. I lowered my voice. “Sorry. It's my fault.” It really was. Nick had no idea why he found me so appealing. God knew it was a mystery to me most times, too. “Sorry again. You'd better go.” I hauled him to his feet and showed him the door, over his protests and apologies. “Thanks for stopping by. Great to catch up! 'Bye.”

I shut the door and leaned against it with my eyes closed. I could still hear his pulse, though that was probably my imagination.

It had been a near thing.

“Is your date over already?”

My eyes popped open. Sinclair was standing on the left side of the entryway; he'd obviously come through the back.

“That was—”

“I know.”

“He thinks—”

“I know.”

“But he's going now, I—”

“Yes, I imagine you took care of it. Good work,” he added distantly.

“It wasn't—”

“I understand. The last thing you—we—need is a police officer nosing about. And the quickest way to get rid of him—” Sinclair shrugged. “Well, you did what you had to do.”

“Eric—”

“I'll leave you to retire. Oh, and Laura and I are having coffee tomorrow evening. You need not join us.”

He turned. And walked away.

I
kicked my bedroom door open so hard, my foot went through it, and I spent a few seconds hopping in the hallway, trying to pull my ankle free.

I finally staggered into the room, pulled off my Beverly Feldman flats, and threw them into the far wall. The leather might get scratched, but I didn't give a fuck.

That's right.
“I don't give a fuck!”
I screamed. “It's not fair! It's not fair! I did the right thing, I sent Nick away! I could totally have boned him silly, but I took the damned high road and for
what
? To have that jerk make me feel
worse
? To be
more
lonesome?”

I was hurling clothes away like a madwoman, searching for my pajamas at the same time, and generally staggering around my room like a drunk.

I scooped up the Feldmans from their separate corners and went to put them away in their little cubby but ended up collapsing facedown on my closet floor, sobbing. I clutched the shoes to my (naked) chest and curled up (naked). I was probably getting tears on my Manolos, and I just didn't care.

“Betsy?”

I ignored it and cried harder. I was in no mood for the latest hell. Tina, telling me George had crocheted a ladder and was on the lam again? The Ant, telling me it was twins? The plant lady, telling me the plants were as dead as I was?

“Sweetie, why are you naked and crying in your closet?”

I cracked open an eye. Jessica was peering into the closet, a look of concern on her (bruised) face. “Go away,” I cried. “Go away, you still hate me, I know it.”

“Oh, shut up, I do not.” She came into the closet, pushed suits aside, carefully moved shoes, and sat cross-legged beside me. “Come on, what's the matter?”

“Everything!”

“Right, but be specific.”

“Sinclair doesn't love me anymore. I bet he doesn't even want to be the king anymore. I bet he's sorry he tricked me into the whole gig. And he's got the hots for my sister. My
sister
! Who's the daughter of the devil, but that's not even the worst part.”

“What's the worst part, honey?”

“Everybody likes Laura, that's what.”

“Everybody likes you, too. Even before you died you had this kind of cool charisma going.”

“Yeah, but Laura has it in spades. She makes me look like Saddam Hussein. I mean, nobody can resist her.”

“I'm sure that's not—”

“The
Ant
likes Laura!”

“Oh.”

“And she and my dad are still wrecking my life—it was the longest baby shower ever. And I'm gonna have to file Chapter Eleven on Scratch. And she's—Laura, I mean—she's nice but she's no you. And then I could have had sex with Nick and he really likes me, but I love Sinclair so I sent him away, and Sinclair didn't even care and—and—oh my God!”

“Uh…” Jessica was obviously trying to puzzle out the babble.

“Oh my God!
I love Sinclair!
I love him!
Him!
That—that arrogant sneaky gorgeous cool sneaky—”

“Well, of course you do.”

“See, this is the sort of information I could have used earlier,” I said and cried harder.

Jessica was patting my back. “Come on, Bets, you knew deep down you loved him. Like anyone could move into your house if you really didn't want them. Like you'd put up with all that from just any guy. Like you'd
sleep
with just any guy.”

“But he's such a jerk.”

“Well, sweetie, you're not the easiest person in the world to get along with, either, sometimes.” She grinned and touched her black eye. “And this isn't even for losing your
Simpsons Season Four
DVD.”

“Jess—I'm so sorry—I feel so bad—” I gestured to my nudity, the closet, the cedar balls.

“I know, Betsy.” She bent down and kissed me, right on the temple. “I just had to sulk and, you know, heal up the last couple of days. I know you were sorry right after.”

“I was, I was! I felt like dead dog shit. It's been the absolute worst week.”

“Frankly, the only reason I've decided to forgive you is because I'm dying to meet the daughter of the devil.”

“Oh, God, she's so boring.” I sat up and wiped my dry (I didn't cry like a normal person anymore) eyes. “I mean, really nice. Don't get me wrong, she's a total sweetheart. You'll like her. But—”

“But she's no queen of the vampires.”

“I haven't been much of a queen these days.”

“That's not true. You read the Book so you could find out more about yourself, about the threat to the world—your sister. And you tracked her down and were ready to rumble, until she turned out to be nice. And you're helping George.”

“You
have
been listening to the baby monitor!”

“Are you kidding? That sucker's been on twenty-four hours a day. I was afraid to sleep; I didn't want to miss anything.”

“Everything's such a mess.”

“Worse than usual,” she agreed.

“What am I going to do?”

“Well, honey, sending Nick away was a good start. It's actually fundamental, when you get right down to it.”

“Oh, I know,” I said earnestly. She could have suggested I boink the Green Bay Packers and I would have agreed. I was so happy she was talking to me again. “Er…when you say fundamental…”

She rolled her eyes, but then she was used to explaining things to me. “You sent Nick away because you didn't want to hurt him or take advantage of him. That's the kind of person you are—the kind you've always been. A lot has changed, but not that.”

“You're right.”

“Also, the sky is yellow, the Ant is misunderstood, and David Evins was just a talented amateur.”

“Now you're just being mean.”

“Well, I gotta milk this for all I can. And Sinclair doesn't love your sister.”

“Not yet,” I said darkly. “Give him time.”

“Look, I'm sure he's interested in her—”

“Wait till you see her. Just wait.”

“Like he doesn't have pussy thrown at him from cars?”

“What a horrifying mental image.”

“I'm just saying, the guy can get laid whenever he wants. But he wants you.”

“No, he—”

“Whatever you did to him after reading the Book,” she said, and I don't think she was aware that she was touching her bruised eye while she reasoned stuff out, “can't undo how he feels. I'm telling you—I've
been
telling you—the guy is totally gonzo nuts for you, has been since the beginning. He's giving you the chilly treatment because his feelings are hurt. If he really didn't care about you, don't you think he'd just have shut up and fucked you?”

“I did think that,” I admitted. “But he wasn't happy I had sex with him; he was hurt. I couldn't get why he was acting so weird, and it's too late now. He's been hearing me diss him for so long, he's given up.”

“For so long? You've been a vampire for six months, Bets. That's nothing to him, it's a baseball season. Like I said, he's interested in your sister, sure. She's the daughter of the devil! And he's the king of the vampires. So of course he's gonna want to, you know, look into it. But I bet he's just covering his bases—being Sinclair.”

“A real match made in heaven. Sinclair the star fucker and the woman fated to take over the world.”

“She
would
be a pretty good consort for him,” Jessica admitted.

“Anybody but me, that's for sure.”

“Now, come on. The Book hasn't been wrong about anything yet—”

“The Book just said we'd be consorts, it didn't promise a happily ever after. Plenty of kings and queens ran things while hating each other.” I'd minored in European history; Diana and Charles's marriage foundering before her death was nothing, historically speaking. “If you'd just heard how mean he's been—no, that's not right, not mean exactly, more like he doesn't give much of a shit.”

“I did hear. I was starting to tell you, I'd been coming down to leave a check for Cathie—”

“The upstairs lady?”

“No, the plant lady.”

“Jess, you don't have to pay someone just to water the plants. Five people live in this house, for Christ's sake. I'm sure we can handle it without—”

“
Anyway,
I sort of overheard your little
tête à lame
with Nick. And then I sort of overheard you and Sinclair. He was pretty frigid,” she added, giving me a sympathetic look. “I'm sure it's not a total loss. But you've got some work to do.”

I was trying not to be devastated by the blast of common sense she was giving my system. “Look, it's all on me, okay? I get that. I couldn't think of how to make it right with him. And to be honest, I thought I had bigger problems. So I just sort of put it out of my head, and then it was too late.” I shook my head. “I've always assumed he'd be around to be, you know, yelled at and taken for granted. And of course I was wrong. Nobody's going to put up with that forever.”

“Well, look. Put Sinclair aside for the moment. Actually, don't even do that—he's all wrapped up in this. Betsy, you can fix this.”

“I don't think it's as easy as you—”

“I didn't say easy, I said fixable. And even if you couldn't fix it, you're not going to be all naked and weepy and whiney in your closet. I mean, come on. Crying in the closet? Honey, you're the
queen
of the
vampires
. Get your big white butt up off the floor and get dressed and start kicking some undead ass. Even before you died, you wouldn't take this shit lying down. So go fix it.”

“You're right! Except for that thing about my butt.” I was on my feet, my hands balled into fists. Mighty (and naked) would be my wrath! Jessica was right, who did they think they were fucking with? “You're totally right. I've been bending over, and for what? Well, forget about it!”

“Right!”

“I'm gonna right some wrongs, I'll tell you that right now!”

“Right! That's the girl.”

I checked my watch, currently the only thing I was wearing (unless eyeliner counted). “And I'll tell you what we're doing first.”

“Besides putting on underpants?”

“Right, besides that.”