Undead and Unappreciated (8 page)

I
groaned and opened my eyes. The hangover was incredible. Had I read a book or downed a liter of vodka?

The light made me blink, and I tried to process the eighty zillion thoughts rocketing through my head. There was one tiny bit of good to come out of the whole mess: I knew a lot more about the devil's daughter. But there were other issues I had to—

Wait a minute.

The
light
?

I looked. I was in a small room on the west side of the house; there was no furniture, but it had a good solid oak door. In fact, it was going to be the wine cellar until Sinclair pointed out that we couldn't keep wine in a room with so much light, the big know-it-all. So the bottles had been moved to the basement, and this room had stood empty and…

The light.

It was the sun.

I climbed to my feet—I was still in my robe—and walked over to the window.

The sun.

I stared. Then I stared some more. The big golden ball was just about level with the tree line; it looked like late afternoon to me.

I hadn't seen the sun since my thirtieth birthday, way back in April.

I'd read the Book of the Dead and let it turn me into a real asshole. That was bad. Very, very bad. But in return, I could now wake up when it was still daylight out. That was good. Very, very good.

And since I was the Queen and the sun didn't burn me, I could
go out
. Walk around and feel the light on my face, the warmth.

I tried to pull the window up, but it wouldn't budge. The mansion had so many rooms and there were so few people living in it, the window probably hadn't been opened in fifty years or more.

Too impatient to mess with prying, too wild to get outside, I broke the window with my fist and punched out the bigger pieces. Then I dove through it, feeling like Starsky. Or Hutch—which one was the blond again?

I thudded to the ground two stories below, spat out the dirt, and flopped over on my back to soak up the sunshine. The grass was chilly (it was a mild October for Minnesota, but it was still October), but I didn't care. The sun wouldn't be up much longer, but I didn't care. I had some tall apologizing to do, but—well, I cared about that, and I'd get right to it, too.

In a minute.

Thank you, God. Thank you so much! I totally don't deserve it. But thanks all the same.

Thoughts of the previous evening's activities kept crowding into my brain, wrecking my sunbathing. Unfortunately for me, the Book didn't provide amnesia.

Last night's itinerary flashed through my mind. Trying to kill Tina—who had handily kicked my ass. It was embarrassing to get stomped by someone half my size, but I was glad I hadn't succeeded. Those awful things I'd said to Marc…He'd been a good friend to me, and I'd called him Dr. Leech.

And Jessica…
Oh, Jess. I screwed up so bad. I'd set myself on fire before I'd hurt you again. You're the best friend a vampire could have.
Yeah, that sounded good. Repeat as needed. And repeat.
God, if she just hears me out, I'll apologize for the next thirty years. Just please, please let her listen.

And Sinclair. I groaned and threw an arm over my eyes. Skanky villain sex with Eric Sinclair! That was almost as bad as feeding off of Jessica. I was mad at myself for using him and mad at him for letting me do it.

And for
not noticing
I was evil! How could that little fact escape his attention? The sucker noticed when a fly landed a block away, but he didn't realize I'd turned into SuperBitch?

I sat up, annoyed and dismayed, and heard the unmistakeable
cha-chik!
of a shotgun shell being chambered. I'd been on enough duck hunting trips with my mom to know what that sounded like. (Those were my pre-PETA days, just like now was post-PETA; they were getting a little extreme for my taste.)

I looked around. Marc was standing about twenty yards away, holding my old twelve-gauge. What was that statistic? More people who kept guns in their home were fated to be the victims of that gun than victims of other violence?

Since I was right in his sights, I silently vowed to pay more attention to such statistics in the future.

“Uh, I'm not dangerous anymore,” I said.

“Mmmm,” he replied. He wasn't wearing scrubs or shoes, just jeans and a Tori Amos T-shirt. He either didn't have work or he'd taken the day off to deal with his psychotic undead roommate. “You all right? Did you cut yourself going out the window?”

He wanted to know if I was all right! It was almost enough to make me overlook the shotgun. “No. I mean, no, I didn't cut myself, not no, I'm not all right. I
am
all right. Now, I mean.”

“Eric heard you go out.”

“Okay. Uh, what are you planning on doing with that thing?”

“Well.” He took a step closer, but the barrel didn't waver. “It won't kill you, but we figured it would slow you down. You can dodge bullets, but Tina doesn't think you can dodge buckshot.”

“Tina's probably right. Is she okay?”

“Sure.” He smirked a little. “She won the fight, in case you don't remember.”

“I remember.” I sighed and rested my head on my knees. “I remember everything, unfortunately. I guess now's a good time to start with the groveling. I'm sorry for what I said to you, Marc.” I looked up at him. “I didn't mean it. I'd be pretty upset if you moved out.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really, Marc. I'm really sorry. I screwed up.”

“Okay.” The gun stayed up.

“Is—is everybody else inside?”

“Yeah. Tina's still resting, but Eric and Jess and I are all awake. We were trying to figure out—never mind.”

Trying to figure out what to do with me when the sun went down and I was still evil. I almost smiled; bet Sinclair didn't expect me to get up at four o'clock in the afternoon.

“It wasn't much of a prison cell,” I couldn't help pointing out. “It had a glass window.”

“We were counting on the effects wearing off.”

“Well, is it okay if I go in?”

At last, the shotgun came down a little. “What are you going to do?”

“Grovel until I make it right. Oh, and yell at Sinclair. You believe he didn't notice I was psycho?”

“Yeah, well…he's kind of upset, too.”

“
He's
upset?”

“Yeah.”

I couldn't help but notice Marc hadn't put the safety on. He might believe I was back to myself, but he wasn't going to take any chances. It made me sad; he'd never been especially wary around me before.

I wondered what else had changed.

“L
ook who's feeling better!” Marc called as I hesitantly entered one of the tea rooms.

“Uh, hi,” I said. Then, “What is that doing in here?”

I didn't mean Sinclair (though, after last night, I wasn't especially thrilled to see him, either). I was pointing to the Book of the Dead which, incomprehensibly, was on the table next to the bowl of sugar cubes.

“I, too, decided to do some light reading,” Sinclair replied. He looked like he was playing statues; he was sitting stiff as a board. “Of course, I stopped after a couple of pages.”

“Look, you were right, okay? I shouldn't have read it. Big, dumb, l ame mistake.”

“Really dumb,” Marc added helpfully.

“Really dumb,” I agreed, still looking at Sinclair. “And you shouldn't have had sex with me.”

“
You
had sex with
me,
” he pointed out, having the nerve to sound annoyed. “And you left early.”

“Well, yeah, because I was totally evil! And you didn't even notice!” Hmm, my groveling wasn't going quite the way I planned. Still, I couldn't help being upset. “How could you not notice?”

He stood. It was easy to forget what a big guy he was when he was sitting down all prim and proper at tea. But when he flashed to his feet—too quick for most people to track—he towered over everyone else. Marc actually flinched, not that I could blame him. I felt a little like flinching myself.

“I take it to mean,” he said quietly, “that the only reason you chose intimacy with me—repeatedly—is because you were out of your head?”

“Well…” Boy, did that sound bad. And he looked—not crushed, but like he was getting ready to be crushed. “Uh…it's not like I don't think you're a great-looking guy, Eric. I don't think finding each other attractive has ever been the problem.” I'd been so focused on what I'd done to Marc and Tina and Jess, I hadn't really thought about how Eric might feel about it. I mean…he was a guy. He got laid. A couple of times! I thought he'd be generally okay with it and would scold me about the Book but…I didn't think I'd hurt his feelings. Hell, I didn't think I could hurt him at all.

He was the king of the vampires, for goodness' sake.

“Anyway…” I was still trying to figure out how to finish the sentence without hanging myself or hurting Eric worse than I already had.

“Oh, hey, look at this,” Marc said too heartily. “A shotgun! This isn't mine. I'll just put it back in your closet, Betsy. Well, maybe
my
closet.” Then he hurried out.

“Put the safety on when you unload it,” I called after him.

“Never mind,” Eric said quietly, and I whipped back around. He had sat down again when I wasn't looking. The moment, whatever it was, had passed. “You have answered my question, whether you meant to or not.”

“Eric…”

“Elizabeth, it has not escaped my notice that you are awake.”

“Right. Can't get anything past you.” I sat down across from him. “I was outside getting some sun when Marc came to get me. I've got some tall apologizing to do, I know. Where's Tina?”

“Still resting.” He was giving me the weirdest look. “Until the sun sets, of course. You say you were
outside
? I heard the glass break but I could hardly believe—”

“Yeah. It was great! I wish you could come out with me; the sun felt so good.”

“The sun would incinerate me in a nanosecond.”

“Right. Sorry about that. I haven't been out during the day in six whole months, so I was glad to get out of here, believe me.”

“Tina,” he said, still looking at me like I was a strange new species of bug, “has not seen the sun in well over a hundred years.”

“Well, I'll tell her all about it. After I, you know, make things right. Although I'm not sure how much I've got to make right with her; she
did
kick my ass pretty good. You should have seen it,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“I missed it, as I was waiting for you to return to bed,” he said coldly, and I almost cringed.

“You—” I tried to fix it. Couldn't think of a way. I finished the sentence, hating how I sounded like a sad little kid instead of a grown woman. “You really didn't notice?”

“I was…distracted. I can assure you, it will never happen again.”

His face was so still, so cold. I had to get out of there. Now. This very second. “Where's Jessica?”

“Hiding from you, of course.” He grabbed the Book and stood. “I should put this back. Since you appear to be back to yourself, there is no need for further research. Good day.”

And that was that.

“J
essica?” I softly tapped on the door with my knuckles. “Jess? It's Bets. Can I come in?”

Silence. I could hear her moving around in there, but she wasn't talking. Ugh. I could take anything—death, torture, knockoffs—but the silent treatment.

“Jess? I fucked up, honey. Really really bad. I'm so sorry. Sorry for hitting you and biting you and saying all those rotten things.” Listing my sins made me feel worse, if possible. “Can I please come in?”

Nothing. And who could blame her? I wouldn't talk to me, either.

“Jess, let me in, sweetie. Wouldn't you rather see me groveling in person? And I've got a good grovel going, you really don't want to miss it.”

Nothing.

“Well.” I coughed. “I wanted to tell you I'm not evil anymore and say I'm sorry for—you know. For everything. I'll—uh—I'll be around if you need to talk. Or something. Okay? Okay. Well, I'm gonna go now.”

I paused, waiting for her to dramatically fling open the door and holler for me to wait. That's what always happened in the movies. Then I turned around and walked down the hall.

This was gonna be much,
much
harder than I thought. I'd fucked it up all the way around, all because I'd decided to read the Book of the Dead instead of rereading
Gone With the Wind
. I felt like Scarlett after the Yankees went through Tara, except less attractive.

Marc and Tina were at the foot of the stairs, talking. I resisted the urge to eavesdrop—I'd made enough mistakes in the last forty-eight hours—and slowly walked down to meet them.

“Feeling better, Majesty?” Tina asked. Her smile looked real. Marc seemed okay, too. His shoulders were a little set, but he looked relaxed enough.

“Um, yeah. Listen—”

“I'm glad you're all right now. And I must apologize for taking liberties with your person. I—”

I grabbed her little paws and looked down into her big pansy eyes. “Oh, Tina, I'm the one who owes
you
the apology. I suck!”

The corner of her mouth twitched as she attempted to extricate her hands. “Majesty, you do not.”

“No, I totally do. I feel so bad that I tried to kill you. I'm
glad
you kicked my ass. Humiliated, but glad. I didn't know you could fight like that!”

She laughed and brushed her straw-colored bangs out of her eyes. “Luckily for me. I must admit, I had a bad moment when you threw your necklace at me.”

“Well, I'm really sorry.”

“I, also. I am glad,” she added with touching sincerity, “you are better.”

“Oh, I'm completely evil-free.”

“And…you rose while the sun was up.”

“Yeah. Turn evil, get a new power,” I joked. “It's like the worst trade-off ever.”

“Hmm,” she replied, giving me the same look Sinclair had. It wasn't much fun when
she
looked at me that way, either.

“You should have seen her rolling around in the grass like a big blond puppy,” Marc said. “It was pretty hilarious.”

“You hush,” I said, but I couldn't help smiling. It felt good after recent events.