Undead and Unworthy u-7

by Maryjane Davidson

  “Face us, false queen!”

  “Oboy,” I said, nearly tripping as Sinclair grabbed me and thrust me behind his back. “That doesn't sound good.”

  Chapter 16

  They streamed in, stepping smoothly over Nick's unconscious body. They moved like cats and had the hungry, feral look of same. At least, as far as I could tell from peeking over Sinclair's shoulder; I kept trying to elbow him out of the way, and he kept jamming me behind him.

  “Uh, hi. You'd be, um, Garrett's friends, right?”

  Happy, Skippy, Trippy, Sandy, Benny, Clara, and Jane glared at me as one. Somewhere, they'd clothed themselves – probably at the farm, I was seeing an awful lot of flannel – but still had the rank smell of the unwashed. They were all too thin, even bony. Their hair was varying colors and degrees of snarled.

  “Well,” I plunged, “I'm sorry I wasn't here when you stopped by the other night – ”

  They weren't moving. Perhaps I was dazzling them with my ineptitude. It had happened before.

  “But at least this gives me a chance to, um, explain and even, um, apologize – ”

  “Do not apologize to them,” Sinclair snarled. “One such as you should not even speak to them.”

  “Shush! He's cranky,” I explained, “no blood tonight, you know how it is.”

  “We know exactly how it is,” Clara said.

  “Oh. Right.” Awkward. What was interesting wasn't their reaction so much as Sinclair's. He wasn't angry so much as – as – offended, that was the word. Their presence offended him. I guess the Fiends were the vampire untouchables.

  “Anyway, the thing is, it has been a crazy couple of years. For me, I mean. First there was the whole 'you are the queen' thing, which I was so not prepared for. And, I might point out, a lot of people were telling me to kill all you guys when Nostro – when you ate Nostro – but I didn't. In fact, I saved you.”

  “For imprisonment and slow starvation.”

  “I'm getting to that.” I lowered my voice. “Okay, so then there was a serial killer – more than one, come to think of it – and then my half sister turned up, who was the daughter of the devil. The devil! I mean, please!”

  “Yes, please,” one of them said. “Let us end this.”

  “But I'm not finished! And then – before then, actually – all these ghosts started showing up looking for favors, like in that movie? Never mind, you didn't see that movie.”

  One of them was rubbing her temples. I sped up the This Is My Life portion of our program. “Then my friend got sick, lethally sick, and I had this wedding to plan, and all these werewolves showed up, and my dad and step mom died because I wanted a baby, and I had to kill a librarian, and it was just – just a crazy, crazy time. I mean, totally nuts.”

  “So. Essentially,” Sandy – or was it Benny? – said, “you forgot about us.”

  “Well.”

  “Do not,” Sinclair said through gritted teeth.

  “Kinda,” I admitted. “But I had all these really good reasons! I – yeek!” Sinclair had shoved me into the curtains as seven enraged vampires launched themselves at me.

  Chapter 17

  It's hard to even describe the fight. With enhanced strength, speed, and reflexes, everything happened so fast, and then it was all over but the bandaging.

  The first one that got near Sinclair dropped, and so did the next one. One got past him and got a good grip on my hair (must have been a female killed in the 1920s... that was the hair-​pulling era, right?), but I brought my head forward in a blur of coolness and broke her nose with a satisfying crunch. The blow made me stagger, and I wiped her blood off my forehead... sluggish, nasty dark stuff.

  And the screaming! All the screaming! Wait. Only one person was screaming. Marc was screaming.

  I shoved Hair Puller at the fireplace, peripherally noticing the ceramic tiles rain down on her stupid face as she hit the floor. Then I ran toward the shrieking Marc, who was on his back fighting off flashing fangs and teeth (Clara? Benny? It was going so quickly I couldn't tell).

  Before I could get to them, Tina leaned over them, grabbed Clara/Benny by the hair and yanked him (ah, a guy, I saw it now) off Marc. She had something long and shiny in her other hand, and I recognized it, as she swung the Wusthof butcher knife (Jessica's pride and joy, she had a whole collection in the butler's pantry, and they were wicked sharp), hard enough to decapitate Benny. His headless body fell with a thump, and Marc scrambled back on his hands, so the thing wouldn't fall on him.

  Tina had dropped the head and was turning to see who else she could decapitate, when a wooden spoon burst through her chest.

  “This?” the Ant demanded. “This is how you spend your time? Squabbling with people who don't bathe?”

  “Not... now!” I ran to Tina, nearly tripping over the body of a Fiend Sinclair had killed, and yanked the serving spoon out of her heart. Then I grabbed her head and screamed into her eyes, which had begun to gloss over. “Don't you dare die on me, you efficient bitch, don't you dare!”

  “I – I'm fine. I'm all right, my queen.” We both looked down. The wooden serving spoon, about nine inches long, was now ash. I had turned it to ash. And Tina was all right.

  No, I didn't know how.

  And then the door was slamming, the other Fiends were gone, and the fight was over.

  Chapter 18

  We'd killed two of them: Sinclair had killed Trippy; Tina had killed Benny. Marc was wounded, bleeding like the proverbial stuck pig, but it looked mostly superficial. Jessica, who had been keeping a terrified Garrett from fleeing down the tunnel, drove Marc to the ER. Marc's last delirious comment was, “Will I become a vampire now? Cool!”

  By then, the rest of the Fiends had fled, and Nick had regained consciousness. “Yeah, that'll show 'em,” he said groggily, as he caromed from one wall to another, trying to stagger out the door. It looked like he had a broken nose, but I hoped that was the worst of it. We offered to call an ambulance, but he tagged along with Jessica, who I knew would tell him the whole story.

  Sinclair carried Tina upstairs to the hot tub room, dunked her in (over her protests; we were pretty sure I'd cured the wound), and, after ten minutes, let her out.

  About the water thing: for some reason, when vampires are grievously hurt, water speeds up the healing process. I had no idea why. Maybe because our undead bodies didn't have much moisture? I didn't know. So much of being a vampire was like magic to me. And not the cool kind, either.

  Tina shook the wet hair out of her eyes and grinned at me. “Two down. Five to go.”

  “You were nuts, launching yourself at that guy.”

  “You and the king had your hands full,” she said dryly. I handed her a robe, and she snuggled into it. Not a mark on her, thank God.

  “But you were stabbed with wood,” Sinclair said, looking ashen. “I saw it.”

  Tina looked at me, and I winked. So she shrugged and said to the king, “It must have missed my heart.”

  Oooooh, she's actually lying to the king of the vamps! Somebody write down the date and time. And I had to admit, it was nice to be the one keeping secrets for a change.

  “But I saw – ”

  “Come on,” I sighed. “Let's make smoothies. Or something.”

  Chapter 19

  We visited Marc later that night. Sure, two o'clock in the morning isn't considered optimum visiting hours, but this wasn't the first late-​night trip to this hospital for me. Or even the tenth. I knew who to sidestep, who to put the vampire mojo on, and who didn't give a tin shit if Bin Laden was on the floor, as long as he or she could snag an extra hour of sleep in the on-​call room.

  “Disgusting,” Marc informed me cheerily from his bed, as he played with the tilt settings and television remote control at once. “This hospital's about as secure as the men's rooms in the Target Center. But thanks for coming to see me so fast.”

  “After my second smoothie, you were all I could think about.”

  “Tell the truth,” h
e said soberly. “My hair looks awful, doesn't it?”

  “Well...” If he considered most of the hair on the right, which was clotted with blood and hopelessly snarled to be awful, then... “At least you've got your health. Oh, wait.”

  “Aren't you funny.” He stretched out his bandaged arms and looked at them. After being stitched up (fifteen stitches in his left arm, twenty-​six in his right, thirty-​one in his right leg, eighteen in the muscle just below his right nipple, seven stitches to the left of his belly button) , he'd been admitted for overnight observation. “It looked worse than it was, in case you were wondering.”

  “Actually, I was wondering if you could pull the blanket up a little more.”

  “Oh.” Marc was still staring down at himself, but had yet to notice he was naked.

  “I'll, uh, just do that.” I bustled around the bed, trying to make myself useful.

  He looked pleased. “Now I'm tucked in!”

  For the first time I realized his green-​eyed gaze was a little cloudy. I peered closer. So did he. Our faces were about an inch apart but, again, Marc didn't seem to think this was at all unusual.

  “Jeez,” I said, so close my breath (if I had any) would have fogged his glasses (if he wore them). “How much medication are you on?”

  “Well, let's see. I had some Valium at the house, and some more on the way to the hospital. (I offered some to Nick, but he said no thanks.) Then in the ER, the intern said – ”

  “You know what? It doesn't matter. As long as you're okay is all.”

  “Oh, sure! I'm great! You know, for someone who was trying to kill me, he mostly just knocked me down and got me dirty. I mean, did you see those guys? Covered with mud!”

  “Yeah, that's annoying.” I fought not to roll my eyes or sneak a peek at the clock on the wall.

  “I think he wanted to kill you and was mostly trying to get me out of his way. I'll be sore and itchy for ages, and I'll have spectacular bruising, and maybe a couple of really butch scars, but that's the extent of it. I feel pretty lucky.”

  “I'm – I'm glad, Marc.” He had been lucky, but I was mostly too tormented by guilt. And hunger pangs. I was so thirsty, and the smells generated by the hospital were making me drool. As the queen, I didn't have to feed every night like all the other vampires, and sometimes I made the mistake of pushing it. It had been at least four days. “Also, don't come back.”

  He absently cracked his knuckles; they sounded like Rice Crispies. “Yep, after tonight it'll be smooth – what?”

  “You can't come back until we take care of this Fiend situation.”

  “Take care of the situation? You're talking like it's a termite infestation!”

  “If only,” I muttered. “Look, I feel crummy that you got hurt, but you were lucky, and I'm not enough of a twit to put you right back in danger.”

  He blinked at me slowly, like an owl, and I could tell he was trying to muster an argument. After a long silence he said, “But we have the Super Secret Vampire Tunnels to escape to.”

  “Yeah, except every one of the Fiends is faster than you and Jess, and what if they cut you off next time? What if Sinclair and I, God forbid, aren't even home next time?”

  “But we can – ”

  “Marc, I'm sorry, I guess I didn't realize... you think this is a debate. It's not. You could run to the tunnels, Sinclair and I might be able to protect you, the Fiends might come back but not try to hurt you... whatever, man. Too many maybes for me – you're out.”

  “But Betsy...” His eyes filled, and he shook his head savagely, making the tears fly. Then he was glaring at me with wet cheeks. “That's my home, same as it is yours. Where can I go?”

  “Yeah, about that.” Marc wasn't seeing anyone right now (he'd had a fling a month or so ago, but otherwise was something of a dateless wonder), and no family – at least, none he would ever live with ever again. “Where do you want to go? You pick the place, and Sinclair will pay for it. Sinclair and I,” I corrected, since technically it was now my fortune, too.

  “I don't want to pick anything,” Marc began, still pissed, but then I could see the possible advantages of the situation begin to trickle past the fog of drugs. “Uh. Anywhere I want?”

  “Anywhere. Until we fix this. The day the Fiends pack it up and go home” – Yeah, sure, that's how this would end – “is the day you move back in.”

  An expression of vague alarm crossed his features. “But what if the Fiends stay out of sight for, I dunno, two years? Before they make their move? Are you going to keep me out of my home for years?”

  “It won't come to that.” And try as I might, I just couldn't picture it. Not to be all egotistical or anything, but I couldn't imagine the Fiends could do much of anything until they'd settled with me. Laying back in the buckwheat for a couple of years was definitely not their style. “It absolutely won't. But right now it's too dangerous for you. Of course it's your home, and the day the Fiends are taken care of is the day you come back. But until then...”

  I tucked another blanket around Marc and left him sleepily murmuring, “The Radisson? No. The Millennium? No. Sofitel? I know! The Grand! Will they do turndown service for me... ?”

  Chapter 20

  As Marc's door was wheezing shut behind me, I heard Jessica trotting toward me. I was able to pick up the sound of her footsteps over everyone else's in the hall (granted, at this hour, there weren't many, but still – my very own stupid pet trick!) and turned in time for her to wave to get my attention.

  It seemed to take a very long time for her to get to me. Sinclair and I had talked about this phenomenon once or twice, after making love. It was starting to seem more and more natural, taking advantage of my vampiric senses and all. In the beginning, they either overwhelmed me (especially when I was hungry) or I had to sit still and make a conscious effort to hear, to smell, to whatever outside the range of normal human activity. Now I could probably pick Sinclair or Jess or Mom out of a Metrodome crowd.

  Now her mouth was moving, verrrry sloooooowly. I squinted at her and then yelped when she pinched me.

  “Sorry, but you had a very goofy look on your face. How is he? Is he sleeping?”

  “He's a little out of it.”

  “Oh.” She stared at the closed door as if she had suddenly developed X-​ray vision and could, y'know, actually see what was happening on the other side. “Do you think I should go in? It's so late. Think he'd be mad if I didn't come in tonight? I don't think he'd be mad. And I'll see him tomorrow. I'll bring him some Bruegger's for breakfast. Let's walk. Can we walk? Come on.”

  I didn't say a word, just fell into step beside her. It wasn't hard to figure out why she was nervous – she had, after all, spent many days in this very hospital as a terminal patient. That'd take the shine off your night, even if the other events hadn't.

  I cut through her nervous chatter as we headed to the hospital parking ramp. “Actually, you could help me out and radically reduce your trips to the hospital.”

  “Sing it.”

  “Well, we're putting Marc up somewhere nice, sort of as a treat, you know? I mean, he's been through a lot. He was finally starting to date again but he had that bad breakup last month... and he's been picking up so many extra shifts... and he really got torn up tonight.”

  “Yeah,” Jessica said slowly, “I guess you could say he's had a crummy few weeks.”

  “Right!” She was falling for it! The puny human had no hope whatsoever of overcoming the mightiness that was me, Betsy, vampire queen and recovering Miss Congeniality. “So maybe you could go with him, wherever he picks, and sort of settle him in, you know? Make sure he's got everything he needs, and – ”

  Jessica had stopped walking, which was awkward, as I didn't immediately notice, and I have long legs and walk fast, so I had to walk all the way back across the skyway if I wanted to keep participating in the conversation. Which, judging by her thunderous expression, I did not.

  “Betsy. Oh my God. How – ”


  – did I know that was just what Marc needed? How could we best help him get settled? How did I manage to say the right thing time and time again?

  Naw. I knew the tone and I knew it wasn't going to be good.

  “ – fucking dumb do you think I am?”

  “You mean, on a sliding scale, or – ”

  “You've gotten rid of one human, and now you're trying to ditch the other.”

  “Oh, say, hey now! I think 'ditch' is a little – ow.”

  She had jammed her index finger into the middle of my chest and now poked to emphasize her words. With each poke a cloud-​colored fingernail jabbed me. It was like being pricked over and over again with the world's dullest needle. We'd had so many fights like this, I practically had scars there. “I'm. Not. Going. Anywhere. Besides, it's my house! You can't kick me out of – ”

  “Also, Sinclair wants to buy it from you. I mean, we want to buy it. The house. We totally do. Together. It's not just him alone. We want to.” Because that's what married couples did, right? Bought real estate together and drank each other's dark, dead blood?

  “Oh, I'll just bet you do.” She pulled her small, sleek head back, like a snake getting ready to bite. It was silly, kind of: I was a foot taller, I was thirty pounds heavier, I had legions of the Undead at my command (sorta) and vampiric strength, and I was scared to death of her. I tried not to cower as she ranted, “Well, you can't have it! For one thing, it's not for sale, and for another, it's my house!”

  “Jessica, we almost lost you this summer, and – ”

  “Betsy, even if you couldn't cure cancer, I wouldn't be afraid of the Fiends. But hey! Since you can? I can't say I'm worried about something as silly as a few bites.”

  We started walking again, only she was stomping toward the elevator, and I was doing the Igor Shuffle (“Yes, master, right away, master, I am not an animal, master.”) right behind her. “A few bites? That's like calling the cost of the War on Terror a few dollars. And I know you're not afraid, it's not about you being afraid, it's about taking the sensible precaution of being elsewhere when the bad guys come back, doy!”