Undead and Unworthy u-7

by Maryjane Davidson

  I'd done it again! The chill in my bones subsided as I realized I had not killed anyone this time. In fact, they were safe and sleeping and, did I mention, safe? How did that work? Was it something I could control? If I didn't, what did?

  I had no more time to think about it. If any of my friends woke up while I was still here, the trick I'd pulled (can I call it a “trick”?) would have been for nothing. Knowing exactly where I had to go, I got the hell out of there, casting a last guilty look at my unconscious husband.

  No sex tonight, that was for sure.

  Chapter 40

  After borrowing (okay, stealing) Sinclair's Lexus SUV, I made the trip in less than half an hour. Nostro's old digs were a combination of farm and what Jessica called a McMansion. Most of the houses in the neighborhood, while in the low seven-​figure range, still looked a lot alike. They came with your standard pool, your standard half-​acre backyard, your standard ballroom.

  For an extra five figures, you could get either a gazebo, or a chicken coop. “Wholesome country living with the convenience of city living,” that's what the brochure said. I knew, because my dad and the Ant had lived in one. It had been left to BabyJon, along with all their dough and the condo in Florida; some lawyer I'd only met once was keeping everything in a trust for him.

  The McMansion was brown, with cream-​colored fake shutters (what exactly was the point of shutters that didn't open or close, anyway?) and a big, crimson-​colored front door. The walkway and patio were brick; the grass was starting to get a little shaggy. There was a tall hedge that went around the side of the house that I could see, and a few baby trees in the front yard. In a hundred years they'd be gorgeous elms. It was weird to think that I might be around to actually see that.

  I brazenly parked on the front lawn (yeah, that's right, the queen of the vampires is here!), giving thanks that the nearest neighbor was on the other side of the lake.

  I walked up the sidewalk and knocked on Nostro's front door, remembering the last time I'd been dragged through this very door. I'd been a vampire for about two days, no idea what was going on (as opposed to, you know, now), and almost before I knew it, people were bowing and calling me queen. It had been more bizarre than senior prom.

  Nobody answered, so I tried the knob – unlocked. Ah, a welcoming killer mob. Good times.

  I knew my way around a little, but proceeded cautiously. Frankly, tracking them in the bland-​smelling house was pretty easy – even from a floor away I could smell their reek.

  I passed a sitting room, a library, a bathroom, two bedrooms, and an office on the way. Unlike our mansion, the McMansion had much larger rooms (older houses tended to have tons of little rooms).

  In fact, the place seemed too big and rather empty; there was dust on a lot of the tables and countertops. Of course, Alice had been the only one staying here... before she was killed and dismembered, the poor girl...

  There weren't any paintings or pictures on the walls and, weirder, no books. No books anywhere. The bookcases held wine bottles and lamps that looked old-​fashioned but operated on electricity. No magazines, even.

  At least all the lights were on, which made the whole thing seem less scary – I don't know why. I sure as shit knew that things went bump in the night even with all the lights on.

  The carpet was so thick in each room that my footsteps made no noise, but I didn't much care, because I wasn't trying to sneak in. Instead I walked straight into the upstairs living room and was greeted with, “Who the hell invited you, blondie?”

  Chapter 41

  l blinked, more than a little surprised. Mostly at the fact that there was an upstairs living room; I'd never seen that before. Just more proof of Nostro's essential nuttiness. And I'd had more pleasant greetings. Shoot, the IRS guy had been nicer.

  Focus, Betsy!

  A bloody and battered Nick was slumped in a dining room chair. There was a row of floor-​to-​ceiling windows behind him and, weirdly, three of them were open. There was quite the breeze whipping through the room – I guess the Fiends, used to living outside, didn't much notice the cold.

  Then I remembered that they'd been kept outside all year round, like dogs you didn't mind having around but didn't want to spend much time with, either.

  They ripped up anything they got near; it's not like they were aware enough to sleep in beds, or even on a carpeted floor. You're acting like they were POWs and you were a Viet Cong!

  Nick wasn't tied to the chair or anything – why would they? But he sure was pissed.

  “Well, uh, they sort of did,” I answered, gesturing to the Fiends. “Invited me, I mean.”

  “You just had to come and save the day, didn't you?”

  “Alone,” one of the Fiends said – it was Stephanie, and she wasn't bothering to hide her surprise. “She came alone.”

  “Of course I came! What, you think I'd stop for cocktails instead?” The Fiends stared at me, unblinking, while I bragged, “You have no idea who you're dealing with.” Okay, to be fair to them, I had no idea who they were dealing with. “You think you can get what you want by grabbing my friend – ”

  “I'm not your friend,” Nick whined.

  “Fine, you grabbed my best friend's boyfriend, and now you think you're going to get what you want. But you don't even know what you want, do you?”

  The Fiends looked at each other, while Nick, looking thoroughly disgusted to be there, rolled his eyes.

  I examined them as closely as I could without making it obvious I was staring. Happy, Jane, and Clara looked a little better – something in the eyes, I guess. They didn't seem as savage or as confused.

  Wonder of wonders, although they didn't appear to have showered, they were at least wearing clean clothes. It occurred to me that the bedrooms in the McMansion probably still had dressers with clothes in them. And these guys had eventually fed enough, or remembered enough, to realize that.

  Jane had long, dirty blond hair – it hung halfway down her back in greasy strings. Her mouth was a thin line, and her fingernails were filthy, but, incongruously with the rest of her, she had bright blue eyes, definitely her best feature.

  Clara and Happy also had long hair but of course Happy, being a guy, towered over them both. He was one of those fellas who are so big they slump to try to look smaller, which only drew attention to his sheer bulk.

  Happy had the tip-​tilted eyes of an Asian American and would have been pretty good looking, if not for the hate-​filled expression on his face. His jeans and shirt were clean, but he needed to wash the dried blood off his chin.

  I wondered if anything was driving the Fiends now besides hate for me.

  “Look, guys, let's talk about this. I think there's been enough killing, don't you?”

  “No,” Happy said.

  “Because this could get a lot worse, you know. Before it gets better.”

  “It will never be better,” Clara – also known as Stephanie, but I wasn't going to let on – said sadly. “I thought maybe – ” She cut herself off, and I knew why. Even now, she couldn't let on to what she had been up to earlier. She was as much a prisoner as Nick. “Not ever.”

  “Then what's your goal?”

  “You must pay for what you've done,” Jane said.

  “Pay as in kill? I didn't kill you, I didn't make you vampires and starve you – I tried to help you. You know what your problem is? The one you really want to hurt is dead. Nostro's out of your reach, and you can't fucking stand it.”

  “Stated with Kissingerian diplomacy,” Nick snarked.

  “Quiet, Chair Boy. Look, I'll apologize again, okay?”

  “No,” Happy said.

  “Then what do you want? You want to go back in time? Because that's the only way to – wait.” I thought for a second. And then another one.

  I thought about Jessica, and how much she loved Nick. I thought about these Fiends, and the lives they had before they became my subjects – yes, my subjects. And even if the old king, Nostro, had done
this to them, I was still responsible for them.

  So what would a queen do, for her subjects? What kind of queen did I want to be?

  “Okay. Let Nick go, and I'll stay, and you can have at me.”

  The three Fiends glanced at each other.

  “Maim, kill, fold, spindle, mutilate. Whatever. Just let Nick go.”

  “You offer yourself in his place?” Stephanie/Clara seemed genuinely shocked by the offer.

  “Yup.”

  “This is not a trick?”

  “Uh, I don't think so.”

  “You are not setting a trap?”

  I lifted my bare hands. “If this were a trap, wouldn't I have sprung it by now? I'm here alone. I'm not here to trick you. I don't want to kill you. I want you to get better. If the only way you can get better is to deal with me alone, then this is your chance. So what the hell are you waiting for?”

  Happy moved in and sniffed the air around me. “You are serious.”

  I made an effort not to lean away from him; yeesh, he stank. “Yes.”

  “It may be painful.”

  “It might be.” I tried not to shake. I tried to sound brave. I guess I didn't, though, because he almost smiled.

  “We give you no guarantees,” he warned. “We may come after your friend here, anyway, after you're gone.”

  I thought of Sinclair. “My friend,” I sighed, “will be the least of your problems, if you kill me.”

  “We are afraid of no one. Not even our queen.”

  I shrugged. “Obviously not.”

  Happy looked over his stooped shoulders at the other two. They gave no sign, but he seemed to understand them anyway.

  “We accept. Your friend can go.”

  “No fucking way!”

  The four of us stared at Nick.

  “Oh no you don't,” he hollered, white-​faced with blood loss. “You don't get to save me, no way, uh-​uh. They kill me, and you feel like shit for, what is it? A thousand years? That's the way it's supposed to be. You're supposed to live with failure, not be the hero. Hear that? You're not the hero, Betsy Taylor! So hit the bricks! Get lost! Crawl back into your mansion basement and hide again!”

  “He does not want to go,” Happy observed after a short silence.

  “Yeah, no shit.”

  “Are you sure you wish to take his place?”

  “I'm having second thoughts,” I admitted grimly.

  “Perhaps he is not the friend to her we thought he was,” Stephanie told the others.

  “Damn right we're not friends!” Nick hollered.

  “Will you stop screaming? And no,” I sighed. “We used to be, sort of, but no, not anymore. But the offer still stands. Let him go, and I'll stick around, and we'll see what we'll see.”

  “I have doubts,” Stephanie told her comrades. Aha! I silently congratulated myself for stopping Sinclair and Tina from killing her.

  “What d'you mean?” Jane asked. Happy looked like he was wondering the same thing. Both of them had a little suspicion in their eyes, and I prayed Stephanie would be careful with her next words, so she wouldn't give herself away.

  “She is not what we expected.” Stephanie circled me and Nick. “Nothing about her. Not her friends, not those she calls her friends but are not – ” She stopped and sniffed Nick, who made a batting motion at her with his hands, like he was shooing away a fly. “She is not the queen we thought. She is not smart, or powerful, or terrifying. Not like a real queen.”

  “More like a commoner,” Happy added.

  “Thanks?” I called out.

  “She might help us,” Stephanie added.

  “How?” Jane asked, shaking tangled hair out of her face. “If she is not like a real queen, what can she give us?”

  “We could start with your names,” I suggested, still hoping to avoid hostilities. “I'd like to know them.”

  My request confused them, until Stephanie cleared her throat. “My name is Stephanie,” she told me, as if for the first time.

  Happy licked his lips. His tongue was weirdly long. “Richard,” he finally said.

  “Jane,” the third one said.

  Huh, I told myself. Jane's name is actually Jane! What are the chances?

  Chapter 42

  l took a shallow breath and let it out. Okay. Things were going – if not exactly well, at least it wasn't the disaster on wheels I'd been envisioning five minutes ago. Names were a good start. Now to keep the lines of communication open.

  “Stephanie. Richard. Jane. I... well, I can't say it's wonderful to meet all of you, just like I know you weren't exactly thrilled about meeting me. But I can say I'm glad I've learned who you really are. I, uh, felt bad about the silly nicknames.”

  “You did?” Jane asked, open skepticism in her voice.

  “Well, sure. See, I – ”

  “Don't be fooled!” Nick warned them. “She's got this annoying weird charm thing going on. It's hideous. Like head lice. Everything she touches turns to shit.”

  “Would that include Jessica?” I snapped.

  “Well,” he snarled, “she didn't have cancer before she moved in with you and a bunch of other mutant bloodsucking freaks.”

  I didn't even want to respond to that. Emotionally exhausted, I sat on the arm of the couch next to him and waited to see what the Fiends would do.

  And for the first time, I noticed Nick was bleeding – from the inside of his elbows, his neck. There were more serious cuts up and down his arms – from the fight at his house, I assumed. Maybe he'd rolled on some of the broken glass on the carpet? Maybe he'd –

  Oh, God, his neck. They'd – they'd fed on him while waiting for me. His skin must still be crawling.

  I imagine he felt raped and suddenly couldn't look at him.

  “We have to deal with this one before we do anything else,” Richard said, hauling Nick out of the chair. “They don't care for each other, so he's officially become useless.”

  “Useless?” Nick yelped, outraged.

  “Hey, a minute ago you were ready to die just to make me feel like shit for the next thousand years. Now you're all mystified because you might be executed? ”

  “We should kill him,” Richard decided.

  “What about the queen?” Stephanie asked, looking around nervously as if the queen's guard was going to burst out of the walls at any moment. Ha! If only. I could use a last-​minute rescue. Dammit, why, why wasn't my life more like a movie?

  Richard squinted at me, and I got a decidedly distrustful vibe from him. “We should kill her anyway.”

  Then I got a stroke of real luck. Nick tried to pull away from Richard and briefly succeeded, separating himself for a bare second from his supernaturally strong grasp. Quick as thought, I stood up, snatched Nick by the back of his neck and the seat of his pants, and tossed him out the bank of windows.

  “You biiiiiiiitch,” he yowled all the way down. Then, thank God, I heard him cursing as he thrashed around in the hedges.

  “She lies!” Jane shrieked, and came at me.

  Chapter 43

  God, I was so sick of people just launching themselves at me without warning. Big-​time rude, not to mention hell on my nerves. I backpedaled like mad, physically and verbally.

  “I didn't do anything to – ”

  Her fist was a blur, and I took a teeth-​rattling punch in the mouth, which wasn't fun at all, and threw an elbow into Richard's throat before he could do the same.

  I chastised myself immediately: I was fighting like a human, but Fiends didn't need to breathe. He did cough and grab his throat, which I figured was good enough, so I turned my back on him, seized Jane by the hair, and spun her across the room.

  Richard recovered faster than I expected. He delivered a blow to my right kidney, which hurt – oh, man, getting punched in the back was no fun at all – and then delivered a roundhouse kick to my left kidney, which hurt even more.

  “You told us you would not try to trick us!” he seethed, hurting me some more with his f
ists. Kick, kick. Stomp. Best I could tell, Richard was apparently quite the kickboxing champion in his former life. “You swore!”

  “I said,” I gasped between blows, “that after Nick left... ooof... I would let you have at me. Feels like... ow, ow, oh God ow! . . . I'm keeping my end of the bargain. Shame... aggh!... you couldn't keep yours.”

  “My end of the bargain,” he hissed in my ear, “is to survive. That's all you taught me to do.”

  The fire inside me kindled, and I felt a surge of power, as something made Richard stagger back. It didn't knock him unconscious, much less kill him, but it did give me enough space to get up and straighten myself to my full height.

  And yes, I was still wearing my Marc Jacobs heels, which helped.

  “Maybe you're not as good a student as you think.” I couldn't help the disdain in my voice, though normally I tried not to sound like such a snob. What was wrong with this man? His queen had spared his life from the wrath of her husband, offered an apology, reached her hand out in friendship – and he had slapped it down?

  What was wrong with him? Who the fuck did he think he was?!

  My blood ran super-​hot again, and he shrieked as if I had struck him. Again, he seemed too strong to suffer worse than a blow – or maybe the fact that he shared my blood spared him from the worst I had to offer – but it didn't matter. His kickboxing career was over.

  “On your knees!” I snarled at him. When he didn't move, I ignited my blood again – yes, I think I was controlling it now, at least somewhat – and made him get down. And I won't lie. I wouldn't deny it felt good to see him submit. To make him submit.

  I turned long enough to ensure that Stephanie and Jane were not coming at me – they weren't, since they, too, were on their knees – and then I gave Richard my full attention again.

  Nick's chair had been upturned in the fracas; I reached down and snapped a leg off the bottom. “You and I will come to terms of peace,” I suggested, “or you will die.” A dim thought that this wasn't exactly the best way to enforce peace was immediately shoved to the back of my brain.