Undead and Unappreciated (11 page)

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.”

“Y
ou’re really gonna do it?”

“Bet your ass.”

“It didn’t really cause any of your problems.”

“No,” I agreed, “but it’s dangerous. It’s just lying around in the library for anybody to pick up and read.”

“It’s irreplaceable.”

“So was the Nazi regime. Besides, I promised my mom I wouldn’t burn it.” We were standing on one of the big bridges connecting the suburbs with Minneapolis, and talking loudly to be heard over the hum of traffic. It was chilly—maybe forty degrees—but I was so hyped up I barely noticed. “So it’s gonna sleep with the fishes.”

I shoved, and the Book of the Dead went down and down (it was a high bridge), and then plopped into the Big Muddy.

“Huh,” Jessica said after a long moment of watching it sink out of sight with nary a bubble. “I guess I thought it would float on a bed of pure evil, or whatever.”

“It’s made out of skin, not Gore-Tex.” I brushed off my chilly hands. “Boy, was that a relief or what? I should have done that months ago.”

“Yep, that’s that.” Jessica zipped her coat higher. “Now what?”

“I don’t know, but it’s gonna be something, you know, take-chargish.”

“Oh, good.”

“And stay out of the basement.”

“I don’t think George would hurt me. Not on a full stomach, anyway.”

“All the same.”

“Don’t worry. One vampire attack a week is my limit.”

I hadn’t had much time to effect change in my life—I’d talked with Jessica for hours, then destroyed a priceless artifact, and that had pretty much burned up my night. But after sleeping through the next day, I rose around six ready to kick some passive-aggressive vampire ass. First stop: Scratch.

On the way out to my car, I thought about trying to find Eric and doing something embarrassing like telling him I loved him, but chickened out. Also, I wasn’t sure it would change anything. The last thing I could stand was being a burden—on anyone. If he didn’t feel the same way—or worse, if he once had but didn’t anymore—I wasn’t going to be all Scarlett O’Hara (“Where will I go? What shall I do?”) on him.

But at least I knew, now. It was sort of a relief to have it at the top of my mind, instead of lurking deep in my subconscious. But realizing—okay, admitting—I loved Eric Sinclair didn’t solve anything. Real life was messy, and loving him didn’t magically undo the old problems and make everything wonderful and perfect. In fact, it sort of made a few things worse.

If you took anything wrong in my life—“I’m upset Eric tricked me and made himself king” or “I’m upset Eric didn’t tell me about my sister and Satan”—and tacked on “and I love Eric Sinclair,” it made things messier.

Irony: loving Eric Sinclair and having it be another on a long list of problems. But now was the time for action! I was all done crying naked in the closet, thank you very much. I would be the mistress—queen, if you will—of my own destiny!

Starting with Scratch. I knew that place could make money; the vampires were sulking and not helping me. I needed to put a little fear of the queen into the undead. And I needed to have Margarita Mondays.

I drove around for what seemed like half an hour, looking for a parking ramp that wasn’t full, then finally gave up and parked in one of the handicap spaces just down the block. I felt a twinge of conscience but managed to squash it; being dead had to count as some sort of handicap. For the millionth time, I reminded myself to get a Manager Parking spot put out front.

I stormed through the door and stood in the nearly empty (groan…on a Friday night!) bar. “All right, listen up!” I began, only to be cut off by Klaus.

“Oh good, you’ve decided to drop by,” he snarked.

“Hey, hey. I’ve had other things going on.”

“Other things besides being the queen.”

“Well, yeah. I mean no! It’s all sort of wrapped up in…” I trailed off. Why was I explaining myself to this yutz? This was not part of the Take Charge plan. “Listen, things are going to be different from here on out.”

“You’re right about that,” a vampire I didn’t know piped up from her seat at the bar.

“Who’s talking to
you
?”

“The employees of Scratch are now officially on strike,” Klaus announced. He looked at his watch. “As of 6:59 p.m.”

“You’re
what
?”

“On strike.”

I was having trouble processing this. “You’re
what
?”

“We have formed a union,” he continued, “to demand proper working conditions.”

“And proper working conditions would be…?” I had a horrible suspicion what they were.

“We want sheep to be allowed here, we want to be able to drink blood on the dance floor—”

“And at the bar,” another vampire said. He was a pale brunette in a denim jacket, sitting next to the woman who’d spoken up earlier.

“Right, at the bar…” Slight Overbite was ticking the demands off on his long, spidery (yerrrrgggh) fingers. “And if a sheep becomes difficult, or a human wanders in, we want to be able to have a little fun.”

“Kill them,” I clarified.

“Right. Also, we want a dental plan.”

“Really?” I gasped.

“No.” He grinned, a wholly unpleasant image. “That last one was a joke.”

“This whole
thing
is a joke. You guys are seriously nuts if you think I’m going to allow
any
of that. In case you didn’t get the memo, we are, as of Nostro biting the big one, a friendlier vampire nation.”

“You’d pull our fangs,” he spat.

“I’d have you act decently!” We were nose to upturned nose. “What
is
it with you guys? You’re dead, so you have to be assholes?”

“We don’t have to be,” the woman at the bar admitted. “We just like to. You can’t change hundreds of years of mystic evolution.”

“Sure I can. That ‘we’re going to do it because we can’ crap doesn’t fly with me. Now: as for being on strike, you’re not on strike, you’re fired. I can get anybody to run this place. You don’t like the working conditions? Fuck off and die. Again.”

“This is your last chance to change your mind,” Denim Boy said. Like I was scared of anybody wearing a Tommy Hilfiger knockoff.

“No,” I said. “It’s yours.”

“You’re not leaving us with a lot of breathing room,” a new voice said. For a place I’d thought was practically deserted, there were a shitload of vampires suddenly around.

“Fortunately,” Klaus said, “we don’t need any.”

Another vampire came out from the back, dragging—uh-oh—Laura. He had a bunch of her perfect blond hair in his fist, right by her skull, and she had both hands on his and was stumbling, trying not to trip.

“Surprise,” she said, trying to smile.