Undead and Unpopular (22 page)

"Can I tag along?" Cathie asked, drifting beside me.

"I don't care."

"Well, I just thought I'd ask. Are you okay? You're done crying, right?"

"No promises." I could hear the phone ringing as I went downstairs. I'd heard Tina and Sinclair come back, which was too bad because it meant somewhere in this big house, Tina was sprinting to get the phone before it clicked over to the machine.

"I'm not here!" I yelled. Sinclair was standing at the foot of the stairs, looking up at me, still in his overcoat.

"It might be important," he teased, well aware of my antiphone leanings. Then he wrinkled his nose. "What is that smell?"

"It's a long damn story, and I'll tell you all about it on the way—"

"On the way where?"

"But will you just hug me right now?"

"Darling, are you all—" He almost staggered as I flung my arms around him. I tried to squash the traitorous thought

(why didn't you save me?)

and concentrate on the good things: Sinclair's arms around me, his good clean scent, the polar opposite of the zombie.

Cathie coughed. To be honest, I'd forgotten she was there. "I'll just, uh, catch up with you later." She vanished into the stairs.

Sinclair was rubbing my back. "What is it?"

"Alonzo has to be punished."

He pulled back and stared at me. "Does this have anything to do with Jessica turning you down?"

Now I was the one staring. "How did you know—okay, apparently I'm traveling through time about half as fast as the rest of you, but how did you know she'd say no?"

"Because," he replied, "she is a billionaire who works, even though she does not have to. I never imagined she would lie back and let you try to fix anything for her, much less something like this."

"Well, I don't want to do anything to her."

His perfect brow wrinkled. " 'Do' anything?"

"It's part of the long story. But if you were dying, wouldn't you—"

"She maintains she is not dying, only ill. Is it for us to argue?"

"No way. I just wish I'd figured that out a little earlier." I leaned my head against his neck. "I guess I thought maybe since she saw me get better so fast after Delk shot me—"

"
No one
should decide to be turned based on
your
experiences, my darling. You are unique."

"But maybe a vampire I turned would be like me!" God, what was I saying? Had I learned nothing from the Unpleasant Attic Incident?

No, I didn't want to turn Jessica. But I didn't want to watch her die, either. It was too awful, like having to choose your own manner of death: Ah, Miss Taylor, will you be choosing beheading or exsanguination today?

"No one is like you. You may check the Book of the Dead," he added, "if you require another source."

"Ugh, pass." The Book of the Dead was a tough read.

"So she did refuse you."

"Repeatedly." And a good thing, too.

He shrugged. "She has faith in modern medicine. It's not entirely misplaced."

"Yeah." I straightened his lapel, which was already perfectly straight, and felt his arm steal around my waist. I pushed him away, gently. "You need to get Tina. I've made a decision about Alonzo."

"I trust you will let me in on it?" he asked lightly, but he was giving me an odd look. "If it is not too much—"

He cut himself off. We both looked as Tina came hustling out of kitchen and almost ran through the hall, actually sliding to a stop in her stocking feet in front of the steps.

"Majesties!"

"Whoa, who died?" It was a joke, but then I remembered the company I was in, the events of the past, uh,
year
, and my life. "Oh, God. Who
did
die?"

"No one. I heard you wanted me and came as fast as I could. And Alonzo called to say he would be here in an hour."

"Not soon enough," I replied. "Let's go."

"Wait, we're meeting him?"

"Yeah. Right now. Get your coats. Come on."

"What's happening?" Tina asked.

"I was not aware you were meeting with him today," said Sinclair.

Me neither. Well, if Alonzo was open to a meeting, that was fine with me. "Listen, he killed Sophie and there has to be a consequence. Not a Nostro consequence, but still. So, he has to pay. Literally pay. And I was thinking, he's probably built quite a little holding for himself over the years. Right?"

"Right," Tina replied, and Sinclair nodded.

"Okay. So: he gives all his property and money to Sophie. And has to start over."

Sinclair blinked.

"Oh, Majesty," Tina began dolefully. "That is—we're talking millions. Possibly billions. And he would have nothing?"

"He'd have more than Sophie did. A cousin, friends to help him. A way to get back on his feet. Or maybe he never will. That's not my problem. He has to pay for what he did. And that's how it is."

Sinclair was looking at me like he'd never seen me before. Tina's eyes were practically bulging in surprise.

"I will support you, Elizabeth, if you feel this strongly about it."

And Tina said, "Your will is our will, Majesty."

And that was that.

We pulled up to the hotel, Sinclair (reluctantly) handed his Mercedes keys to the valet, and walked into the hotel. It was one of those hotels that look like a nice big brownstone on the outside, a place where families lived. It cost, Tina had told me, twelve hundred dollars. A night. I assumed the beds were made of gold and the staff tucked you in every night with hot cocoa and kisses.

"A zombie," Tina murmured. She looked like she was having trouble processing everything that was happening at once. I hoped she enjoyed being a member of the "I'm freaking out" club. "I had no idea they even existed."

"We will take care of that—"

"Too late," I said.

"—after we take care of this. Perhaps I should tell him," Sinclair was saying as we trooped to the elevator. "Be the heavy, as it were."

"I'm not afraid to tell Alonzo that we're punishing him," I retorted. Shit, after the Unfortunate Attic Incident, I wasn't afraid of anything.

"Small bites, Majesty," Tina murmured.

The elevator came—ding! The doors slid open. Before I could let Tina in on my new "not afraid of nothin' " mind-set, Sinclair muttered the rare epithet.

Tina looked. I looked. We all looked. And after the night I'd had, I really wasn't all that surprised.

"He's pretty dead," I observed.