Undead and Unworthy (18 page)

"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

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) fists. 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.

Richard's body was beaten, but his eyes were still full of defiance and distrust. "I see your true colors. No peace, my queen."

"My true colors. My true colors!" I felt my fangs spring from my gums and resisted the

urge to bite him on the face. I raised the stake and brought it down faster than he could

possibly move...

... right into his throat.

I don't know what made me miss his heart. Maybe it was poor aim – swinging a stake in

lavender pumps is harder than it looks. Maybe the part of me that wanted him dead wasn't

as strong as the part of me that just wanted him to shut the hell up.

Pulling the bloody stake from his throat, I turned to the others, who were still (willingly)

on their knees. His body made a soft thump on the plush carpet behind me. Yes, he'd be

out of action for hours. "And now, what to do with you two," I said grimly, hands on hips.

Richard's black blood dripped slowly onto my – oh no! – Ann Taylor linen pants. I quickly

rearranged the stake.

"I, um, think we should let her go," Stephanie managed with her head down.

"Perhaps there can be... forgiveness," Jane said, also not looking up.

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"Maybe," I agreed. "I guess that'th up to each of you."

"What?"

"Never mind." This was no time to let the Fiends know that I lisped whenever my fangs

came out. It wouldn't exactly strike terror in their heart of hearts.

I could hear the squeal of brakes outside the windows, familiar voices, the front door

opening, and pounding footfalls.

"In the thort time we have left alone together," I suggested, "you two thould probably do everything you can to look ath –
as
– unthreatening as you possibly can." Thank God, my fangs were retracting. I was still pretty thirsty, but it would appear that the energy I'd

gotten from my family, as well as from Richard, were keeping the worst of the pangs

away. "Because if you think
I'm
bad? You should see my husband in action."

They swarmed into the room like a pack of wolverines. I relaxed, smiled at the first face I

saw, and felt some of the fire leave my blood.

"Don't you bitches touch – oh." Antonia skidded to a halt, then nearly went sprawling, as Sinclair almost ran her down. "Oomph! Um, we're here to save you."

"Go save Nick," I suggested. "He's in the bushes on this side of the house."

"
You will pay for
– oh," Sinclair said, straightening as he took in the three prostrate forms around me. The others piled in behind him and did the same. "Hmm."

"Yeah, so, thanks for showing up, but I took care of things. Pretty much. Of course, in the

last week you guys whittled down their numbers for me. That was," I decided, "a big

help."

Tina and Antonia each nodded. Garrett, hiding behind Antonia, swallowed with what

looked like a mixture of relief and lingering fear. He tried a shy smile, and I smiled back.

"Stake 'em all!" Nick hollered, limping through the doorway and waving his arms like the Winter Carnival grand marshal. "Betsy, too!"

Jessica rushed to Nick, clearly relieved that he was unharmed (well, it was possible he had

a sprained ankle, and that was a helluva scratch on his forehead... and he seemed to be

favoring the ribs on his left side... ).

"Agreed," Sinclair said, sighing at the three Fiends. "Well, not agreed about my wife. But the others must die now. In fact, it is long overdue."

"As you wish." Tina pulled out a thin mahogany stake from somewhere within her navy

blue wool sweater and skirt set (truly frightening efficiency), and stepped forward.

"Forget it!" I said, holding up my hands. "We are going to be magnanimous in victory."

"Magnanimous equals pussy," Antonia commented.

"Again?" Tina whined. "We're going to let them live again?"

"Elizabeth, they are too dangerous to simply – "

"I didn't say we were going to set them free. They'll have to earn their freedom." I turned to the three Fiends – well, okay, the two that were conscious. "You had a grievance with

me. You should have stuck with
me.
Had all seven of you done that, seven of you might

be alive now. I'd like it if you three, at least, stayed alive. It's up to you."

"What – " Stephanie swallowed, then tried again. "What do we have to do?"

"You guys can be the queen's personal bodyguards and doers of annoying chores. Or I can

leave the room, right now, and my husband and friends will chat with you. A
lot.
Until you have cavernous facial wounds." I tilted my head toward the exit and not coincidentally to

the people who would stay behind. "Your choice."

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"Pick the stake," Nick suggested, wiping streaks of blood from his face. God, that made

me even hungrier. And wouldn't he just
shit?
"You don't want to spend the next thousand years doing that twit's dirty work." He turned to me. "You almost killed me, you numb

fucking twat! Again!"

"I did not! I saved you."

"You threw me out a fucking window!" Nick was actually going purple with rage.

I tried to hide my amazement. Unlike occurs in the movies, Nick clearly hadn't suddenly

forgiven me and been warmed by my selfless act. We weren't going to ride off into the

sunset together (so to speak) and get Blizzards from Dairy Queen.

Frankly, I didn't get it. In the movies, when the heroine did something heroic and cool,

everybody loved her at the end. Okay, I didn't
really
expect life to be like the movies... uh.

That was maybe a lie.

"You are a menace, and if I could make it stick, I'd throw your ass in jail for the next

hundred years."

"Nicholas J. Berry!" Jessica gasped. "What is the
matter
with you?"

"With me? You should have seen this psycho bitch in action."

"That is
enough,
" she snarled, hands on scrawny hips. "When are you going to get it through your head that Betsy isn't the cause of all your problems?"

I was frantically trying to signal to Jessica, making a slashing motion across my throat, the

universal gesture for "shush!" Although it made me sad, I felt Nick's rage was a perfectly appropriate reaction to the evening's festivities. I appreciated Jessica sticking up for me –

she always stuck up for me – but she didn't have all the facts.

He had been attacked. Again. Violated by vampires... again. I was amazed he hadn't gone

fetal in the hedges.

"How many times do I have to say it," Jessica was saying. "How many times do you have to
see
it? She's a good guy!"

"No, Jess, it's okay, he – "

"She drinks blood, because she's dead," he said, spitting on the floor – spitting blood, I might add, and I was ashamed, because my fangs were out again. I didn't dare speak

anymore; I didn't want him to know I wanted to drink and drink and drink. "She's a killer,

and you know it."

"I love her, she's the sister I never got, and
you
know
that.
"

"Ah, perhaps we could, ah, step into another room and discuss, ah, the new terms for

surrender," Tina said, because even the Fiends looked uncomfortable to be witnessing the

lovers' quarrel.

"Or maybe you could talk about this later, when everybody's calmed down," I tried.

"Don't make me choose," Jessica warned, ignoring us. For her, the only person in the

room was Nick.

"I'm not making you choose.
I'm
choosing. We're done." He wiped his face again, and we all pretended not to notice how his hand shook and how he couldn't look at her.

"That's right," Jessica replied coolly. "We are."

And just like that – it was over.
They
were over. We could all practically hear the snap.

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) Stephanie and Jane were sullen, but agreeable – apparently being the doers of the queen's

scut work was more appealing than being staked.

I gave them permission to live on Nostro's property (by vampire law, when you killed a

vampire all his stuff came to you, so technically, it was my property), and they agreed to

be at my beck and call, as it were.

I'd probably put at least one of them to work in my nightclub, Scratch. Another vampire

property that had come to me by law – long story. Actually, that wasn't true. I had killed

another badass vampire, and her property went to me about the time her soul went

shrieking into Hell.

Unlike their lives before, the Fiends wouldn't just frolic in the moonlight like undead

puppies, but they'd live and read and watch TV like real people... which should be fun,

since for all I knew Jane and Stephanie had no idea what a TV was.

They could feed on each other – if they were comfortable with that – or they could snack

on bad guys. We would help them figure out who it was all right to bite and who was off-

limits. Yep, they could make new lives for themselves, be almost like normal people.

Unless I needed them, of course. Then they'd come on the run, or I'd know the reason

why. Shit, with all the bad guys popping out of the woodwork these days, I
needed

bodyguards.

Of course, we weren't going to just leave them to their own devices... Sinclair and I would

have to think about who could keep an eye on them, maybe even live in the McMansion

with them. For now, they were cowed enough by recent events that I felt safe leaving

them there for the next few nights.

"That was pretty anticlimactic," Antonia bitched on our way out.

"What can I say? It can't be bloody revenge and near-death experiences every day."

"You're about to have a near-death experience," Sinclair promised grimly as we climbed

into his Lexus (I noticed Nick's truck was also there and deduced they'd grabbed it when

they woke up at his house after I'd put the whammy on them). "Specifically, you will

never, ever sucker punch me like that again and run off into mortal danger."

"I didn't do it on purpose." Not quite a lie.

"Irrelevant."

"I'm not getting laid tonight, am I?"

"Probably not."

I batted my eyes. "What if I let you punish me?"

He paused, and his step actually faltered; I imagine he was thinking about my drawer full