Dead Over Heels

by MaryJanice Davidson

  “Yes, you’ve been threatening me with that since kindergarten.”

  “What’s all the stuff?” she asked, kneeling beside him. “Work junk?”

  “Work junk,” he agreed. “New client. Place is a disaster. I foresee a month of twenty-hour days. Especially now that you’ve dumped your little project on me.”

  “Bitch, bitch, bitch,” she said good-naturedly. “Hey, maybe you can fix me up with some of your clients.”

  “We only have three werewolves, and they’re all mated.”

  “Rats.”

  “‘Rats’ as in ‘Oh, rats’ or rats as in ‘They’re rats to be married’?”

  She pondered that one for a moment, then finally said, “Both.” She looked around at all the paperwork with distaste. “Saul, when was the last time you had a vacation?”

  “What year is it?”

  “If you have to ask, it’s been too damn long.”

  He shrugged. “I like my work.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine, but you should think about settling down, too. You don’t want to be the only one in the old gang not mated.”

  “God forbid,” he said dryly. “Plague and famine would be more welcome.” There was a polite rap on his door. “Ah. Prince Charming has arrived.”

  “Please God,” Cain said fervently, and went to answer the door.

  Chapter 5

  My patients are really my life, and they’re all so different, that’s what I love about my work, the constant variety, I mean, every single day is different—”

  Oh my God. This guy hasn’t stopped talking since he picked me up at Saul’s.

  “—Dr. Williams is so arrogant, he just won’t tolerate any nurses, thinks we’re all trained monkeys—badly trained monkeys—and—”

  Jesus. He’s never going to stop talking.

  “—and then there was Mrs. Jenkins, boy, she was a firecracker! D’you know she was friends with Michael’s mother? Man, the stories she told! They were—”

  I’m going to have to kill him and escape.

  “—of course, what I’d really like is to go back to school and become a nurse practitioner. With the national nursing shortage, I can pretty much—”

  Should I hit him until he shuts up? With what? A fire extinguisher?

  “—they can write prescriptions and the money’s really great, not to mention—”

  I’ll hit Saul. That’s what I’ll do.

  “—you’re really great to talk to, you know how to listen, which I really—”

  First this guy, then Saul, then myself. A double murder/suicide.

  “—work such long hours, it’s so hard to meet people, but of course it’s worth it for the job, I mean, it’s just so rewarding—”

  Oh my God. Where is that waitress? I need another drink so badly.

  “—couldn’t believe it when Saul called me up and said you wanted to go out, I mean, we’ve all wondered why you haven’t settled down—”

  At this rate, I’ll be unmated when I’m fifty.

  “—then you had that cool mission to Minnesota, something about Antonia and—can this be right?—a vampire queen? I mean, it’s like something out of a Stephen King novel—”

  Stupid vampire queen.

  Chapter 6

  Come on,” Saul said, setting a plate of steak and fries in front of her, along with a glass of six raw eggs. Among other things, Saul was a good cook and knew all her favorites.

  “What, come on? It was awful!”

  It was eleven o’clock at night; her date had ended early. Except it hadn’t felt early, God no.

  Saul was unruffled. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

  “He never shut up! It was work, work, work, and blah, blah, blah—he doesn’t know a thing about me because I couldn’t get a word in edgewise!”

  “He’s single, makes a good living, good-looking (not that I see him that way), and wants to settle down.”

  “No, he’s looking for a blow-up doll that will listen all day and all night. God!” She drained her glass of eggs in three swallows. “I didn’t think I’d ever get out of there.”

  “Well, you did. And here you are. Again.”

  “You never used to mind when I dropped by,” she grumped. She chewed her steak furiously, then said, “You look like hell. You’re working too hard. Take a damned vacation already.”

  He shrugged. “From what? Excel, or you?”

  “You’re hilarious.”

  “The good news—if you can call it that—is that I’ve set you up with another date for tomorrow night. Word’s getting around that you’re looking to settle down.”

  “Excellent! There’s no way this guy can be worse than the other six.”

  “You really do like to jinx yourself, don’t you?”

  “Nuh-uh! Okay, maybe that was a dumb thing to say. I guess we’ll wait and see how it goes tomorrow night.” She chewed another piece. Then: “Word’s really getting around?”

  He shrugged and flipped his black hair out of his eyes. “You know how our kind are. We’re genetically inclined to settle down young and have cubs. So the news that the infamous Cain, single for almost thirty years—”

  “Because of the pact!”

  “—wanting to settle down is pretty good gossip.”

  “A dream come true. I’m gossip fodder.”

  “There’s worse things,” he said, and cracked two more eggs into her glass.

  Chapter 7

  She didn’t care for number seven—Geoff Ren—and she couldn’t put her finger on why. Certainly he was smooth, and handsome (in a distant, icy blond, blue-eyed way), and charming. He listened to her, courteously offered to move them away from a cigarette smoker, and sent her steak back when it showed up overcooked. He made sure her drink glass was always full, and offered to take her somewhere else for dessert when nothing really grabbed her on the menu.

  Maybe he was a little too—controlling?

  Stop it, she scolded herself. You’ll never get mated at this rate. Now you’re just looking for reasons to reject these guys. Geoff’s been a great date. The best of a bad lot, that’s for damn sure.

  They had pulled up to Saul’s house in his Lexus hybrid, and she turned to him to say, “Maybe we could get together tom—” when all of a sudden he’d yanked her toward him (breaking her seat belt) and mashed his mouth down on hers.

  Outraged and startled, she tried to shove him away. When that didn’t work (he was over six feet tall, and much, much stronger), she bit him.

  “Ouch! You little bitch. Why did you come out if you didn’t want some?”

  “It’s our first date, Geoff, you ass! Jeez, I’m gonna have a friction burn on my neck from the seat belt.”

  “You’ll heal,” he snapped, then snatched at her again, this time shoving his tongue into her mouth. Her back slammed against the steering wheel and there was a sonorous honk. His hands groped, reached, grabbed, and she could feel him yanking at her bra.

  She fumbled for the driver’s side door handle and, when the door swung open, tumbled out and hit the pavement with a teeth-rattling thud.

  He jumped out, his legs landing on either side of her back, and she scrambled to get away from him. He caught the back of her T-shirt and she wrenched away, hearing the fabric tear.

  “Cut the shit!” she yelled, only to hit the side of the Lexus with a bang when the back of his hand caught her full across the jaw. God, he was fast! She hadn’t even seen his arm move. “Geoff, stop it!”

  “You stop it, you fucking cocktease.”

  Well, at least now she could put her finger on what was wrong with number seven.

  For the thousandth time she blessed her size, as she slithered down the side of the car and scooted underneath, out of reach of his grasping hands. She scrambled across the tarmac and emerged on the other side of the car. Saul’s front door was only twenty feet away.

  She’d only gotten five steps when he tackled her from behind. Her face banged into the lawn and she felt blood st
art to trickle from her nose. He flipped her over—and caught her fist on the point of his chin. In return he gave her an eye-watering slap. So she reached down, groping for his crotch.

  “Now you’re getting with the program,” he grunted. “That’s—eeeeeeeee-yowwwwww!” She’d found his balls, and squeezed so hard she felt the veins pop up on her forearm.

  Then, suddenly, he was yanked off her, and Saul, oh thank God, Saul was there, holding the guy by the scruff of his neck like a puppy.

  “Oh, Christ, my balls, oh my fucking balls, Jesus, I gotta get to a hospital, agh, my balls!” Geoff writhed and moaned at the end of Saul’s arm.

  “Then let m-me assist y-you to your car,” Saul said, and threw Geoff into the side of the Lexus. The car door actually dented and Geoff flopped to the pavement, unconscious.

  “Are y-you okay, C-cain?”

  She sat up and spat to get the blood out of her mouth. “Wow,” she said. “Saul. Jeez. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

  Then she burst into tears.

  Chapter 8

  Cain woke up the next morning in her room.

  Well, not her room, the room at Saul’s she always stayed in when she slept over. She’d been having sleepovers in this house for twenty-five years.

  Saul must have heard her stirring—he had ears like a lynx—because there was a gentle rap at the door.

  “C’mon in,” she yawned, stretched. She had slept in one of Saul’s old shirts and her underpants; her T-shirt, of course, had been ruined.

  He poked his head in. “Sleep okay?”

  “Like a rock.”

  “Christ!”

  “What?”

  He crossed the room and put a finger under her chin, tipping her face up. “You’ve already got a shiner. That fucker.” For Saul, that was big talk. “Should have kicked in his ribs, too.”

  “I’m pretty sure I ruptured his sack,” she said, gingerly feeling her left eye and wincing. Yep. Puffy, swollen, and probably a lovely purple black. “And I’m pretty sure you fractured his skull. Trust me, he’s hurting way worse this morning. My bruises will heal up in a day or two.”

  He sat down on the edge of her bed. “I don’t think you should do this anymore,” he said abruptly, squinting at her.

  “Granted, it hasn’t been going well,” she said dryly.

  “You know how I said word was getting around that you wanted a mate? I think some guys are interpreting that as you want to get laid. Case in point: Geoff the asshole.”

  She smirked. “Is that his family name?”

  “Cain. I’m being serious.”

  “I’m not letting Geoff the asshole scare me off the dating scene. It was a temporary setback at best.”

  “Temporary setback?” Saul practically yelled. “Y-you almost got r-raped!”

  “Calm down, you’re going to give yourself a stroke. Besides, you swung to the rescue like—like frickin’ Tarzan or something. I must admit, Saul, I didn’t think you could surprise me anymore.”

  “You never think that,” he grumbled.

  She yawned again. “So what’s on the agenda for tonight?”

  “You’re taking tonight off,” he said firmly.

  “Spoilsport.”

  “Damn right.”

  “Saul, I’m fine.”

  “You didn’t l-look fine last n-night.”

  She thought about it. Screaming, punching, and, finally, crying. The overwhelming strength of Geoff, how he wouldn’t listen, how she had been fairly powerless against him. The hits. The things he had said.

  Yeah. Saul had a point.

  “But I had you to come to the rescue,” she teased, putting her hand on his. “I’m the one usually saving your ass.”

  “So. I owed you one.”

  “Actually, if we’re gonna go back to kindergarten, you owe me about fifty.”

  “Well, I sure as shit don’t want to even up!” he yelled, face reddening.

  “You’ve really got to take a vacation. You’re so stressed!”

  “Is it any fucking wonder? Your social life is killing me.”

  “Stop exaggerating. What’s for breakfast?”

  He collapsed next to her. “I hate you.”

  “Aw, you know you can’t resist me. Breakfast?”

  “More than life itself, I hate you.”

  “Pancakes and bacon?” she asked hopefully. “And eggs? And maybe a pork chop?”

  “You know, most women, after being assaulted, would be, I don’t know, traumatized? Not looking for a damned pork chop!”

  “Well,” she said reasonably, “if you don’t have one, we can always heat up the leftover steak.”

  Chapter 9

  As usual, she had a ton more fun with Saul than all her other dates put together, multiplied by ten. They had a terrific dinner, most of which he made on the patio grill, chased with several ice-cold Coronas. Then they watched Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, and 300—300 being her favorite movie of all time.

  “My God,” Saul commented, munching popcorn. They were sitting together on the couch in front of the TV. “This movie is made for women and gay men. Look at the abs on all those guys.”

  “You have abs like that.”

  “Yeah, but I’m an unnatural creature of moonlight. Most men do not look like that. It’s kind of cruel, really. To do this to the women and the gay men.”

  She laughed and drained her third beer. “You think any of the cast is Pack?”

  “They must be. Look at them.”

  “Wouldn’t the producer just shit?”

  “What a vivid mental image, my dear.”

  “Oh, here it comes! He’s gonna throw the spear at that creepy fucking Xerxes. You believe the guy playing Xerxes? Yech. Creepy.”

  “More androgynous than creepy.”

  “Androgynous is creepy. Men should look like men, and women should look like women.”

  “Says the woman with biceps and a buzz cut.”

  “And a C cup.”

  “That’s true,” Saul said thoughtfully, glancing at her tits. “I forgot about that.”

  “Well, mention it to the next blind date.”

  He groaned. “I can’t believe you’re sticking with this.”

  “I will not be the only one of us unmated at age thirty! You’re eight months younger, you’ve got loads more time.”

  “You’re not going to see me speed dating and fending off rapists. I’m pretty sure,” he added thoughtfully. He got up. “Another beer?”

  “Yeah, please. Ohhhhhhh! And the spear splits open the side of Xerxes’s mouth! That’s gotta hurt. This used to be my favorite part.”

  She heard the hssst! of Saul opening two more bottles. “Used to be?” he called from the kitchen.

  “Now my favorite part is when the queen kills the traitor. He did pretty much rape her. Although she was an idiot to put herself—”

  “Careful,” Saul warned.

  She shut up. Who was she to judge the queen’s actions after what had happened last night? Saul was right, as usual.

  “Why, why couldn’t the spear have gone three inches to the right? Killed him dead on the spot. Although,” she admitted, “that was a helluva throw. What is he, two hundred yards away? I don’t know if I could have made that throw.”

  She heard Saul walk toward the back of the house—probably headed for the bathroom to get rid of some beer—and stopped with the commentary.

  The phone rang, and rang again. So she picked it up in time to hear Saul answer. “Hello?”

  “Yeah, it’s me, Darrell. Listen, I heard your friend has an STD, is that true?”

  “Totally true,” Saul assured him. Cain felt her mouth pop open in shock and instantly abandoned her plan to hang up.

  “But . . . she’s Pack, right? We don’t catch stuff like that.”

  “It’s a really nasty one. Trust me, you don’t want to go anywhere near her. Things will drop off of you, I’m not kidding.”

  “Thanks for the heads up. I’m sure she�
��s a nice girl and all, but who needs that shit?”

  “Do me a favor,” Saul the unbelievably treacherous bastard said, “and spread the word.”

  “Okay. Speaking of spreading the word, one of us is in the hospital—that Geoff guy?”

  “Oh?” Saul asked coolly.

  “Yeah, and he’s yelling about suing you and your pal for assault. But nobody knows what really happened because he won’t say.”

  “Won’t he?”

  “Yeah. I don’t suppose you want to say.”

  “No,” Saul said calmly. “If he wants to roll the dice, that’s fine, but you might want to mention I haven’t explained the full details of last night to Michael yet. But I’d be happy to. Anytime. And if he needs me to explain it in person, I’ll be glad to visit him in the hospital. Anytime.”

  There was a pause, then Darrell said, “Like that, huh? I heard he had a rough hand with the ladies. Somebody’s going to tear his throat out one of these days.”

  “You might have warned me before I set him up with my best friend,” Saul said sharply.

  “It was just a rumor. Nobody’s ever said anything to Michael. There’s no proof, only some talk once in a while.”

  “That,” Saul said, “may change.”

  “All right. Later, guy.”

  “Good-bye.”

  Chapter 10

  Saul walked back into the living room and had half a second to duck as an armchair sailed toward his head. He dodged it (barely) and it crashed into the wall behind him.

  “You son of a bitch!”

  “What? What? Is your beer warm?”

  “This is not about the beer!” Four knickknacks arrowed toward him: a Hummel figurine, a glass unicorn, a music box, and a picture of his grandparents. Luckily, they all belonged to his late mother.

  He hated glass unicorns. “And you damned well know it!”

  Oh, shit.

  “You, uh, heard?”

  An antique end table soared through the air toward him and he sidestepped it with time to spare. Luckily, when she was pissed, her aim went to shit.

  “You’re telling people I have an STD?” She looked around frantically for something else to throw.