Fashionably Dead

by Robyn Peterman

  He pursed his precious little lips and shrugged his delightfully tiny shoulders and disappeared in a shimmering mist. I looked around to see if anyone noticed. Nope, they were too busy with the free booze and pigs-in-a-blanket.

  “What did that little bastard want?” Samuel whispered in my ear, startling me. “Those damn Sprites can be rude and disgusting. Did he grab your ass?”

  “No.” I tried unsuccessfully to suppress my laughter at the thought. “He was a total gentleman and gave me a message from my Nana, but it was bizarre and I don’t get it.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said, ‘Beyonce is a genius’.” I shook my head.

  “To the left, to the left, ‘Single Ladies’, ‘Crazy in Love’ with Jay Z, Beyonce?” Samuel asked without a hint of irony.

  His knowledge of popular music delighted me. Who knew Samuel was a Beyonce fan? “No,” I replied, “I think he meant my little Demon baby, but it’s still useless. Samuel, I had the worst urge to squeeze that little man. What the hell was that?”

  “It’s the Sprite charm. Those little shits look all cuddly and sweet, but they bite. Never, ever put your fingers near their mouth,” he warned.

  “You’re joking.”

  “Nope.”

  “He seemed to like me.”

  “Goddamn.” Samuel shook his head in amazement. “Sprites hate Vampyres. They’re not fond of other groups who bite. You are most definitely the Chosen One. I don’t think there’s a species yet that hasn’t been attracted to you.” He began to blend back into the crowd, but not before he saluted me with his middle finger. “Keep your eye on the King,” he said wiggling his finger. I didn’t even try to hide my laughter as I gave him the finger back.

  I had kept my eye on the King since we arrived. I knew where he stood at every moment. I had not let him out of my line of vision once. Even when I reversed Brad Pitt, I could still see the King.

  “Don’t forget, I’m quite the killing machine myself.” The man in question grinned at me and discreetly placed his hand on my stomach.

  “I know.” I grinned back, covering his hand with my own. “Can the humans see you guys?”

  “Yes, but we’ve dulled our appearances. We’ve also cloaked our scent so the Rogues would not recognize that there are other Vampyres here.”

  “Could the Rogues be cloaking themselves too?” I asked, unnerved by the thought.

  “No,” The King assured me, “they would need guidance from a Vampyre at least five hundred years old or older. It’s possible, but highly unlikely.”

  I felt my tension subside. That was a relief. “Well, so far, so good,” I smiled.

  He squeezed my hand. “I’ll be near the front entrance with Cathy. The only other way in or out is behind that . . . What is that?” the King asked, indicating the sheet covered lump on the other side of the room.

  “I’m not sure. I think my sister Julie had a monument built.”

  “Dear God,” the King muttered and I laughed.

  “My sentiments exactly. Look, we’ll stay for another hour or so and then we can leave.”

  “Whatever makes you happy, child.” He touched my face and glided towards the front door.

  I shook a bunch of hands and hugged a lot of people as I tried to get closer to Julie and the sheet covered monstrosity that everyone kept inquiring about. I saw Paris and Venus watch the crowd on my left. Sir James and Gemma watched on my right. Samuel had the back door covered and the King and Cathy were at the front entrance.

  Ethan, can you hear me?

  Are you all right? He sounded tense. I felt bad for worrying him, but I needed to be here. I needed to pay tribute to a woman I loved despite the fact she didn’t return it.

  I’m fine and so is the King. Anything unusual outside?

  No. He sounded relieved.

  I met a Sprite, I told him.

  Did he grab your ass?

  No. Samuel asked me the same thing, I laughed.

  Those guys are pricks, very sneaky. They use that cute thing to take advantage of women and get into their pants.

  Ewww, I groaned, that’s foul.

  Yes, he agreed. Now focus and pay attention in there. I love you.

  I love you too. I smiled and scanned the room. My eyes were drawn to Julie who looked shaken and pale, even for a Vampyre. She was staring in the direction of the entrance. I quickly looked at the front door. Only Cathy and the King. Did she know them? She caught my eye, pointed at me and mouthed Don’t fuck up, and then made her way to the back exit. God, she was definitely more my mother’s daughter than I was.

  I tried to get over there to see if she was all right, but the crowd was against me. Ethan, my sister just left the building through the back exit. See if you can stop her and introduce yourself. She looked upset.

  Holy Mother of God, Ethan gasped. What does your sister look like?

  Tall, blonde, beautiful, Russian-looking . . . She’s wearing a red dress, I told him.

  Oh fuck no, he ground out. She’s my . . .

  What? What was he saying? She’s supposed to be dead, for five hundred years. He sounded furious.

  My stomach dropped and I started to shake. What was he talking about? My sister was supposed to be dead? No, wait . . . His sister was supposed to be dead. Is Julie his sister? No, of course not. His sister’s name was Juliet. Oh shit, was his sister my sister? Did I mate with my brother?

  Ethan! I was panicked. I was trying to put this together, but my brain was shutting down to protect me from something big and ugly.

  I’m going after her. His voice conveyed his fury.

  That was the last thing I heard from him before all hell broke loose.

  Chapter 40

  The Rogues did have someone over five hundred years old to help cloak their scent. They had Julie, or rather Juliet. They also had hats to disguise the fact that they all resembled me.

  It happened in slow motion, like a bad, bloody horror movie. Juliet left the building. The hat-wearing Rogues let out inhuman screams, the doors magically bolted themselves shut and people started dying.

  Glass shattered and rained down from above as Heathcliff and the rest of the Elite Guard stormed the building. Unable to get through the doors and unwilling to give up, they pulled a Paris Hilton and came blasting through the windows. We were outnumbered, but not by much.

  A dagger ripped into my thigh before I had the wherewithal to activate my shield. It hurt like hell and destroyed yet another piece of my Prada wardrobe. Do not mess with my friends, myself or my Prada. I quickly touched my chest and a burst of Glitter Magic engulfed me. Without a thought, I grabbed the dagger from the offending Rogue, plunged it into her heart and twisted, killing her instantly. One down . . . a lot to go.

  Shit, where was the King? My eyes frantically searched the room. Oh thank God, he was surrounded by five Elite Guards. He was safe.

  I watched in abject horror as two Rogues ripped the arms off of the Police Chief and ate him. Niecey was crying hysterically and crouched down in the middle of the room with Charlie, frozen in fear. I grabbed them and tossed them to Venus, who flew to the windows with my friends and outside to safety. Thus the routine began. Try to mortally wound a Rogue or toss a mortal out of the window.

  The people from my town ran around like bumper cars, not knowing who to trust. They were fighting the good Vampyres who were trying to shield them from death. It was a total clusterfuck.

  One would think the Rogues would be gunning for me, with a ten million dollar bounty on my head, but they weren’t. I wasn’t safe from harm, but they were trying to kill everything, not just me. They were destroying anything they could get their hands on or their teeth into.

  At least the humans were starting to understand the windows were the key to staying alive. They began to willingly go to the Elite Guard who were closest to the walls.

  Four Rogues were feasting on a pile of still living mortals they’d trapped in a corner. The screams and moans were brutal to hear.
Chills shot through me as I spotted Martha and Jane trying to fight their way out of that corner. Martha’s face was covered in blood and Jane was dragging her by her hair trying to get her to safety.

  Goddamn it, I hated those women, but nobody was going to kill them while I stood there and watched. Rage boiled in my veins. I pressed hard on my Angel Wing tattoo and hurtled myself towards the corner at a speed that rendered me invisible to the human eye.

  With my bare hands, I ripped the head off of the Rogue who was trying to choke Jane. He dropped to the ground with a thud. I quickly unsheathed my katana and beheaded two others while the fourth tried to run. I pivoted and shot silver bullets from my fingertips completely shredding the top half of that Rogue Vamp.

  “Holy Jesus Christ,” Jane shrieked. “What in the hell are you?”

  Martha lay practically dead on the floor. Jane approached me fearlessly and examined my fangs and blazing green eyes. I stood silently.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” she wheezed, “you’re a Vampyre.” She shook her head and grabbed me for support, “A fake boob-ed, slutty creature of the night. Bless your hea . . . ” She collapsed at my feet.

  I realized her entire back had been ripped open and she was bleeding out. Son of a bitch, I had always envisioned killing them, but it was just a fantasy, not something I actually wanted to happen. I looked at the two old bags dying on the floor in front of me and a hot flash of grief gripped me.

  “Paris,” I yelled. “Get over here.”

  We stared at the gals for a moment. I could feel my nausea bouncing around. I had a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach. I wasn’t sure if it was my baby or the decision I had just made.

  “They’re dying,” Paris whispered

  “Change them,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “What?”

  “Change them,” I barked. “You care about them, right?”

  “Right.” Her eyes lit up with joy.

  “You’ll be in charge of them, not me,” I bit out and pressed hard on the bridge of my nose wondering where in the hell my self-preservation instincts had gone.

  Paris grinned. “Yes.”

  I rolled my eyes and an uncontrollable smile split my face. “Fine. Do it.” I turned away and threw myself back into the fight before I changed my mind. I had certainly already lost it. I had just sentenced myself to an eternity of being called an irresponsible slut. I should be filled with dread. I wasn’t. I felt proud. Therapy . . . I definitely needed therapy.

  Oh God, no . . . Angelina Jinkers-Pitt lay scattered in pieces all over the floor. Brad ran around picking up her body parts and trying to put them back together. His tear-drenched eyes met mine.

  “Help me,” he moaned. “If we find it all, they can sew it back on.” He held her arm up to her hand to make his point. His voice was rough with shock. “I need some ice so she doesn’t turn black. Do you have any ice on you, darlin’? I need ice for my baby . . . ” He began to shake violently, then began to vomit. He tried to pick up the pieces of his wife that he had dropped, but he slipped in her blood and landed on the pile that used to be Angelina.

  This shit had to stop. Who the fuck did these Rogues think they were? They were destroying my people. The backward-ass rednecks that I loved. They had to die.

  Amidst the raging battle, I gently picked Brad up off of what was left of Angelina and made eye contact with Heathcliff. He was beneath one of the windows, just having completely torn apart three rogues with his bare hands. He nodded. I threw Brad across the room and Heathcliff flew him to safety. I looked at poor Angelina. She was mean, but she didn’t deserve this. I swallowed the bile that had risen in my throat and dove back in with a vengeance.

  I heard a scream and my body went cold. Gemma. She wasn’t equipped to fight these bastards. Why in the hell did I let her come tonight? She could die because of me. My eyes flashed and my fists clenched. Damn it, I could hear her . . . why couldn’t I see her?

  “Over there,” Venus shouted, and pointed to the far left side of the building.

  There she was. Three Rogues had her. One held a dagger to her neck, while the other two pinned her to the wall.

  “Come and get her,” a male Rogue hissed at me.

  Shit, shit, shit. I tried to enter their minds so I could make them explode, but they were closed to me. Why were they closed to me?

  I approached slowly, dropping my katana and dagger as I went. How was I going to kill them without hurting Gemma? I held my hands up. “Let her go,” I ground out. “If you do, you can leave free and clear.”

  “You will join us, Astrid,” the female spat. Her eyes were wild and unfocused.

  “Yes,” I said. “I will go with you.”

  “No,” Gemma gasped. “Baby.”

  She did know. She knew I had my baby inside of me. I felt a tingling in my stomach. It wasn’t the nausea I’d been experiencing. It was magical. It was a beautiful little spark of life. I smiled reassuringly at Gemma with a strength and purpose I never knew I possessed. I had a better chance of getting away from the Rogues than she did. She had no chance at all. I loved her so much. There was no way in hell she was going to die today, and neither was I. We had far too much to live for.

  Gemma’s eyes began to turn an icy silver blue. She was furious. The Rogues were so fixated on me they didn’t seem to notice that the beautiful little Fairy they had trapped was morphing into a god-awful looking monster.

  She was magnificent. She glowed an iridescent silver and became the size of a large SUV. She was covered in silver and golden scales and her fangs made my fangs look like baby teeth. Her claws were obscene and as sharp as knives. I was astonished. I clapped my hands together in delight for my beautifully grotesque best friend.

  She ripped into the Rogues with a viciousness I’d never seen. I’d heard Fairies were incredible warriors, but this was crazy. She cut one Rogue completely in half, starting at the head and ending at the crotch. The other two screamed and tried to run, but she pierced them with her claws. She swung them around violently before she popped them into her mouth and ate them.

  Alrighty then . . . didn’t see that one coming.

  “Well, I do believe that was the fourth Mortal String,” Gemma’s sweet voice said, coming out of the bloody-fanged mouth of her alter ego. “Can you believe I ate them?” she giggled.

  “Um . . . no,” I said, retrieving my katana and dagger. “That was pretty fucking gross,” I told her.

  “Yep,” she agreed, “but they were tasty.” She paused. “I don’t really know how to change back.”

  The Rogues had frozen when Gemma shifted and the Elite Guard had captured them, tying them up with barbed silver chains, silver handcuffs and leg shackles. Only ten out of the thirty had survived.

  I scanned the room and took inventory of my people. I knew Ethan had taken Luke, Princess Raquel and Princess Lelia to go after Juliet. I had so many questions for that bitch. Most of the Elite guard was accounted for. The King and Sir James were with Heathcliff, Cathy and Venus. I knew Paris had left with the old ladies, so everyone was here and okay.

  Samuel.

  “Where is Samuel?” I demanded.

  Venus looked down. Heathcliff stepped forward and took my hands, “He didn’t make it.”

  “Where is he?” My voice broke and my eyes filled.

  Heathcliff led me to Samuel’s body. He’d been decapitated. I felt raw and jagged inside. He was my friend and I loved him. I sat down on the floor and took his broken body into my arms and I cried. I tried to push his head back onto his shoulders. It rolled off and nestled close to my thigh. I felt a kinship with Brad Pitt in that moment. I wanted to put some ice on Samuel and sew him back together. I could still hear his voice, giving me shit and encouragement at the same time. He and The Kev had made me the fighter that I had become. He made me feel good about being a Vampyre. He was my friend when everyone else treated me like a pariah. I was going to miss him terribly. How in the hell could the Chosen One not save one of her
chosen ones?

  I felt something pounding deep within my body. If I’d had a working heart, that’s what it would have sounded like as it broke . . . but I didn’t. It was grief—mind-numbing, angry grief. Samuel turned to dust in my arms. Oh my God . . . my wish. I still had my wish. My mood shifted from despair to pure joy. Magic flowed through me, everyone within ten feet of me getting doused with Fairy Glitter.

  “Hear Me, O Fairies,” I sang out in a strong voice. I clutched handfuls of Samuel’s dust. “Please give my friend Samuel back his life . . . that is my wish.”

  I closed my eyes and the building began to shake. My body was suffused with heat and Samuel’s ashes were on fire. Literally. I dropped his dust and scooted away. And then . . . nothing.

  I turned to Gemma. My desperation was palpable. “My wish . . . can’t I use my wish?”

  “It’s too late,” she whispered, her huge gleaming body pressing against mine.

  “What do you mean?” I shouted, scattering what remained of Samuel everywhere.

  “In order to bring someone back, they must still have a body.”

  I hated her answer and I tried to hurt her. I slammed my body into hers as my tears blinded me. “Why don’t you help me . . . why? You’re the fucking Fairy Queen,” I screamed.

  “It’s not my place to determine fate, Astrid,” she said, her own sparkling tears flowing. “I’m not God.”

  I looked at Samuel’s ashes, feeling shame that I hadn’t saved him. I slowly turned to Gemma and additional shame washed over me. She tentatively held her arms out and to me and I collapsed into her hulking embrace.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered to her. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Me too,” she said. “I’m sorry too.”

  Chapter 41

  Sixteen mortals and twenty Rogue Vampyres died. Eight of the Elite Guard had died, including my Samuel.

  “How do we explain this?” I asked Heathcliff. The death toll was high and the damage was massive.

  “Fire,” he said.

  “What fire?” I looked around to make sure we weren’t on the verge of getting crispy.