Undead and Unemployed

by Mary Janice Davidson

  "Hi."

  "Oh, good." I popped out of my closet. "Have you seen my purple Arpels?"

  "Are they the ones that look like fairy shoes, or the ones that look like ballet slippers?"

  "Slippers."

  "Uh-huh. The left one is under your sink, and the right one is under the bed."

  "Dammit!"

  "Well, you were so tired last night," Marie soothed. The kid loved overalls and hairbands; she was always dressed the same way. Must be a stubborn little tic at home. "You just sort of threw everything off you and fell into the bed."

  "Stop spying on me, you little turd."

  She giggled. "Don’t call me that!"

  "Yeah, yeah." I hunted around-lo! My shoes were exactly where she’d said. "Where is everybody?"

  "Um … Dr. Marc is working, and Jessica’s sleeping."

  "Oh." Bo-ring.

  "There’s new stuff in the kitchen," she said helpfully. "Jessica told the pantry manager to get you some white tea, and she picked up fresh cream at the fanner’s market."

  "Really? D’you know how rare and expensive white tea is? I’ve been dying to try it. Oooh, and fresh cream! Come down, I’ll fix you a cup, too."

  She shook her head, which didn’t surprise me. Marie was one painfully shy kid. Except around me, for some reason.

  I quickly got dressed in khaki shorts, a red sleeveless mock turtleneck, and slipped into black flats. I ran a brush through my hair. It was staying exactly shoulder-length, and my highlights were staying exactly as high-lit as they’d been the day I died. One less thing to worry about. Besides, I was too chicken to try a haircut—what if I was stuck with it forever? Well, maybe a trim …

  "I’ll bring up a cup for you," I promised on my way out the door.

  "I’m not thirsty," she called after me.

  It took ten minutes to find the kitchen. I’d been living here for days, and still got lost. Thank God for my vampire nose, or I’d probably never have found it.

  There was a note from Jessica on the table.

  Bets, the owner called again. VERY anxious to sell to us. Keeps dropping the price. I’m seriously considering it. What do you think? J.

  "I think it’s too expensive, is what I think," I said aloud. Might as well have the argument by myself. It was the only way I’d win. "The three of us rattle around in here like dried peas in an empty can. Also, I’m getting sick of the smell of old wood."

  "Bitch, bitch, bitch," Jessica yawned, slouching into the kitchen in her jade green silk pajamas. They set off her ebony skin superbly. Bitch.

  "Well, it’s true." I didn’t add that the place was starting to grow on me, and for once, it was nice to have all the closet space I needed. "Can’t sleep?"

  "No, I set my alarm so I could talk to you."

  "Oh. Thanks. But you need your sleep."

  She shrugged. "I’ll take a nap this afternoon. You’re not working tonight, right?"

  "Nope, I’ve got the next two days off. Although how Macy’s will run without me remains a mystery. Are you really thinking about buying this place?"

  "If the owner keeps dropping the price, it’s a major steal. And you have to admit, it’s beautiful."

  "Agreed." I poured myself a glass of chocolate milk. Screw tea … took too long. "Beautiful and big. I may have to buy more shoes just to fill up my closet."

  "God help us. So, what’s new? Besides the fact that you’re the only vampire in the world with a milk mustache?"

  "Well, we’ve got some little scumballs killing vamps, and I was kind of torn about that until they tried to take out Tina—"

  "She okay?"

  "She’s fine now." I omitted the gross blood drinking details. "My boss is going on vacation and is leaving me in charge of the department."

  "God help us."

  "Oh, quit saying that. And we’re setting a trap for the killers the day after tomorrow. Also, I’m thinking of calling Child Services for Marie."

  Jessica yawned and got up to make coffee. "Who?"

  "This little curie who’s always hanging around. I don’t mind, she’s not bratty or anything, but cripes, the kid’s always here. No matter what time it is. I’m sure her dad means well, taking her on his jobs, but this is ridiculous."

  "Well, don’t go flying off the handle and getting Child Services involved. You could call Detective Nick, maybe have him—No, don’t glare. You’re right, bad idea."

  "It makes me nervous enough knowing we’re living in his jurisdiction. I keep expecting him to show up on our doorstep yelling, 'You’re dead and I forgot all about it!' " I shivered.

  "He doesn’t have a chance against Sinclair wiping his memory. But back to the kid … I could talk to her dad," she suggested. "Who is he?"

  That stumped me. "You know, I never found out. I’ll go ask her. She’s probably still in my room. I’m sure the little brat’s trying my shoes on when I’m not there."

  I hurried back to my room, but Marie was gone, and didn’t come out when I called her.

  Chapter 11

  "BUT why do I have to be bait?" I whined.

  "Well, you fit the profile."

  "What, I’m a vampire?"

  "Yes," Monique said.

  "I’m the only vampire who can do this?"

  "Yes," Tina said.

  "I don’t care for this idea myself," Sinclair said. Yay, Sinclair!

  "If I’m bait, that will seem awfully suspicious," Tina said. "The same with Monique. We barely got away, but now we’re strolling around, unconcerned? Unlikely. And Eric, you’re a little too formidable to be really good bait."

  "Thank you," he said.

  "Barf," I said. "Aren’t there any other vampires you can pick on?"

  "Well, there’s Sarah … but she keeps pretty much to herself. She has for the last fifty years."

  "Who’s S—"

  "And … you are the queen," Monique interrupted apologetically. "It’s sort of your responsibility."

  "Scratch the 'sort of'," Tina replied, "and replace it with 'entirely'."

  "Whatever happened to 'they will come over you over my dead body, your Majesty?' I mean, jeez, that was only three months ago."

  "That was different," Tina said with maddening calm. "You were unaware of your responsibilities then."

  "Oh, blow me. Okay, okay, I’ll do it. I assume I’ll have back-up?"

  "Of course!" Monique said warmly. I smiled at her. At last, someone who appeared to care if I was chopped into pieces. "We’ll all be watching and waiting. And if the four of us can’t handle a group of youths … well, we should all just stake ourselves right now."

  "Pass," I said, although, worriedly, Tina and Sinclair were nodding. "Okay. What do I do?"

  SIX hours later, I’d had enough. "This isn’t working!" I yelled. "And the sun’s coming up soon! A total wasted evening, losers!"

  Sinclair materialized out of the shadows, effectively scaring the crap out of me. While I gasped and grabbed my chest, he said, "It appears you are correct. We’ll have to try again later."

  "Well, dammit," Tina said from behind me. I yipped and spun around while she continued. "I want to get these little thugs now."

  "Soon," Sinclair soothed. He slung a companionable arm around her shoulder. He practically had to bend over to do it; she was really short. "Let’s head back to the hotel and get some rest. Where’s Monique?"

  "Here," she said from across the street. She quickly crossed against the light—vampires were total renegades—and joined our little huddle. "This is unfortunate. I had hoped—"

  "Next time," Sinclair said.

  "Oh, crap! We’re gonna trash another evening by doing this again?" I grumped. "Gosh, I can’t wait. Remind me to get that night off, by the way."

  Sinclair muttered something in response, but I didn’t catch it. Lucky for him.

  "Great shoes," Monique said, pointing.

  "Yes," I said, pleased. I was dressed in black—a cliché but it seemed appropriate for the evening shenanigans—except for my
shoes. They were clear Lucite wedges with a butterfly in each heel. Normally I try to avoid plastic shoes, but this time I made an exception. "Aren’t they great? Sixty-nine ninety five, with my discount."

  "Are those real bugs?" Tina asked.

  "No," I said, offended.

  "Oh, that’s right. You’re in P.E.T.A."

  "Not anymore. They were getting a little extreme. I mean, I’m as against spraying shaving cream into a rabbit’s eyes as the next person. But they’re trying to prevent AIDS research, which I think sucks."

  "How nice," Sinclair said silkily, "that your politics are as changeable as your wardrobe."

  "Uh … thanks?" Was that a compliment? "But I still wouldn’t walk around with real bugs in my shoes."

  "Are they comfortable?" Monique asked. "They’re so high."

  "Comfort is irrelevant! A small price to pay."

  "This is enthralling," Sinclair said, "but the sun will be up soon, and I would rather not be burned alive while you ladies discuss footwear."

  "Picky, picky. I’ll see you guys later."

  "I’ll walk you to your car," he said quickly.

  I laughed. "Why? What could possibly happen to me? The bad guys aren’t coming out tonight … or if they did, it wasn’t around here."

  He hesitated for a long moment—had he been hoping for a grope in the parking garage?—then said, "Very well. Good night."

  " 'Night. G'night, Tina. Bye, Monique."

  Five minutes later, I was in the US Bank parking ramp. My car was the only one on level three. Good thing I was already dead, or I’d be really creeped out. Minneapolis was pretty low-crime compared to most cities, but it didn’t do to tempt fate.

  I unlocked my car and was about to open the door when I noticed—Argh! Was that a scuff across my toes? Two pairs in one week! My vampire lifestyle was ruining my footwear, and I just would not stand for it.

  I bent over to get a closer look, and heard a whummm-thud! I straightened up in a hurry and saw a thick wooden arrow quivering in the metal between my window and the roof of the car.

  I whirled. There was a kid—eighteen, nineteen—standing beside one of the concrete pillars, holding a crossbow. I heard the click as he popped another arrow into place, and sidestepped just as the punk blew out my driver side window.

  "Cut that out!" I shouted. "What’s the matter with you?"

  Move.

  I ducked again, and the kid jumped behind the pillar as two more arrows sailed past him. Great. There was one behind me, too.

  "What, you were too good for our trap?" I called out. "I wasted my entire evening and you show up now? Next time"—I could actually see the kid’s arrow coming at me in not-quite-slow motion, and sidestepped again. Guess my undead adrenaline was kicking in—"make an appointment."

  "Give it up, you vampire whore," someone called from behind me.

  "Oh, that’s nice," I snapped. "You don’t even know me!"

  I heard muffled footsteps. They were good, I hadn’t even noticed I was walking into an ambush.

  But now I was noticing everything. I figured there were at least three people on this level with me, maybe four.

  I had the strong urge to move again—thank you, inner voice—and this time three bullets stitched my car door. Then another smacked into my shoulder.

  "Owwwww!" I complained. It felt like getting bopped with a baseball bat. It hurt for a few seconds, then my shoulder went numb. "Lucky for you guys I’ve got a million other T-shirts at home. What did I ever do to you?"

  The ones behind me were muttering to themselves, and the kid by the pillar—a blue-eyed blonde right out of Surfing Central Casting—looked amazed. He stared and stared, appearing to be waiting for something. What? For me to blow up? Were the bullets special?

  "Duds," the woman called from somewhere.

  Finally, he said, "Stand still, you fucking bloodsucker."

  "Are you on drugs? Do I have Giant Moron written on my forehead?"

  "No," my would-be killer admitted.

  "And will you stop with the wrecking of my car? I have to make this one last at least another year." Luckily, Fords were built tough. "Who are you jerk offs, anyway?"

  "We’re the Blade Warriors," a woman called from behind me. She was pretty well hidden; I had no idea what she was wearing. I rolled my eyes, and the kid by the pillar stopped in mid-reload to stare at me again. "We kill vampires."

  I snorted. Teenagers! Well, at least they’d stopped shooting at me. "The Blade Warriors? Seriously? You guys actually thought that up and said, 'yeah, that name doesn’t blow, we’ll go with that one'?"

  There was an embarrassed silence.

  "And as far as killing vampires goes," I continued smugly, "you’re sort of sucking at it. How much ammo have you wasted on me?"

  "You’d know about sucking," Blondie sneered.

  "Hey, I’m not the one running around in Kevlar with crossbows in the middle of the night like a geek loser. And four against one? Not too lame."

  "But you’re a vampire!" the woman protested. She was about ten feet closer. Oh-ho. Keep the dead chick talking while the other three sneak up on me. "You kill people!"

  "No I don’t. I’ve only killed one person in my whole life, and he was already dead. I told you guys you didn’t know anything about me. What, because I’m a vampire I automatically deserve to be shot with arrows?"

  "Well … yes."

  "Bullshit. You’re teenagers, but I’m not trying to kill you. Although if you keep shooting up my car," I muttered, "I might."

  Having finished my speech, I figured it was time to get gone before my luck ran out. Thank goodness,

  I was parked on the right side of the ramp. I swiftly crossed the six feet to the wall, dodging another bullet and two arrows on the way, and without another word to the Loser Warriors, vaulted over the ledge and plummeted three stories to the street below.

  Chapter 12

  I limped down the street, grabbed the first homeless guy I saw, apologized profusely, and hauled him behind a dumpster for a rejuvenating snack. As always, drinking blood felt physically wonderful, while emotionally I was disgusted with myself.

  After a few seconds (it never took long), I left my smiling, sleeping blood donor asleep on a pile of cardboard. It was a warm night; he’d be okay. Unless you knew he was there, you couldn’t see him.

  My shoulder healed like magic before I even left the alley, and I was amazed to feel the bullet pop free of my flesh and fall into my bra.

  I fished it out and stared at it, but I don’t know a bullet from a dildo, so I tucked it back in and resolved to show it to Sinclair later. Or maybe Nick Barry … a cop would know all sorts of stuff about bullets. If I dared involve him in this.

  I made it home just before dawn—thank goodness for late night taxis!—and realized when I tried to pay the fare that I’d left my purse in my car. So I zapped him with the old vamp mojo, ignoring the stab of guilt, and he drove off thrilled to his toes.

  There was, of course, the expected uproar when I walked in. Marc and Jessica were both yelling at me at once, and while Jessica punched buttons on her cell phone, Marc nagged me into stripping off my T-shirt so he could check my wound.

  "Huh," he said, poking my shoulder like I was a side of beef. "I don’t see a thing."

  I coughed but didn’t elaborate on how I’d cured myself. "Who are you calling?" I asked Jessica.

  "You know who," she said, then barked into the phone, "Betsy was attacked. She’s here now."

  "Aww, no, not Sinclair! That’s all I need." I looked at my watch. "He probably won’t have enough time to get here, anyway."

  "Yeah, he’s pretty helpless, that one," Marc said. He wadded up my shirt. "Might as well toss this, chickie, it’s ruined. What was it like, getting shot?"

  "What kind of a dumbass question is that from a guy who went to medical school? It hurt!"

  "I mean, is it different for a vampire, do you think? I’ve seen lots of bullet wounds at the hospital, but none tha
t healed in an hour."

  "How should I know? I’ve never been shot before. I mean, I could see the bullets coming at me—"

  "Cool, like in The Matrix?"

  "No. They were like baseballs thrown hard. I could dodge them, but I really had to be on my toes."

  "Thank God you’re all right," Jessica said. I blushed with pleasure, and then she wrecked it by adding, "you idiot. What were you thinking?"

  "Hey, don’t yell at me! I was thinking of going to my car and driving home," I said. "I’m the victim. So what, exactly, is my crime?"

  "I’m gonna strangle that Sinclair," she muttered. When Jess got mad she sort of did this thing where she sucked on her cheeks, which threw her cheekbones into sharp relief. She looked like a pissed-off Egyptian queen who needed a few milkshakes. "Dragging you into this … putting you in danger …"

  "This wasn’t part of me being bait. This was after. The …" I could barely get it out without giggling. "The Blade Warriors were waiting for me in the parking ramp."

  Marc’s eyebrows shot up and he and Jessica traded a glance.

  "I know how it sounds," I said.

  "Bad," Jessica replied.

  "Real bad," Marc elaborated.

  "I was talking about their name, but you’re right, that’s not too cool. An ambush. Huh. Look, I’m going to grab a quick shower; I feel sort of yucky. We’ll talk more in a few minutes, okay?"

  Annoyingly, they waited outside my bathroom while I freshened up. At least Marie wasn’t here—it would have been too awful to explain the evening’s occurrences to a little kid.

  I stepped out of the bathroom in clean cotton shorts and a new T-shirt, and started back downstairs. Jessica and Marc didn’t wait, they pelted me with questions during the long journey to the main living room.

  "How did you get away? Tell me everything," Jessica ordered finally, when she noticed I was ignoring everything she and Marc were saying. "Start with, 'I went diddy-bopping out the door six hours ago like a big blond idiot,' and finish with 'and then I walked in all bloody and tired-looking'."

  "Can’t it wait?" I griped. "I’m just going to have to tell it all to Sinclair again. Ugh, what a night. I’ll be glad when it’s tomorrow. Tonight, I mean."