Undead and Unemployed

by Mary Janice Davidson

  "Ani, the brains?"

  "So I figured I’d come and see you. But if you really want me to go."

  "Finally, he catches on! Yes, I really want you to go. Thanks a ton for stopping by," I said, giving him a gentle shove in the direction of the exit. "Bye!"

  He turned and started walking backward, his hands stuffed in his faded jeans which were, I might add, about three sizes too small. His blond hair gleamed under the fluorescent lights, and even from eight feet away I could see how blue his eyes were, and how well he filled out his T-shirt. He practically radiated Good Boy Vibe. "I’m sorry I tried to kill you," he called, still walking backward.

  I mimed locking my lips shut and throwing the key over my shoulder. He flashed another grin—product of a really excellent dental plan—turned around, and left in the direction of Orange Julius.

  Nice kid. If Jessica was right, and he did have the hots for me, I’d have to squash him gently. For one thing, he was ten years younger. For another, he was alive. For another, I was a vampire and he was a vampire killer.

  Besides, between work, and the queen of the dead thing, and fending off Sinclair, I just didn’t have time to cram a boyfriend into my schedule.

  Too bad.

  Chapter 17

  MY cell phone rang while I was on 494 West. I kept forgetting to change the tones, so it burbled "Funkytown" at me when it rang.

  "Hello?"

  "Hey, where are you?" Jessica. "I’m entertaining Sinclair and Tina all night, here."

  "I care! It’s their own fault for not calling ahead. I’m on my way to check on the Fiends."

  "Ooooh, cool. When are you going to bring me to meet them?"

  "Never."

  "Oh, come on!" she whined.

  "Forget it. They’re too dangerous."

  "You say that about all the fun stuff," she pouted.

  "Oh, yeah, real fun. Crazed bloodsuckers who are more animal than human. Hey, trust me on this, if they weren’t my responsibility, I wouldn’t go near them."

  "Fine, fine. Catch you later."

  "Give Sinclair a smack for me." I disconnected and tossed my phone onto the seat beside me. It was too bad I couldn’t grant her request, but I wasn’t about to take chances with her life. Even if she did have my car windows fixed while I was sleeping.

  I pulled up to Nostro’s house. He’d made the Fiends, as a sort of twisted experiment, and we still kept them at his house. Why not? He sure didn’t need it anymore.

  The Fiends were what happened when you didn’t let a newborn vampire feed. They went out of their minds with hunger and lost most of their I.Q. Not to mention their ability to walk on two legs and bathe regularly. It was disgusting and sad at the same time.

  I went around to the barn in the back—probably the only barn in Minnetonka—and observed the Fiends gamboling in the moonlight like big undead puppies. They rushed over to me when they smelled me and I patted a couple of them, feeling stupid. They had once been human, and I felt ridiculous treating them like pets. Of course, they acted like pets—hideously dangerous, unstable, bloodthirsty pets—but never mind.

  "Majesty!"

  Alice hailed me and hurried across the wide yard. She’d been about fourteen when Nostro had turned her, the big jerk. Perpetually in the throes of adolescence! Talk about your fate worse than death.

  "Hi, Alice." She was looking especially cute in a blue jumper and a white blouse. Her curly red hair was caught back in a blue headband. Bare feet. Toe-nails painted sky blue. "How’s it going?"

  "Fine, Majesty."

  "For the millionth time: Betsy."

  "They seem happy to see you," she said, avoiding the whole name issue.

  "Yeah. They look good. You’re doing a great job."

  Alice glowed. Or maybe it was because she’d recently fed; her cheeks were positively rosy. As for the Fiends, they drank pigs’ blood, and the weekly butcher’s bill was high indeed. This was extremely weird, as every vampire I’d ever met, including me, needed "live" blood.

  Maybe because the Fiends were barely human, so to speak, they didn’t have to have the stuff right from the source.

  "I think they’re getting better," Alice said. "I left them some books and they didn’t shit all over them this time. They did nibble on them, though."

  "I don’t need to hear this. But thanks anyway. How are you doing?"

  "Oh, well, you know," she said demurely. She gestured at the giant, empty house. "It’s a little lonely out here once in a while, but Tina keeps me company."

  "Well, jeez, Alice, you’re not a prisoner. You can leave whenever you want. You don’t have to live out here."

  "This is my job now," she said seriously. "It’s the most important thing there is."

  "That’s the spirit." I guess. "Uh … thanks again."

  "I’m here to serve, Majesty."

  "Cut that out. You have everything you need here?"

  "Yes, of course," she said cheerfully.

  It didn’t look like it to me, but I suppose after living under Nostro’s regime, playing zookeeper to a bunch of feral vampires was a walk in the park. Me, I’d have been bored out of my mind by now. But Alice never complained, and when I made noises about getting another vampire to take over Fiend duty, to give her a break, she practically cried.

  "Well, I’ll be out next week. You’ve got my cell. Call if you need anything."

  "I certainly will, Majesty."

  I sighed. "And work on the Betsy thing, will you?"

  She just smiled.

  "They should all be staked."

  "Jesus!" I nearly jumped into Alice’s arms. She put out a hand to steady me and then, as if afraid of touching my exalted self, pulled back. "Sinclair, I swear to God, if you don’t stop doing that …" In the moonlight he looked like a moody devil.

  "Majesty," Alice said, tipping her head deferentially.

  "Alice," His Majesty said.

  "What the hell are you doing here?" I asked, undeferentially.

  He shrugged.

  "Well, that was helpful. I was just about to leave. Don’t be staking the Fiends after I go."

  "I’ll come with you."

  Great. Why was that thought equally thrilling and annoying? "See you, Alice."

  "Majesties."

  "Good night, Alice."

  The Fiends whined when I left, but then I heard a splash and heard slurping—yeerrgghh! Feeding time at the zoo. I hoped Alice hadn’t gotten her jumper all bloody.

  Sinclair caught my hand and held it as we walked back to the cars. Awwww, just like an undead couple going steady! "There’s been another killing," he said.

  I nearly tripped over a gopher hole. "What? When? Why didn’t you say anything a minute ago?"

  "Tina and I think it’s best to keep it from the other vampires until we find the culprit."

  "Oh." Too bad they hadn’t kept it from me. "Anybody we know?"

  "No. A woman named Jennifer. Rather young for a vampire, in fact, Tina found her death certificate and it was less than twenty years old."

  "A mere infant. Huh, that’s weird. Jon didn’t say a word tonight about killing somebody else. I’ll strangle the little creep!"

  Sinclair’s grip tightened, ever so slightly. "You saw Jon tonight?"

  "Yeah, he came to bug me at work."

  "I’ll speak to him about that."

  "You will not," I said, irritated. "What, you’re the only one allowed to bug me at work? And let go of my hand."

  "Yes. And no."

  "We’re getting off the subject."

  "A hazard in any conversation with you. But you’re quite right. Jon and Ani swear they had nothing to do with it."

  "You think they’re on the up and up?"

  "Yes. Tina concurs. Also, she was with Ani most of the evening."

  "That’s never going to work, FYI," I predicted. "Ani won’t be Tina’s pet, and you can’t tell me Tina’s looking for a girlfriend."

  "I can’t?"

  "Plus, hello, they have nothin
g in common. Not to mention the age difference. The hundred-year age difference."

  "I don’t know that an age difference is so insurmountable," he said carefully, then added, "It’s really none of our business."

  "Oh, shut up. And let go of my hand!"

  "I decline. Stop squirming. At any rate, this Jennifer is dead. Someone is still killing."

  I kicked at a tuft of grass, which went flying like a divot on a golf course. "Well, at least the kids didn’t screw us over. So now what?"

  "Now we must examine the body. Maybe we’ll find something we missed before."

  I stopped short. Sinclair kept going, so I was nearly yanked off my feet. "Nuh-uh, count me out! So not on my to-do list for the night!"

  "It’s your responsibility," he said implacably.

  "Forget it! Seriously, Eric, dead bodies creep me out. I can’t even watch Night of the Living Dead by myself."

  He rubbed his forehead as if a killer migraine had sprouted. "Elizabeth …"

  "You’re not really going to wreck my evening like this, are you?" I begged. "I just can’t think of anything worse."

  He laughed. "Sometimes … frequently … you’re too adorable."

  "Now who’s getting off the subject? Like I haven’t noticed you’ve led me to your car and are stuffing me—watch the hair!" I warned as he put his hand on my head and tucked me into the passenger side of his Lexus. "Dammit, Sinclair, this isn’t over!"

  "You can finish it," he said, climbing into the driver’s seat, "on the way to the morgue."

  FOR that extra creepy touch, the morgue was—get this—in my basement. That’s right: my basement.

  "Just kill me now," I muttered as we descended the stairs.

  "Well, where else should we keep the body?" Marc asked, reasonably enough. He’d been key in the evening’s body-snatching activities—people hardly ever questioned a doctor’s movements. "The Marquette Hotel?"

  "Anywhere but our damned house!"

  "Oh, you’re always complaining."

  "Since April," I said darkly, "I’ve had a lot to complain about."

  Marc pondered that one, then finally said, "True enough."

  There was quite the party in the basement, though it took a while to find them—the basement ran the length of the house. There was a room on the far end that I’d never been in before, and that’s where Tina, Monique, Sarah-the-weirdo, Ani, Jon, and Jessica were waiting for us. Oh, and the dead body. Can’t forget that.

  "I object again," Sarah said by way of greeting.

  "Be quiet," Sinclair ordered.

  "What is your problem with our house?" I asked, puzzled. "I mean, I get that you don’t like me, if you were fond of Nostro, which calls your taste into severe question, by the way. But what have you got against my digs?"

  "I used to work here," she said distantly. "I didn’t like it then, and I certainly don’t care to be here now."

  "Well, sorry! Nobody’s making you stay."

  "Untrue," Sinclair said, fixing Sarah with his dark gaze. She instantly stopped bitching and stared at the floor.

  I wondered what the big deal was. Then it hit me: Sarah didn’t like me, wasn’t crazy about the fact that I’d killed Nostro, and had recently blown into town. If she had money, that made her a pretty good suspect. No wonder Sinclair wanted to keep her close.

  Sarah looked up and said, "Nostro made me."

  "Oh." Well, that explained it. He’d been an utter shit, but his vampires were weirdly loyal, especially the ones he made himself. It made zero sense to me, but what did I know about vamp politics? Nada.

  "I had no real love for him," she was saying, "but he deserved my loyalty. He gave me immortality. He made me a goddess among men."

  "And a weirdo among the rest of us." Her little revelation had just put her at the top spot of our list of suspects. I wonder if she knew? "Well, we’ll just have to agree to disagree, I s’pose."

  "I rather doubt that."

  "Thank you all for coming," Tina said, cutting Sarah off as she opened her mouth again. "Especially on such a grim errand."

  "I told you we needed a big house," Jessica whispered in my ear.

  "Yeah, but … for this?"

  I stepped closer. The dead vampire, Jennifer, was stretched out on the beat-up wooden table in the center of the room. In two pieces.

  I gagged and turned my face away. I felt Sinclair rub my back and, weirdly, I took strength from that, and after a minute I was able to look. I wasn’t the only one affected. Jessica was so pale she was more gray than brown, and Tina’s big eyes were pools of sadness.

  "Before you ask," Jon said, looking annoyingly unmoved, "we didn’t cut off her head."

  "If I thought you had," Sinclair said pleasantly, "there’d be another body here in two pieces."

  "Don’t start, you guys," I said automatically, as Jon paled and twitched toward his knife. "Don’t you guys have any ideas? Anything at all?"

  "This is the first killing that didn’t happen on a Wednesday," Tina said.

  "We always got together on Wednesdays," Ani said. She was walking around the table, inspecting poor headless Jennifer. "It was the only day all our work schedules lined up."

  "Ah-ha!" I said. "See, that was my theory all along. Remember, the night Tina and Monique got attacked?"

  "Yes, yes, you’re very clever," Sinclair said absently. He was prowling right behind Ani, also looking at the body.

  "Don’t tell me," I said to Jon. "Radio Shack."

  "How’d you know?"

  "Just a wild guess, Geek Boy. And what the hell’s a Devo?"

  "He’s our computer expert. He—"

  "She’s been shot," Sinclair said.

  "And beheaded? Talk about overkill," Jessica muttered. I shuddered.

  "With vampires, it’s best to be sure," Ani said, almost apologetically.

  "Which reminds me," Tina said. "The bullet one of you shot into Her Majesty the Queen. It was a hollow point filled with holy water."

  "No wonder it stung like crazy," I commented.

  "And you survived?" Monique practically gasped. "I can’t believe it!"

  "Oh, well, you know," I said modestly. Monique was looking at me with total admiration, which was a pleasant change. Most vampires looked at me like I was a bug.

  "Yes, our Elizabeth is just full of surprises," Sinclair said, ruining the moment with his sarcasm. "Which one of you Warriors thought up that charming little gift?"

  After a moment’s hesitation, Ani slowly raised her hand. She blushed as Tina looked at her reproachfully.

  "Hmmm."

  "Come on, take it easy on her," Marc said. "You have to admit, it’s sort of brilliant."

  "Yes, we have to admit that," Tina agreed. "I’ll see if the bullets are still in the body. And if they’re the same kind, we’ll know that the Puppet Master—for want of a better phrase—killed Jennifer. Which is interesting."

  I raised my hand. "Um, why?" It was much more gross than interesting, if you asked me. Which nobody had.

  "Because we’ve—the Blade Warriors—agreed to stop killing vampires until we figure out who’s been pulling our strings," Jon cut in. "I mean, we all talked last night, after we met you guys—"

  "And had tea with us," I said with a triumphant look at Sinclair.

  "—and decided to hold off for a while."

  "For a while?" Tina and Sinclair asked in unison, equally sharply.

  Jon ignored them. "We sent our boss an e-mail last night. But it looks like he’s still killing vampires. Or he’s found someone else to do it." He spread his hands, puzzled. "Well, how come? Is he targeting specific vampires, or is he an undead serial killer, or what? I mean, he had to go out and stake this vamp the minute he got our e-mail. Why?"

  "If it’s even a he," Monique piped up.

  "Good point, uh—"

  "Monique."

  Jon could hardly take his eyes off her, which wasn’t surprising. She was really beautiful, and dressed to kill in an Ann Taylor suit, black s
tockings, and black pumps. Her hair was almost silver against the black of the suit.

  Frankly, I had met very few ugly vampires. One, to be exact. And he was more unwashed than unattractive.

  Which made sense—every vampire I’d met had been a murder victim, killed by another vampire. And vampires seemed to seek out good-looking people to snack on. I guess because drinking blood seemed so sexual … most people wanted to boink good-looking partners. And most vampires wanted to drink from cuties.

  Monique was gorgeous, there just wasn’t any two ways about it. Tina wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes, either. I could see that even Jennifer had been beautiful, though her long, brown hair was matted with blood, and—

  "Wait a minute. Don’t talk, don’t talk!" I clutched my head and writhed.

  "What the hell’s wrong with you?" Marc asked.

  "I know that look," Jessica said. "She’s got an idea. Or she needs an Ex-Lax."

  "Am I the only one who noticed that all the murder victims are women?" I cried. "Say it isn’t so!"

  Tina looked startled. "Well … yes, I suppose so. That’s another thing they all had in common, besides taking place on Wednesdays, and—"

  "Don’t you guys think that’s a little weird?" I asked Tina and Sinclair. Then I rounded on Jon and Ani. "Don’t you guys?"

  "It—uh—didn’t make much difference to us," Ani coughed. "We figured you were all bad."

  "We’re feminists," Jon said, totally straight-faced. "Killing female vamps didn’t bother us at all."

  "This could shed light on the motive," Sinclair said.

  "Ya think?" I asked sarcastically.

  "The women all look different, right?" Jessica asked. "So it’s not like the killer’s going after a certain type. I mean, if he targeted Betsy and Tina and Monique … you three don’t look a thing alike. You’re not even the same build."

  Meaning I’m a disgusting hulk who towers over the delicately built Tina and Monique … thanks.

  "It’s getting kind of late," Monique said after a long silence in which I contemplated my enormous bulk and the others contemplated who-knew-what. "Maybe we could pick this up tomorrow night?"

  I had just gotten there, but I wasn’t going to argue. Unfortunately, Monique’s suggestion meant three nights in a row with these killjoys, trying to solve murders. I stifled the urge to remind them I was a former secretary, not a former homicide detective.