Better Off Undead

by D. R. Perry

  A blur of fur, fang, and claw knocked Pete askew, slamming the drummer into the room service cart. Something about that bothered me, but I couldn’t place it. At least, not until the elevator dinged. My eureka moment came with the sound. Silver. The cover on the cart was made out of that, with a handle in the shape of a star. I could smell it, just like the nickel name tag.

  The woman my band of hungry vampires had attacked scooted into the elevator, her finger pressing the button repeatedly creating a tattoo of clicks. Pete’s foot slipped as he lunged at the Kelpie, and his face hit the carpet instead of her neck. A white-furred blur glanced off his shoulder, tumbling into the toppled cart, cover and all. I smelled even more gamy shifter blood before hearing the too-human scream.

  “Josh!” Nox kipped up, kicking Pete in the neck just to be sure he stayed down, then rushed to her mate. I made a mental note not to piss her off again if I was sensible enough to help it. Kung-Fu Kelpie knew what to do when it came to fighting vampires. She also knew enough to dial 911 immediately when werewolves got impaled by sterling silver.

  “Woah.” I sat up, even though my head was at a totally wrong angle. I’d never seen a wolf shifter knocked out of his animal shape by getting wounded with their metal bane. It seriously sucked. “I’m sorry, guys. This is all my fault.”

  “Not your fault.” Josh winced as he rolled over, holding his side. The blood oozing from between his fingers smelled rancid now, like he had an infection but worse. “That woman smelled funny.”

  “Yeah, but not literally.” I winced, trying to get my hands around my neck to pop it back into place before healing it with blood power. “I don’t know what it was about her, either.”

  “You’d think a hotel that caters to vampires would vet their employees better.” Dave rubbed his jaw. “She smelled like the best thing to drink in the universe.”

  “Crap on a crap cracker.” I stared at the phone, only half-listening to Nox stating the nature of her emergency. “We’re about to get even more police attention.”

  Sure enough, Detective Weaver showed up on the heels of the paranormal paramedics. Josh had ordered Sir Albert to watch Bianca’s hotel room door before passing out. I’d have bet all three hundred bucks in my bank account that he’d thought Nox would be too distracted, but not enough that she’d get in the ambulance with him. Weaver took her phone number, and I hoped she’d use it before arresting another of us. Our injuries were illegal, after all.

  “So, what happened here?” Detective Weaver tapped the round toe of her “obvious cop” shoe. Her partner, Detective Klein, wasn’t there, of course. He was a vampire just like me, and it was high noon out there.

  “Um.” I yanked again at my head, desperate now to make my neck right again. I felt like a moron, forgetting to insist on help from the paramedics before they left. “That nice young lady who went with her mate in the ambulance beat us up.”

  “Oh really?” Weaver tilted her head, that white streak in her hair shining in the dim light of the claustrophobic hall. “Nice young lady, huh?”

  “Yeah, and we deserved it, too.” I told her how the three of us vampires had ended up outside our room, noses telling us there was something delicious out here.

  “I suppose the real question I should have asked you is, are there any human witnesses besides the one who’s upstairs with her boss trying to stave off a nervous breakdown?”

  “I’m one.” Irina leaned against the wall opposite Detective Weaver. She smiled to shame the Devil, too. I was surprised until I remembered she’d made the exact same face at the Sidhe freaking Queen just a month before. To Irina, a cop like Detective Weaver must seem like small potatoes.

  “This story of Mr. Meyer’s—is it accurate? Complete?”

  “Not exactly.” Irina shouldered up from the wall and put her hands on her hips. “Lane and the other guys probably don’t remember this because vampires who riled up aren’t all there, as I’m sure you know.” Irina pulled her phone from her pocket, tapped, swiped a few times, and held it out to the Detective. “I’ve got something better than my memory, though. I’d been recording our practice session and caught something else. Have a listen.”

  Detective Weaver tapped the phone one more time. I listened to my voice repeating the same word over and over before hearing a terrified feminine screech and then all the noise from the fight. I would have tilted my head, but my neck was still borked.

  “Well, that’s interesting in a Confucian sense. Lane Meyer calling Jack Steele’s girlfriend’s name.” She snorted. “Sounds like tabloid fodder.” Detective Weaver gave Irina back a grin to rival her earlier one. “I’m taking your phone in for evidence.”

  “Yeah, fine. Sure. Whatever.” Irina shrugged, reminding me for all the world of Fred. “Do what you gotta do, ma'am.”

  “I’ll help.” Kimiko Ichiro stepped around the corner. Margot followed a moment later, tucking a notepad in her bag.

  “Get all of that recording and the one preceding it.” Detective Weaver handed Kim the phone, then turned her back to head off down the hall. “If there’s anything from the concert last night, I’ll want that, too. And enhance it all until I can hear Meyer’s nose hairs vibrating when he hits the high notes.”

  “Yes, ma’am, right away.” Kimiko nodded and pocketed the expensive device like a good little Tanuki shifter. Before she turned to follow the detective, she dropped me a wink. If the police had to investigate, at least we had the sneakiest member of Tinfoil Hat looking out for us.

  But none of that would help if we flopped at that night’s performance. With Josh and Nox out of commission, I wasn’t sure we’d be safe from the Gatto goons, either. I eyed Blaine, standing next to Albert outside Bianca’s door. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what Kimiko would find on that phone. What I wanted was to talk to Tony, but couldn’t with either the sun or Blaine Harcourt glaring down.

  I shuffled toward my room after Dave and Pete. When I got to the threshold, a slender hand, familiar in its soothing coolness, met my shoulder.

  “You’ve got a little problem there, Lane.”

  “Yeah.” I awkwardly turned to try to look at Margot. “This whole day’s been a giant pain in the neck.”

  “Vampire karma.” She smiled. Her fangs looked nearly as diamond-like as her tears had before. Had our walk back from the nursing home really been less than twelve hours earlier? It felt like forever and only a moment at the same time.

  “Well, what can you do?” I tried a shrug, but it wasn’t very effective. I felt like a weak Pokemon.

  “Fix it, of course.” Her smile got brighter. “If that’s okay with you?”

  “Yes. Please, fix it.” At that moment, I would have sworn on everything I cared about that Margot Malone was an angel, lack of wings and fangy smile notwithstanding.

  “Okay. On the count of three.” She put her hands on either side of my face. “One.” She placed her thumbs in the hollows of my cheeks and tucked her fingers against my jaw. “Two.”

  “Ow!” My neck snapping back into place felt like a car crash and sounded like a sawed-off shotgun. “Thought you were gonna wait for three.”

  “You might have flinched.” She unwrapped her hands from my face. I tried not to lean forward or moan. It was a near thing. Her touch felt better than Della had ever smelled. I had no idea why or how, just that if I tried saying anything, it’d sound pathetic.

  “Fair enough.” I tilted my head from side to side. “Thanks, Margot.” I had the feeling I’d been saying that phrase so much she might get sick of it.

  “You’re welcome.” She turned on her heel and headed down to the other end of the hallway. I had no idea why until she pulled a key card out of her handbag and unlocked the door.

  As she turned her head to smile at me one more time and give a tiny wave, something bothered me. Margot must have been working on a story in the basement lounge. Any human would expect her to be in her room at noon. I shivered, wondering whether there was a reason the bloodthirst-induc
ing employee had been right outside her door. Who would be trying to get Margot Malone in trouble? The Extramagus, of course. And that made me angrier than any of the crap he’d thrown my way, too.

  Chapter Nine

  Meyer, Meyer, Pants on Fire

  We weren’t even in our room for fifteen minutes before someone knocked on the door. I’d laid down with my arm over my face, so I didn’t get up. Instead, I groaned a string of words that basically meant “go away.” But then, they knocked again, louder this time.

  “No. We gave at the office,” I called out, louder and more coherently this time. They. Knocked. Again. Those. Jerkwads. I got up, stalked to the door, and flung it open with fangs bared.

  “Um, excuse me.” A squeaky voice came from somewhere near the floor. “Um, could you put the sharp pointy teeth away, please?”

  “Uh.” I looked down. A tiny blue-skinned creature dressed in what looked like a tunic made of silver fish scales gazed up with eyes like spotlights. They were a pure faerie—a Pixie, if I wasn’t mistaken. I scratched my head and blinked. The last time I’d heard of a Pixie was from Fred.

  “Hi, my name’s Nixie.” The creature blinked back, fidgeting their feet in something like a soft-shoe routine. “Should have said that first, sorry. Oh, and can I come in? That’s a thing with vampires, right? Needing to be invited in? I always get it mixed up, even though I’m friends with one.”

  “Sure.” I chuckled and stepped aside. “We’re the ones who need an invitation, but only for actual homes. You could have barged right in.”

  “Well, that’d be rude.” The Pixie crossed their arms over their chest, then took a seat on one of the spokes on a guitar stand. “So, I bet you want to know why I’m here.”

  “Um.” I glanced around for Dave and Pete. The shower was running, and a faint rustle came from the bed at the other end of the suite. Only Pete moved in his sleep, so that meant Dave was in the bathroom. “I could assume this information is for my ears only. Or I could wait for the others.”

  “No, just you.” Nixie rolled their eyes. “It’s about Della.”

  “Della. Um.”

  “Yeah, you remember Della, right?” The pixie shook their head with a chuckle. “You should remember your ex-girlfriend.”

  “Of course, I remember her, silly.” I flipped my hair over my shoulder. “I’m just wondering what a nice Seelie faerie like you is doing with dirt like that.”

  “Oh, I get all sizes, shapes, and textures of dirt.” They winked. “Comes with the territory when you hang out with a reporter.”

  “Oh!” If I’d been sitting, I would have stood up. As it was, I bounced on the balls of my feet like a weird Punk Elvis impersonator. “So, you’re friends with Margot.”

  “Well, it started as a working relationship, but yeah.” Nixie smiled. “She’s the kind of person it’s hard not to get friendly with.”

  “I hear you.” I took a couple of steps backward, then sat on the floor to chat with the little creature. “Sounds like working for Margot's a pretty good deal.”

  “Uh, I’m here to tell you something about Della, though.” Nixie narrowed their eyes. “Hey, wait. Do you have a crush on my boss?”

  “What kind of question is that?” I smacked my forehead, realizing I'd better watch it with the questions around a Pixie.

  “The kind people ask when you change the subject from the potentially life-saving information I’ve been asked to deliver to chatting about a bubbly redhead.” Nixie sighed and rested their cheek in one hand. “I need to tell you this stuff so I can get on with the really important things in my day.”

  “Okay, lay it on me.” I wondered for a moment what Nixie the Pixie might have on their schedule, then remembered Fred’s stories. This faerie probably had tickets to a musical or something.

  “Della is freaking out. Has been since yesterday. She’s been looking for something that went missing from the hotel room after the night you all got here.” Nixie sighed. “She thinks someone on the hotel staff took it, and after today, so do I.”

  “Wow, Nixie.” I blinked. “It sounds like you’re as smart about figuring this kind of thing out as some of the folks across the hall. There's got to be more, or you wouldn't still be hanging out here.”

  “Yup, that's right.” The Pixie couldn’t look me in the eye all of a sudden. “I’m supposed to tell you that Jack’s been biting her.”

  “What?” I stood up and rushed to the door again. Della might not be my girlfriend anymore, but biting a living human was illegal anywhere except on private property. Hotel rooms didn’t count as that for vampires. Jack could get arrested again and solve all my problems with winning the Battle of the Bands and the Gattos. But biting humans after getting involved with blood-doll rings back in the day was bad news. Jack could kill her if he wasn't careful. “That piece of—”

  “Still Waters.” At the faerie’s words, I was immersed in something, like my arms and legs moved through taffy instead of air. “Lane, you can’t go and confront Jack. He’ll just deny it. And anyway, Della’s happy about the biting. Some humans like that sort of thing, and you know it. In fact, it has something to do with her missing item, whatever it is. You want to find out what that is, right?”

  “Sounds like a job for Newport’s Finest, not a Punk front man.”

  “I thought you had a little agreement with a certain group of big cat shifters.” Nixie stepped around in front of me and smiled up. “You call the police back after that whole tangle out in the hall, it’ll look awfully suspicious to them. Weaver and Klein already know those Gattos are here, too. They’re trying to figure everything out, and that’s not good. The last time Detective Weaver crossed the Gattos, bullets flew. It got worse than that, later on. Just ask Blaine sometime.”

  “So, what do you and your boss think I should do?” I’d already heard about the night Blaine, Kimiko, and Jeannie got shot at, Mafia-style. I definitely didn’t need to deal with anything like that.

  “Get some of those friends from across the hall and look into it yourself.” Nixie clapped their hands, then stuck them out to either side with the fingers spread wide. Jazz hands. On a pure faerie. I’d heard about it but never thought I’d actually see it.

  “Sure, fine, okay, whatever.” I shrugged, my shoulders and arms moving normally in the regular plain old air this time. Apparently, those jazz hands released the Still Waters spell the Pixie had hit me with.

  “That’s super peachy-keen, Lane.” Nixie headed toward the bathroom door, which had just opened. A bewildered Dave in a fluffy white hotel bathrobe and foggy glasses did a double-take when the Pixie dashed underfoot. I heard a rush of water as I chased after them. The bathroom was empty, but the faucet in the sink trickled cold water.

  “Was that a Pixie?”

  “Yeah.” I tossed Dave’s t-shirt and jeans at his face, then headed across the room to where Pete slept.

  “What did they want?” Dave pulled his clothes on under the bathrobe, locker-room style.

  “They want us to drag our lazy behinds out of bed and give some info to the brainiacs across the hall.” I flicked Pete in the temple. “Get up or your head’s going in the bass drum again, dude.”

  “Harsh.” Pete sat up, rubbing bleary eyes. “I’ve never even seen a Pixie, and already I don’t like ‘em.”

  I grabbed some bags of blood from the mini-fridge, then opened the door and headed across the hall. My bandmates came after me. Before I could knock, the door opened. Blaine stood there, looking sleepier than Pete.

  “Go on in.” He stepped aside and stuck his arm out, palm flat like some kind of host at a restaurant.

  The suite was a mess. Crumb-dusted pizza boxes fought for counter and table space with empty bottles and cans. Blaine plopped on the sofa with his tablet. He tapped it to wake it up.

  “I’m going out on a limb and assuming you guys came over here with some information for me.”

  “Yeah, we did,” I told him most of what Nixie had said.

 
; “Tiamat’s scales!” The air around Blaine’s head got smoky.

  “Hoo, boy!” Olivia stepped out of the bathroom wearing jeans and a t-shirt, her “lawyer-lite” outfit draped over one arm.

  “Yeah, I know.” I shook my head. “Even more things suck than we thought.”

  “I wonder what Della’s missing?” Olivia adjusted her glasses. “And what Nixie thinks it has to do with your hall brawl.”

  “Do you rhyme all the time?” Pete rolled his eyes at the owl shifter.

  “Oh, come on.” I sighed. “Look, we have big trouble ahead.”

  “Yeah, and it’s so bad, someone could end up dead.” Olivia smirked.

  “No more rhymes, now. I mean it!” Blaine’s smoke came with a little extra heat this time.

  I wasn’t sure whether I’d start hitting something or roll on the floor laughing if anyone offered Trogdor a peanut. I didn’t get a chance to find out, either. Nox came back right then, with Albert the Sidhe knight in tow. A yawning Ren shuffled past to take his place guarding Bianca’s hall door.

  “What’s the word on Josh?” Blaine turned that smoke into a pretty ring, just like the ones he used to make during less stressful times at the Nocturnal Lounge. I guess he wasn't continuing the rhyme-time madness by himself.

  “He’s in the hospital, sleeping. Silver poisoning.” She curled up in a chair, reminding me more of a cat than a chick who turned into a magic horse. “Gonna be a couple more days before they release him, too.”

  “So, this sucks. We don’t have our Alpha or our Beta. Someone’s got to sub in and act as one.” Blaine shuddered, then put his finger on his nose. “Not it.”

  “I’m too new to the group to qualify, I’m afraid.” Albert shook his head, a hint of a smirk on his lips as he leaned against the wall.

  “Dammit.” Nox’s finger was poised to tap the tip of hers, but she’d been too slow.