Undead and Unemployed

"You want me to do what?"



"I'll do it," Tina said quickly. I realized that the chair leg she'd been holding would make a good stake. Dammit! Three steps ahead of me, as usual. "The queen shouldn't have to undertake such a low task."



"Uh... still having trouble tracking, you guys..."



"Low task?" Sarah's eyes were blazing. "My death is not low! It will reunite me with my own flesh and blood, gone from me these fifty years."



"Guys?"



"I only meant... the queen doesn't have the stomach for such things," Tina added in a low voice. "But I don't mind, and I'll be glad to help you out."



"Oh." Mollified, Sarah backed off again. "All right, then."



"Sarah, are you sure?" I kept a wary eye on Marie and practically whispered the rest. "I mean, what if it doesn't work? What if you..." Wake up in Hell, I'd been about to say, but that probably wouldn't do. "What if I'm wrong?"



"You're the queen," Sarah said, plainly puzzled.



"Besides, you do believe it. In your heart of hearts," Sinclair said. I jumped; he'd been so quiet, I had forgotten he was still in the room. "You know you do. Else why wear the cross? Attend church?"



"How do you know I go to church?"



"Elizabeth, I know everything about you."



"Okay, now you've moved from annoying would-be suitor to obsessive stalker. But I'll deal with that later. Give me that thing." Tina slapped the chair leg into my palm like a vampiric O.R. nurse.. "Sarah asked me. So I'll do it."



"Thank you, Majesty."



Tina didn't say anything; she just bowed her head.



"Um, how do I do it?"



"Aim for the heart," Sinclair said. He touched a spot on Sarah's breast. "Dead center. As quick and deep as you can."



"And that'll... do it?"



"Yes. No vampire can recover from a wooden stake through the heart, even if you remove it afterward. She won't disappear like in a silly movie, but she'll be dead for-ever."



I gulped. "Okay. But first, Sarah, you should probably confess. You know, go see God with a clean slate."



Sarah cringed. "Can't I confess to you?"



"No, of course not. Just a second." I snatched open my bedroom door. Ani, Jessica, and Jon nearly fell on me. "Cut it out, you snoops. Father Markus!" I bawled. "Get up here! We need you!"



"I'll get him," Ani said.



"No, I will," Jon said, and they were in an instant and furious tussle. Fists flew and they were kicking and scratching like pissed-off chinchillas.



"Uh... Jessica..."



"Right," she said, stepping over Jon and Ani, locked in combat, and hurrying down the stairs.



"Okay," I said, popping back into my bedroom. "Jess went to get the priest."



"He's not going to touch me with any of his... his tools, is he?" she asked, actually trembling. The woman who yelled at Sinclair was scared of an old man in his sixties! "Or sprinkle me with... with anything?"



"No. He's just going to hear you out. Just tell him all the bad things you've done-"



"All?" she repeated, appalled.



"Sum up, then," I said, exasperated. "Then I'll stake you through the heart and you and Marie can be together." And then I'll throw up again, and hide under my bed for the rest of the week. A fine plan!



Father Markus could move when he wanted; there was a quick tap at my door and then he poked his head inside. "You called for me?"



"Yeah. Thanks for coming so fast. C'mere, Father..." He shut the door and I quickly gave him the rundown. "So, if you could, you know, make her shiny for God..."



"I don't think he can," Tina said. "He can't make the sign of... make any signs, or touch her with anything..."



"And if she isn't a practicing Catholic, it would be inappropriate, to say the least. Frankly, it's inappropriate anyway, given her... ah... status." Markus looked around nervously, unfolded his bifocals, and slipped them on. "Are you sure there's a ghost in here?"



"Trust me. Well, just do the best you can." Could a priest do Extreme Unction on a vampire?



Father Markus smiled at Sarah, who was cowering away from him, and I noticed for the first time what a nice face he had. It was long and mournful, like a priestly basset hound, but when he smiled he showed a deeply sunk dimple in each cheek, which was awfully cute.



"Sarah, child." He slowly reached for her hand. She flinched, then let him take it. "Are you heartily sorry for all the sins you've committed, both in life and in death?"



"Yes."



"And do you accept our Lord Jesus Christ as your savior?"



"Eric Sinclair is my Lord," she said, glaring. "And Betsy is my Lady."



"In the afterlife, dear?"



"Well, I suppose so," she grumped. "I mean, if He'll have me."



"Very well, then. I commend your soul to God." He made the sign of the cross over her head and she flinched behind her upraised arm, but nothing happened. She didn't burst into flames or anything like that. I have to admit, I was relieved. I mean, that would have just wrecked the whole evening.



"Thanks, Father," I said.



"Do you need-"



"Bye."



Tina held the door open, pointedly.



"But I'm curious-"



"Vampire business, I beg your pardon," Tina said politely. Then she fixed Ani and Jon with such a withering glare that they instantly lunged for the stairs. Father Markus crept out, throwing one last glance over his shoulder as the door shut.



"Okay." That sounded good; I'd try that again. "Okay. Here we go. Um, Sarah, stand over here." I steadied her against the wall. Then I moved her-my shoes were behind that wall. "Okay, here we go. Um. Okay." I made a practice jabbing motion where Sinclair had pointed. Oh, Lord, how did I get myself into these situations? "Okay."



"Wait!" She grabbed my wrist.



"Oh, thank God."



"No, it's not that. I haven't changed my mind. My clothes. I have a closetful of Armani that I'll never use again. Tina knows where I live. They'll be yours now. You're taller, but we've got the same body type. You can alter most of it."



"Armani?" I flung my arms around her and kissed her chilly cheek. "You won't regret this, I promise."



"Then get it done. Please."



"All right, all right."



"Mommy?" Marie, sounding worried.



"Be with you in a minute, baby," Sarah replied, too brightly. Then, hissing, "Do it!"



I did it. I slammed the table leg into her, harder than I had to. I was so afraid I'd wimp out and bungle the job, I overcompensated. The table leg went through Sarah, and through the wall. I let go of it, and Sarah stayed pinned to the wall like a beetle to a card.



And she was gone. I knew she was gone, I could feel it. And if I hadn't been able to feel it, I could sure see it. Her eyes, which had been slitted in rage against my slothful slowness, were glazed over. She was twitching all over like a landed trout, but I knew those for what they were-death spasms.



I turned away, morbidly afraid I was going to barf again. I felt Sinclair's hand on my elbow. "Steady," he murmured. "It was well done. And look!"



I looked. Marie had an expression of intense surprise on her face; she was staring at her hands, which were transparent. She looked up at me and smiled, showing a gap where she'd lost her baby teeth. "I'm going to see Mommy now, B-" Then she popped out of sight.



There was a long silence while the three of us tried to think of something to say. Finally, Tina spoke up. "I'll dispose of the body."



"Vampires have cemeteries?" I asked shakily. I felt shaky, like any second I would fall flat on my face.



She smiled. "Yes."



"Okay. Um, listen. It's been a really long night. An unbelievably long night. Tina, I'm your queen, right? I mean, you've always believed it."



"Of course, Majesty."



"Okay, well, will you do me a really, really big favor? Will you go downstairs and make the Blade Warriors go away, and tell Marc and Jess and my mom I'll see them tomorrow? Because I'm just not up for company right now."



"At once, Majesty." She picked up my hand and-weird and disturbing-kissed it. "You did good." She smiled and her whole face lit up. "You did great."



So how come I felt like a total shit?



I heard Tina tugging and pulling. I refused to look. Then she carried the body out. Sinclair held the door open for her, then closed it behind her. Naturally, he assumed "I don't want company" didn't apply to him.



"Well, that's that," I said, staring at the spot where Marie had just been.



"Yes, I suppose so."



"I'm really happy for her."



"As am I."



"I mean, she missed her mom so much, she hung around here for half a century. Years and years! And now they're together. That's good, right?"



"Right."



I burst into tears, and suddenly found myself leaning on something hard and covered with cotton-Sinclair's chest. His arms were around me and he was stroking my back. "Elizabeth, don't cry, sweetheart. Everything you said was right. Everything you did was right."



"I know," I wailed into his lapel.



"There, now. You made the hard choice, and that's always difficult." He kissed the top of my head. "But you were a queen to Sarah when she needed you, and Marie couldn't have asked for a truer friend."



He was being so sweet, I cried harder.



"Elizabeth, why do you always smell like strawberries?"



The abrupt topic change startled me in mid-sob. "It's my shampoo."



"Well, it's lovely."



"Also, Jessica threw a strawberry at me earlier. It was the garnish in her daiquiri at my dad's house, and it got stuck in my bra, and I didn't have time to change before you guys came over. I mean, I fished it out, but there was juice and seeds everywhere."



"Well, that's... that's lovely, too." I could feel his chest shaking with suppressed laughter.



I jerked back and slapped his shoulder. "It's not funny, Sinclair. I'm having a crisis, here."



"Yes, I'm beginning to recognize the signs."



"It's just, I would have looked after her, you know? I had this plan. I mean, I'll never have a baby. So I thought I could sort of take Marie under my wing. And I got used to having her around. She was always around."



"Yes, it must have been unbelievably nerve-wracking."



"No, it... I thought, that was okay, right? I mean, once I got over being creeped out by the whole ghost thing. But now I'll... I'll never see her again." Just the thought made me cry harder. "That's the only way I'll ever have a kid, is if some other kid gets murdered in my house and hangs around!"



"Elizabeth, that's not true."



"It's just been the crappiest week!"



"Yes, it's been difficult for you, hasn't it, poor darling?"



"Yes! And someone's trying to kill me and my house is too big and the other vampires hate me and I'm going to have to crush Jon like a bug one of these days so he quits hanging around and I can see dead people and I think maybe the gardener's a ghost too and my stepmonster's pregnant with my half brother or sister."



He looked at me soberly. "No one will dare to harm you while I'm around." Then, "Who did you say was pregnant?"



"Never mind. You know," I sniffed, "you can be really sweet when you're not driving me up a tree."



"Why, you stole the very words from my mouth," he teased. "Also, I never thanked you for saving my life."



"What? When?"



"When that infant tossed holy water at me. You jumped in front of me and got soaked. Remember?"



"Oh. That. Well, you know." I shrugged. "It was nothing to me. I mean, I knew it wouldn't hurt me. Besides, I wouldn't want anything to happen to that pretty face," I teased.



"Indeed not." He caressed my cheek and I noticed again how very, very black his eyes were. Meeting his gaze was like looking up at the winter sky.



When he leaned in and pressed a kiss to my lower lip, I grabbed his lapels and kissed him right back. He smelled so good-all crisp cotton and his own secret smell. I, of course, smelled like squashed strawberries. Well, he seemed to like it. Also, his tongue was in my mouth and I didn't mind a bit.



"I suppose you'll be ordering me out now," he murmured, breaking the kiss and nipping lightly at my throat, but not breaking the skin. It made me shiver and lean into him.



"Well, I really should. I mean, it's a rotten thing to do."



"What is, darling?"



"I'll just be mean to you again tomorrow. It's rotten to let you stay the night."



He laughed against my neck. He hardly ever laughed, and when he did it was always startling and kind of fun, like finding a ripe orange in your mailbox. "I'll risk it," he said, and shrugged out of his jacket.



I stood back and watched him disrobe. It was amazing how quickly the clothes were flying off him. God, he had a great body. A farmer's son, Sinclair had been in excellent shape when he died. His shoulders were so broad he had to have his suits tailor-made, and his arms were tautly defined with muscle. His chest was lightly furred with black hair, tapering to a narrow waist and long, muscular legs. And he was very happy to see me.



"This doesn't mean anything, does it?" I asked, although it was suddenly hard to talk... my tongue felt too thick for my mouth. "There's not another little passage in the Book of the Dead that maybe you forgot to mention? If we have sex again does this make you, like, super king forever and ever?"



"No." He turned me around and unzipped my dress. He nuzzled the back of my neck. "You're... ah... not planning on talking the entire time, are you?"



I whipped back around. My dress fell to my feet in a silk puddle and I saw his eyes widen appreciatively-for a change, I was wearing matching underwear. Pale green, with monarch butterflies. "What's that supposed to mean?"



"Oh, nothing. Chat away, dear. I'll be all ears." He laughed again and hugged me to him. This was quite interesting, as I could feel his hard length pressing against my lower stomach, so I decided to forget about being annoyed. "Oh, Elizabeth. I'm really, really quite fond of you."



"Yeah, I can tell. Well, I like you, too, Eric, when you're not being a shit."



"In other words, when I'm buckling under. A fine platform on which to base a thousand year relationship."



For once, that thought wasn't completely terrifying. And he was so strangely cheerful, it was perking me right up. Frankly, I'd never seen him in a better mood. The man must absolutely love getting laid. "Let's just take it one day at a time, all right?"



"As my queen commands," he said, and scooped me up, and tossed me on the bed. "Also, I like your butterflies. But I think they should be on the floor, don't you?"



And in a moment, they were.



"Wow."



"Yes."



"I'm panting. I'm actually out of breath, and I don't need to breathe. Day-amn!"



Sinclair stretched, then pulled me to his side and pressed a quick kiss to my breast. "Art comes in many forms."



"Oh, so you're an artist, now?"



"Yes."



I snorted, but didn't disagree. He'd been hungry, and skillful, and very, very good. Of course, he had about sixty years of experience. My throat still stung where he'd bitten me, but I wasn't holding it against him. I knew he'd been completely unable to help himself.



I wondered if he hurt where I'd bitten him.



I laid there next to him and tried to think about how to tell him my dirty little secret. Because it had happened again. When we were making love, I could read his mind. But I knew he couldn't read mine. I'd tried to send thoughts to him before, but with absolutely no reaction. And I wasn't smart enough to figure out a tactful, nonthreatening way to share this with him.



Say, Sinclair, did you know that when we're having sex, I can read your every thought and desire? This isn't going to bother someone as tightly controlled as you, is it?



Pass.



"Say, are you sure you want to spend the night? What if the Puppet Master makes another go at me?"



"Let him try," Sinclair said, pulling the comforter over us. "I've been fantasizing about pulling his head off for the last few days."



"You know, most people fantasize about getting married, or building a dream home, or going on vacation somewhere nice."



"I think about those things, too," he said seriously.



"Oh, is this the part where we share intimate small talk and fall in love?" I teased.



I could feel him studying me in the dark. "No," he said finally. "Go to sleep."



Sure! It'd be so easy, because it wasn't like I had a ton of stuff on my mind or anything. Shoot, I was still replaying the really excellent sex I'd just had. Really excellent.



I could still feel his hands on me. Actually, his hands were on me. But earlier, they'd been everywhere. And he'd kissed me everywhere, too. He'd been like a starving man in an Old Country Buffet restaurant.



And I mean everywhere. Sinclair had practically taken up residence between my legs. When his tongue had snaked inside me, I'd just about gone out of my mind. He licked and kissed and sucked, and I was so busy begging him not to stop that at first I thought he'd been talking out loud.



"Don't bite her, don't bite, don't bite, don't bite..."



"What's the matter?" I'd gasped.



"Nothing. Hush," he'd said, and flicked my clit with his tongue.



"... bite don't bite don't bite don't bite don't don't don't..."



I grabbed his shoulders and tugged until his chest was settling against mine. "That's nice," I had managed. "Are you going to fuck me now?"



I expected a sarcastic response or one of those annoying "as my queen commands" sneers, but instead he shoved my legs further apart with his knee and surged inside me. I could practically feel him in the back of my throat; he was really hung, and that was just fine.



"... bite don't bite don't bite don't bite don't you'll scare her don't bite don't..."



I wrapped my legs around his waist, urging him closer as he stroked, and pressed his face into the side of my neck. The muscles in his shoulders were rigid with strain; they felt like rock beneath my fingers.



Then I bit him. He stiffened in my embrace and shuddered all over; his cool, rich blood flooded my mouth and the sensation of taking from him while he took from me tipped me over into orgasm.



I barely felt his teeth break my skin; I was shuddering around him and realized that high whimpering sound was coming from me.



We were rocking together so fiercely my giant, heavy bed was actually moving; the headboard was slapping the wall and I imagined the house was probably shaking, too. At least, it should have been. It felt like the universe should be affected by what we were doing; it wasn't just a couple of lonely people having sex. For the first time, I had a real sense of who we were, and what we were about. The king and queen of the dead were making love so fiercely, chunks were falling out of the wall.



Elizabeth!



"Eric," I'd managed.



He thrust once more, harder than he had before, the headboard gave a final slam, I came again, and so did he. His grip tightened until it was just short of painful, and then he was licking the bite mark on my neck, and I was gasping and out of breath.



"Jesus!"



"I've asked you before not to call me that," he said, and we both cracked up.



Yeah, it had really been something. The question was, could I now read anyone's mind during love-making, or just Eric's? And how much longer should I keep this to myself?



I heard a crack and flinched; Sinclair had snapped his fingers in front of my face. "Are you in there? I've been saying your name for the last ten seconds."



"Sorry. I was thinking. And don't do that; you know I hate it."



"Thinking about?"



"Actually, about how amazing you are in bed." Well, it was mostly the truth. "I hate to tell you anything that'll make your head bigger than it already is, but yum!"



"Thank you," he said politely, but he sounded pleased. "Of course, you bring out the best in me. Your body is a feast."



"Well, I'm trying to slim down. Seriously, you're the best I've ever had."



"Oh? Out of, say, how many?"



"Forget it, pal. We're not doing this."



He yawned and cuddled me into his side. "Why not?"



"Because you'll win. You've been having sex a lot longer than me."



"True. But I'm curious about the others you've invited into your bed."



"Let's just say I could count them on one hand and leave it at that." Actually, three fingers. But that was none of his business.



"Practically a virgin," he mused.



"Oh, hush up. Hey, is it getting lighter in here or is it just mmmmmm..."



The last thing I remember was Eric chuckling as I sank into unconsciousness. Stupid sunrises!