Undead and Unemployed (6 page)

We stepped out of the bathroom just as what's-her-face, the cutie from the other day, rushed into the suite.

"Tina, thank goodness!" she cried, her shiny blond hair in wild disarray. She looked and smelled like she'd been rolled in a McDonald's Dumpster. A mustard packet was sticking to her left cheek. "I thought they'd killed you!"

She ran to Tina and sort of fell on her, hugging her and kissing her. Yech. Good thing Tina wasn't dressed yet; she'd never get those stains out. I gathered from the babbling that the bad guys had jumped both of them, but Tina had led them away from Monique.

"Dumbass," I commented.

"I quite agree," Sinclair said, scowling. He rooted around and found one of his robes for Tina, which he held open for her. When she had it tied around her, she pretty much disappeared into fluffy black terrycloth. "You should have both stood your ground—or both run."

"I know, I know," Monique interrupted before Tina could open her mouth. "I wanted to fight but Tina—"

"And you shouldn't have left my friend and saved yourself," Sinclair continued in a voice that made dry ice seem warm and accommodating.

We all gulped. Then I patted Sinclair's arm. "All's well and all that, Eric. Everybody's okay. That's the important thing. Right? Eric?"

His eyes uncrinkled and he almost smiled as he looked down at me. "Why do you only call me by my first name in moments of crisis?"

"Because that's about the only time I don't feel like strangling you," I said truthfully. "Now don't fuss at Monique. Tina's a grown woman—a very grown woman, I might add, she's, like, a hundred years old, and if she wanted to play decoy that's her lookout."

Monique didn't say anything, but she threw me a look of pure gratitude.

"The important thing," I said emphatically, "is getting to the bottom of this. Tina's one of the good guys. She didn't deserve to have some vampire hunter after her. So I guess we better figure out why." Did I really just say we had to get to the bottom of this? I felt so stupid, bossing around people who were at least fifty years older than me.

Now if I could only remember where I'd put the memo Tina gave me…

"Attend, please," Sinclair said, and grabbed my elbow. Eh? He pulled me across the room and through the far door, which he promptly shut.

"What?" I whined.

"You have decided to hunt down the killers?"

"Killers, plural? Yikes. I mean, sure, I guess."

"You require my help?"

"Yes," I said, not liking where this was going. "Are we going to hang out in the dark and ask each other obvious questions? Because this is weird, bordering on creepy."

He smirked at me and held out something. I looked at it. It was one of the hotel's drinking glasses.

"What's—oh."

What had I said at Macy's? "I'd rather eat glass than take your help."

Well, shit.

"Fine," I said, grabbing the glass. God knew when he'd palmed the thing, the sneaky motherfucker. "Here goes." I stared at it. I had no idea if biting into it would hurt. But I was about to find out. At the very least, gulping down chunks of glass would make me throw up. I mean, risotto made me puke, for crying out loud.

Never mind. Quit stalling. I raised it to my mouth, closed my eyes, opened my mouth… and bit down on air.

Sinclair was holding the glass again. It was uncanny how quickly he could move. He was like a magician. An evil magician in boxers. "You were really going to eat it?"

"I
said
, didn't I?"

"You're either the most amazing woman I have ever known—"

"Well." I patted my bangs back into place and smiled modestly.

"Or the most asinine."

"I hate you."

"You keep saying that," he said, drawing me close. For a wonder, I let him. Long night. Plus, he smelled great. And felt great. Cherry boxers. Yum. He dropped a kiss to the top of my ear and I effectively fought a shiver. "But you keep coming back."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"Not yet. Come, let's rejoin the others."

"Yes," I said, massively disappointed he hadn't been more grabby, and mad at myself for being disappointed. "Let's."

"Four." Tina said. "Four dead so far. Again, I mean."

"I, uh, lost my memo."

She made a sound that was suspiciously like a snort. "Fine, I'll sum up for you. A group of humans has been going around targeting lone vampires and cutting off their heads, or staking them, or both."

Ick. Both?

Monique spoke up. "At least we learned something: it's not one person, it's a team."

"I never thought it was one person," Sinclair said.

"No, I wouldn't think so, either. I mean, come on. One regular guy or gal wreaking all this havoc? No chance." I stretched out my feet. Ack! Scuffed toes! I'd have to give this pair away. "How do we know it's not a group of
vamps
?"

"Blood samples found at the scene were live."

"Oh, ugh!" I cried. "You mean, if someone took my blood right now—"

"You'd be dead. At least, under a microscope. Try to stay focused, Elizabeth."

"I am. Yuck-o. Do we know why? Other than the obvious."

"The obvious?" Monique asked, looking cutely confused.

"Vampires are assholes." At their stares, I elaborated. "Look, I'm sorry, but it's true. You guys grab poor unsuspecting slobs off the street and chomp away. I'm amazed this hasn't happened earlier."

"It's happened," Sinclair said coolly, "all through the ages." He'd slipped on a pair of black slacks, but was still disturbingly shirtless. "And no one in this room behaves in such a fashion."

"You gotta admit, that makes us pretty rare."

"No, I don't think so," Monique said seriously. "Most vampires outgrow the need for the hunt. It's much easier to keep sheep."

"To what?"

I saw Tina make a slashing motion across her throat, and Sinclair shake his head; Monique was oblivious. "Sheep!" she said brightly. "You know. Two or three people who are devoted to you and let you drink whenever you need to."

"We're getting off the subject," Sinclair said quickly.

"The hell we are!"

"Later, Majesty," Tina said, glaring at Monique, who was looking amazed. "You can tell us all how awful we are
later."

"How can we draw this team out into the open?" Tina asked.

"Well, bait, of course," Monique said.

Sinclair nodded approvingly. "They appear to strike every other Wednesday, for some reason."

"Maybe they all have jobs," I said, "and they can only get Wednesdays off."

"More likely," Sinclair said kindly, "those days are significant. For example, they might be on the occult calendar."

"So," Tina continued, "two weeks from now, we'll see if we can't catch them."

I barely contained my sneer. "Just like that, eh?"

"Well," Tina said reasonably, "chances are, they're not a bunch of old folks. The attacks are too ferocious and quick, for one thing. It's probably a bunch of young adults… I'll bet a thousand dollars not one of them is legal drinking age."

"Did you see any of them?" Monique asked.

"Too busy fighting, and running. They were well equipped, I'll tell you that much. I certainly did not linger."

"Good thing," I said, impressed. "I mean, even with not lingering, you got ripped up pretty good. I'm really glad you're okay."

"Why, Majesty," Tina teased, "I didn't know you cared."

"Cut that out, you slut." Tina had made no secret of the fact that she'd jump into my bed anytime. This rattled me, because A) I was straighter than a laser beam, and B) even laser beams get curious. One time in college, a bunch of my sorority sisters and I got really drunk and… well, anyway, sometimes I was curious. Best to keep her at arm's length. I had enough trouble keeping Sinclair out of my bed. "Your seductive ways won't work on me."

"Weapons?" Sinclair asked with a trace of impatience.

"Guns, stakes, crossbows, knives, masks. But as I said, I'm sure they're young. They felt young. They moved young, and smelled young."

"Smelled?" I asked.

"Lots of Stridex," she explained.

I stomped on the giggle that wanted out. Killer teens with acne! Sounded like a movie of the week.

"So right away, we've got an advantage."

"We do?"

"We're older, smarter, and trickier," Sinclair said, sounding way too smug for my taste.

Tina and Monique nodded. I rolled my eyes. "Well, then, those poor guys don't have a chance, do they?"

"Exactly," he replied, totally missing my sarcasm.

"Marie!" I yelled. "Are you here?"

I doubted it. It was almost eleven o'clock at night. But her folks kept odd hours, because she usually—

"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.

"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.