Undead and Unemployed (11 page)

"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 stockings, 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.

"Does someone have a knife?" Tina asked. "I'd like to see if I can get one of the bullets out."

"Oh, I'm so out of here," I said, turning away. Last straw, last straw! Overload! "Tina, you seriously need a hobby."

"Right now," she said grimly, "my hobby is catching whoever is doing this. I'll take up sewing later."

"I'm holding you to that," I muttered.

Sinclair handed her a pocket knife, which she unfolded with a loud
click
. The blade was almost four inches long—Sinclair was clearly a big believer in the Boy Scouts' Motto. Tina bent over Jennifer's body and started probing at her chest.

I practically ran up the stairs.

Jon followed me all the way up to my bedroom. "You know," he said, stiff-arming the door open when I tried to close it on him, "I'm the one who talked the Warriors into backing off you guys."

"That's super. Your good citizenship medal is in the mail. Why don't you go home and wait for it?"

"It's just that after meeting you it didn't seem right."

"Okey-dokey. 'Night!"

"Yeah, um, listen, you don't need to bite anyone or anything, do you?" He sounded weirdly hopeful; I almost hated to tell him I didn't. And what kind of behavior was this for a vampire killer? "Did anybody ever tell you, you've got the prettiest green eyes?"

"They're not green; they're mold colored. Jon, I'm trying to get ready for bed, here," I said, trying to keep the exasperation out of my voice. "When the sun comes up, if I'm not in bed I'll keel over wherever I'm standing."

"Really? Like, no matter what you're doing, you'll just fall down asleep? Like, totally helpless and all?"

"It's not as exciting as it sounds." I put my hand on his face and gently shoved him backward. "So, good night."

"I'll see you tomorrow," he began, and then he was suddenly jerked out of sight. Then Sinclair was shouldering his way past me and kicking the door shut behind him.

"For crying out loud," I started in, "when did my bedroom become Grand Goddamned Central?"

Sinclair leaned against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. "I insist you discourage that infant immediately."

"In case you weren't paying attention, I
have
been. It's not my fault he's interested in vampires."

Sinclair snorted. "He is not. He's interested in you."

"Well, what am I supposed to do about it?" I bitched. "I've got enough problems right now."

"Problems, coupled with the prettiest green eyes," he said dryly.

"Eavesdropper! Go away, I have to get ready for bed."

"You're not going to wear those silly sushi-print pajamas, are you?"

"Hey, they're comfy. Go away."

"Remind me to buy you some decent night attire."

"I'm having bomb dogs sniff over anything you buy me." I tugged at the door knob, but he wouldn't budge. I slapped at his shoulder. "Will you get out of here? Don't you have to get back to the Marquette before you burst into flames?"

"Oh, I don't know," he replied casually. "There's plenty of room here. I thought I might stay."

I knew it, I
knew
living in a mansion was a bad idea. There was no graceful excuse to get out of having an overnight guest.

"Fine, whatever, but you're not sleeping in here."

"No?"

"No!"

"I'll go back to the Marquette," he suggested, "for a kiss."

"
Fine, fine
, jeez, you're so annoying." I snatched handfuls of his hair, jerked his face down to mine, kissed him on the bridge of the nose, and let go. He tried to grab me, but I was wise to his ways, and dodged his hands. "Now go away. Deal's a deal."

"Hmph." But he left. Thank goodness! I think.

I woke up the next night and laid there for a minute, feeling anxious but not sure why. Then I remembered: murders, playing detective, Jon and Sinclair. And that was just the stuff on the top of my brain.

Marie was sitting in the chair beside my bed, looking reproachful.

"What?" I asked.

"You used to be around here a lot more," she said wistfully.

"Sorry, sunshine. There's stuff going on… never mind." I wasn't going to talk about beheadings with a kindergartener. Instead, I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. "You see anything wrong with these pajamas?"

"No. I like them."

"Exactly!" Stupid Sinclair. "Well, I have some stuff to do tonight, but maybe tomorrow we could—ow!" I'd tripped climbing off my bed (it was the size of a train car) and fell into Marie.

Actually, I fell
through
Marie. It was like plunging into a lake in February. I hit the carpet with a thump and could see her little feet, sticking through my arm.

"Jesus Christ," I said, and it was a good thing I didn't need to breathe, because right now I was breathless.

"Don't be mad," Marie said anxiously. "I didn't want to tell you."

"Oh my
God
. You're… you…" I waved my hand through her head. Holy shit on toast! There was a ghost in my bedroom!

I scrambled to my feet and lunged through my bedroom door, totally ignoring Marie's pleas to come back. Good thing the door was open, or I would have crashed through it. I nearly knocked Jessica down the stairs and went straight out the front door, where I slammed into Sinclair so hard, I bounced off him and lay on the sidewalk like a stunned beetle.

"I thought you were going to get rid of those ridiculous pajamas."

I jumped up and practically climbed him like a tree. "Eric, Eric, the worst, the absolute worst… in there… in my room…" I pointed to the house.

He grabbed my arms. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? Did someone touch you? Is Jon here? I'll pull out his carotid if he—"

"My room… in my room… up there… Marie… in my room—"

"Majesty! Calm down. What's wrong?" Tina, running up the sidewalk. They must have just pulled up. Nice! Don't call or anything, you guys. Even in the midst of total panic, I felt annoyed. "Did someone try to kill you again?"

"I wish! In my room, there's a dead girl in my room!"

"There's a dead girl out here," Sinclair said, puzzled.

"Not me, fool!"

"Come on. Show me." He tucked my hand into his and started up the walk.

I yanked on his hand so hard he nearly fell over backward. "No! I can't go back in there, Eric, I can't! I'll go stay with you at the Marquette, okay? Only let's go right now, okay? I'll drive. Let's go! Okay?"

Eric's dark eyebrows shot up so high, I thought they'd leave his forehead. "Well," he said slowly, "if you feel that strongly about it…"

"Don't you
dare
," Tina said. "Opportunistic bastard. She doesn't know what she's saying."

"Is that any way to talk to your king?" he asked, sounding wounded.

She snorted. "When the king's acting like an ass, yes. Come on, Majesty. Let's go see your dead girl."

"You guys are insane! I'm not going back in there ever again!"

"What about your shoes?"

Good point. I had to get them out! I didn't know if Marie could slime them with ghostly protoplasm, but I wasn't about to take the chance. "Will you come with me?" I asked, trying not to sound as pathetic as I felt. "Both of you?"

"Yes, of course." Sinclair patted me. Too bad I couldn't work up much mad about it—I had bigger problems. "Don't be frightened. I can hardly believe this is the woman who set the Fiends on Nostro."

"
Totally
different."

"Frankly, I always thought you were too flighty and capricious to ever feel true fear."

I jerked my hand out of his. "Fuck you, too."

"Ah, that's better. The true Queen has rejoined us."

Jessica opened the door, disheveled and annoyed. "You nearly killed me!" she yelled. "What the hell's going on?"

I was shivering like a wet dog. "You won't even believe it."

She followed the three of us up the stairs, bitching nonstop, until I got to my room and rushed through the doorway before I could lose my nerve. Marie was still in her chair, but her lower lip was pooched out and she glared at me.

"There! Dead girl!"

"What are you talking about?" Jessica asked.

Sinclair shook his head. "I don't see anyone, Elizabeth."

I pointed. "But she's
right
there. In the chair by my bed. See?"

They were all staring at me. So was Marie, for that extra creepy touch.

I tried again. "She's right over there. Overalls, headband. Saddle shoes! How can you not see those darling shoes?" I turned to Tina and Sinclair. "You guys see her, right? Super vampire vision, or whatever?"

"No," Tina said apologetically.

"Sure you do. She's right there!"

"I'm sorry, Majesty. No." Then Sinclair, still staring, struck her on the elbow, and her eyes widened. "Yes."

"You guys are nuts," Jessica said. "I'm straining my eyes so hard I've got a headache. There's nothing there."

"There is," Sinclair said. "A girl-child. Blonde. Big eyes. Messy hair."

"Ha! So you
do
see her!"

"We see her," Sinclair said carefully, "because you have willed us to."

Oh, now what bullshit was this? "What are you talking about?"

"You've forced us to see," Tina explained.

"What are you guys talking about?" Jessica practically yelled.

Just then, Marie burst into tears. "Stop it!" she sobbed. "I hate that! I hate when people talk about me like I'm not here!"

"Jeez, hon, don't do that," I said quickly.

"What?" Jessica asked.

"She says she doesn't like it when we talk about her like she's not here."

"Tell her we're sorry," Jessica said, rolling her eyes.

Marie cried harder. "I can hear
you
."

"Jessica, get lost," I snapped. "You're not helping at all."

"Gladly! Hallucinating bloodsuckers I do
not
need. Plus, I missed my nap today and I'm getting sick of these midnight meetings." She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

"Marie." I was finally starting to calm down. I mean, the kid was dead and all, but she hadn't scared me on purpose. And she was so little. "Marie, why didn't you tell me you were… uh…"

"Because I knew you'd be like this," she said, still crying.

I couldn't stand it. The poor kid! Dead and stuck in this oversized starter home with
me
. For eternity!

I swiftly crossed the room, knelt, and hugged her. And nearly let go of her. It was like embracing an ice sculpture. But at least I could touch her now. "Don't cry," I said into her teeny, perfect, ghostly ear. "We'll fix it."

She sniffed and hugged me back. Pretty good grip for a little kid, too. "No you won't. Nobody can."

"We're not like the other people who have lived here," Sinclair commented.

I turned and looked at him, pulling Marie into my lap. "What, you can hear her now?"

"Yes. She was very faint at first, but now I can hear her and see her perfectly well." He was giving me the strangest look. "Thanks to you."

"Oh, stop it. Listen, Marie, is there a reason you're stuck here? Do we need to find your… uh… bones or something?"

"No."

"It's okay, we don't mind looking."

"The perfect activity for a Sunday night," Sinclair muttered.

I ignored him, warming to my subject. "Yeah, we'll look. Then, when we find your… when we find you, we can give you a proper burial, and you can go to Heaven!"

"I'm buried in the front yard," she said. "Under the fence on the left side, by the big elm tree."

I tried not to barf. Bodies of little girls in my front yard! Jesus! "Well… uh… that's…" I was totally at a loss for words.

"Marie," Tina said, squatting until they were eye level, "why are you here, darling?"

"I'm waiting for my mom."

"And when did you… when did people stop being able to see you?"

Marie looked confused. "I'm five," she finally said. "I've been five for a long time."

Tina tried again. "What year were you born?"

"My birthday's in April," she said proudly. "That's the diamond month! April tenth, nineteen forty-five."

There was a pause, then Tina said tactfully, "Well… sweetie… chances are your mother is already dead. Why don't you try to find her? I'm sure she's waiting for you."

"She's not dead," Marie said solemnly, her big teary eyes fixed on Tina's dark gaze.

"How d'you know?" I asked curiously.

"Because I'm still
here
."

"And you've been here… all this time?"

She nodded.

"Holy shit," I commented. It was just like that little weirdo in
The Sixth Sense
! I saw dead people!

Now it made sense. The way the house kept changing hands. The owner's desperation to sell. The continually plummeting price. The way Marie wouldn't eat or drink with me. The way she was always around, no matter what time it was. Maybe ordinary humans couldn't see Marie, but some of them must have known something was wrong, because this house had been on the market for ages.

"Can we…" I swallowed. "Can we dig you up and put you somewhere else?"

Marie shrugged.

Memo to me: Dig up dead kid ASAP and move her OUT OF FRONT YARD.

"This is all very interesting," Sinclair commented, "and bears further scrutiny, but we have work to do."

"Eric Sinclair, you heartless bastard!" I covered my mouth. "Oh, shit, I shouldn't have said that. Oh,
shit
, I shouldn't have said
that
!"

Marie was giggling through her fingers. "It's all right," she told me. "I know those words. One time when the workmen were fixing the basement and one of them dropped a cement block on his foot—"

"Never mind, I can guess the rest."

"It's not personal, dear," Sinclair told Marie gently. "But we have more time-sensitive matters to attend to."

"Jerkoff," I coughed into my fist.

"She's been here for over half a century," he pointed out. Then he looked directly at Marie. "No one will forget about you."

"It's all right," she said at once. "Betsy can see me. She could always see me. And she can
touch
me. You'll come back, won't you?"

"Bet on it. Besides, I have no choice. I live in this fu—this mausoleum. But
no
creeping around and scaring the crap out of me anymore, agreed?"

"Hmph. Okay."

"It
is
fun to watch her jump," Sinclair told Marie, who laughed again.

"What's the rush?" I asked. "Did somebody else get… uh… did something else happen?"

"There are a few vampires in town who wish to pay their respects," Tina explained.

"Ugh."

"Sorry. And the bullets I… ah… found last night did match the ones the kids were using."

"Oh-ho."

"So we have things to discuss."

"Right." I turned to Marie. "Boring grown-up stuff, sorry. But I'll be back."