MaryJane Davidson: Undead and Unworthy

“Why isn't she getting up?” I asked, rushing to Tina's side. “What kind of bullets were these? Were they silver?”

“They didn't have to be silver,” Tina guessed as she examined Antonia's body. She knew more about guns than anyone I'd ever met. “Twenty-​two longs, as he said, quite perfect for the job. They ricocheted around her skull but didn't exit. That particular ammunition lowers the innocent bystander rate. He may have expected civilians – or perhaps Detective Berry – to be near you when he shot you.”

“But she's a werewolf!” I shook Sinclair's comforting hand off my shoulder.

Tina looked up at me, eyes almost black with sympathy. “Her brains are all over the floor, Majesty. There will be no coming back from this.”

I barely noticed Garrett get up and slip out of view.

“But she – she's Antonia!” Foulmouthed and smart and strong and invulnerable. And alive – always so vibrantly, shockingly alive. “She can't be – I mean, shot? It's such a mundane way for someone like her to – ”

“No.” Jessica staggered as if the shock was going to knock her on her ass, and Nick steadied her. “No, she can't be. You're wrong. She's not.”

And the worst part was – “She jumped in front of me. She – saved me.”

“Everybody saves you,” Nick said neutrally. He tried to slip his arm around a sobbing Jessica, but she knocked it away.

Then we heard the splintering crash come from the stairwell.

I stood, trembling at the subsequent silence, and peered into the foyer. I choked back a sob at what Garrett had done to himself.

The regretful Fiend-​turned-​vampire had kicked the banister off a stretch of curved stairs in the foyer, leaving a dozen or so of the rails exposed and pointing up like spears. Then he had climbed to the second floor to a spot overlooking the stairs and swan dived onto the rails, which had gone through him like teeth.

“See?” the Ant said sadly as we stared down at the second body of a friend in less than a minute. “I warned you.”

“Yeah, well.” I wiped my face. “You could have been a lot more specific.”

“I didn't know exactly. But I had a feeling. This stuff is pretty inevitable around you.”

“Please go away.”

“Yes, I think so. You wouldn't believe how depressing all this is. Good-​bye, for now.” And like that, she was gone.

“We'll take care of the bodies,” my husband told me quietly.

Jessica kicked the wall and wiped tears from her cheeks. “Take care of the bodies? Just like that? It's not that easy, Eric. You can't just snap your fingers and make vampire minions clean up the crap. Not this time. What about Chief Hamlin? How are we going to explain that?”

“Don't worry about it,” Nick said, clearly uncomfortable. “I can fix that.”

“You can fix that,” I spat. “Like you helped us fix things with the Fiends. Like you wanted me to fix your problems. You're going to fix this.”

Sensing my lack of faith, he coughed and softened his tone. “Yeah. I can. I promise. Um, Betsy. You've had a rough – I mean, maybe you should, uh, go lie down.”

“I agree,” Sinclair said, too quickly. "Elizabeth, let us handle this for you.

I wanted to leave. God help me, I wanted to run away from this house and never, ever come back.

But I'd settle for fleeing to my bedroom and dropping the mess in my husband's lap. And the cop who hated me.

“It was all just so – so stupid,” I said. And preventable , my conscience whispered. If only you'd been paying attention to business...

I trudged up the stairs. Nobody went with me, which suited me fine.

Sinclair came upstairs hours later and cuddled me into his side. I sighed, and he stroked my shoulder and then kissed that same shoulder. I closed my eyes and breathed in his scent... warm, clean cotton. And dried blood, of course. Mustn't forget that. Not ever.

“She died well.”

“I don't give a fuck. I want her back. I want her here.”

“As do I, Elizabeth. But I will honor her memory forever, for the sacrifice she made. It might have been your brains all over the foyer.”

“Well, what if it was? Why should I be alive and Antonia be so much cooling meat?”

“I do not know, dear one. But I am fervently glad it worked out the way it did, for all I was fond of Antonia.”

I mulled that one over for a minute or two while Sinclair sat up, slipped off my shoes, and rubbed my feet. I wiggled my toes against his palms and almost smiled. Then felt bad for thinking it'd be okay to smile, even for a second.

“I just don't get it,” I said at last.

“Get it?”

“When stuff this awful happens, you're supposed to learn something. Look Both Ways Before You Cross The Street. Be Kind To Children And Small Animals. Something. Jeez, anything. But there was all this death, all this waste, and for what?”

Sinclair was quiet for so long I assumed I'd stumped him, a rare and wonderful thing. But he was just trying to figure out how to break it to me. Should have known.

“It is that to be queen,” he said at last. “There will be times when you will see an ocean of blood and despair. So it says in the Book of the Dead, and so it shall be, dear wife.”

“You suck at cheering me up. You're not telling me there's gonna be worse days than this?” To say I was appalled would be putting it mildly. “What else did that rotten Book of the Dead tell you?”

He paused for a long time. Then: “Elizabeth, I can promise nothing, save that I will always be by your side.”

I noticed he didn't answer the question. “Oceans of blood,” I said.

“Possibly. Yes.”

“We'll just see about that.”

“Elizabeth, if you'll forgive a pun, do not bite off more than you can chew.”

“That's been the story of my life since I woke up in that funeral home wearing the Ant's shoes. Oceans of blood? Shit on that. Shit all over that.”

I had no idea what I was going to do, or how. But I was going to work real hard to make sure my friends and I never had to go through a week like this again.

This was going to sound dumb, but the empty crib in the next room was practically calling my name. I had to stop fobbing my brother on other people.

I wondered if the Ant ever visited him.

It was a day later; Garrett had been respectfully buried. Sinclair owned several farms and lots of land; what with Alice's remains, among others, we were starting quite the little private cemetery out on Route 19. It was awful and interesting at the same time.

The police chief's body had been found in his home, dead from an apparent suicide. Many cops went on record saying he had been deeply depressed about retiring but had rejected counseling.

Deeply depressed. Yeah. They didn't know the half of it.

“I have to tell Antonia's pack leader what happened. They deserve to know what happened to her, how she died. How she – how wonderful she was. I got the impression her pack never appreciated her, didn't you guys?”

They all nodded. Sure, we knew. Her ability to tell the future (and not turn into a wolf) had given all the other werewolves the creeps. They had been happy to see her go. And when I had “fixed” her, the fact that she hadn't rushed back home meant so much to me. She chose to stick it out with me.

I'd never get the chance to thank her. As far as a recall, I don't think I ever thanked her for anything.

My chest hitched once... twice... then settled. No, I was done crying for a while.

“Anyway, I want them all to know how she saved me. Hopefully they can guide us in how to treat... what's left of her.”

Poor Antonia was in our basement freezer until I learned more about werewolf rituals for their dead. I wasn't looking forward to telling the boss werewolf that I'd gotten his pack member killed (Michael Wyndham had a wicked temper and a terrifying left cross), but it was something that had to be done.