MaryJane Davidson: Undead and Unpopular

Although these days, it felt like he was resisting mine. He'd dodged every wedding meeting we'd had. At least we'd agreed on the date: July 31. Sometimes it seemed like forever, and sometimes it seemed like the date was rushing up on me. And I was virtually planning the entire thing by myself (well, with Jessica's occasional help). He had no opinion on flowers, food, drinks, tuxes, gowns, ceremony, or the wedding song. If I didn't know for sure he loved me, I'd think he didn't—

“Your Majesties,” Sophie was saying, bowing to us both. Tina had opened our enormous cherry front doors, and there were Sophie (Dr. Trudeau—she was a vet) and Liam, uh, whatever his last name was.

Sophie was dressed in a sharp navy suit with a cute short skirt, matching turtleneck, black tights, and black (ugh!) running shoes. I know it's practical for career women, but sneakers with suits? Jesus couldn't possibly weep harder than I did. Like all vampires, Sophie was ridiculously beautiful, with black hair (done up in an unfashionable bun) and pale, velvety skin. Her dark eyes didn't miss a flea. Which, in her line of work, was probably really good.

Liam was in jeans, leather jacket, and beat-​up loafers. Which reminded me again that I was ready for spring, and sandals. It was always startling to see his youngish face (Late thirties? With the farmer's tan, it was hard to tell.) juxtapositioned against his prematurely gray hair.

Tina led us all into a parlor (there were at least four; don't get me started) and the first thing Sophie did when we were all seated was hand me a copy of that day'sStar Tribune . “Would you please sign your article?” she asked pleasantly in the charming French accent she had never lost, not even after all these years here inMinnesota .

Eric muttered something under his breath that, luckily for him, I didn't catch. I had a weekly “Dear Betsy” column for vampires. It was supposed to be published in an undead-​only newsletter, but someone had leaked it to theTrib . The editor had thought it was hilarious and published it. Most people who read it thought it was a tongue-​in-​cheek thing. This was the only thing that spared me from Eric and Tina's wrath.

“I'd be glad to,” I said. “Uh…” Tina handed me a pen. I never had a pen, a leash, or a stopwatch when I needed one. “Thanks.” I scribbled my signature on the latest (“Dear Betsy, my friends keep insisting on having their book club meeting during daylight hours. Should I tell them what my problem is, or lie?”) and handed it back.

“Heh,” Liam said. “Bet the librarian didn't like that much.”

He was talking about Marjorie, who ran the vampire library down in the warehouse district, and the column, which was in a paper anybody could read, anytime. And he was right. She had been furious. She was still trying to track down who'd given my columns to theTrib editor. I didn't think it was a deep dark plot or anything; accidents happened. I was alone in this theory. Which was why I kept writing the columns, no matter how irritated everyone got.

“Never mind,” Tina said hastily. “How are you both?”

“We're real good,” Liam replied in his flat Midwestern drawl. Looking at him, you'd never know he was rich. His dad had invented the first pocket calendars with three-​hole punches, or some such thing. “Real good. And you're looking good. The same, in fact.”

“Oh, well.” I modestly patted my hair. There were a few advantages to being a vampire, and not looking my age was big number one. I'd never need highlights again. “What can I say? How're things up in Embarrass?” What a dorky name for a town.

“The same.” Not real chatty, this guy.

“Majesties,” Sophie offered. “We have a reason for stopping by, if you don't mind.”

“And miss all the scintillating small talk?” Jessica muttered from the back of the room. She had used her brief time upstairs to freshen her jack-​o'-lantern lipstick.

“Truth be told,” Liam said, ignoring the snarky comment, “it's about me. And my age. Sophie's—well, you know—but I'm not exactly standing still. We were thinking about her turning me. We wanted to know, er, urn, well, what you thought about that.”

At first I had no idea what he was talking about. “Turning you into what? A Republican?”

“A vampire, dumb shit,” Jessica said. I bit my tongue and let that one pass, but made a mental note to get her alone and find out just what had made the incredible upward journey deep into her large intestine.

My jaw went slack with horror as I turned back to the happy couple. “Why would you want to dothat ?”

They looked at each other, then at me. “Not everyone has the same view of the undead as you do, my queen,” Sophie said. “And I have lost too many lovers to death.”

“Oh,” I said, because nobody else was saying anything. “Well, that's a shame. Uh. Liam? You, uh, think this is a good idea, do you? Because loving a vampire and being a vampire—those are two very different things. One can be very nice. The other can be pure hell.” Eric moved perceptibly at this comment, but didn't say anything.

“I'm not real keen on giving up salmon hash and fried eggs,” Liam replied. “But I'm less keen on giving up Sophie. The idea of eternal love—it's… well, it's—”

“He's dying,” she explained.

“What?” Jessica and I squawked in unison.

“He's only got thirty, forty years left—assuming he doesn't get run over by a bus or hit by lightning.” Or have a heart attack from all the fried eggs. For the first time, her smooth face was anxious. “I don't think we dare wait much longer.”

Leave it to a vampire to think a healthy guy in his late thirties or early forties was on his deathbed. “Uh… Sophie…”

Eric spoke up for the first time. “Dr. Trudeau, you know the risks.”

She nodded.

“Right,” I said. “The risks. The many, many risks. Let us count the risks. Such as.” I coughed, stalling for time. “Well, the risks are… very risky.”

Jessica rolled her eyes, but Tina kindly jumped in. “Sophie, Liam, as Her Majesty is trying to explain, vampirism is a virus—and some people don't catch it. They just die. And young vampires are feral—they don't know themselves, or anyone. Only the thirst. The Queen here is the exception.”

“Which is why she's the boss lady around here,” Liam said. “But it's a risk I wanna take. I don't much care for the other choice.”

“Dr. Trudeau, you may do as you wish,” Eric said, not bothering to consult with me, as usual. “It's not for us to deny you a chance to be with your love.”

“Good luck,” Tina added.

“Whoa, whoa!” I cried. “That's it? We're not going to talk about it for, I dunno, more thantwenty seconds ? I mean, they did come to consult withme , didn't they?” Facing dubious looks from my friends, I turned desperately to the new arrivals. “Liam, come on! We're talking about your potential death by maiming, here! Sophie, think about it—how you'll feel if it doesn't work out.”

“Of course, if Her Majesty orders us not to do it, we won't do it,” Sophie said stiffly.

“I don't give out orders like that,” I said, appalled. What was it about vampires, they couldn't take care of themselves anymore, make their own decisions? “I'm just saying, think it over. Liam doesn't look like he's going to keel over, you know, right this second. What's the rush?”

“I think Betsy's right,” Jessica said. Everybody squinted at her, and she continued. “Sorry, I know this is vampire business, and I'm just a mangy human, but from my point of view, it seems like maybe you could think it over a little longer. You've only known each other a few months. Lots of people get married after that long, and then divorce. This seems like an even deeper commitment. What happens if the two of you outgrow each other?”