MaryJane Davidson: Undead and Unpopular

“No chance of that,” Liam said.

“Sophie…” I trailed off. I tried to imagine how I'd feel if Eric was human, and I knew I'd outlive him. Possibly by centuries. Could I face him getting old and dying on me? If there was any way to prevent it—“Sophie, it's not for me to tell you yes or no.”

“Of course it is,” she said, surprised. “You're the queen.”

“Right, right. And I really appreciate you coming here…” And dumping this ginormous problem in my lap. “But you guys are adults, it's your choice. If you want to go ahead and bite him, it's up to you. I'm just saying—” Whatwas I saying? Think it over? Wait for Liam to get older? Who was I to tell them no? I was sort of shocked they'd stopped by to ask my permission about something that was so completely none of my business. “I don't know,” I finished, giving up. “Do what you think is best. I'll back you up, whatever you decide. And I believe my fiancé has already agreed with my edict,” I added with a sidelong glance at Eric, who held his tongue.

“Thank you, my queen. We will be going forward, I think, but your support means the world to us.”

“Yup,” Liam said.

“And—”

The sonorous, long door chime rang again.

“Excuse me, Dr. Trudeau.” Eric turned to me. “Our other guests have arrived.”

Great. More vampire fun and games. Tina got up. “I'll see them in, Your Majesty. Dr. Trudeau. Liam.” She excused herself, leaving a nice awkward silence for the rest of us.

“So, uh, when are you going to do it?” I asked. I looked nervously at the plush carpeting, the ornate upholstery, the beautiful tapestries. What if they decided to do itright here , right now?

“Soon,” Sophie replied.

“Do you want to, uh, stay here while Liam, uh, recovers?”

“Thank you, my queen, but I think we'll be best suited at our home.”

“Okay. And you'll, uh, make sure he doesn't hurt anybody when he's, you know, nutty and out of his mind with blood lust?” For the next ten years?

Liam winced (well, he blinked), but Sophie soldiered on. “My queen, I have experience in these matters. Guarding young vampires—I—all will be as you wish.”

Yeah, right. That'd be a fucking first.

“Guess we'd better hit the road, hon,” Liam said, standing. Sophie stood. We all stood.

“Thank you for your time, Majesties, and your counsel.”

“Are you heading straight back to Embarrass?”

“Tomorrow. Sophie don't like to leave the animals too long.”

“Best of luck, Dr. Trudeau.” Instead of bowing as he usually did, Eric held out his hand and, surprised, she shook it. “Please keep us posted.”

“Thank you, Majesty. We will, Majesty.”

“Liam.” They shook. They were about the same size, though Liam was a lot narrower through the shoulders.

Liam smiled at us, and the corners of his eyes went all crinkly. I thought of him as a nutty thirsty ignorant young vampire and wanted to cry. But maybe it would work out. Maybe, ten or twenty or a hundred years from now, everything would be fine and they'd be happy together.

And maybe we'd be going north for a funeral in a few days.

“Well, uh, talk to you soon.” Maybe.And if you get out, I'll be staking you soon. But never mind .

“Yup,” he said, typically laid back.Yup . Like being chomped and turned was as routine as fixing the wood-​chipper out by the cabin.

“Are you sure you don't need anything?” I asked.

“Nope.”

Tina came in just in time to prevent my hysterical sobbing. Which was just as well; I had nothing else to contribute. She was trailed by half a dozen stately vampires. I knew from Tina's briefing—and by the way they held themselves now—that they were very old, very powerful dead guys (and two gals). The youngest was something like eighty-​seven. Which was about as old as Eric.

It was hard to take them all in at once—I saw a bald guy with dark skin, a couple of brunettes, a redhead with freckles (an undead Howdy Doody!)—

“Majesties,” Tina began, gesturing to the group that had filed into the room. “May I present our European brethren: Alonzo, Christophe Benoit, David Edourd, Carolina Alonzo—”

Tina did not get the chance to introduce the last two; uponCarolina 's introduction, Sophie shot across the parlor and was upon Alonzo in a hot fury of teeth and claws.

I barely had time to get a look at Alonzo—a blade-​thin, fine-​looking guy with skin the color of good espresso and yellowish eyes, before Sophie was doing her level best to claw his face off. Her speed was devastating. I think only Sinclair could have stopped her but he just watched. All he said was, “The French,” with a shrug.

So, as usual, I was the one stuck with the moral high ground. “Stop, stop!” I shrieked. “Sophie, what are you doing? Get off him!”

Meanwhile, Sophie was going for his eyes and a stream of presumably impolite French was pouring from her spittle-​ridden mouth. Alonzo did not appear immediately hurt, and appeared able to fend her off. However, she consumed enough of his attention that he did not say a word.

Liam took a step forward—to restrain the love of his life, or help her, no one knew—but Tina wisely knocked him back onto the couch. Jessica scanned the room for something to throw, or, perhaps more sensibly, hide behind. Eric watched, Tina alongside, and the other vampires observed the skirmish anxiously, chatting to themselves in various European languages. (I think they were European languages. Hell, it could have been Asian, or Antarctican. What am I, a linguist?)

Liam got up off the couch, looked at Sophie and said, “Hon, don't do that,” and started forward again. I tried to grab one of them and got an elbow in the cheek for my pains, which would have given me a massive shiner in the old days, and that's when Eric finally said something.

“Enough.”

In the movies, everybody would have stopped; Alonzo did, but Sophie was still shrieking and clawing at him, and I saw her tear a huge strip of skin off his shaved scalp.

Eric stepped forward, grabbed her by the right elbow, and tossed her away from Alonzo as easily as I'd have tossed a cardboard box. She caromed off the wall and looked ready to keep rumbling despite herself, but I gamely recovered and stood by Eric's side. I tucked my hands into my armpits so no one could see how they were shaking and piped up loyally, if shakily, “Sophie, he said enough. These are guests in my home.”

“Ourhome,” Jessica piped up, glaring at me and ignoring all of Eric's previous advice on the care and handling of ancient European vampires.

“Bastard!” Sophie was as wild-​eyed as a rabid cat; I'd never even heard her raise her voice, never mind totally lose it like she'd done.

Alonzo calmly pulled the hanging flap of skin off his head(blurrrggghhh!) and said in a pleasant Spanish accent, “The pleasure is mine, señorita.”

“You dare, youdare speak to me? You dare look at me, be in the same room with me, and not beg my forgiveness?”

“We have met?” I couldn't believe how mild-​mannered this guy was. And his very voice suggested a man who could sing, dance, and swordfight all at once—yum. I mean, boo!

A sluggish trickle of blood inched toward his eyes, and one of the vampires behind him handed him a spotless white handkerchief. Of course, anybody else would be slipping on a gigantic puddle of their own blood (head wounds in particular looked so frightening), but not a vampire. And certainly not this vampire. He calmly blotted his head for a moment, watching Sophie with his cat eyes.

“You don't remember, swine, bastard, monster?”

He shrugged with suave innocence.

“August 1, 1892? You were visitingParis . You went to a tavern. You—”