MaryJane Davidson: Undead and Unpopular

“I believe I convinced them of my staying power when I visited them last summer,” Sinclair was droning, “and certainly, I was able to avoid a coup at the time—”

“Thanks again,” I said brightly.

“But now they're here. Ostensibly to pay their respects.”

“But maybe to see if we've got what it takes,” I said.

“Exactly.”

“Well.” I hated saying anything nice or close to nice about the Euro-​asses, but still… “They're here now. Right?”

“They're probably still in town, somewhere,” Tina muttered. “And I don't know thatborderline insult is the right phrase, Eric.”

“One thing at a time. What are we going to do to Alonzo, on Sophie's behalf?” I asked.

“What do you propose we do to him?” Sinclair replied.

“Huh.” That was a stumper. Execute him in cold blood? Spank him? Banish him? Lock him in a room with Sophie and let her finish what she tried to start? “Huh,” I said again.

“Can you evendo anything? I mean, all respect to Sophie, but Alonzo killed her… what? Over a hundred years ago? Way before you guys were on the scene. And like they said—it's what vampires do. Not you, Betsy. But you know.” Jessica sounded as doubtful as I felt. “Can you punish him for hurting someone decades before you were born?”

“A thorny problem,” Sinclair admitted. “I have to admit, one rarely faced. Often, a vampire sired by another either joins forces with that elder, or completely ignores the connection. Many, in fact, do not even remember their sire. Sophie does not fall into any of these three categories.”

“Ya think?”

“Darling, no one can understand you with that wad in your mouth.”

I had made the huge mistake of trying to blow a bubble, and now it felt like yards of gum were tangled around my teeth. I fingered the chunk at the back of my mouth, glared at Sinclair, and tried to look both authoritative and sympathetic, all at once. “We gotta talk to Sophie again,” I mumbled. “And the Europeans, I guess. We can't just leave it like this.”

“We will,” Sinclair promised, but for once, he looked like he didn't have a clue what to do. As frightening as Sophie's breakdown had been, watching him now actually made me feel worse.

“So I'm meeting Dr. Sophie here to try and talk this whole thing out.” I took a sip of my daiquiri. “What. A disaster.”

It was the next evening; my sister Laura Goodman and I were having drinks at my nightclub, Scratch. It was finally running in the black, which had taken some doing, believe me. Vampire nightclubs were awful—blood-​drinking, rapacious murder, disco. I had literally killed to get the clientele to behave.

At least I had a little money left at the end of each month now—I didn't need it, but every girl likes to have a little independent income of her own.

Laura nodded sympathetically. A real bear for sympathy, was Laura. She was a precious-​looking lanky blonde with sky blue eyes and a flawless complexion. Long lashes shadowed her eyes and her pretty mouth was turned down in a frown as she considered my problem. She smelled, as she always did, like sugar cookies. She used vanilla extract as perfume. It was an idea I was toying with myself. Not vanilla, but something else out of the pantry. Lemon zest? Paprika?

Laura was my half sister by my father. Her other parent was the Devil. Yes, I do mean that literally. Long story. She was a sweet-​looking cutie-​pie with a lethal left hook and a murderous temper. The beast only showed about one time in a hundred; but when it did, enemies died.

“She's coming here tonight?”

“Yeah.” I checked my watch. “Any minute. And what the hell am I going to say to her?”

As my eyes wandered around the bar, I noticed all of the vampires in here with us looked tense. Like I cared. I had bigger problems, and if vampires came to the Queen's club because they were too scarednot to, it was a nice damn change.

Of course, they might be afraid of Laura—she'd killed a number of them a couple of months ago. In this very nightclub—why, right over there. She was quite good at it.

I guess that sounded cold, and I didn't mean to be. I tried to treat vampires like everybody else. I really did. They wouldn't let me. It was just—why did so many of them have to be such unrepentant murderous assholes?

Case in point: Alonzo. He didn't evenremember killing Sophie at first. Bad enough to be murdered, but to have your killer be so thoughtless and casual about it?

“I'm sure you'll think of something,” Laura said, which was nice, if totally unhelpful. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Well, it's just that this is, uh, Sophie's private business. I just wanted to explain why we couldn't hang together tonight, even though we made plans.”

“That's all right,” she said at once. “I'll go to the evening service instead.”

I finished my drink. “Back at church again?” Thank goodness. Her attendance had been off since I first met her, and I was starting to think I was a really shitty influence. Although, as Jessica pointed out, Laura could have a lot worse habits than occasionally skipping the nine o'clock service. Freebasing cocaine was the example she'd used.

Laura looked hurt. “I only missed a few times.”

“Right, right. Honey, I'm in no position to judge.” I couldn't remember the last time I'd attended church services, although nothing about my vampire-​ness prevented me from doing so now. Crosses, holy water, Christmas trees—none of that stuff could hurt me. “I was just. You know. Commenting.”

“Well, I'd better go before your friend gets here.” She rose, bent, kissed me carelessly on the cheek. “We'll reschedule, yes?”

“You bet. Say hi to your folks for me.”

“I will. Say hi to my—to your folks, too.” Oh, sure. My stepmother, who'd given birth to Laura while possessed by the devil and then callously dumped her in a hospital waiting room, and my father, who had no clue Laura existed. I'd get right on that. Then I'd cure cancer and give all my shoes to charity. I watched her go. I wasn't the only one. Clearing my throat loudly enough to be heard, I glared at the guys scoping my sister's ass until they all went back to their drinks. Sure, the package was nice, but it was the inside that concerned me. Not only was Laura the Devil's daughter, she was prophesied to take over the world. Her way of rebelling against her mother was to be sweet, andnot take over the world. Which was a good thing.

But we all wondered if—and when—she'd crack under the pressure.

As she marched out, Sophie marched in, ignoring the surly hostess and zooming in on my table like a Scud missile. She stood over me with her arms crossed and said, “Is he dead yet?”

“I forgot how you take your coffee,” I replied, not terribly surprised. I mean, after last night, I'd had an idea how our little meeting would go. “Besides, you could probably use a drink.”

She plunked down in the seat next to me. “I fed earlier,” she said absently. “Liam insisted.”

“I meant like a martini or something.”

“In fact,” she went on like I hadn't spoken, which was very unlike her—she was usually the soul of French courtesy, “I had to persuade him to let me come here alone. He may have followed me anyway. He—he is most cross. As am I.”

“Honey, I was there. Iknow you're pissed. And I feel shitty about it. I really, really do. I'm open to options. What can we do?”

“Hand me his head.”

“See, that's just not helpful. You've got to workwith me, Sophie.”

She didn't smile. “With all respect, Majesty, if you are unable—or unwilling—to assist me, then I see no point to this meeting.”