MaryJanice Davidson - Dead Over Heels

and then my orgasm was roaring through me like a freight train, and it was times like that that I wondered why I ever bitched about being a vampire.

Sinclair shuddered above me and broke off, and I licked the bite on his neck.

“Cell phone?” he panted.

“Told . . . Jess and Nick . . . to call if . . . they ran into trouble.”

He grinned down at me and I stroked his broad back, where my scratch marks were already healing. “Then it’s a very good thing they didn’t—”

My cell phone rang.

Two blks S, hurry!!!!!!!” Jess had texted, and hurry we did. Instead of dressing, we grabbed hotel robes. Instead of messing with the stairs, we broke the window and jumped out.

I managed to keep my feet, but felt the shock of the landing all the way up to my hips. Never mind. The blond kid was in trouble—or dead. I just knew it.

We got there in just a few seconds and I nearly skidded in the blood, which was as awful as it sounds, especially in bare feet.

“Oh no !”

“Fuck,” Sinclair muttered, which was very unlike him. I was the potty mouth in the Sinclair family. But the situation certainly warranted it.

Except . . . it wasn’t her. It was a different girl, slightly older, wearing filthy clothes and with dirty hands. Her skin wasn’t quite as dark as Jessica’s, and already going dusky with death.

A homeless child? A runaway? Whoever she had been, she’d crossed paths with the wrong man—or woman—and wouldn’t ever have to worry about finding a place to stay again.

“Where is everybody?” I asked, kneeling beside the child.

“We’re the first ones on scene. I’ve called 911.”

“You guys didn’t see anything?”

“We didn’t even hear anything,” Jessica said, sounding very strained. “We just rounded the corner and there she was.”

“Oh, the poor poor thing. Look! I count at least three bite marks, the fucking greedy bastard.”

“Five,” Sinclair said distantly.

“ We don’t have to kill ! We only have to take half a pint or so, God damn it!”

“Yes, that’s been my experience,” Nick said quietly.

I turned on him and snarled, “Yes, fucking A right, Nick, you’re alive, aren’t you? You’re walking around allowed to be a perfect asshole, aren’t you ? But this poor kid—this . . .” I stretched out a trembling hand, wanting to touch her, stroke her face, maybe pull her into my arms. Too late, all too late.

Nick seized my wrist. “Betsy, don’t! This is a crime scene. Anything you do—change—won’t help the cops and it won’t help her. Just—don’t, okay?”

“Let go of my wrist,” I said tonelessly, and he did.

In the background, sirens.

“There’s nothing we can do except incriminate ourselves,” Sinclair said quietly. “It’s time to go. Nick can handle the cops.”

He took my hand to help me up and I yanked it out of his grip.

“And we were busy fucking while this kid was getting bled like a pig,” I hissed at him. “Don’t touch me.”

I walked out of the alley, alone.

Jessica caught up with me. “You’re not mad at them, you know. You’re mad at the creature doing this under your nose.”

“Go away.”

“Oh, you can just shitcan the attitude, Miss Thang! I didn’t kill her. In fact, you and your boy-toy wouldn’t even know about her if I hadn’t told you. So spare me the ’tude.”

I didn’t say anything. What could I say? She was right.

“We’ll get him, Betsy. We won’t leave New York until he’s in flames or bristling with so many stakes he looks like a hedgehog.”

I laughed; I couldn’t help it. Quite the mental image!

“There now, that’s better.” She tucked a hand under my elbow. “And can you slow down? We’re not all six feet tall, y’know?”

“I know, how do you stand it? Is it like being a bug? Or is it more like, you know, being an inanimate object? With no real clue what it’s like to not be a midget?”

“Shut up, Miss Thang,” she ordered, but naturally I disobeyed.

“You don’t even—hey!” I stopped, which jerked Jessica to a stop. Sitting on the hotel lobby steps was the girl we’d seen earlier. Thank God! “Hey, you! We’ve been looking for you!”

“Try to sound a little more menacing, why don’t you?” Jess muttered.

The gorgeous child pointed at me. “I know you! We were playing tag earlier!”

“Uh, not exactly. Listen, where are your folks? This is so not a place for a little kid to be by herself, okay?”

“I’m not a little kid.”

“Right, whatever, where are they?”

“They’re dead.”

Jessica and I traded glances. That explained why the kid was up at practically midnight.

“But what are you doing here?”

“I live here.” She had a high, sweet voice. “The staff takes care of me.”

“Uh . . . about the staff . . . I’ve got some news you’re not going to like, but you can’t stay here another night. Another minute. Y’see—”

“The hotel is run by vampires?”

Jessica and I looked at each other again.

“Well, yes,” Jessica answered. “You, um, knew that?”

“Sure.” The child idly examined her nails, which were brutally short—probably because she bit them. “Vampires killed my folks, and the staff felt bad, so they took me in.”

“But what about school?”

“Tutors.”

“What about a proper bedtime?”

“I sleep during the day, like my guardians.”

“But-but . . .” There were things wrong with this scenario, right? Then why couldn’t I think of any?

“But don’t you want a normal life?” Jessica asked. “I bet a looker like you would get adopted in about five seconds.”

“And go live in the suburbs and attend public school and do chores for an allowance and fight with siblings?” The child rolled her eyes. “When I’m living in the greatest city in the world, with no bedtime, brilliant tutors, and thirty parents who watch out for me? Not to mention twenty-four-hour room service?”

“You’ve got us there,” I admitted. “What’s your name?”

“Bernadette, but everybody calls me Bernie.”

“Well, Bernie, I guess I’m one of your guardians now, too. See, I’m the vampire queen.”

Bernie blinked, then started to laugh. She actually rolled around on the steps, she was laughing so hard.

“It’s not that ludicrous,” I mumbled.

“It really kind of is,” Jessica whispered back.

“You! Oh! Oh, not you! It’s not you! You’re not the queen!”

I stomped my bare foot and realized anew I was wearing nothing but a hotel robe. “I am, too!”

“What is going on here?” Sinclair said, startling me badly. I’d never heard him come up behind me.

“Hey, it’s her!” Nick said happily, coming up on Jessica’s left. “And she’s okay!”

“Who is ‘her’?” Sinclair asked icily. I guess he was still pissed about the tantrum I’d thrown in the alley. Well, I’d make it up to him later.

“This is Bernie, the kid I was telling you about. But she’s safe!”

“That,” Sinclair said, “is no child.”

Bernie abruptly quit laughing. “Now him,” she said to me, smiling prettily, “he’s the king, yes. I can believe that. They told me you were young, but there is no way in hell you killed Nostro and Marjorie. You spent the evening shoe shopping!” She looked at Jessica. “And it’s not you, either. You’re just a human. So where is she? Where’s the real queen?”

“Wh-what are you talking about?”