MaryJane Davidson - Undead and Uneasy

Whoever had tried to shake me before—that would be Sinclair, right? Sure, I could see him now, it was Sinclair.

Hey, he looks good! I made him all right. That's nice. Now if I could just do something about this force inside of me that feels like it wants to split my skin. . .

“Elizabeth!” His eyes were wide with awe and fear. “Elizabeth, what are you doing?”

And I was still burning up, still exploding, there was still too much of whatever I had taken from Marjorie in me, on me, all over me, around me.

I had an idea, but I knew I only had a few moments of conscious thought left. So I leaned into Sinclair, making him wince with the touch, and whispered my instructions into his ear.

He nodded. “Yes, my Queen.”

“Hurry,” I finished, and then I collapsed to the ground, wreathed in flames.

“—maybe we should—”

“—so glad to see all of—”

“—doctor wouldn't do any—”

“—hurt bad?”

I opened my eyes and bit back a shriek. Sinclair, Marc, Tina, and Garrett were all bending over me. I chased them all back with big arm motions and sat up. I saw at once we were in the hospital.

But had we gotten here in time?

“Where is she?” I managed. Then Sinclair's mouth was on mine, his arms were around me, and I sort of forgot about all the madness of the evening for a minute.

“Wait, wait!” I fended him off and looked around.

We were in the right room, I thought. But they all looked alike. “Did it work? Where is she?”

“It's so wonderful to see you're all right, Your Majesty!”

I smiled as I turned to Tina. “When did you two get here?”

“I got home an hour ago,” she said, the circles under her eyes even darker than usual. “Marc had just shown up, and then Sinclair called. Um. Why is Antonia a wolf?”

“You wouldn't believe it if I told you.”

“Elizabeth did it, right after she destroyed Marjorie. And nearly killed herself for her trouble.” Sinclair turned to me—well, really, he turned on me, like a wolverine. “Did you not hear me telling you to stay away?” he demanded, shaking me like a cheap Christmas present.

“Oh, stuff it in your socks, Sinclair. Like I was going to leave you in the clutches of the librarian from Hell. What a bitch .”

“You're sure you're okay?” Marc, being the doctor he was, began to prod my body.

“I—think so.” I felt all right. Almost normal. Normal for me, I meant. Gone was the frantic surge of energy I'd feared would consume me.

And from the way they were looking at me, they all knew it. Their expressions were equal parts awe and fear.

But what about. . .

“Well, I have to say, I haven't felt this good in quite some time,” Garrett said cheerfully. Since he usually spoke in monosyllables, this was going to take some getting used to. “Although I'm not sure what Antonia will say when she's back on two feet tomorrow morning.”

“Yeesh, don't give me something new to worry about. By the way, did you notice if the two guests in our house were still there? Are they okay?”

“Jeannie and Lara are fine,” Marc said. He was dressed in a shirt studded with big purple flowers, muddy khaki shorts, and sandals. “I made their acquaintance a bit abruptly in the bathroom; but we sorted it out as Tina arrived. After Sinclair called, it was clear the danger was pretty much over, so they opted to stay in the mansion.”

“Great. Now that we've accounted for everyone EXCEPT the person we came for, can someone please tell me where my best friend is!?!”

This got a couple of them smiling. Which got me steaming even hotter. Finally, Marc piped up. “Well, we got you here, and your boyfriend did what you told him to do. He dumped you right on top of Jessica, who until then was resting comfortably. By then, you weren't in flames anymore—but you were still giving off tons of heat and sweat. Seeing you roll back and forth on top of Jessica in her bed—well, I'll tell you. I almost turned heterosexual.”

“But the bed's empty now! Did it work? Is she okay?”

“Better than okay,” Tina said, smiling. She was flushed at Marc's description, but she managed to motion to the hallway. “After Detective Berry's initial shock, he saw what we were doing for Jessica and kept you on top of her. Once she was—once you were both okay—well, Jessica and Nick wanted to find some privacy, and we were all in the room, and you still looked like you needed the bed, and so—”

My jaw dropped in appalled outrage. “She's out getting some?”

“In a word,” Tina began.

“Yeppers,” Marc finished.

“Why that—that—”

“They're still somewhere in the hospital,” Sinclair gently corrected me.

As if on cue, Jessica and Nick burst into the room (well, burst through the slowly opening door), giggling and leaning on each other. She was still in her wrinkled hospital gown, and his shirt was decidedly untucked from his pants. No socks. No shoes.

“Well, that was—” She saw all of us waiting for her and clammed up.

“Short?” Marc volunteered.

I knew the moment I saw her that it was gone. For good. She looked beautiful.

I stared. We all stared. Finally, Marc cleared his throat and said, “How are you feeling, Jessica?”

Beaming, she pulled away from Nick and spread her arms wide. “I feel great. But I'm super-​duper hungry. Anybody have a candy bar in their pocket? Or possibly a steak?”

Finally, she turned to me, still grinning like a fool. “Bets, you look like shit. What happened?”

Sinclair carried me up to bed the moment we got home, which was silly because I could walk perfectly well. I was pretty sure. Actually, given that it was only about 1:00 a.m. I was awfully tired.

The last thing I felt before I conked off was him pulling my engagement ring off my finger. I hope he threw it into the nearest sewer. Boy, was I going to give him a piece of my mind when I. . .

I sat up. The bedside clock said 5:30 p.m. Sinclair was at his desk, scribbling on papers, but looked up and was at my side in half a second.

“Elizabeth—”

“Dead.”

“—are you—”

“You are so dead .”

“—all right?”

“You gave me a used engagement ring?” I yelped.

He looked pained as he sat down beside me. “Antique.”

“Used.”

“As you like. I am very sorry.”

I slumped back against the pillows and slapped a hand over my eyes. “You couldn't have known. Friendly helpful Marjorie, right?”

“I thought a ring set with stones that had belonged to a queen would be a fitting gift.”

“Zombie. Dead dad. Dead stepmother. Well, the dead stepmother might actually not be so bad. . . but then YOU almost died!”

“I am very sorry.”

I removed my hand and looked at him. His fierce dark gaze was boring into me, and his hands were trembling. “Oh, hey. Like I said. You couldn't have known. You got rid of it, right?”

“I did. I—”

“Never mind. I don't care if I never see the thing again, and I sure don't want to know what you did with it. Also, we're going to Tiffany's to pick out a new one, right?” “If you wish.”

“You look like hell.”

“I was. . . terrified for you. I was certain she would kill you. And I was useless. Worse than useless. I could hear what was happening but could not help. I—”

“Come here,” I said. “Have I mentioned I missed you like crazy?”

“Not that I recall.”

“Well, I have. Missed you like crazy, I mean.” I was tugging at his shirt, and buttons were flying all over the place. “Place just isn't the same without you. And hey! Next time the Big Bad lures you out of the house, maybe you could leave a note?”