Undead and Unworthy (Undead #7)

"Officer, I would like to report a crime. Several crimes."

Ah, the perfect touch to destroy the last of my good mood. I sighed and rested my forehead on the counter. "He's a detective, you dimwit; note the plain clothes and the holster. And he can't hear you."

"What?" Nick said.

"Never mind that," the Ant snapped. She was standing in the middle of the stove. That was surprising. Usually the ghosts behaved like they were still alive and tried not to walk through things unless they absolutely had to - say, through a door that was shut (because, natch, they couldn't grasp the knob). The center burners came up to the bottom button on her too-tight lime green blouse. It clashed awfully with her bright yellow hair and made her skin look positively greenish. "Tell him about how you're keeping me prisoner."

My head snapped up so quickly I nearly overturned my chair. "I am not! You're here of your own free will, Antonia, and the sooner you figure that out the happier I'll be."

"Make that all of us," Jessica added. "Get lost, Mrs. Taylor."

"You should tell the help not to speak to me," she said triumphantly, thrilled that someone else was acknowledging her presence.

"You know damned well that's Jessica!"

"Is that bigoted bitch slamming me from beyond the grave? Where is she?"

"What difference does it make?" I sighed. "You can't touch her."

"No, but I can throw things through her. Make me feel better, anyway." She darted to one of the tables, snatched up a plate, and hurled it toward the fridge. Where it fluttered to the ground, since, to save on dish washing, we tended to use paper plates for breakfast.

"Stop that, and she's in the stove, okay? The stove!"

"What the fuck is going on?"

"Betsy's dead stepmother is haunting her," Jessica told him.

"Oh, that's - " Nick threw his hands up in the air and walked around in a tight little circle.

"The last straw?" Sinclair suggested. "I quite agree. So snatch up your girlfriend and flee for your lives."

"That's it," Jessica said. "I just doubled your rent."

"Everything in the whole world sucks." I rested my chin in my hand and stared past Sinclair's shoulder at the window over the sink. "Every. Single. Thing."

"A pity," Sinclair replied. "And you were in such a charming mood, too. Although a little warning would be appreciated the next time you do something drastic to your hair."

"Oh, it'll be blond again tomorrow, who cares? What was I thinking, when I said I could do this job? I must have been out of my mind!"

"That's the spirit," Nick said, instantly cheering up.

"Stop that," Sinclair and Jessica ordered in unison. They looked at each other in surprise, almost laughed, and then Jessica continued. "You're doing the best you can. Nobody expects more."

"Ha!" I pointed to her boyfriend. "He does."

"And I can't be the only one," Nick added.

"Well, what's she supposed to do, smart guy? By all means, enlighten all of us. How would you help run the vampire kingdom?"

"I'd start," he replied sweetly, "by rounding up all my 'subjects' and blowing their faces off."

Sinclair snorted. "Then let us say, for the sake of argument, that you were the king, and you did that. I'm sure you can see the consequences."

I could feel the confidence I'd gained after defeating Marjorie draining out of me. Whatever I'd done to Marjorie had been, like most of the great events of my life/death, both a fluke and dumb luck. I was lucky to be alive (ahem), and it was nuts to read any more into it than that.

"I'm guessing I can't abdicate," I said to Tina.

She looked more than a little taken aback. "Ah... no."

"That's quite enough," my husband said coolly. "You've let this silly little man rattle you and for no good reason."

"Yeah, but the Fiend thing really is my fault."

"And none of mine?"

"Hey, yeah!" Nick said. "It's both your faults!"

Sinclair ignored him. "I knew, as you did, that they were out there in Minnetonka. I chose, as you did, to do nothing."

"Yeah, but if I'd done like you wanted, they'd all be dead, and we wouldn't be in this mess."

"And if wishes were horses, beggars would ride."

"What?"

"An old saying of my mother's."

"Very old," Tina said, almost - but not quite! - smiling.

"Elizabeth, it's far too late to play the 'what if' game. We have a situation. We are dealing with it. The opinions of the occasional passing human are of no import. I am the king, you are the queen, so shall it be forever."

"Or, at least," Jessica added, "for a thousand years."

"Passing human?" Nick asked.

"I noticed you put yourself first." I slid my empty glass over to him. "Pour me something, will you? Something. Anything."

"Why don't you snack on Detective Berry?" Tina suggested. "That would make us all feel better."

"You assholes stay away from me," Nick warned, backing up until his butt hit the kitchen door.

"Then do not," my husband said, "let us keep you."