Undead and Unworthy (Undead #7)

"That is strange," Sinclair admitted. After Wendy's, we'd ended up going back to the mansion and telling him and Tina what had happened. It was the first night of the full moon; Antonia was running around somewhere on all fours. Garrett had probably gone with her.

Jessica was visiting Marc at his new digs at The Grand, and I hoped he'd be able to come home soon. Things weren't the same without him. Besides, people disappearing out of our house brought back bad memories of last summer, when I was all alone.

Shoot, I even missed BabyJon's shitty diapers.

"Which part is strange?" Nick said dryly, bringing me back to my consideration of Sinclair's comment. "The part about my receiving a call and being sent to a bad neighborhood on what might have been a phony tip? The part where a Fiend just happened to run into us? Or the part where your wife's sister pulled a fucking flame brand out of thin air and killed said Fiend, before threatening to do the same thing to me?"

Hearing that Laura had threatened the officer didn't seem to perturb Sinclair one bit. "You say the chief is the one who gave you this assignment?"

"Yeah. And don't go there, pal, he's a stand-up guy."

"Oh, Nick." I shook my head sorrowfully. "Nobody says 'don't go there' anymore. Seriously. I'm so embarrassed for you right now. More so than usual, even."

He ignored me. "The chief's a year away from forced retirement - it's no time for him to fuck up a perfect record. It'd be the closest thing to suicide - this guy's job means everything to him. That's why Chief Hamlin wants these rogue cops caught, but he doesn't want to trash the police department's rep at the same time. Hell, he's the one who figured out the pattern - and the killings have been going on less than a month."

"I would think the reputation of his house would be the least of his problems," Tina ventured.

"Yeah? Come on, they're still making jokes about the LAPD, and how many years ago was Rodney King?"

"Some might say," I said carefully, "that there've been one or two incidents in that department since the King videotape."

Laura beamed at me. "You're right, Betsy. Some police departments deserve the reputations they have."

I shrugged under Nick's withering stare. "I don't have a problem with cops," I said apologetically. "But I've been known to channel Jessica's point of view, from time to time."

"Getting back to the issue at hand," Sinclair suggested, "I wonder why this Fiend came alone. Did any of you get a look at which one it was?"

"Skippy," I said immediately.

"Skippy?" Nick asked, incredulous. "Friggin' Frankenstein was named Skippy? He was almost seven feet tall!"

I was embarrassed to hear the nickname repeated; what had at first sounded fun now seemed stupid, careless, and immature. Worse, nobody'd ever know the dead guy's real name now. The least I could have done when they came by was ask their real names. Mistake number 1,429 in what was turning into a shitty week.

"I am in your debt, Ms. Goodman, for the assistance you rendered my wife."

Laura blushed to her eyebrows. "Oh, no, Eric, it's fine. We're family. I'm just happy I was there to help." She sharpened her words by narrowing her eyes at Nick.

"Hey, hey," he protested. "The whole thing happened in about two seconds. I could have got a shot off, but I might have blown a hole in your pretty wife's head. I mean, I could have lived with it, but - "

Sinclair silenced him with a wave of his kingly hand, which I could tell irritated Nick to no end.

"So what are you going to tell your boss? The chief?"

"That I couldn't find the tag, but I'll go back and look again."

"Alone," Sinclair said. We all noticed it wasn't a request. "You will go back and look again alone."

"You think I want those two PMS poster babies along for the ride? Ha!"

"Then allow me to escort you out," Tina said politely, getting up from the table.

"I'll see my own damned self out. In fact, I'm gonna start hanging out at The Grand instead of this house of freaks."

"The door can stick a bit," Tina yawned. "Make sure you pull it shut all the way behind you."

"Me-yow," I smirked as the door swung fully shut a few moments later.

Tina's bored expression vanished, nearly startling me into a yelp. "Curious."

"I was thinking the same thing."

"What?" I resisted the urge to yank my hair out by the double handful. "Oh, God, what now?"

"He insists the queen assist him in a delicate matter. He seems determined to put her in harm's way. He has made no secret of his contempt for and fear of her. And now, tonight - a Fiend happens to show up."

"You're not thinking - wait. What are you thinking?"

"But Nick couldn't be the rogue killer," Laura said - and thank goodness someone else was catching on. "He's the one killing all the bad guys, and he tells us all about it, and brings Betsy in to help him? You're saying it's an elaborate trap so he can kill her?"

"No way." I was shaking my head, though it did make a sneaky amount of sense. "He wouldn't dare."

"He does seem to dislike you a lot," my sister said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, but you guys are forgetting the Jessica factor. He wouldn't dare risk their relationship just to get me. I don't think he'd risk anything if it meant Jessica would toss him like hot vomit."

"An appealing image," Tina said, stifling a giggle. "But I still suggest we take a closer look at the good detective. A pity the body was essentially vaporized; I would love to have gotten his fingerprints."

"Why?"

"Knowing who they used to be would be helpful, I'm sure. If nothing else, Detective Nick could see if they had priors, when they were born - like that."

"Sorry," Laura said. "That's the trouble when hellfire meets vampire. Poof!"

"Yeah, it's cool, but then you've got dead vampire in your hair for hours. But Nick might have some luck with my purse. I'd better get that back from him, the crumb bum. Which reminds me, if the festivities are over for the night, I'm gonna shower."

"And I," Sinclair said, rising, "shall assist you."

He chased me all the way to our room.