Undead and Uneasy (20 page)

It was all right, though. It really was. I'd been floundering around in the dark for so long,

it seemed appropriate that things were going dark for real. She was right; I was no queen.

Look how easy she'd led me by the nose, and for how long. Heck, she'd been able to fool

Sinclair!

(Elizabeth, get away. Run!)

Easy for him to say; he was napping in a nice comfy coffin.

No, it was probably for the best. My dad was dead, practically by my own hand. I'd

probably have screwed up Babyjon beyond repair. Antonia had apparently gone

completely nuts from the stress of being locked up most of the week. God knew what

state poor Garrett was in. Jessica was a goner—you only had to look at the weight

dropping off her to see it. And Sinclair—

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) If this bitch killed me, he was dead meat.

If this bitch killed me, there was no stopping her from hurting anyone she liked. My

family. My friends. Sinclair.

The back of my head was sticky with blood; it was running down my face. I had a hundred

broken bones; three of my ribs were gone. Not broken. Gone. Blood was draining from

me. I had never been so . . .

hungry ?

. . . in my life. Never. I needed to drink, and I couldn't. I needed to live, and I wouldn't.

But Marjorie had power and energy to spare; the most I'd been able to inflict on her were

defense wounds.

Marjorie had power and energy to spare.

Marjorie.

I reached for her. Not with my hands. Not with my teeth. With my mind. Even as

everything faded to black I could sense her energy, her strength, and I grabbed for it like a

fat kid grabbed for pie. And just like a fat kid, my chubby mental fingers crushed her tinfoil

skin, and my chubby mental eyes gleamed at the crumbling, steaming crust.

"Unh, " I heard her grunt. She let go of me, her head tossing in confusion. Something had

a hold of her and wasn't letting go. I rolled over to see who it was.

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) There was no one else there. But that didn't matter, because just seeing her like this was

making me feel a bit stronger. The black blooms vanished, and I could see again. Her

limbs thrashed as the chubby, pie-loving child inside of me poked at her to see what kind

of fruit filling was inside.

Mmmmm. Blood pie.

Without touching her, I began to drink.

She screamed and fell to her knees.

No one else is doing it , I realized with more alacrity as the blood rushed into my system.

Just the Queen. The Queen of the Fucking Vampires. Her Queen. And her Queen requires

her goddamn, fucking obedience. She has something, I need it, it's mine.

Mine!

The darling pie-loving child was gone now. I split her open with my mind, grabbed for her,

and pulled everything she had into me.

Her suit emptied—the blood first, then the shriveling muscles, then the flaying bits of dried

skin, and then the billions of splinters of bone.

By the time I was done, I was standing tall over a librarian's suit, a librarian's sensible

shoes, and about twenty grams of dust. I felt absolutely fine.

In fact, I had never felt fucking better in my life.

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) Chapter 37

Power slammed through me, and , I screamed. Well, not so much screamed as roared. I

felt energy running through my spine like a waterfall; the overload of good was becoming

worse than the beating. I staggered away from Marjorie's remains and nearly fell into

Sinclair's coffin. I grabbed him and poured some of the new strength I had into him; it was

either get rid of it or blow up.

Even as he stirred; grew younger, grew strong, sat up, it wasn't enough, I was still going

to blow.

I stumbled away from Sinclair, kicked Marjorie's things (and probably a bit of old

Marjorie, too, poor thing) out of the way, and reached for Antonia through the bars and

poured more of it into her.

I was not entirely sure what I was doing and yet wasn't even shocked when Antonia

screamed again, a scream that turned into a howl. She dropped to all fours, sprouted dark

brown fur, and then an enraged werewolf was howling at the ceiling and tearing at the

bars with her teeth.

No fair!I thought. You're not supposed to be allowed to do that. Rule breaker!

"Elizabeth!" Someone was shaking me. "Elizabeth! Whatever you're doing,stop it ! It's too much, you're—"

Through blurred vision I saw Antonia-the-wolf tear through the bars with her teeth and

wondered vaguely what the hell a werewolf's teeth were made of. Titanium? In no time at

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) all she'd torn or pulled a big enough hole through the bars and wormed through, then

attacked the other coffin with desperate savagery. The rosaries flew off, and she started to

rip at the chains.

Getting some of my mind back, I began to help her. Well, by began I mean I flipped the

coffin lid open as though the chains weren't there, stuck my hands inside, and poured

everything I had onto the shriveled thing inside.

In a few seconds, Garrett was sitting up and looking around.

"Wow, I feel terrific! Um. What the hell just happened?" he asked, sounding quite un-

Garrett-like.

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.

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) 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.

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"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 abitch ."

"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

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) 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."

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"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.

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) 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 feelgreat . 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.

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"Elizabeth—"

"Dead."

"—are you—"

"You are sodead ."

"—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."

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"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