Wanted: Undead or Alive

clean, Dimitri.”

“Check him for weapons,” the Russian ordered.

Blockhead skimmed his hands over Phineas. “He’s clean.”

“Very well.” Dimitri inclined his head. “We will now escort you to the queen, where you will appear on her show.”

“Sounds good to me.” Phineas put his jacket back on. “It’ll be good publicity.”

Freemont straightened and adjusted his hat. “My client will expect reimbursement, you understand. He doesn’t do appearances for free.”

Phineas shook his head, glaring at his brother.

Dimitri narrowed his eyes on Freemont. “Who the hell are you?”

“Nobody,” Phineas said at the same time Freemont said, “I’m Dr. Phang’s agent.”

“Freemont,” Phineas gritted out through clenched teeth. “Stay out of this.”

Dimitri’s sharp eyes darted back and forth between Phineas and his brother, then he smiled. “You have a mortal friend, Dr. Phang?”

“No, he’s a pain in the ass,” Phineas growled.

Dimitri chuckled. “Cuff them both. Having the mortal with us will ensure Dr. Phang’s good behavior.”

“Dammit,” Phineas muttered, glowering at his brother while Rat Face and Blockhead snapped silver handcuffs around their wrists.

“The cuffs are just a precaution,” Dimitri said. “We can’t have Dr. Phang teleporting away and taking his mortal friend with him.”

Rat Face and Blockhead seized Phineas and Freemont by the napes of their necks and steered them toward the front door. Outside in the parking lot, Phineas and his brother were shoved into the back of a delivery van. It was empty, except for stained carpet on the floor. The back doors slammed shut, and they were locked inside. No windows, Phineas noted, so he wouldn’t know where they were going.

But just seconds earlier, he had spotted a black SUV across the parking lot. Robby and Jack were prepared to follow.

Phineas heard more doors on the van bang shut. That was probably Dimitri and his buddies climbing into the front seat. Corky had to be located fairly close by if they were driving to her.

“What do we do now?” Freemont whispered.

Phineas scowled at him. “You have a lousy way of following directions. You were supposed to stay out of danger.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you alone with them.” Freemont glared back. “I’m not a coward.”

The van lurched into motion.

Freemont gulped. “Do we have a plan?”

“Shh.” Phineas motioned with his head toward the front seat of the van, then mouthed the words, Super hearing.

Freemont nodded.

Phineas slid the heel of his right boot to the side, revealing a hidden red button. He punched the button, activating the new soundless tracking beam Roman and Laszlo had perfected in the lab at Romatech. He slid the heel back in place.

Freemont’s eyes twinkled with excitement.

Phineas smiled. Oh yeah, Queen Bitch. We’ve got you now.

Chapter Three

“How kind of you to appear on my show,” Corky Courrant said, smiling for the camera.

“My pleasure.” Phineas returned her smile. As far as he could tell, Corky’s makeshift studio was in the basement of a duplex somewhere in Brooklyn or Queens. They hadn’t driven far, and he’d been able to catch a glimpse of the residence after Corky’s minions had hauled him and Freemont from the back of the van.

He sat on a tufted footstool, low to the ground to emphasize his inferior status, while next to him, Corky posed in a high-backed, ornately carved, red velvet upholstered chair. He had to crane his neck to avoid peering straight at her massive bosom, which threatened to escape her low-cut, shimmering gold gown. Her jeweled tiara and numerous rings glittered under the bright overhead lights.

They had started the show with a recording of a trumpet fanfare befitting a queen. Corky had confided in him that she’d first heard the piece at the court of Henry VIII where she’d been one of the king’s favorites. Phineas figured she had a long history of using powerful men to get ahead.

The wall behind them was draped in purple silk. In front of them, Rat Face worked the camera, and Blockhead held the boom suspended over Corky’s head. Across the room, Freemont perched stiffly on a metal folding chair while Dimitri aimed his automatic pistol at him. Another armed Malcontent stood by the door, and Phineas had counted three more upstairs on the ground floor. A total of seven men, but that shouldn’t be a problem. Angus was planning to hit with a dozen guys from MacKay S&I.

Even though the mission was simple—capture Corky—a nagging fear pricked at Phineas. His orders were to stick close to Corky and to not let her get away, but he hadn’t counted on his brother being here.

He swallowed hard, then pasted a smile back on his face. “Thank you for inviting me, Corky—”

She kicked him in the shin.

“Miss Corky.” Another kick. “Queen Corky.” His smile barely wavered. “Your most glorious Majesty. I’ve always been a big fan of your show.”

“Well, of course you are.” She waved her hand in a regal fashion. “My show has always enjoyed the highest ratings of any show on DVN. Everyone adores my show. Naturally, since everyone adores me. But enough about me.”

She gave a throaty laugh. “Let’s talk a moment about those despicable, hateful bastards who’ve been persecuting me, forcing me to take my spectacular show into hiding. I’m talking, of course, about those bottle- drinking cowards who refuse to behave like true vampires.”

“Yes—”

“And I’m especially referring to their ringleaders,” Corky continued. “Roman Draganesti, who invented that nasty swill he calls synthetic blood, and then he contaminated it even further with his disgusting Vampire Fusion Cuisine.” She paused, looking down her nose at Phineas. “You don’t actually enjoy that Blardonnay, do you?”

“Shit, no.” Phineas made a face. “I can barely stomach it. But a man’s got to make a living, you know.”

“I understand.” She patted the top of his head like he was her new pet. “Sadly, there are times when we must suffer for our art. But back to those vicious ringleaders—the worst one, without a doubt, is that wretched Angus MacKay, the head of MacKay Security and Investigation. Of course, we all know that organization is nothing more than a notorious gang of armed thugs.”

Phineas nodded. “I’m so glad I finally got away from them. They treated me like a dog.”

Corky gasped with indignation. “You poor man. Do tell us more.” Her smile turned vicious. “Every vile and disgusting detail.”

“Of course. First of all, I think they’re mentally unstable.”

Her eyes gleamed. “I’ve always suspected as much.”

Phineas shrugged. “Well, it’s just a personal opinion, you understand, but I think they carry those huge swords around ’cause they’re compensating. When a guy runs around in a skirt for five hundred years, you gotta wonder about him, you know.”

Corky snorted. “So true. The bastard who murdered my poor, beloved Casimir was wearing one of those stupid kilts. Those Scottish barbarians will never—” She gasped when the door crashed open and a horde of kilted barbarians rushed in at vampire speed.

On second look only Angus, Robby, Ian, and Dougal were wearing kilts. The others wore pants, but would probably enjoy being called barbarians.

Swords clashed upstairs, and Phineas realized some of Angus’s team had engaged the guards on the ground