“How many times do I have to say it,” Jessica was saying. “How many times do you have to see it? She's a good guy!”
“No, Jess, it's okay, he – ”
“She drinks blood, because she's dead,” he said, spitting on the floor – spitting blood, I might add, and I was ashamed, because my fangs were out again. I didn't dare speak anymore; I didn't want him to know I wanted to drink and drink and drink. “She's a killer, and you know it.”
“I love her, she's the sister I never got, and you know that.”
“Ah, perhaps we could, ah, step into another room and discuss, ah, the new terms for surrender,” Tina said, because even the Fiends looked uncomfortable to be witnessing the lovers' quarrel.
“Or maybe you could talk about this later, when everybody's calmed down,” I tried.
“Don't make me choose,” Jessica warned, ignoring us. For her, the only person in the room was Nick.
“I'm not making you choose. I'm choosing. We're done.” He wiped his face again, and we all pretended not to notice how his hand shook and how he couldn't look at her.
“That's right,” Jessica replied coolly. “We are.”
And just like that – it was over. They were over. We could all practically hear the snap.
Chapter 44
Stephanie and Jane were sullen, but agreeable – apparently being the doers of the queen's scut work was more appealing than being staked.
I gave them permission to live on Nostro's property (by vampire law, when you killed a vampire all his stuff came to you, so technically, it was my property), and they agreed to be at my beck and call, as it were.
I'd probably put at least one of them to work in my nightclub, Scratch. Another vampire property that had come to me by law – long story. Actually, that wasn't true. I had killed another badass vampire, and her property went to me about the time her soul went shrieking into Hell.
Unlike their lives before, the Fiends wouldn't just frolic in the moonlight like undead puppies, but they'd live and read and watch TV like real people... which should be fun, since for all I knew Jane and Stephanie had no idea what a TV was.
They could feed on each other – if they were comfortable with that – or they could snack on bad guys. We would help them figure out who it was all right to bite and who was off-?limits. Yep, they could make new lives for themselves, be almost like normal people.
Unless I needed them, of course. Then they'd come on the run, or I'd know the reason why. Shit, with all the bad guys popping out of the woodwork these days, I needed bodyguards.
Of course, we weren't going to just leave them to their own devices... Sinclair and I would have to think about who could keep an eye on them, maybe even live in the McMansion with them. For now, they were cowed enough by recent events that I felt safe leaving them there for the next few nights.
“That was pretty anticlimactic,” Antonia bitched on our way out.
“What can I say? It can't be bloody revenge and near-?death experiences every day.”
“You're about to have a near-?death experience,” Sinclair promised grimly as we climbed into his Lexus (I noticed Nick's truck was also there and deduced they'd grabbed it when they woke up at his house after I'd put the whammy on them). “Specifically, you will never, ever sucker punch me like that again and run off into mortal danger.”
“I didn't do it on purpose.” Not quite a lie.
“Irrelevant.”
“I'm not getting laid tonight, am I?”
“Probably not.”
I batted my eyes. “What if I let you punish me?”
He paused, and his step actually faltered; I imagine he was thinking about my drawer full of scarves and our four-?poster bed. Then he straightened up and went back to being Sir Pissypants. “Do not change the subject. You must promise to never, ever – ”
“I won't!” Strangely, I felt my blood start to heat up again. And I won't do that again, either. At least not right now. Who knew if my friends could take it again? Besides, I really had no right to their – their life essence, maybe? Whatever it was that I could feed on without touching them. It wasn't mine. And I wasn't a thief.
With that in mind, I struggled to hold my temper, something I wasn't especially good at. “Sinclair, enough with the promises to stay safe and hidden from the world. It didn't suit me when I was alive, and I certainly can't comply now.”
“I will not tolerate – ”
“Are you listening, schmuck? You almost died this summer. Had I acted then like you wanted me to act this time, what would have happened? You'd be a pile of fucking ash, and you'd still be full of shit!”
“Aw, that's romantic,” Antonia piped up.
“Damn right it is.” I turned back to my idiot husband. “I love your arrogant ass, numbnuts, and I'm not going through something like this summer ever again. Besides, there are going to be times when we'll have to deal with problems alone... I mean, jeez. If I can figure that out, you can, too. You're just going to have to get used to the idea.”
He sighed, and I could tell he wanted to smile at me but was forcing himself to remain stone-?faced. The better to intimidate you with, my dear. Too bad it didn't work on me. Never had. “I love your arrogant ass as well, my own, but I meant every word I said, and you will mind me, Elizabeth. In this one thing, you will mind me.”
“Fuck you, lover. I'm the queen, and I'll do as I please.”
“I am the husband, and you will do as you're told.”
“Hi, I'm Betsy. Nice to meet you.”
“Do not sass me.”
“Do not piss me off.”
He stomped his foot. Actually stomped it (clad in a Kenneth Cole loafer), like a kid having a tantrum. I managed not to laugh. Just barely. “This argument is over!”
I stomped my heel, nearly staggering – damned vampire strength! If I ruined these pumps I'd never forgive myself. “You're fucking right it is. Go suck on a turnip.”
Chapter 45
We got out of the car, still not talking to each other. Even more awkward, Jessica and Nick had tagged along in his truck – I would have thought he'd had enough of me for a lifetime, but there wasn't room in Sinclair's SUV for me, Sinclair, Antonia, Garrett, and Jessica. Is there anything worse than being trapped in a car immediately after you've just broken up with your boyfriend? Eeesh.
Worst of all, the Ant was waiting for me on the porch, knockoff-?clad toe tapping impatiently. “It's not over yet,” she warned.
“Tell me about it,” I snarled. “It'll never be over, until you cough up why you're sticking around.” I walked through her, shivering (it was like walking through a curtain of freezing water) and opened our front door. “Why can't you go to hell like any other – ”
Suddenly I was shoved so hard, I smacked into the wall and fell down. The impact forced a shower of plaster to rain down on me. There was the deafening boom of a pistol being fired several times over my head. We were trapped in the doorway like ants in a straw – nobody had any room.
“That girl,” a new voice said, “had amazing reflexes. I haven't missed a shot in forty-?six years.”
“Chief Hamlin?” Nick asked, horrified.
I slowly sat up. The Minneapolis police chief, less than a year from retirement, was standing at the end of the foyer, smoke curling up from the barrel of his pistol. He was a tall, gray-?haired man in a neat dark blue suit,
