Undead and Unreturnable (10 page)

An old one, I decided. A vampire who has seen absolutely everything—
everything
. And doesn't give a ripe shit anymore. About anything. I pitied them as much as I feared them. And I felt pretty sorry for them.

"It's nice to meet you," I lied.

She inclined her head. "Majesty. We have met before."

"No, we haven't." I'd never have forgotten those eyes. Not even
Nostro
had eyes like those. No, we hadn't met. And after today, I hoped we never would again.

"I was in a group that came to pay tribute after
Nostro's
, ah, accident on the grounds. Perhaps you didn't notice me."

"No, definitely not." Then, because it's possible she was disappointed (but who could tell? she was a damn robot), I added, "Sorry if I missed you in the crowd."

"Quite all right, my queen. Of late you had… a full agenda."

I laughed unwittingly. The robot had been programmed to make amusing observations! "That's one way of putting it."

"Something to drink? We have a Chateau
Leoville
Poyferre
you might like."

We did?

"My king, that is as tempting an offer as I've received all year, but I must return to my duties. I only came by to beg the queen a favor."

She did? At least she was speaking English.

"Well," I said, "come on in."

"Thank you, my queen."

To save time, we took the parlor right next to the front hall, and ole
Marjie
got right to it.

"As you know, I am head of the library downtown."

She
was
a librarian! I pretended like I knew, and nodded.

"I am starting a newsletter for the vampire community."

"You are?"

"It was your idea, my queen. '
Fer
cryin
' out loud, why don't you guys get a newsletter or something, I mean, cripes.'"

Sinclair grinned. "It has the ring of authenticity."

"When did I say that?"

"On the occasion of our first meeting, which you do not remember."

"Well, excuse me, I might have had a few things on my mind that day! If you don't come right up and introduce yourself, don't bitch about me not remembering you!"

"I apologize again," Marjorie said tonelessly, "for all my shortcomings."

"And you're stealing lines from
Gone With the Wind
!"

At last, the robot loosened up a little. She even smiled a little. "You have seen the movie?"

"Only about eight thousand times. It's not in the book, but it's a great scene… the one where Rhett almost gets called out, but he won't fight because he knows he can totally kick everybody's ass, and killing Charles Hamilton would be annoying and a big waste, so he just bows and leaves."

"I think that touches on a rather large theme of the book
and
the movie," Marjorie said thoughtfully, crossing her ankles like a lady. "Because we see Rhett's bad side frequently, but usually we only see his good side in relation to
Scarlett
."

"Yeah, like when he brought her the hat after the blockades tightened, and stole a horse for her so she could
get
out of town and see her mom. Who was dead. But
Scarlett
didn't know that."

Marjie
was smiling patiently through my excited interruption. "But here, he has a chance to shoot a man from his own hated planter class, in a way that is
societally
acceptable, and instead, he—"

"Vamooses to the library, which is where he meets
Scarlett
and all that other stuff happens."

"Love. Death. War." She sighed. "Those were the days."

I ignored the
uber
-creepiness of the psycho librarian and went on in the same, uh, vein. "You know, I never thought of it like that! That from the very beginning, he was redeemable."

Marjorie shrugged. "I have been reading that book since the year it was published, and every time, I find something new. Extraordinary!"

Well, shit! Anybody who liked
GWtW
couldn't be that bad. Right? Right. "Listen, I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I'm terrible with names and faces, and I'm sorry I didn't remember you."

"That's quite all right, my queen," she said, and this time it seemed like she meant it. "As I am here to ask a favor, I'm hardly in a position to sulk."

"Yeah, well. Never stopped me. What's up?"

"Well, as I mentioned earlier, I'm the local librarian."

Local library? As in, there was more than one? "Sure, sure. I remember."

Sinclair shot me a look, which I pretended not to see. He hadn't said a word for a couple minutes, but he seemed relieved we weren't going to scratch each other's eyes out.

"And as I said, I will be starting a newsletter. It will be online and only viewable to vampires who have the appropriate passwords, etcetera."

"You're not worried about someone hacking into it?"

She smiled thinly. "No."

"Right. Okay, go on."

"I would like you to contribute to it, my queen."

"Contribute… you mean, like write something for it?"

"Yes, ma'am. Every month."

"But… come on,
Marjie
—"

"Marjorie." Sinclair and
Marj
corrected me simultaneously.

"—you must have a million people who can do this for you."

"That is not the issue, my queen. As you of course have discovered yourself, many of our kind are having, ah, difficulty accepting your new… position."

"That was
supertactful
."

Another tiny smile. "Thank you, my queen. I feel, and many of my counterparts concur, that this would be a way for the community to get to know you. Perhaps come to appreciate the… finer qualities that aren't, ah, immediately apparent."

"Wow." I was shaking my head in total admiration. "You should work for the United Nations. Seriously. I mean, when
he
tries that stuff, I just get pissed."

Ole
Marjie
inclined her head modestly. Sinclair gave me a look but still didn't comment.

"What would you want me to write?"

"Oh, whatever you wish. Neighborhood observations, essays on the eternal struggle between man vs. vampire, the pros and cons of keeping sheep—"

"I've got it!"

"Ah, the sheep issue. I admit, it can be controversial—"

"Shut up about the sheep,
Marj
." Sinclair winced, but I didn't give much of a shit. "No, I'm going to do a Dear Betsy letter. What's the one thing I've wished I could have since I woke up dead?"

"A sheep?"

"Marjorie, enough! No, I wished there was someone I could ask about vampire stuff and I'd get the straight shit in return. Not political shit, not 'oh, it's okay if you kill people as long as you're aligned with so-and-so' stuff.
Real
stuff. It'll be a 'Dear Betsy' column. Ann Landers for vampires!" As Jess would say, "
Oooooooh
!" I could hardly sit still, I was so excited!

Sinclair was rubbing his eyes. Marjorie looked at him for help and, correctly guessing none was forthcoming, looked back at me. "Ah… my queen, I admit I had a more, ah,
scholarly
approach in mind…"

"Then boy, did you come to the wrong house. I didn't even finish college."

"Oh."

"I bet you did, though."

"I have fourteen Ph.D.s."

"Geek, huh?"
Ack
! Fourteen! No wonder I got her mixed up with a robot. "Anyway, back to me. When do you need my first column?"

"Ah… whenever you wish. The newsletter will be published on your schedule, of course, and—"

"I'll have it for you by the end of the week. There's not a moment to lose! Just think, there's new vampires walking around right this second who don't have a clue how to act!"

"And you will infect them all."

"What?"

"I said, it sounds like we'll have a ball. I shall go back to the library at once and… prepare."

"Great!" I jumped up. Sinclair slowly stood, like an old, old man. Marjorie stood the same way; it was weird. They both looked crushed and knowing at the same time.

He kissed her hand again. "Thank you."

"My king, I only do my duty."

"For coming by."

"Sir, I am your servant."

"Yeah, thanks," I butted in, because I had the weird feeling they weren't talking about what I thought they were talking about. "Send me your e-mail address, and I'll zap the column over to you in the next few days. I'm [email protected]."

Was that a shudder?
Naw
. My imagination was working overtime. And speaking of overtime, I could hear Marc park his
shitbox
car and come bounding up the walk. How he kept his energy after fifteen hours on his feet in the E.R. was beyond me.

He popped the front door open and spotted us in the entryway. He covered the distance between us with half of one of his characteristic long lopes, and his green eyes brightened. "Hi, guys!"

I was torn. On the one hand, as he was generally a depressed individual with big problems (gay, dying father, premature balding), I was always happy to see him happy. We had met when he was moments from throwing himself from the top of the hospital at which he worked too many hours. I talked him out of jumping and took him home. He'd been hanging out with us ever since. And in the past few months, he'd had his dad set up at a great private—I guess it was a hospice, except it was a private home, and the nurse who lived there only took care of three people. So it wasn't like being stuffed in a nursing home. Anyway, he'd gotten his dad squared away and visited him as often as he could stand (I guess it was kind of a strained relationship), he'd gotten a new boss at work, he was growing out his hair, and he'd had a date in the last five weeks.

On the other hand, I wanted him nowhere near Marjorie. Marc was like a puppy around vampires… had no clue how totally
friggin
' dangerous they really were.

"So what's doing? What are you guys up to? What's going on?"
Arf
,
arf
, sniff, sniff, sniff.

Marjories
delicate nostrils flared. "Your pet smells like blood."