Chapter 25

I sat on the couch and looked at the (dead) zombie. I never, ever wanted to get away from a place more than I wanted to get out of that attic, but I couldn't make myself get up and make the long walk to the door at the top of the stairs. The only thing I had the strength for was sitting on a filthy, broken couch that was so dusty I didn't know what color it was under all the dirt. That, and looking at the zombie I'd killed.

I suppose part of me was waiting for it to get up and come at me again.

Like Jessica would get up and come at me if I'd gone through with it, if I'd ignored her wishes (as, truthfully, I'd been tempted to do) and made her a vampire. She wouldn't be Jessica anymore if I did that; she'd be a slobbering, crazy vampire. Fast forward ten years, by then maybe she'd have a little bit of control over the thirst. Then her new life would begin: being more careful about meals. Never aging, but getting old just the same. Pulling further and further away from the mortal Jessica, my friend, the older she got. Getting sly, like Eric and Alonzo.

Alonzo. He had made a vampire without a single thought to the consequences: for Sophie or for himself. He had killed her and gone on his way, and he had to pay. That was it, that was how it was: he fucked up, and he had to pay. What if it had been Jessica, dead in some alley in France how many years ago?

And how could I have gone to her room and asked her to let me do that? I deserved a zombie hiding in my attic. I deserved a hundred zombies.

"Why do you think it was here? How did it get in, and get all the way up here without anybody seeing?" Cathie was chattering nervously and looking at me the way you looked at a recent mental ward escapee. "What do you think it wanted?"

"I don't give a ripe shit," I said, and stood.

It took a long time to find the door.

Chapter 26

"Can I tag along?" Cathie asked, drifting beside me.

"I don't care." "Well, I just thought I'd ask. Are you okay? You're done crying, right?"

"No promises." I could hear the phone ringing as I went downstairs. I'd heard Tina and Sinclair come back, which was too bad because it meant somewhere in this big house, Tina was sprinting to get the phone before it clicked over to the machine.

"I'm not here!" I yelled. Sinclair was standing at the foot of the stairs, looking up at me, still in his overcoat.

"It might be important," he teased, well aware of my antiphone leanings.

Then he wrinkled his nose. "What is that smell?"

"It's a long damn story, and I'll tell you all about it on the way—" "On the way where?" "But will you just hug me right now?"

"Darling, are you all—" He almost staggered as I flung my arms around him.

I tried to squash the traitorous thought

(why didn't you save me?)

and concentrate on the good things: Sinclair's arms around me, his good clean scent, the polar opposite of the zombie.

Cathie coughed. To be honest, I'd forgotten she was there. "I'll just, uh, catch up with you later." She vanished into the stairs.

Sinclair was rubbing my back. "What is it?"

"Alonzo has to be punished."

He pulled back and stared at me. "Does this have anything to do with

Jessica turning you down?"

Now I was the one staring. "How did you know—okay, apparently I'm traveling through time about half as fast as the rest of you, but how did you know she'd say no?"

"Because," he replied, "she is a billionaire who works, even though she does not have to. I never imagined she would lie back and let you try to fix anything for her, much less something like this."

"Well, I don't want to do anything to her." His perfect brow wrinkled. " 'Do' anything?"

"It's part of the long story. But if you were dying, wouldn't you—" "She maintains she is not dying, only ill. Is it for us to argue?"

"No way. I just wish I'd figured that out a little earlier." I leaned my head against his neck. "I guess I thought maybe since she saw me get better so fast after Delk shot me—"

"No oneshould decide to be turned based onyour experiences, my darling.

You are unique."

"But maybe a vampire I turned would be like me!" God, what was I saying?

Had I learned nothing from the Unpleasant Attic Incident?

No, I didn't want to turn Jessica. But I didn't want to watch her die, either. It was too awful, like having to choose your own manner of death: Ah, Miss Taylor, will you be choosing beheading or exsanguination today?

"No one is like you. You may check the Book of the Dead," he added, "if you require another source."

"Ugh, pass." The Book of the Dead was a tough read.

"So she did refuse you." "Repeatedly." And a good thing, too.

He shrugged. "She has faith in modern medicine. It's not entirely misplaced."

"Yeah." I straightened his lapel, which was already perfectly straight, and felt his arm steal around my waist. I pushed him away, gently. "You need to get Tina. I've made a decision about Alonzo."

"I trust you will let me in on it?" he asked lightly, but he was giving me an odd look. "If it is not too much—"

He cut himself off. We both looked as Tina came hustling out of kitchen and almost ran through the hall, actually sliding to a stop in her stocking feet in front of the steps.

"Majesties!"

"Whoa, who died?" It was a joke, but then I remembered the company I was in, the events of the past, uh,year , and my life. "Oh, God. Whodid die?"

"No one. I heard you wanted me and came as fast as I could. And Alonzo called to say he would be here in an hour."

"Not soon enough," I replied. "Let's go." "Wait, we're meeting him?" "Yeah. Right now. Get your coats. Come on." "What's happening?" Tina asked.

"I was not aware you were meeting with him today," said Sinclair.

Me neither. Well, if Alonzo was open to a meeting, that was fine with me.

"Listen, he killed Sophie and there has to be a consequence. Not a Nostro consequence, but still. So, he has to pay. Literally pay. And I was thinking, he's probably built quite a little holding for himself over the years. Right?"

"Right," Tina replied, and Sinclair nodded.

"Okay. So: he gives all his property and money to Sophie. And has to start over."

Sinclair blinked.

"Oh, Majesty," Tina began dolefully. "That is—we're talking millions.

Possibly billions. And he would have nothing?"

"He'd have more than Sophie did. A cousin, friends to help him. A way to get back on his feet. Or maybe he never will. That's not my problem. He has to pay for what he did. And that's how it is."

Sinclair was looking at me like he'd never seen me before. Tina's eyes were practically bulging in surprise.

"I will support you, Elizabeth, if you feel this strongly about it." And Tina said, "Your will is our will, Majesty."

And that was that.