“S'okay. It's always nice when someone else puts their foot in their mouth. I get tired of it sometimes.”
“Really?” she asked sweetly. “It's hard to tell.”
“Shut up and die.”
“See? You just did it!”
I didn't answer. Instead, I jiggled BabyJon to wake him up. Since I was conked out during the day, and alone, if he cried during the day he was shit out of luck. This was going to be a nocturnal baby, by God.
“Better start interviewing day nannies,” Jessica observed.
“There's usually a hundred people hanging around the house,” I complained. “We need one more? And how can we hide all our weird goings on from her? Or him?”
“How about a vampire nanny?”
I was silent. The thought hadn't occurred to me.
Then: “No good. Any vampire would need to sleep during the day.”
“But Marc, me, Cathie, and Antonia are usually around during the day.”
I was silent. She had enough problems without knowing that everyone had disappeared on me.
“Maybe a really old vampire? You know Sinclair can stay awake most of the day. Find some seventy-year-old bloodsucker for the job.”
“Oh, sure, what a great honor. 'Hey, ancient vampire, mind changing the shitty diapers of my half brother? And don't forget to burp him before his nappy-nap. Also, don't suck his sweet, new, baby blood.'”
“Blabbb,” Babyjon agreed. He turned his head and smiled sweetly at Jessica. He really was getting cute. When he was born, he looked like a pissed-off plucked chicken. Now he'd filled out with sweetly plump arms and legs, a rounded belly, and a sunny grin. His hair was a dark thatch that stood up in all directions. Jessica grinned back; she couldn't help it.
“He's definitely growing on me,” she said.
“Like a foot fungus.”
Jessica's door whooshed open, and the night nurse stood there. Luckily for me, it was a man. “I'm sorry, miss, but visiting hours were over an hour ago.”
I slid my sunglasses down my nose and said, “Get lost. I can stay as long as I like.”
“These aren't the droids you're looking for,” Jessica added, giggling.
Like a badly maintained robot, the nurse swung around and walked stiffly away.
I propped my feet up on Jessica's bed and got comfy. Babyjon squirmed and, to divert him, I plopped him on her bed. He wriggled for a moment, then flopped over .and popped his thumb in his mouth, his deep blue eyes never leaving my face.
“So, dish. How was the funeral?”
“Gruesome. And filled with lies.”
“So, like the Ant was in life?”
I laughed for the first time in two days. God, I loved her. That chemo was going to work. Or I would not be responsible for my actions.
Chapter 9
The phone rang (at 1 a.m.!), and I lunged for it. "Sinclair? Hello? You rat bastard, where the hell have you—?
“Is this the head of Antonia's den?” a deep male voice asked.
I was flummoxed. It was a week for weird phone calls, barfing best friends, and fucked up funerals.
“Which Antonia?”
“The only Antonia. Tall, slender, dark hair, dark eyes, werewolf who can't Change?”
“Oh, the live one! Yeah, this is her, um, den.”
“Explain yourself.”
I was having major trouble following the conversation. “Explain what?”
“She has not checked in this month. As her pro tem Pack leader, you are responsible.”
“Responsible for what?”
“Her safety.”
“What's a pro tem what's-it?”
“Do not play the fool, vampire.”
“Who's playing? And how'd you know I was a—I mean, who are you calling a vampire?”
“I gave Antonia leave to den with you under strict conditions. You are breaking those conditions.”
'What conditions are you—?"
“Produce her at once, or suffer the consequences.”
“Produce her? She's not a manufactured good! Who is this?”
“You know who this is.”
“Dude: I totally completely do not.”
“Your attempts to act an idiot will not sway me from my course.”
“Who's acting?” I cried. “Who are you, and what the hell are you talking about?”
There was a long pause, punctuated by heavy breathing. Great. A prank call from a pervert. “Very well,” the deep voice growled. Really growled; I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck trying to stand up. “Be it on your head and suffer the consequences.”
Click.
Story of my life, this week.
I stared at the now-dead phone, then threw it at the wall hard enough for it to shatter into a dozen pieces.
Chapter 10
The next evening, after feeding Babyjon his 10 p.m. bottle, burping him, and plopping him into the playpen in the kitchen, I took the new phone out of the box (thank goodness for twenty-four-hour Walgreens).
I had literally just hooked up, and hung up, the phone when it rang, making me jump right out of my skin. I snatched up the new receiver.
“What freak is calling me now?”
“Only I, Your Majesty.”
“Tina! You sound tinny. Still in France?” “Still. And worse: I have been unable to raise the king.”
Raise him at poker? was my wild thought. “What?” I asked, my word of the week.
“He has never, in seventy-some years, not returned a call, or a letter, or a telegram, or a fax.”
“Well. He was pretty grumpy when he left.” “Grumpy.” Tina let out a most unladylike snort, almost as startling as when she was swearing like—well, me. “I dislike this. I dislike this extremely. I will be returning on the next flight.”
“But what about the European vamp—”
“Hang them. Hang them all. This is much more distressing. Besides, there's not much to do here. After the show you put on a few months ago, they're quite terrified of you.”
I smirked and buffed my nails on my purple tank top. It was all the sweeter because it was true: they'd seen me pray, and that had been enough for them.
“On the next flight? How are you gonna pull that off? Isn't it, like, a twenty-hour flight? Some of it during daylight hours?”
“I'll travel the traditional way, of course. In a coffin in the cargo hold. Our people here will forge a death certificate and other appropriate paperwork.”
I shuddered and gave thanks, once again, that I was the queen, and not a run-of-the-mill vampire. Don't get me wrong; I'd prefer to be alive. But if I had to be dead. . . “Tina, that sucks.”
“Recent circumstances are highly suspect. The king would not leave you for so long —”
“It's only been a few days—”
“—nor would he ignore my messages. Something is wrong.”
“He doesn't want to wear the navy blue tux I picked out?” I guessed.
“Majesty. This is serious.”
I shrugged, forgetting she couldn't see me. “If you say so.”
“Until I return, do not answer the door. You will not try to contact anyone who has gone missing. You will not answer the phone unless the caller ID tells you it is me.” Her subservient tone was long gone; this was a general thinking fast and issuing orders. “Your Majesty, do you understand me?”
“Uh, sure. Simmer.”
“I will simmer,” she hissed, “when I get a few heads on sticks. And the devil pity the rat fuck who gets in my way.”
“Yeesh.”
“Heads. On. Sticks.”
“I got it the first time.”
On that happy note, she hung up.
Chapter 11
I broke one of the rules less than twenty-four hours liter. I blamed sleep deprivation. Despite my efforts over the last three days, Babyjon still had the whole “stay awake at nighttime” thing a little mixed up. (But then, so did I.)