Free Undead and Unpopular by MaryJanice Davidson

head into the wall (probably just to creep me out, since she knew it drove me crazy), pulled it back out, and said, "Why do I bother?" and stuck it back in. "Where is everybody?"
     
    "Sinclair isn't up yet, ditto Tina, Jessica's at an appointment, Marc's at work, Toni and Garrett haven't left her bedroom since she got back, and I
was
enjoying my privacy."
     
    "Too bad. I'm bored, and you guys are exciting company."
     
    She'd been killed by a serial killer a few months ago, and had come to me for help. Unlike other ghosts who came to me for help, once she got what she wanted, she stayed. I wasn't a vampire queen, I was a damn soul collector. Nobody left; they all just chained themselves to me like eternal chattel. But they were all too fucking sassy for the phenomenon to be nattering.
     
    "I bring good news from the underworld," she was booming in a terrible Vincent Price imitation. "All's quiet on the Midwestern Front."
     
    "Yeah?"
     
    "Well, there have been ghosts, but I've been helping them."
     
    "You've been helping ghosts who seek my favor, without even telling me? So you're like my—"
     
    "You know those Hollywood assistants who handle all the producer's problems so she can concentrate on making movies? That's what I do now. I help the little people."
     
    "You want to make movies?" She had lost me. And so soon in the conversation, too.
     
    "No, dumb shit, I'm like the assistant who tends to the little people."
     
    I felt my eyes bulge. "I don't think you should call them that."
     
    "I'm doing you a favor, okay? Usually these ghosts just want someone to listen, maybe point them in the right direction. You've got higher priorities right now, I gather."
     
    "Well, thanks." I must not have sounded convincing, because she glared at me. "No, really. Thanks. The last thing I need this week is another needy ghost dropping by for favors."
     
    "You're welcome. It's actually kind of nice. They can see me and talk to me, just like you. I mean, look at my options! I have to talk to you, or I can talk to them."
     
    "Well, you've made the right choice," I said with faux enthusiasm.
     
    "Don't get too down. At least your hot, hunky boyfriend can see you and touch you. Your friends can see you and touch you. What have I got? A distracted vampire with a long to-do list ahead of me and my problems."
     
    "Cathie, that's not true!" I couldn't believe I was getting a lecture from a woman in a green sweatshirt. "I solved your problem right away, didn't I? The bad guy's dead, if memory serves."
     
    "Yeah," she said, cheering up. "Your sister cracked his head open like an egg."
     
    "So what do you want from me now?"
     
    "I dunno. But there's got to be more than
this
." She sulkily floated through the wall.
     
    "Tell me about it!" I shouted after her.
     
    ----
     
Chapter 15
 

     
     
     
    Because things weren't awful enough, an hour later Marjorie the scary librarian popped by and chimed the bell. I put my foot down: no. Just because people—
     
    "Very old, very powerful vampires," Sinclair interrupted.
     
    —stopped by without proper planning or scheduling—
     
    "She says it's an emergency. You want her to plan her emergencies?"
     
    —didn't mean I had to drop everything and rush to the parlor.
     
    "No one was in the parlor," Marjorie announced, pushing open the swinging door into the kitchen, "so I let myself in."
     
    Tina followed closely on the librarian's heels with a pained, helpless expression. I gave Sinclair a look.
     
    "Ah," he began. "Marjorie. So good to see you again. But perhaps now—"
     
    "Majesty," the elder vampire said, dipping her head. "Very rude to barge in, I know; but what I have is extremely important."
     
    "Of course it is," I sighed. "A nice new crisis you're gonna drop in my lap."
     
    "Are you suggesting, Majesty, that I should let all important matters run their course without your intervention?" She smiled a little and fiddled with her sweater cuffs.
     
    No, just call