Free Undead and Unworthy by MaryJanice Davidson Page B

tended to swear more when he was nervous or mad.
    "Anything sounds bad when you say it like that," I conceded sulkily, staring out the
    passenger window.
    He made a sound that might have been a snort, or a muffled laugh. When I looked, he had
    his cop face back on.
    "So where are we going?"

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    "What a tactful, yet subtle way to change the subject."
    "Fine. Don't tell me. Keep being the biggest, most gigantickest asshole – "
    "Gigantickest?" he said, delighted. "Are you using word-a-day toilet paper again? Okay, okay, don't pout. And don't enlighten me about vampire toilet habits, I don't think I could
    stand it. I've managed to run down a couple of leads and thought I'd bring my favorite
    dead enforcer with me to see what's what."
    "I thought you said your vigilante killer was a cop? Or cops, plural?"
    "I did."
    "So how can we check on them without, I dunno, scaring them? Tipping them off?"
    "Very carefully. I've been running down when the murders took place – best as the M.E.
    can tell us, anyway – with the duty logs of the ones I think might be capable of something
    like this."
    "Oh." That was really smart. And just laced with common sense. Exactly why I never
    would have thought of it. God, I'd be the worst police officer. I knew that about myself,
    had always known it, which was why it was kind of a thrill to be in a police car (the front
    seat, anyway), helping solve murders. Well. Coming along for the ride while someone else
    solved murders. "Huh. Okay."
    "Do you know much about guns, Betsy?" He indicated his service piece. "If you're ever in a situation where you need to shoot a guy to save my ass, could you do it?"
    "Wait. Do you hate me now because I'm a ruthless vampire who has killed before, or do
    you hate me because I'm a careless dimwit who can't be trusted with this power?"
    "You mean, right now? Right this minute, why do I hate you?" he asked in a voice that
    was almost – so close! – teasing. "Do I have to choose? God, so many choices..."
    "I don't have a lot of use for handguns," I said after a glance at the pistol at his waist.
    "Mostly I know about shotguns from goose hunting with my mom, and rifles for target
    practice."
    "The professor hunts?"
    "The professor can shoot the eye out of a squirrel at two hundred yards. I'll tell you who
    knows a ton about guns – Tina. She's an expert. You should get with her sometime."
    "No thanks," he said curtly, and just like that, our fragile whatever it was came to an end.

Chapter 24
    Nick dropped me off at about two-thirty in the morning, not remotely discouraged,
    although it looked to me like his leads hadn't panned out. At least he was being (relatively)
    friendly again, so I didn't say anything to wreck it. I just waved good-bye and trudged into
    the mansion.
    Where a grim Sinclair and a fretful Jessica were waiting for me.
    "Whaaaat?" I whined, moodily pulling off my Herrera boots. "What'd I do? I didn't do it.
    I'm pretty sure it was Marc. No, wait. Cathie!" Cathie, the ghost-gone-walkabout, who I
    could actually use to help me with the aunt. She was usually convenient for blame. Of
    course, if she'd been there, I never would have gotten away with it.
    She'd been killed by a serial killer (who was later killed by my sister, Laura, who had a
    spectacular temper tantrum in the killer's basement) and, even after his death, had hung

    Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) around being my ghostly secretary of sorts. If ghosts showed up needing help, Cathie
    would try to help them herself... and only if she couldn't would she then let the ghost
    bother me. Plus, she was super funny and nice. I missed having her around. Even more so
    now that the Ant was pestering me.
    "Sinclair told me," Jessica said without preamble.
    "About what?" I asked, totally at a loss. Man, I'd have to drink some blood soon. I