Undead 10, Undead and Undermined - MaryJanice Davidson Page 0,3

the work?

Tell you what: if I knew Sinclair was letting himself get killed to help me, I’d kick him in his undead ’nads. I’d scream at him until my eyes crossed. I’d dunk his big stupid head down a well. And kick him in his undead ’nads! And I’d be right.

Just like Sinclair was right.

I’d save him. I’d save us, I’d save the world. I had no idea how, and I had no idea what it would cost me. But I had to do it. Not because there was no one else, although there wasn’t. Because it was my job. Or did I think the queen of the undead thing, as lame as it had always seemed to me, was something I could do part-time, like picking up extra shifts at McDonalds?

“She bit you?”

“Yeah. And it was the first thing that made sense that whole hour. Get it? She was a vampire. Those things are true. The stories are all true. Except . . .” He frowned, remembering.

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear your ‘except.’ Hit me. Please not literally.”

“Except, she wore a cross around her neck. A little gold one. But everything else fit. She really was dead when they brought her in, and when the sun went down... came back. And she asked where she was. I could tell she was trying to be nice. I could tell . . .”

Benson raised his eyebrows in silent encouragement. Graham had never seen the jolly path chief so wide-eyed.

“I could tell she was trying not to scare me.”

“How did she do that? How did she seem?”

Graham grinned for the first time that evening. “Angry and naked. And smokin’ hot.” He groaned and rested his forehead on the table. “It’s so wrong that I’m thinking about a vampire’s awesome rack right now.”

The buzzing whine of the saw was still filling the air . . . I’d had all these thoughts in about a second and a half. And it was getting louder, so the saw was getting closer.

Playtime was over. Should I or shouldn’t I was over. Boo-hoo, I’m going to destroy the world so time to lie down and be dead was over, over, over.

I opened my eyes and caught the doc’s wrist about a millimeter and a half from my hair. “You can’t have my brain,” I told the pale (and getting paler) fellow. “I need it to save my husband. And you, too, in a way.”

I saw his thumb spasm and the whine of the saw lessened and then stopped altogether, tapering off with a sort of metallic moan: BBBBZZZZZbbbbbzzzzbbbbzzzzzmmmm. His mouth opened but nothing came out. Just as well, really. I wasn’t interested in a lengthy conversation.

“I also need some clothes,” I continued, sitting up and crossing my legs, and using my other arm to shield my tits. Which was stupid; he’d already seen me naked. In fact, I’d been nakedly exposed since he unzipped the body bag, then unceremoniously dumped me onto this big shiny table. No sheets! They just flop the naked corpses onto the tables where they can ogle our dead nudity, the pervs. Law and Order lied to me!

Oh, and the toe tag? Hurt like a bitch! (Who’d have thought? It hurts when someone ties a wire around your big toe and then cinches it tight. Savages.)

The poor doc dropped the big shiny saw-thingy, and I caught it before it could break half the bones of his foot. Far from being reassured by my swift, toe-saving action, he went whiter (if possible; could paper get paler? Could marshmallow fluff? Mmm, marshmallow fluff . . .) and backed away.

“Sorry to scare you.”

Nothing.

“Uh, I don’t suppose you know how I got here?”

Still nothing, this time accompanied by so much head shaking, at first I thought he was having a seizure.

I thought: Better not get off the table and follow him across the room just yet. This was no time for the one who wasn’t a corpse to get hysterical.

I tried again. “Do you maybe know where I am? Come on, you must know where I am. Think hard. Hey, I’ll even give you a hint: it’s where you are. Anything? Bueller? Bueller? Also, stop staring at my tits.”

“Dead,” he told me.

“Betsy Taylor.” I stuck out my hand. “I’ll be the corpse you’re not cutting up today. Maybe you should sit down.” Worried, I hopped off the table and steadied him. “Listen, I’m not dangerous or anything.” This was a gigantic lie, but one told in