Undead and Unworthy by MaryJanice Davidson Read Free Book Online Page A

own lime slice. Yerrgh, sour! Even for a lime. I reached into my left pocket and pulled
    out a Cherry Blo-Pop. Unwrapped it, dipped it in the Coke, then contentedly sucked the
    Coke off the Pop.
    "How disgusting," Sinclair commented.
    "Which? That I'm slowly getting addicted to suckers, or that Nick comes from the
    Deeres?"
    "Finally bothered to find out about someone besides yourself, huh?"
    "Jam it up your ass!" I snarled, a not auspicious beginning to our meeting. And why were we meeting? He hated me, I was scared of him (but not for the reasons he thought), and
    Sinclair would just as soon he dropped dead (he took a dim view of cops shoving their
    service revolvers into his wife's face). "On the way out the door!"
    "Hmm." Nick checked his watch. "Four minutes... a new record for us. Actually, Betsy, as I explained to the king of all suckheads over there, I need your help in tracking down a
    bad guy."
    "You – me? Tracking down a--what?"
    "English really is your second language, isn't it? And your suckhead is here because he's
    got this nutty idea that I'm going to try to shoot you in the face. Maybe twice!" he added

    Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) cheerfully, slurping the last of his Sprite.
    "Have a seat, Detective Berry." Sinclair looked up at me and patted his lap, and I ignored the tug between my legs because a meeting with a homicide detective while curled up in
    the arms of the vampire king would not be the severe business mien I was hoping for. Bad
    enough I was wearing faded blue sweatpants and a sweatshirt that read EVERYTHING
    YOU'VE HEARD IS TRUE.
    Instead, I plopped on the couch across from Nick (ignoring the plume of dust I
    accidentally raised), parallel to Sinclair.
    "What's up, boys?" I asked, sniffing my Coke glass.
    "Murder, of course." Crunch, slurp. He was really going to town on those lemons. "Check it."
    He spun open several folders, and suddenly there were (gag) autopsy photos all over the
    Victorian-era mahogany coffee table. Thankfully, none were of children, but in all other
    ways they were different: race, sex, age, hairstyle.
    "And how can the house of Sinclair help the Minneapolis Homicide Department?"
    I opened my mouth (momentarily forgetting the lollipop; the thing almost fell on the
    floor), but decided I kind of liked that. House of Sinclair. Like House of Pancakes!
    Without so much syrup.
    "Guess what all these guys (and gals) have in common? "
    "They all need a set and shampoo," I said, examining one photo and putting it down with a grimace. I wiped my fingers on my sweatpants, as if the picture had actually been dirty.
    A year ago, I'd be sprinting from the room and vomiting. That was before Nostro, and
    Marjorie, and Alice, to name just a few. The guy who said "the more things change, the
    more things stay the same" had a major frigging head injury. Because I, Betsy, the vampire
    queen, am here to tell you that the more things change, the more things change.
    "Close," Nick said, still looking abnormally cheery, "but no Kewpie doll for you, blondie."
    Sinclair was also examining the photos. "They certainly weren't killed by vampires."
    "True."
    "Do we have to do the guessing thing?" I whined. "Just tell us."
    "They all had records."
    "Like, prison records?"
    "Like, they were all thieves, rapists, killers."
    No wonder he was so happy. Cops loved it when bad guys got killed.
    "This is how you spend your evenings?" the Ant said behind my left shoulder, causing me
    to yelp and spill my ice all over Nick. "Looking at disgusting pictures? This is worse than
    when you were modeling for the Target catalog."
    "Go away. I'm working."
    "Gaaahhh," Nick gah'd, frantically scraping ice out of his crotch. "What's gotten into you, blondie?"
    "Private family business," Sinclair said smoothly.
    "My dead stepmother is haunting me," I snapped. "Now get lost, Antonia!"
    "Oh, that." Nick looked unimpressed. "You see dead people. Jess told me