Definitely Dead

was moving slowly.
    I was wearing blue jeans and sandals and a T-shirt, because that was what I had.
    “You definitely can’t call on the queen in that,” she said, gently but decisively. Whether she was very familiar with New Orleans or just had good shopping karma, Claudine drove directly to a store in the Garden District. It was the kind of shop I’d dismiss as being for more sophisticated women with lots more money than I had, if I’d been shopping by myself. Claudine pulled right into the parking lot, and in forty-five minutes we had a dress. It was chiffon, short-sleeved, and it had lots of colors in it: turquoise, copper, brown, ivory. The strappy sandals that I wore with it were brown.
    All I needed was a membership to the country club.
    Claudine had appropriated the price tag.
    “Just wear your hair loose,” Claudine advised. “You don’t need fancy hair with that dress.”
    “Yeah, there is a lot going on in it,” I said. “Who’s Diane von Furstenburg? Isn’t it real expensive? Isn’t it a little bare for the season?”
    “You might be a little cool wearing it in March,” Claudine conceded. “But it’ll be good to wear every summer for years. You’ll look great. And the queen will know you took the time to wear something special to meet her.”
    “You can’t go with me?” I asked, feeling a little wistful. “No, of course, you can’t.” Vampires buzz around fairies like hummingbirds around sugar water.
    “I might not survive,” she said, managing to sound embarrassed that such a possibility would keep her from my side.
    “Don’t worry about it. After all, the worst thing has already happened, right?” I spread my hands. “They used to threaten me, you know? If I didn’t do thus and such, they’d take it out on Bill. Hey, guess what? I don’t care any more. ”
    “Think before you speak,” Claudine advised. “You can’t mouth off to the queen. Even a goblin won’t mouth off to the queen.”
    “I promise,” I said. “I really appreciate your coming all this way, Claudine.”
    Claudine gave me a big hug. It was like an embrace with a soft tree, since Claudine was so tall and slim. “I wish you hadn’t needed me to,” she said.

Chapter 17
    THE QUEEN OWNED A BLOCK OF BUILDINGS IN DOWNTOWN New Orleans, maybe three blocks from the edge of the French Quarter. That tells you what kind of money she was pulling in, right there. We had an early dinner—I realized I was really hungry—and then Claudine dropped me off two blocks away, because the traffic and tourist congestion were intense close to the queen’s headquarters. Though the general public didn’t know Sophie-Anne Leclerq was a queen, they knew she was a very wealthy vampire who owned a hell of a lot of real estate and spent lots of money in the community. Plus, her bodyguards were colorful and had gotten special permits to carry arms in the city limits. This meant her office building/living quarters were on the tourist list of things to see, especially at night.
    Though traffic did surround the building during the day, at night the square of streets around it was open only to pedestrians. Buses parked a block away, and the tour guides would lead the out-of-towners past the altered building. Walking tours and gaggles of independent tourists included what the guides called “Vampire Headquarters” in their plans.
    Security was very evident. This block would be a natural target for Fellowship of the Sun bombers. A few vampire-owned businesses in other cities had been attacked, and the queen was not about to lose her life-after-death in such a way.
    The vampire guards were on duty, and they were scary-looking as hell. The queen had her own vampire SWAT team. Though vampires were simply lethal all on their own, the queen had found that humans paid more attention if they found the silhouettes recognizable. Not only were the guards heavily armed, but they wore black bulletproof armor over black uniforms. It was lethal-killer chic .
    Claudine had prepared me for all this over dinner, and when she let me out, I felt fully briefed. I also felt as if I were going to the Queen of England’s garden party in all my new finery. At least I didn’t have to wear a hat. But my brown high heels were a risky proposition on the rough paving.
    “Behold the headquarters of New Orleans’s most famous and visible vampire, Sophie-Anne LeClerq,” a tour guide was telling his group. He was dressed colorfully in a sort of