Definitely Dead

got home.
    “If Stan can see the advantage in employing such a person, I can certainly consider it—especially since one is easily available.”
    I was in stock.
    The king shrugged. Not that I had formed many expectations, but I would have anticipated that the king of a nice, poor, scenic state like Arkansas would be less sophisticated and folksier, with a sense of humor. Maybe Threadgill was a carpetbagger from New York City. Vampire accents tended to be all over the map—literally—so it was impossible to tell from his speech.
    “So what do you think happened in Hadley’s apartment?” the queen asked me, and I realized we’d reverted to the original subject.
    “I don’t know who attacked Jake Purifoy,” I said. “But the night Hadley went to the graveyard with Waldo, Jake’s drained body landed in her closet. As to how it came there, I couldn’t say. That’s why Amelia is having this ecto thing tonight.”
    The queen’s expression changed; she actually looked interested. “She’s having an ectoplasmic reconstruction? I’ve heard of those, but never witnessed one.”
    The king looked more than interested. For a split second, he looked extremely angry.
    I forced my attention back to the queen. “Amelia wondered if you would care to, ah, fund it?” I wondered if I should add, “My lady,” but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
    “That would be a good investment, since our newest vampire might have gotten us all into a great deal of trouble. If he had gotten loose on the populace . . . I will be glad to pay.”
    I drew a breath of sheer relief.
    “And I think I’ll watch, too,” the queen added, before I could even exhale.
    That sounded like the worst idea in the world. I thought the queen’s presence would flatten Amelia until all the magic was squished out. However, there was no way I was going to tell the queen she was not welcome.
    Peter Threadgill had looked up sharply when the queen had announced she’d watch. “I don’t think you should go,” he said, his voice smooth and authoritative. “It will be hard for the twins and Andre to guard you out in the city in a neighborhood like that.”
    I wondered how the King of Arkansas had any idea what Hadley’s neighborhood was like. Actually, it was a quiet, middle-class area, especially compared to the zoo that was vampire central headquarters, with its constant stream of tourists and picketers and fanatics with cameras.
    Sophie-Anne was already preparing to go out. That preparation consisted of glancing in a mirror to make sure the flawless façade was still flawless and sliding on her high, high heels, which had been below the edge of the table. She’d been sitting there barefoot. That detail suddenly made Sophie-Anne Leclerq much more real to me. There was a personality under that glossy exterior.
    “I suppose you would like Bill to accompany us,” the queen said to me.
    “No,” I snapped. Okay, there was a personality—and it was unpleasant and cruel.
    But the queen looked genuinely startled. Her husband was outraged at my rudeness—his head shot up and his odd gray eyes fixed me with a luminous anger—but the queen was simply taken aback by my reaction. “I thought you were a couple,” she said, in a perfectly even voice.
    I bit back my first answer, trying to remember who I was talking to, and said, almost in a whisper, “No, we are not.” I took a deep breath and made a great effort. “I apologize for being so abrupt. Please excuse me.”
    The queen simply looked at me for a few seconds longer, and I still could not get the slightest indication of her thoughts, emotions, or intentions. It was like looking at an antique silver tray—a shining surface, an elaborate pattern, and hard to the touch. How Hadley could have been adventurous enough to bed this woman was simply beyond my comprehension.
    “You are excused,” she said finally.
    “You’re too lenient,” her husband said, and his surface, at least, began to thin somewhat. His lips curled in something closely approaching a snarl, and I discovered I didn’t want to be the focus of those luminous eyes for another second. I didn’t like the way the Asian gal in red was looking at me, either. And every time I looked at her haircut, it gave me the heebie-jeebies. Gosh, even the elderly lady who’d given my gran a permanent three times a year would have done a better job than the Mad Weed Whacker.
    “I’ll be back in an hour or two, Peter,” Sophie-Anne