The next evening, after feeding Babyjon his 10 p.m. bottle, burping him, and plopping him into the playpen in the kitchen, I took the new phone out of the box (thank goodness for twenty-four-hour Walgreens).

I had literally just hooked up, and hung up, the phone when it rang, making me jump right out of my skin. I snatched up the new receiver.

"What freak is calling me now?"

"Only I, Your Majesty."

"Tina! You sound tinny. Still in France?" "Still. And worse: I have been unable to raise the king."

Raise him at poker? was my wild thought. "What?" I asked, my word of the week.

"He has never, in seventy-some years, not returned a call, or a letter, or a telegram, or a fax."

"Well. He was pretty grumpy when he left." "Grumpy." Tina let out a most unladylike snort, almost as startling as when she was swearing like-well, me. "I dislike this. I dislike this extremely. I will be returning on the next flight."

"But what about the European vamp-"

"Hang them. Hang them all. This is much more distressing. Besides, there's not much to do here. After the show you put on a few months ago, they're quite terrified of you."

I smirked and buffed my nails on my purple tank top. It was all the sweeter because it was true: they'd seen me pray, and that had been enough for them.

"On the next flight? How are you gonna pull that off? Isn't it, like, a twenty-hour flight? Some of it during daylight hours?"

"I'll travel the traditional way, of course. In a coffin in the cargo hold. Our people here will forge a death certificate and other appropriate paperwork."

I shuddered and gave thanks, once again, that I was the queen, and not a run-of-the-mill vampire. Don't get me wrong; I'd prefer to be alive. But if I had to be dead. . . "Tina, that sucks."

"Recent circumstances are highly suspect. The king would not leave you for so long -"

"It's only been a few days-"

"-nor would he ignore my messages. Something is wrong."

"He doesn't want to wear the navy blue tux I picked out?" I guessed.

"Majesty. This is serious."

I shrugged, forgetting she couldn't see me. "If you say so."

"Until I return, do not answer the door. You will not try to contact anyone who has gone missing. You will not answer the phone unless the caller ID tells you it is me." Her subservient tone was long gone; this was a general thinking fast and issuing orders. "Your Majesty, do you understand me?"

"Uh, sure. Simmer."

"I will simmer," she hissed, "when I get a few heads on sticks. And the devil pity the rat fuck who gets in my way."

"Yeesh."

"Heads.On. Sticks."

"I got it the first time."

On that happy note, she hung up.