The berating started as soon as we left the house. "How could it have escaped your notice that Marie was a ghost?" Sinclair asked. "You've lived in this house how many weeks now?"

"Hey, I've had a lot of things on my mind," I said defensively. "What, I'm gonna interrogate a five-year-old? Besides, she never told me."

"But didn't you realize that she always wore the same outfit?"

"Clearly, you haven't known a lot of kids. They can be stubborn little tics. Heck, when I was in second grade I wore the same pair of shoes for two months."

"I have to admit, I never thought I'd see something like that," Tina said as we all piled into Sinclair's convertible. At least it wasn't red. For a taciturn dead guy, he could be a flashy son of a bitch. "And I've lived a long, long time."

"See what? A ghost? Yeah, it was weird, all right. Man, I'm still creeped out about it."

"Well, try to get a grip on yourself," Sinclair advised, starting the engine, which kicked over with a rumbling purr. "It's inappropriate for the queen of the dead to be afraid of ghosts."

"I must have missed that memo," I grumped.

"I've never seen a ghost before tonight," Tina commented.

"Nor have I," Sinclair added. He backed out of the driveway without looking. Showoff.

"Really? But you guys are so much deader than I am." Hmm, that didn't come out quite right. "I mean, you've been around longer." Way, way, way longer.

"Being able to see and speak with the dead-all dead-is strictly a province of the Queen. And, if she chooses, her Followers."

"Seriously? Huh. How d'you know?"

"Foretold," Tina and Sinclair said simultaneously.

Then Tina added, "It was in the Book of the Dead. 'And the Queene shall noe the dead, all the dead, and neither shall they hide from her nor keep secrets from her.' Like that."

I nearly hit the canvas roof. "Goddamn it. Goddamn it!" Sinclair almost drove off the road and Tina cringed, but I was too mad to care. "I'm so sick of this! Something completely weird happens to me, and you guys are all, 'Oh, yeah, that's in the book of the dead, too, did we forget to mention it?'

Well, no more. We're sitting down right now and reading the whole nasty thing from beginning to end. Where is it? Is it at the hotel? Let's go find it right now."

"We can't," Sinclair said.

"Why not?"

"Because to read it too long in one sitting is to go insane."

"Oh, that's your excuse for everything," I snapped. I crossed my arms over my chest and wouldn't speak to them until we got to the hotel.

Three unproductive hours later, I stomped up the sidewalk and through the front door, and immediately threw myself face down on the couch in the entry hall.

"What a fucking disaster," I said to the cushion.

"What's the matter?" It was Marc, standing somewhere to my right. "Are you okay?"

"No."

"They'll come around," Tina said apologetically. "They just need time."

"Ha!"

"What's wrong?" Jessica, hurrying down the stairs. It was amazing how, even though I couldn't see them, I knew exactly where they were. It was amazing that it was almost dawn and they'd been waiting up for me. It was also amazing that this eighty-year-old sofa smelled like popcorn. "Was there another killing?"

"No," Tina said. "We met some other vampires tonight, ones who recently came into town. It... ah... didn't go well."

"Quite right," Sinclair said, sitting down beside me. "And that's very interesting."

I flopped over and glared at him. Interesting my ass. "How?"

The vampires-there were about half a dozen of them-had done their best to ignore me, and it was so damned chilly in that room from their hostile vibes that I got the shivers.

Oh, they were perfectly deferential to Sinclair, and there was all sorts of "My King" this and "Your Majesty" that, but nobody talked to me at all.

"They're just jealous," Tina said, before Sinclair could answer. She sat down in the chair opposite the couch-this entryway was practically a fourth living room-and looked at me sympathetically. "No vampire in the history of human events has been able to do what you do."

"So?"

"Betsy, you wear a cross around your neck as everyday jewelry! Half the time I can barely look at you."

"Oh, that makes me feel better."

"You know what I mean," she said gently. "And in their defense, this has happened very quickly. Many of them have been under Nostro for a hundred years or more. You've been in power for three months."

"So has Sinclair," I pointed out. "And nobody has been giving him the deep freeze."

"Uh," Tina replied, and that was about it.

"They're jerks, but you knew that," Jessica said. "Why's it getting you down now, all of a sudden?"

"Good question. I dunno. It's been a sucky week. And I forgot I was supposed to work tonight. That's twice I had to blow off Macy's. My boss is not pleased. And they-the other vamps-they were really cold to me. It was like Antarctica in that hotel room."

"Actually, this is very promising," Sinclair said. "We have our motive."

"What? We do?"

"I was curious to see how out-of-town vampires would react to you, which is why we needed you tonight. And it's patently clear you have aroused much resentment in the vampire community."

"Buncha crybabies."

"I suspect there is a price on your head. In fact..." He paused; he had everyone's full attention, and probably found it surprising. "In fact, I suspect these murders are part of a plot to put you out of the way."

"What?" Marc, Jessica, and I all yelped in unison.

Tina was rubbing her eyes. "Oh, shit," she said quietly. "Yes, it fits, doesn't it?"

"Is that why all the other victims were women?" Marc asked skeptically.

Jessica jumped in with, "But why kill other vamps at all?"

"Practice," Tina said. "Working their way up to you, Majesty."

"That's the worst thing I've ever heard!" I sat up in horror. "You guys can't be right. No way!"

"It sort of makes a ton of sense," Jessica said quietly.

"No. That's... that's just wrong. On about thirty different levels." Killing people to get in the habit of it? Working their way up to me? I was suddenly swamped with guilt. Poor Jennifer! She wasn't even a true victim; she was practice. "Nostro was in power for about a billion years and nobody tried to off him; I'm around since springtime and it's open season?"

"In a word, yes."

"But-"

"You're very threatening to many vampires," Tina said. "You go your own way. You aren't dependent on anyone's protection. You don't need shee... ah, human companionship. We have to feed every day, Majesty. Every day. As best I can determine, you can go as long as a week without feeding." Actually, my record was ten days, but that was nobody's business. "You are immune to sunlight-"

"If I'm so immune, how come I go down like a rookie boxer whenever the sun comes up?" I grumbled.

"Everyone needs to rest sometime," Sinclair said, managing to sound smug and soothing at the same time.

"Crosses, and holy water," Tina continued to drone. "The Fiends, whom you did not make, obey your every whim. You have a wealthy benefactor. The king..." She trailed off, and it was like she rearranged what she was going to say, because she just finished with, "The king is fond of you also."

Yeah, fond like a wolf is fond of raw beef. "So? Why do they care? It's not like I was overly involved in vampire politics."

"Not yet," Sinclair said.

"Oh. This sucks. This totally and completely sucks. The vampires all hate me and everyone's trying to kill me!"

"Not all," Sinclair said, totally straight-faced. "However, this brings up a vital point: you need a guard. Humans during daytime hours, and loyal vampires in the evening. The Puppet Master isn't likely to stop anytime soon."

This was getting better and better. If I was still alive, I'd have a splitting headache by now. I flopped back down on the couch and sighed. "I just can't believe it." But that was a lie. Tina was right; in a really really bad way, it did all fit.

"Keep Sarah close," Tina said after a long silence.

"I concur; she's a good suspect."

"She's a weirdo is what she is, and what are we going to do?" I put my hands over my eyes. "Oh, man, I really need to get out of here." I jumped off the couch and began to pace. "This has been the suckiest week since I died, I swear to God!"

"D'you want to go to Heaven?"

I was touched by the offer, and not a little surprised. Jessica hated shopping, and she practically loathed the Mall of America. I guess when you can buy every single thing six times over, it takes some of the fun out of window shopping,

"No. We can't, anyway... it's, like, three o'clock in the morning. The Mall's closed. Even the bars are closed."

"We could go bowling," Marc suggested brightly. "There's a really good twenty-four-hour lane not five minutes from here."

"B-bowling?" The room began to swim. I sat down before I fell-almost in Sinclair's lap. "You mean... with... with borrowed shoes?"

"What's the matter with you?" Jessica snapped at Marc. "Are you trying to make her more upset?"

"Jeez, sorry! I forgot how weird she was about her footwear."

"I'll be all right," I said faintly as Sinclair fanned me with a couch pillow. "I just need a minute."

"The Puppet Master doesn't have to cut off your head," Marc said. "He just has to put you in secondhand shoes. You'll off yourself in despair."

Sinclair laughed, and I snatched the pillow out of his hand and smacked him in the face with it.