"Is this the third date? Or the fourth?"
"Nosy bitch," Jessica laughed. She checked her diamond earrings for the twentieth time.
"Yes," I assured her. "They're still there." I'd been saving to get her the matching pendant at Tiffany's; the classic blue box was on the swag-draped parlor mantel right this minute.
Okay, Sinclair was helping me. Not that he was big into Christmas. But he liked the idea of giving Jessica an extravagant gift. It would be the first time we gave anybody a present together. "You look like a tasteful Christmas tree."
"Meaning my ass looks fat in this green dress."
"No, no. You just look very spirit-of-the-seasony."
"Did you ever figure out what to give Sinclair?"
"Yeah. I took back asking him to un-mojo Jon."
"So now Jon will"-Jessica thought this out-"not remember he wrote the book about you."
"Right. I mean, it's a rotten thing to do, but I can't just think of myself on this one. There's a bunch of vampires counting on me to look out for them-I finally figured that out when I saved George from Laura. Well, a few days after I saved George from Laura. Even if they don't know I'm looking out for them, I'm supposed to be. So... no book of my life."
"Well, if that's what being the queen means to you, then, because you're the queen, I guess that's it."
"Yeah, that's it. I mean, I can hardly marry Sinclair and protect vampires and not be the queen. Even for me, that's pretty stupid."
"Stupid's a harsh word," she said absently, fluffing her lashes with mascara.
"Isn't Jon supposed to turn in his bio after Christmas break?"
"Yeah." I laughed evilly. "Sinclair's doing it for him. He'd better not fob it off on Tina, either. A history of the life and times of Grover Cleveland. Apparently Sinclair knew him." I laughed harder. The perfect punishment!
"You talk it out with Laura yet?"
"No." I quit laughing. "I don't know what to say without sounding like a jerk. I guess-I guess we're just hoping it was a slip. I mean, look who her mom is. She's bound to have a short temper. And it's not like the guy didn't have it coming."
"Is that what the party line is? He had it coming?"
"No," I almost snapped, "but it's the best I can do. I don't see Nick crying about it."
"Big-time promotion, probably," she admitted. "And that's what we're celebrating. The Task Force is just about done. Nick's going back to his everyday stuff. And the Driveway Killer's done. And the Scomans are going to have a great Christmas."
"Assuming she ever stops having nightmares."
"Your little ghost told you that? What a voyeur."
"I heard that!" Cathie said, and then popped back out, probably to nag (not that they could hear her) the guys putting up the tree. We were late with it this year, and out of deference to Sinclair and Tina, Jess, Marc, and I didn't join in the trimming festivities. It had been a big enough fight just letting Jessica order one and have it sent to the house.
Needless to say, those two would be avoiding the entire east wing of the house until after New Year's.
"Obviously, if she'd had to pick between her life and nightmares, it's an easy choice. Still, I wish we could have spared her the entire experience."
"Come on. You saved her. And the bad guy got his. And you're getting married! Probably."
"What?"
"Well, I'm pretty sure. And I'm finally getting laid."
"It's a Christmas miracle," I said with mock joy. "With devils and vampires and dead serial killers."
"It's just gotten so commercial," she agreed, touching up her lipstick. "Want to sneak down and put a cross on the tree later?"
"No, I'd better not. Poor things, they've already got the heebie-jeebies."
"Boy, there's a phrase I never thought would be associated with bad-ass vampires."
"Any kind of vampires. Anyway. We'll work on that for next year. If they're going to stay out of the room altogether, why not put a cross on the tree?"
She laughed and slung a black cashmere wrap over her bony shoulders. "Good point. Now, on a scale of one to ten, with one being ratty-ass you, and ten being Halle Berry-"
"Nine point six. Definitely."
"What a liar you are, my girl." She kissed me, leaving an orange smear on my cheek, and floated out on a cloud of Chanel.