Dead Girls Don't Cry Read Online Free PDF Page A

conspiracy. I recruited my younger sisters and brother until we could have been a traveling show.
    Surprisingly, my parents never caught us. They were too busy promoting Christianity and raising money from their elite social circle for their next mission. We were basically seen and not heard.
    I blame my pride and my voice for what happened. My voice attracted the angel of death. Eventually guilt closed my throat for good. I haven’t been able to sing a note since. Not even “Happy Birthday” at parties. I can’t do it. When I try to sing my throat tightens and I can’t get the air.
    “Cherry!” Jay barged in, my costume billowing in his arms. “Get dressed. You’re on in five.”
    Thankfully, he didn’t ask why I was in the music room. He didn’t need to. Jay understood me better than anyone. I changed out of my street clothes as fast as I could. Jay didn’t help matters, wrestling the costume’s bodice onto my torso before I had fully unclothed. I batted him away.
    “Come on, hurry up.” He shifted from foot to foot.
    “Help me with this strap, it's twisted.” Once we untangled my costume, he yanked me by the hand and dragged me along. Stilettos were not meant for power walking, making it a bumpy trip.
    “Jay! What’s happening?” I pulled backward, but he continued the forward march.
    “Boss says we have an important visitor in the crowd. Be awesome.” He pushed me onto the stage.
    As the red velvet cloth started to rise I asked, “Who?”
    “Queen V.” He gave me two thumbs up and stepped back into the wings.
    Son of a biscuit.
     
    ~ * * * ~
     
    Jonathan deserved a kick in the nuts. He should have warned me. Blood pounded in my ears like the surf, making it hard to hear the orchestra.
    Queen Victoria was in the audience. The Vampire Queen.
    Why?
    I snuck glances into the crowd trying to figure out where she was. I even danced dangerously close to the edge of the stage attempting to see past the stage lights. After almost landing in Morton’s skeevy lap, I stopped trying. On my final promenade, I twisted, dropped my top and turned to face the crowd. A familiar blond head sat behind Morton.
    Ian McDevitt. Lovely. For a moment, a niggle of shame swept through me. Damn him. There was nothing wrong with what I did. I made good money and took care of Jay.
    I wiggled my ass at Ian.
    Morton leaned forward in his seat, right arm pumping back and forth, his hand hidden under a newspaper draped over his lap. The masturbating creep probably thought the display was for him. Anger colored the last few steps of my routine. I stomped my heels so hard, I worried they might break.
    The music reached a crescendo. The big finale approached. I slid into my final position, legs slightly crossed, one foot in front of the other, arms overhead in a V and my hips tilted to the side.
    The spotlight burned down on me. The crowd erupted in applause, then went stone silent. The audience, moving as a single body, bowed to a lone figure gliding down the left aisle.
    She could have easily been mistaken for a child. Her doll-like frame was small and delicate. Raven black curls outlined her heart-shaped face. Her ambient power buckled my knees. She had to be thousands of years old. There had never been another queen, as far as I knew, other than Victoria.
    The queen brought her dainty hands together and clapped. “Bravo, my dear!”
    I curtseyed deeply. When I rose, the queen was before me on the stage, her movements so swift even the air didn’t have time to move.
    Before I could bow again, her hand, cold as marble, grip hard as steel, clasped my wrist. “Once was sufficient, my dear.”
    I averted my eyes. She was the queen. Power thickened the air, weighing on me like a heavy blanket. Even in a sold out theatre, her presence commanded total silence. For all purposes, we were only the only two people in the room.
    “I have a gift for you.”
    My lips parted in surprise. Before I could stop, words spilled out, “You do?