Undead and Unfinished

by Davidson, MaryJanice

  “Not at all.” I paused. Was I going to do this crazy thing? I had no memory of this conversation. My memories of this chaotic time were of realizing we were all living in a tampered time line. My memories were of seeing the future with horror and running back to my own time as quickly as possible. I didn’t confront myself. This nasty little scene never happened. Laura and I had slunk home when we thought no one was looking. “So my son could stay safe.”

  She paused, then shook her head. “Don’t pretend you did all those things because you were trying for Mom of the Year.”

  “I never pretend,” I said evenly. “I lost my taste for it once the death toll reached ten million.”

  What was I doing? If I was going to match her recklessness, why not just tell her everything? Tina’s betrayal, Sinclair’s weakness. What I had allowed to happen to so many people.

  Satan’s last, great gift to me. A page from the Book of the Dead flashed in my mind’s eye.

  “The Morningstar shalt appear before her own chylde, shalt help with the taking of the Worlde, and shalt appear before the Queene in all the raiments of the dark.”

  She had. She certainly had. And then some.

  “The Queene’s sister shalt be Belov’d of the Morningstar, and shalt take the Worlde.”

  And let us not forget my favorite truism: “The Queene shalt see oceans of blood, and despair.”

  l had. And I had.

  So what was I doing now? Why was I tolerating her interference ? Thinking there was an alternative . . . it was more of that residual weakness. The last part of me that was still squirming and alive. The last part to be smashed like a snake.

  The last environmental specialist had broadcast his findings to a shocked world. And when he’d finished, he had said something I’d never forgotten: “This is no world for cold-blooded animals.”

  Fool.

  Chapter 71

  There was a firm knock on the door, and Decrepit Me looked almost relieved. “That will be Laura, come to entice you away. Then you’ll slink off like thieves.”

  “Come in, fellow thief!” I hollered. Laura did, looking shaken. “Watch out for the zombie bits on the carpet”

  “So I haven’t gone insane from the horror. It passed me in the hall. (We seem fated to never get out of the hallway.) I came to make sure you were all right. Because of your thing.”

  “A nice thought, but it originated from here, the poor gross thing. Among my other wonderful hobbies like allowing friends to be brutalized, in the future I take up zombie raising.”

  “Infant,” Psycho Me muttered.

  “And you!” I jabbed a finger at Asshat Me. “You don’t fool me a bit, you crone. When I came in here and made you my bitch—”

  “You did not—”

  “Quiet, you ancient bitch. Younger, Cooler, Awesomer You has the floor. You were surprised when I did that. You were freaked out. Things might not be as cut and dried as you tried to pretend.”

  There was a long silence, broken by Shriveled, Elderly Me calmly saying, “Perhaps. Why not remain awhile, and discuss it? There are things—”

  “You know what? I don’t give a shit. We’re out of here.”

  Laura glanced at me, troubled. “Betsy, maybe Dinosaur You has a point. We could—”

  “Still not giving a shit. Take us back to hell. Right now.”

  “But we—”

  “Laura, this is not a good time to make me repeat myself. Sword! Mystical doorway! Hell’s waiting room! Now!”

  Her sword was in her hand while I was still spitting out mystical. That was more like it.

  “Ta-ta,” Prehistoric Me said.

  “Fuck off.”

  “Fuck off twice,” the Antichrist added.

  Laura sliced. We stepped.

  Good-bye, future. Hope to see you never.

  Chapter 72

  Never thought I’d be glad to see this place.”

  “Amen.”

  “Ah! Back so soon.” The Ant was at the receptionist’s desk, still dead, and still with awful hair. “How was it?”

  I pointed. After facing Jerk-off Me, I was in no mood for her idea of banter. “Get Laura’s other mother. Right now.”

  To my surprise, the Ant popped out of sight. She was maybe doing my bidding and maybe searching for a few thousand boa constrictors to fill the waiting room with. Either way, she was out of our hair for a few minutes.

  “I think it’s fixable.”

  Laura nodded. “It’s worth trying, if nothing else. You said she was freaked?”

  “Completely. And she said things—things she hadn’t meant to say. She seemed surprised. And—not hopeful, not really, but maybe less . . . resigned?”

  Laura was still nodding. “Okay. It’s better than nothing. We were able to prove to her—and more important, to us—that the future isn’t set.”

  “There’s no fate but that which we make for ourselves.”

  “That’s from The Terminator.”

  “Yeah, which will now be known as Time Travel 101.”

  “I think—I think one of the things I have to do is what my mother wants. Take over hell; take her job. But not the way she thinks. Not the way Future You thought. I’ll take hell, but it’ll be on my terms, not Satan’s.”

  I was nodding, too, reluctantly. I hated the thought of Laura stuck in that awful job, but if we were going to save the world from me, we’d need some big-time power. I didn’t see the devil lifting a finger. So it would be up to Laura to lift the fingers, so to speak.

  Besides, she looked human but really wasn’t. No more than I was. She couldn’t hide from her destiny in the suburbs the way I had tried to.

  “Maybe that’s what the book meant. Maybe instead of taking over our world, you’ll take over hell.”

  “We’re on exactly the same page,” she agreed.

  “I have to say, not worrying about you taking over this world will be a load off my mind.”

  “Um . . . Betsy? Is it just me, or ... ?” Laura gestured.

  She’d noticed what I had seen the minute I realized we were back in the waiting room. All the locked doors were gone; there was just the door out. The one back into hell proper, for lack of a better word.

  “Of course,” the devil said, materializing behind the desk.

  “Of course what?” I wouldn’t deny it: all the time traveling had made me grumpy. “I hate when you’re cryptic.”

  “Sorry,” Satan yawned.

  “Why now?” Laura asked. “We tried and tried to get out before.”

  “The exit appeared because you needed it to appear. Before, you only wanted it to appear.”

  “Oh, not Zen-in-hell bullshit,” I groaned.

  “Sorry,” Satan said. “I don’t make the rules.” Then she laughed cheerfully. “That’s not true! I do make the rules!”

  “It’s so creepy when you laugh,” I observed.

  “Almost as creepy as when I don’t. So, questions? Comments? Ah . . .” She trailed off at my eager expression. “Perhaps not comments. Maybe you should just go home.”

  “Maybe I will,” I agreed.

  So, with Laura’s help, I did.

  Chapter 73

  l t ended where it began for me: in the library where we kept the Book of the Dead. What was funny was, now that I knew what was going to happen, now that I had a brand-new mission, I didn’t need to read the stupid thing.

  Still, knowing I could made living in the same house with it slightly more bearable.

  And a shower! I could shower! I could be clean! I could not revolt myself! Or others!

  I spied my red bag beside one of the coffee tables, and lunged for it. A change of clothes! Clean underwear! Oh I loved, loved, loved the present!

  I heard the front door slam, heard the bellow of a cheerful baritone, and didn’t give a shit. I righted the coffee table (it must have fallen over when Satan tossed me like a tiddlywink), snatched up my bag, and—

  Saw Detective Nick Berry standing in the parlor doorway.


  “I said, Rainbow had a sale on raspberries. So I bought about ten pints. What Sinclair doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?”

  I dropped my bag and stared. This, this smiling, friendly, relaxed Nick, this was the Nick I had known before I’d died.

  “I—I can’t believe it,” I stammered.

  “What? You think I’d leave my favorite vampire berryless? Get it? Berryless? I got a million of ‘em. Did you know you’ve got dirt on your nose?”

  “I’m your favorite vampire?”

  He sighed and glanced at the ceiling. “Your vanity knows no bounds, but you make it look cute instead of irritating, so I’ll indulge you: yes, of course you’re my favorite vampire. Don’t get me wrong, Sinclair’s a handsome man, and Tina’s certainly easy on the eyes, but I’ll admit it: I’m a star fucker.”

  “Huh?”

  He leaned back and glanced down the hallway. “Ah! There you are. You sure you’re up for it?” He straightened and smiled at me. “Okay, so, technically I’m a fucker of the star’s best friend, pardon the crudity.” He leaned back out in the hall. “We can stay home if you want.”

  “Home?” I was having a terrible time following the conversation(s).

  “Yes, home, our domicile—technically your domicile, but last I checked, even with Jessica and me staying here, there are still about thirty guest rooms left. Hiya, gorgeous.”

  “I’m so hungry,” Jessica moaned, appearing in the doorway beside Nick. “Oh, hey, you’re back. You want to come to dinner? Manny’s? You can watch me eat a steak, and I can watch you drink daiquiris.”

  I stared.

  “Betsy?”

  I stared.

  “Not that I care either way, but you haven’t fed in a while, prob’ly ... am I right?”

  I pointed at Jessica’s enormous belly. She was a stick with a ball. I always knew, when she got pregnant, she’d be a stick with a ball. “That—that—”

  “What? I said I’d give you the ultrasound picture. And I said you could tape the birth if you promise not to go foaming barking mad when you smell all the blood. Now are you coming to dinner or not?”

  “Not,” I said through numb lips.

  Nick patted her stomach and gestured in the direction of the front hall. “Your chariot awaits, my pregnant goddess of love.”

  “What, are you trying to make me barf? I’ve had six months of morning sickness and you’re trying to make me barf? Cops are weird.” They turned to leave; Jessica glanced back and added, “Welcome back.”

  “It’s . . . it’s nice to be back.” I could feel an incredulous, stupid grin spreading across my face. “It’s really, really nice to be back.”

  Chapter 74

  Okay. I wasn’t going to pretend I had any idea what had just happened. But it was all good, so I’d get the gory details later. For one thing, she was knocked up, and he was happy as a clam with a detective’s badge, but neither of them wore wedding rings.

  I had tons of gossip to catch up with, and couldn’t wait. But first, my bag, my shower, and my—

  “I did hear you!” Tina came in, looking adorable in a floor-length black woolen skirt and a lavender long-sleeved T-shirt. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail. Black Christian Dior gladiator sandals (my Christmas gift to her last year) on her delicate feet completed the picture.

  And the little portrait, of course. The small painting, no more than an inch long, looped over her wrist by a blue satin ribbon.

  The portrait I’d seen once before. The portrait I’d never seen . . . on Tina’s wrist.

  “I’m glad you’re back, Majesty. Ah, you look beautiful, but you have dirt on your nose. When you have a moment, I’d like your signature on some accounts His Majesty wants you to be able to access. I know,” she added, holding up a small hand, palm out, like a traffic cop. “What’s his is his, and what’s yours is yours, and he doesn’t own you, and he should keep his own money, yes, yes. But he wants you to have legal access to everything he owns, and now that the sale on the Brazilian pineapple plantation has come through, he has another revenue stream he’d like you to—ah. Majesty? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I didn’t know. Tina, I swear I didn’t—” I took a staggering step toward her and completely lost my feet; I ended up crouching in front of her. She looked startled and embarrassed, and tried to move to help me up—she clearly didn’t dig queens kneeling at her feet—but I seized her hands and squeezed, clinging as though they were the anchor line and I was the drowning dumbass and she was the anchor. “I didn’t!”

  “My queen—”

  “I never made the connection. I couldn’t understand—neither of us could understand—why we ended up in Salem where we didn’t know anybody.”

  “Majesty—”

  “I didn’t mean to play God with your great-great-great-great-great-great-great—how many?—never mind, I didn’t mean to wreck her life, Tina, even though I probably did. I just wanted to help, but I messed it all up. I think helping her maybe wrecked the future. But maybe not; I don’t know, that’s the awful part, but I’d never have hurt you. I mean her. I really did want to help, and it’s my screw-up and not Laura’s. Laura tried to stop me. I swear it on my—on myself.”

  “Wreck? Oh. You—wreck?” Her eyes, her beautiful big pansy eyes went wider than ever—she was practically turning into an anime cartoon right there in front of me. “You could never—you did never. I thought you understood. His Majesty explained you would be back soon and we could tell you what we knew. We didn’t want to keep things from you.” She anxiously scanned my face. “You understand, don’t you?”

  “What—you could tell me what you knew?”

  “Caroline remembered you, of course. Both of you. My great-great grandmother remembered the two very tall, very beautiful blondes who dressed strangely and spoke even more strangely.

  “She remembered everything the angels—for so she believed you to be—everything the angels said. She went away shaken but grateful. She left Massachusetts and settled farther west, happy to have her life and her wits.

  “And she told her daughter what happened to her. How faith can become first a shield, then a club. She told her girl child how the angels saved her from a cruel mob and a crueler death. And her daughter told her daughter, who told me. It was my favorite bedtime story, the only one I never tired of.” She paused. “It was Erin’s favorite as well.”

  I was still clinging to her hands, still staring up at her and wishing I was human enough to cry real tears. But I wasn’t, and never would be again. Instead, what was waiting for me down a tunnel of centuries was the woman who had no friends, only soldiers. The woman who made the Marc-Thing, or allowed the Marc-Thing to be made, and didn’t know where her husband was or if he was, and didn’t care.

  “Tina, I shouldn’t have. I didn’t know, but that’s exactly my point. I didn’t know, which should have been all the reason I needed to steer clear of another life.”

  Tina pulled one hand out of my clutches, and I let her. For a second I thought she was going to haul off and give me a well-deserved belt on the jaw. Instead, she carefully turned one of my hands in hers, palm up, and bent forward and kissed it. Then she folded my fingers over her kiss and speared me with her dark gaze. Her long blonde waves had come loose—her hair was everywhere, but I was too busy looking into her eyes to shake it out of my way.

  “My dear dark queen,” she said, and gifted me with the warmest smile I’d ever seen on her face. “I have always known.”

  She let me cry on her lap for a long time.

  Chapter 75

  After an embarrassingly long time, I pulled myself together, accepted a hug from Tina, ran my fingers through my (dirty) hair, and sighed. “Okay. That was cathartic.”

  “My! Your face is even dirtier now.”

  “You don’t have to sound so happy about it”

  “No, I suppose not” She wasn’t laughing at me ... barely. “Would you like a smoothie?”

  �
��I would love a smoothie, and then we have to talk. I mean, I have to find Sinclair first and apologize, but then we have to talk. When I left the house? Jessica wasn’t pregnant, and Nick hated me.”

  “Really?” Tina’s eyes were wide and curious. “That’s . . . difficult to imagine. My. You do have stories to tell, don’t you?”

  Ah ... some stories, yeah. But not all.

  “I’ll go get some started . . . Nick left what appears to be three dozen grocery bags in the kitchen. With your permission, Majesty.” She wandered off, muttering to herself “How we’ll eat them all without His Majesty finding out or some of the berries going bad I do not know . . .”

  Okay. Time to get my ass upstairs, take a shower, change my—my—

  My letter!

  I sank to my knees, clawing open the bag and rummaging through clean panties to find the letter Sinclair had left for me. Since I knew I’d fucked up and wanted to apologize, now would be the time to read it. And since he and Tina seemed to know exactly where I’d gone, and what I’d been up to . . .

  I ripped it open with trembling fingers and read it right there on the parlor floor.

  My own, my dearest Queen,

  You have been gone less than four hours and I can scarcely bear it. I disliked avoiding you and letting you journey through time not knowing you had my support and admiration and, always always, my love. I did not like it, though I know it was necessary to both my past as the son of murdered farmers and brother to a murdered twin, and my future as a reigning monarch.

  More: it was necessary to bring you into my life. There is nothing I would not endure a thousand thousand times to be certain that would come about.

  My sister would have loved you, as I love you. I will regret to the end of my days that you and she could never meet . . . again. How well we remembered your visit when we were children! How you enchanted my beloved twin and cast your spell on me!