“Betsy’s always almost dying again.” I was a little more sanguine about the vampire queen’s resilience; I had seen many, many strange things since Betsy stopped me from killing myself a couple years back. “She’s like our own personal Kenny.”
“Kenny?”
“From South Park. Pop culture reference; sorry.” Laura tended to stick to network news and the Food Network. A single episode of South Park would horrify and disgust her. Sometimes the show horrified me, too, but I was still addicted to it. Nobody’s perfect.
“Where’s Tina?”
“Conked out in her room—you know how it is with her. She won’t be going anywhere until the sun’s down.”
“I have something for her,” Laura said vaguely. “And some people want to see her.”
“Great.” I yawned. New vampires were always stopping by the mansion to pay their respects. “Thank God it’s my day off. I need a break from sick people.”
Laura giggled. “That’s an odd thing for a doctor to say.”
“Honey, all doctors say it. Just not around patients.”
“I’m sure that’s—”
The phone rang and Laura leaped to her feet, practically sprinting to get it before it rang again. I rolled my eyes; probably some church wanted her to run a fund-raiser or some such thing. Or maybe PBS was running another pledge drive.
“Yes? Hello?” She paused, listening. “Okay, great! That’s just great . . . uh-huh . . . really? Oh, you didn’t!” She laughed, then paused again. “Uh-huh . . . you are? Terrific. Then I’ll see you in a bit. Thanks very much.” She hung up.
“Good news?” I yawned.
“The best news. Okay, well, I’ve got to go. See you.”
“Bye,” I said vaguely, and I was back into my book before she got to the front door.
So, so careless. Not to mention stupid. It’s all fine and good to say now “How was I supposed to know?” except I had seen the effect the devil worshippers had on Laura. I should have been suspicious of her 180, instead of focusing on my own problems.
But I wasn’t.
And, though I didn’t know it, it was already too late.
Chapter 30
You mean someone killed you again? And I missed it?” Jessica groaned and covered her face. “Damn! I was washing puke from my clothes while you were getting murdered . . . Dammit!”
“You didn’t miss much,” I soothed. “Just me picking a fight with a bunch of werewolves, getting stabbed, Sinclair kicking the crap out of my stabber, me waking up, and then everybody taking off.”
“Oh, sure. Sounds like a real snooze-fest. So what happens next?”
“We’re supposed to meet the Council tonight.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. I was still a little vague on that myself.
Jessica and I were having a late-afternoon drink in the sitting room of my suite. Because it was barely five o’clock, BabyJon was still asleep, and so was Sinclair.
I had my own thoughts about that, but kept them to myself. See, Sinclair could move around during the day, he just couldn’t go outside. The fact that he was choosing to stay under told me he was storing up his strength for whatever ordeal lay ahead. And, typical of Sinclair, he wasn’t telling me any of the things he was worrying about.
“So, what?” Jess was saying, blowing on her hot chocolate. “You tell them what happened, and they do what?”
“I have no idea.”
“You shouldn’t even be talking to them.”
“What?”
Jessica sipped. Blew. Sipped again. “You did what you had to do. Just like Antonia. So why should you have to explain yourself to a bunch of strangers who apparently never gave that poor girl a thought once she blew town?”
“It’s why we came out here,” I said. “We knew we’d have to face the music one way or another.”
“I don’t like it. I never liked it. You shouldn’t take the defensive.”
I shrugged. “Let’s see how it plays out. A few hundred people noticed last night that I’m pretty tough to kill. And—holy crap, I forgot to tell you about what happened with the baby!”
I summed it up for Jess, who was amazed. “Come on. Michael really forgot you brought a baby out here?”
“He totally, completely did.”
“Weird.”
“Tell me! And Derik freaked out again.”
“Here all this time we thought werewolves were vulnerable to silver bullets, when it’s dirty diapers that they fear.”
I snorted with laughter, nearly spilling my own cup of cocoa. “Oh, and I met this really nice woman—”
“Let me guess: not a werewolf.”
“No, but she’s married to one. She was really nice, for a crazy lady.”
“That’s what they said about Lorena Bobbitt.”
I shook my head at her. Jess could always cheer me up. She could always put things in perspective for me. I hadn’t wanted her to come on this trip, but now I was glad she had.
“This whole thing has me thinking.”
“I’ll call the newspapers,” she replied. “Maybe even take a picture of you thinking and post it on a website somewhere. Dammit again! My phone’s on the plane with Cooper.”
“I’m sure they have phones here if you need to make a call.”
“Not this time. You’re the one I always call—God knows why—and you’re just across the hallway. By the way, these walls aren’t soundproofed. You think you can keep it down while you’re making the beast with two backs?”
“Knock it off, you bitch. I’ve been thinking that Michael and I are very different kinds of leaders.”
“Well, you don’t like to lead anybody. You’ve been saying since day one that vampires should police themselves.”
“Right. But see, Michael knows how many werewolves are in the Pack. He knows where they live and who they are. But me, not so much. I have no idea how many vampires are running around. And even if I did, I’d have no idea how to get in touch with them. Say, God forbid, there’s a war between vamps and weres. We’d be fucked, because the werewolves are a species. They’re born werewolves and they know who they are and where they’re going. But vampires are made. Violently made. So why should they feel any loyalty to other vampires? I sure don’t. I mean, I’m loyal to Tina and Sinclair, but they’re family. None of the other vamps are.”
“So there you are.”
“What?”
“Now you know what you’ve got to do.”
“Terrific. Care to share with the rest of the class?”
“Prevent a war. At all costs, prevent a war. Because it sounds to me like you’d lose, and lose big.” For once, Jessica wasn’t teasing. She looked very sober and she was gripping her cup so hard her hands shook. “You can’t afford it, Betsy. None of us can.”
“They don’t know I’ve got the devil’s daughter on my side.”
“You really want to put Laura through that? That girl’s already walking a fine line between too good and really nuts.”
“You’re right. It’d be a rotten thing to do.” But I made a mental note to keep it in mind. If worse came to worst, we’d fight. And if worse came to terrible, I had the devil’s daughter as my secret weapon.
I guess that’s what being a leader meant. Using people for your own ends, even if you knew it was a bad idea.
Great.
Chapter 31
Jess had gone back to her room to get dressed for the Council, and Sinclair was working away at his laptop, when I decided to get some fresh air. I was taking a stroll down the beach when I saw the ghost. She waved at me tentatively, and I waved back.
This had been one of the hardest things for me to get used to, almost as difficult to accept as the fact that I had to drink blood to survive. Like the kid from The Sixth Sense, I saw dead people. Also like that kid, they tended to scare the crap out of me. Given how scared I was of ghosts and zombies, I wasn’t unaware of the irony that I was now one of the monsters. Didn’t like it, but unde
rstood the grisly joke life (or death) had played on me.
Unfortunately, ignoring the ghosts just made it worse . . . When they saw I wasn’t hopping to obey their edicts from beyond the grave, they got more aggressive. Hung around all the time. Popped out of nowhere when you were, say, having sex with your husband.
My favorite ghost—Cathie, victim of the serial killer Laura had killed—and my least favorite—the Ant—both came and went without warning. In fact, I hadn’t seen Cathie in almost a year. This bummed me out a bit, and when I thought of her I always hoped she’d gone on to better things.
As for the Ant, I was just grateful she’d disappeared and hadn’t come back. Yet.
So, though I didn’t much want to, I walked up to the ghost and said howdy.
“Excuse me,” she said politely, interrupting me mid introduction. “But how in the world can you see me?”
“Vampire.”
“But there are no vampires. And it’s still light out.”
“There are, and it is, but it’s a long story, so why don’t you just tell me why you’re haunting the beach so we can get on with our lives? Or deaths. What-ever.”
The ghost, a pale brunette with her hair pulled back in a bun, appeared to think that over for a bit. She was wearing clothes that were clearly from the 1960s, poor thing (of all the decades to be trapped in, fashion-wise!), and was wearing cat’s-eye glasses. We were far enough down the beach that my feet were getting wet as the waves slopped over them, but they just went right through the ghost’s shoes without doing any damage. Luckily, I was wearing last year’s sandals.
“Would you mind giving a message to my son?”
“If I can find him, sure.”
“Would you please tell him I would prefer he not name his unborn child after me?”
“Seriously? That’s it? That’s why your spirit can’t rest?”
“My name is Theodocia,” she said.
“Oh.” The horror! “Jeez. I’m really sorry. I’ll be glad to pass that on for you.”
“Thank you kindly.”
Chapter 32
Dude,
The shit officially hit the fan later that night. I was on-line, chatting with an old boyfriend from Oregon, when I heard a racket downstairs. I logged off and went to see what the problem was.
The problem was Laura, surrounded by people so completely deferential to her that I knew at once we had more devil worshippers on our hands.
“You did it?” Laura asked. “You actually did it?”
“It was easy, dread mistress! Two of us acted as bait, and we were able to surround it and kill it with no trouble at all.”
“Kill what?” I asked, halfway down the stairs.
Laura looked up at me and the smile dropped off her face. “Nothing, Marc. We’re sorry to disturb you.”
“What’s going on?”
“The Beloved of Samael has told you: nothing. Now away with you, or you’ll find out exactly what we killed,” one of the half dozen around her snapped.
Laura rested her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t speak to him like that,” she said quietly. “He’s my sister’s friend.”
And yours, honey.
The man, taller than Laura by almost a foot, and at least thirty pounds heavier, instantly acquiesced, and even bowed his head in compliance. Good dog, nice dog, woof-woof-woof.
“Laura, what the hell is going on?”
“Come into the kitchen and I’ll explain.” She turned to the group. “You all know what to do. Come find me tomorrow and let me know how it went.”
There was a chorus of “Yes, dread mistress!” and “At once, my lady!” and then they all galloped toward the foyer leading to the front door.
I followed Laura to the kitchen, where she turned and gave me a smile that was much too bright.
“I’m helping Betsy,” she confided.
“Uh-huh. Helping her how?”
“Well.” Laura helped herself to a glass of milk, guzzled half of it, then continued. “You know I’ve been worried about her ever since that awful, awful thing with Antonia.”
“Yeah,” I said, still mystified.
“I promised myself that if I could do anything to keep her from harm, I would. Anything in my power. Because she’s my only sister, and she can’t help being a sinner. None of us can!”
Oh, cripes, I hated when she went on these pseudo-religious original sin rants. But I kept a pleasantly neutral expression on my face. “And?”
“Okay. So I’ve been trying to figure out just what I can do. And her and Sinclair going to the Cape is the perfect time, right?”
“Why?”
“Because she listens to him too much,” she said impatiently. “I warned her not to marry him, but she didn’t listen. But with him gone, I only had Tina to worry about.”
The hairs on the back of my neck were trying to stand up. Fortunately, thanks to years of practice as an MD, I was able to keep my expression neutral. “Where is Tina, Laura?”
She waved that away. “Never mind. The important thing, the most wonderful thing, is that the sinners who keep finding me—they’re helping me save Betsy! I never would have thought of it if it hadn’t been for you, Marc.”
Oh, shit. “Maybe you’d better not give me the credit until you tell me exactly what it is you and the Satan Brigade have been up to.”
“Killing vampires!” Laura said brightly, oblivious of her milk moustache.
“Killing vampires.”
“Sure. They keep coming here to pay tribute, and we’ve managed to send almost a half dozen of them straight to my mother. Straight to hell,” she added, unable to keep the dark satisfaction out of her voice.
“Oh my God,” I said, appalled. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”
“Of course I did. We did. You were so right, Marc. Put the devil worshippers to work doing good. And I have!”
I felt my stomach drop into my feet. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how much trouble this was going to be . . . for Betsy, for Sinclair, for Laura, for me. And even if there were no consequences to killing vampires (ha!), Laura had clearly lost it.
Her affect was all wrong. She was smiling, laughing, happy. But her eyes had a flat shine that I didn’t like, and she’d gone out of her way to keep this from me until I forced the issue.
Was I a sinner, too?
Expendable?
Sure I was. The fundamentally religious were not exactly known for their tolerance of homosexuality. Quite the opposite. I imagined it would only be a matter of time before Laura decided she needed to “save” Betsy from me.
Who were the vampires? What had they wanted? And what was going to happen when people realized the queen’s sister was killing them?
Civil war?
Worse?
“Where’s Tina?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice calm and even.
“You don’t need to worry about that, Marc.”
“But I am, Laura. She lives here, too. She’s Betsy’s friend, just like I am.”
“Oh, no!” Laura looked shocked at the very idea. “She’s nothing like you, Marc. And you have to understand, I couldn’t start helping Betsy until I got her out of the way.”
Oh my God. She’d killed her. Tina was a pile of dust somewhere.
And it was all my fault.
I pulled out my cell phone, but Laura just shook her head and smiled at me. “I cancelled everyone’s cell service—you’re all on the same plan.”
That would explain the fact that instead of a cell phone, I was holding a useless piece of metal and plastic.
“Oh, Laura,” I said, and dropped my head into my hands.
Chapter 33
Betsy!
OMG you’ve got to get back ASAP because TSIATHTF!!!! Grab the gang and CBRA! Right now!
“You see what I mean?” I bitched, showing Jessica Marc’s latest acronym-strewn e-mail. “How am I supposed to make heads or tails out of this? He could be asking me to schedule a massage for all I know.”
/>
Jessica shrugged. “Can’t help you with that one. Gives me a headache just to look at it. Besides, don’t you have more important things to worry about?”
“Damn straight. I had to listen to Sinclair’s shrill bitching when he couldn’t make his cell phone work. Big baby—you’d think the thing was permanently attached to his head. I suggested he call from the mansion, but his stubborn paranoia kicked in and he refused. He’s sure the phones are all tapped. The thing of it is, he’s probably right. Did you know the full moon is tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
“Can you—wait. You did?”
Jessica gave me a look. “I checked before we boarded the plane. Since we were heading into the belly of the beast, so to speak.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve had a few too many things on my mind lately to look up things like moon phases.”
“Yes, of course, for example: Is there a shoe sale at Macy’s today?”
“I hate you.”
Jessica shook her head and smiled at me. “Nice try, but I know I’m your hero.”
“Hero,” I began, “isn’t exactly the word I’d—”
Sinclair stepped into the small sitting area before we could really get going, splendidly dressed in a dark suit and his Kenneth Coles.
“You clean up good,” Jessica commented, and he bowed his head in acknowledgment.
“Are you all right, hon? You look a little distracted. Is your phone working now?”
“No, they’re claiming someone cancelled our service and it will be a few hours before the cells work. And Tina hasn’t responded to my e-mails.”
The man did pick the oddest things to fret about. “It’s probably a bad signal or something. Besides, don’t you think we’ve got slightly more pressing things to worry about?”
“No doubt, my love. I suggest we try to reconcile with the Council tonight so as not to face several hundred angry werewolves tomorrow evening.”
“Say it twice,” I said, inwardly groaning. Man oh man, the hits just kept on coming. I actually envied Marc, back in St. Paul with nothing more pressing to worry about than whether or not he had time to hit Cub Foods before his shift started.
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