Undead and Unwelcome

by Davidson, MaryJanice

  I heard the glass shatter but, fortunately, didn’t feel it. Mostly because my entire face had gone numb. When the hell had Laura learned to fight dirty?

  I’d actually thought I could take her, reasoning that I’d been in more fights than she had. It was only about the tenth time I’d underestimated the Big Bad.

  I hit the lawn with a teeth-rattling thud, thought about passing out for a few seconds, then painfully climbed to my knees.

  Where I spotted the feet.

  Clad in Vera Wang strappy gold sandals in mint condition.

  Only one creature in the galaxy has such great shoes.

  I flopped over on my back and stared up into the devil’s smiling face.

  Chapter 53

  Hello, Betsy,” Satan said cheerfully. “Having a bad week?”

  “You,” I groaned.

  “Yes, me. That’s it? That’s the best you can do? You were never the sharpest knife in the drawer, Betsy, when it came to rejoinders.”

  “Fuck rejoinders. This is your fault. You drove Laura crazy.”

  “I certainly did not.” The devil had the nerve to look offended. She was a petite woman with gray-streaked hair pulled back in a bun. Her navy blue suit ruffled, showing her indignation.

  “Did, too.”

  “No, I stayed well away from Laura.” The devil smiled, revealing dimples. “I might, however, said a word or two in Dr. Marc Spangler’s ear.”

  “Oh, man,” I said. It occurred to me I was still lying on the lawn, broken glass everywhere, bleeding, and Satan was standing over me.

  Yep. Things could not get any worse.

  That’s when Marc came sailing out the same window and landed right on top of me.

  Chapter 54

  Marc squashed me so thoroughly it was a damned good thing I didn’t need to breathe much. I lay on the grass like a landed trout, my mouth opening and closing, shoving and pushing at his carcass.

  “Betsy,” Marc said, remarkably unharmed. Of course, I’d broken his fall. Stretch some rubber over me and call me a trampoline. “This is all my fault.”

  “It’s not,” I wheezed.

  “No, really, it is. I—”

  “Marc, do you think you could get the hell off me sometime today?”

  He leaned back, squashing just one lung now. “I’m the one who—”

  “It’s not your fault. Marc, this is Satan. Satan, this is—”

  “I know Dr. Spangler, thank you.”

  Marc was gaping up at the devil. “Satan? Laura’s mother, Satan? That Satan?”

  “How many do you know?” I pushed him the rest of the way off me and climbed slowly to my feet. “We’re the flies in her web, as usual.”

  The devil shook her head. “I never interfere with free will.”

  “No, but you’re sure good at inspiring it. I’ve got to get back in there.”

  “But we were having such a nice talk. Where are you going?”

  “I’m gonna go tell Laura what you did.”

  The devil raised a dark eyebrow. “You’re going to tattle on the devil?”

  “Damn right!”

  I began the painful climb back up through the window, pausing just long enough to tell Marc, “Will you for God’s sake get the hell out of here? Somebody’s likely to get killed and I’d rather it wasn’t you.”

  I’d rather it wasn’t me, either, but I wasn’t placing any bets on that one.

  Chapter 55

  Dude,

  You are not even going to believe what happened next. I was there, and I hardly believe it myself.

  I pulled another one of the hooded jerks off Sinclair—there appeared to be an unending supply—but one of them fell back so fast he knocked me through a window. It was a little like being in a Western. The window, luckily, had already been broken.

  By Betsy, whom I landed on. It was the closest thing to straight sex I’d experienced in years. Although I have to say, she was more bony than lush. It was those long femurs of hers.

  Betsy, clearly squashed, managed a weak groan. I tried to explain what had happened, which is when she introduced me to the devil. The devil. Then she (Betsy) scrambled back through the window.

  I decided there was a strong possibility that I was concussed, and reminded myself to watch for symptoms. Surely this was the result of a mind weakened by blunt-force trauma.

  “So, Marc. Let’s talk. How have you been?”

  I gaped at her. This was Lucifer? The Fallen One? Samael? The Morningstar? She looked like a beautiful middle-aged, gray-streaked brunette with pretty shoes. And those ankles! I was getting straighter and straighter by the moment.

  “What do you want with us?”

  “Nothing at all.” The devil gazed thoughtfully at the broken window. “Laura’s my primary interest. The rest of you—you’re just wrenches in the toolbox of life. Things to use. Tools.”

  “That was a terrible analogy.”

  The devil gave me a decidedly unfriendly look.

  “Why don’t you just leave Laura alone, to live her own life?”

  “Dear boy. Even mothers who aren’t me can’t do that for their children.”

  “She could have a happy life if you’d just leave her alone.”

  Satan snorted through her nose. “Leave her alone? Never! She’s been poisoned by humanity. She actually thinks what happens to other people matters. I have the cure for that diseased worldview.”

  I stood, brushing grass off my knees. “I don’t like you one bit.”

  “Ooooh.” The devil smirked. “That one hurt. By the way, Marc, he knows.”

  “What?”

  “Your father. He knows all about you.” She leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “He has always known. Oh, Marc. How you’ve disappointed him. You should see him cry when he’s alone and thinks no one’s watching. Like you do, sometimes.”

  A sliver of ice pushed its way into my gut, but before I could think of a retort, or run away, the devil was gone.

  Leaving the rest of us, of course, to clean up the mess she had instigated.

  Chapter 56

  Laura looked delighted to see me crawl back into the room. “Good. I was hoping to beat the sin right out of your silly vain carcass, and I wasn’t sure I had finished the job.”

  “Your mother’s in the yard.”

  Laura, already reaching for my throat, hesitated. “Don’t lie, Betsy. You’ve tried everything but that.”

  “But she is. I just talked to her. She said she gave Marc the idea about how you could use your followers to kill vampires.”

  “That isn’t true.” But she didn’t look at all sure of herself. “Marc would never hurt me.”

  She reached for me again and I batted her hand away. “He’s not the one out to push your buttons, dumbass! She is. This is, like, phase five of her plan to have you take over hell when she retires.”

  My ears rang and I realized she’d slapped me so hard and fast that I’d barely seen her hand move. “Stop talking about her!”

  “Laura, she wants you to do everything you’re doing.”

  “That’s not true! I’ve been doing good! We’ve been killing demons!”

  “No, you’ve been suckered. If you won’t stop for my sake, or your own, then stop for no other reason than because it will completely foil your mother’s wicked-ass plans for you.”

  Here came the bright light. Here came the sword, straight for my heart. Here came the killing blow, and thank goodness, because one way or the other, it meant the fight was almost over.

  I sidestepped and punched Laura in the eye. She went down without a sound.

  I didn’t realize until it was too late that she’d swung wide on purpose.

  Chapter 57

  Sinclair staggered through the doorway, looking like he’d been through a hurricane. Or through a whole shitload of devil worshippers. Having vampire strength and reflexes was all fine and good, but it didn’t mean that enough bad guys couldn’t take a piece or two out of you.

 
His suit was in tatters; his face was streaked with blood. I imagine I didn’t look much better. At least we were both standing. Well, leaning.

  “Some of them are dead,” he informed me. “Some of them ran off.”

  Marc called from the other room, “And some of them are going to need medical attention! I’ll do what I can.”

  Sinclair took in the ruined room, the holes in the walls, the broken windows, Laura, unconscious on the floor.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Shit, no. But I’ll live. How about you? You look like somebody dropped you into a blender and pressed puree.”

  “What a coincidence. That is precisely how I feel.”

  I went to him and hugged him, closing my eyes as he stroked my back. “Laura’s mom was here.”

  “That explains much.”

  “It explains mucher than you know.”

  “At least you won the fight.”

  I looked up at him. “She could have killed me at any time. She threw the fight when she realized her mother had been pulling her strings all this time.”

  “Ah.”

  “Yeah.”

  I imagined Sinclair didn’t need me to spell out the ramifications for him. Given the way he was grinding his teeth, I knew he was equal parts pissed for me and frightened for me.

  Because if Laura could kill me anytime—she’d hidden her strength and speed all this time, for one thing—who was really in charge around here? A mere vampire?

  Or the devil’s daughter?

  And what about the next time Laura and I butted heads? Much as I hated to admit it, there most likely would be a next time. I couldn’t count on her to throw every fight. Frankly, I was pretty sure she’d only thrown this one because I’d shocked her with the bald truth. There were only so many times I could play the sister card.

  And next time, she wouldn’t be taken off guard.

  Next time, she might kick my ass straight into hell, and then bye-bye for every vampire she could get her hands on.

  And she could get her hands on a lot. Especially since she apparently had followers who would do whatever she asked. Legions of them.

  It should have been over.

  But it wasn’t. We’d earned a temporary respite, that was all.

  Chapter 58

  Between Marc and Sinclair, they pulled enough strings to get the wounded to the hospital without us having to fill out reams of paperwork or answer unanswerable questions. Not for the first time I appreciated being married to a rich man who knew people . . . not to mention having Dr. Spangler as a roommate.

  Sinclair carried Laura to the room she’d been staying in and laid her on the bed. She was going to have an unattractive shiner, but Marc checked her over and pronounced her merely unconscious.

  We still had no idea where Tina was, so I stayed in the room listening to Laura’s soft breathing, waiting for her to wake up.

  After about half an hour, her eyes opened and she stared at the ceiling, then at me.

  “Welcome back.”

  “Is it true?” she asked hoarsely, and I realized with a stab of pity that she was afraid. “Did my mother have something to do with all this?”

  “Yeah, Laura. It’s true.”

  “I was so sure it was a good plan, the right plan. Instead of running from those—those people, I thought I was—oh, Betsy! How am I ever supposed to know what’s my idea, and what’s part of her plan for me?”

  The time was past for comforting lies. “I don’t know.”

  “I’d rather be dead than be her puppet.”

  “Can’t we find a happy medium between those two?”

  She suddenly seemed to notice my ruined suit, the blood, my mussed hair, the way I was covered with bits of soot, wallpaper, and plaster.

  Her face crumpled and she clapped her hands over her eyes. I leaned forward, grasped her wrists, and gently pulled her hands away from her face.

  “Come on, Laura. It’s not fatal. This is why God invented dry cleaners. Also, it’s going to be really, really awkward between us for a while. It might even ruin Christmas.”

  My lame-ass joke fell flat—deservedly so—and Laura burst into tears. “I’m sorry,” she managed, pulling free of my grip. “I’m just so, so sorry.”

  She rested her forehead on my shoulder and I stroked her (blond) hair while she sobbed all over my already filthy suit. “It’s all right, Laura. We’ll figure it out. Come on, enough with the waterworks.”

  “I could have killed you.”

  “But you didn’t.” You just killed a bunch of my people. But I’d have to address that later. I wasn’t looking forward to it, that was for damned sure. “You let me hurt you—punch you out like we were brawl ers in a Western—rather than killing me. You know what that makes you?”

  “No.”

  “One of the good guys. Your white hat is in the mail.”

  “No, it’s not,” she said again, and wept harder.

  Chapter 59

  Traffic was light at this time of night, and Sinclair rode the gas pedal like he was in the race of his life. Which wasn’t far off.

  In next to no time (objectively, subjectively it seemed to take a week), we were at Laura’s apartment in Dinkytown, opening the door to the spare bedroom.

  Marc, Sinclair, and I all stared. Laura was studiously not staring.

  Finally I said, “Devil worshippers brought a coffin up here and nobody noticed?”

  Laura shrugged. I moved forward and stripped the crosses off the coffin, off the inside door handle, and the windows—no wonder Tina had disappeared from the picture so completely. The crosses were more effective than bear traps.

  I popped the top off of the second coffin in the same week. “Hey, Tina? Rise and shine, it’s time to—gggkkk!”

  Tina’s hands had shot up and out and she was briskly strangling me while I gurgled and grabbed her wrists. “Help me, you idiots,” I choked, which seemed to break the spell . . . Marc and Sinclair both sprang forward to prevent Tina from snapping me in half.

  The perfect end to a perfect week.

  They pulled her off me and Sinclair helped her sit up. She was terribly wasted, terribly old, but I knew some blood would fix her right up. She kept beating her withered hands at Sinclair’s shoulders and trying to speak.

  “Be calm, Tina.”

  “Yeah, be calm already,” I added. “We’ll take care of you.”

  “Laura,” she whispered, so faintly I had to strain to hear. “You have to watch out for Laura.”

  “They know,” Laura said, staring at her shoes.

  Then Sinclair and Marc and I had our hands full keeping Tina from ripping out my sister’s throat and taking a shower in the blood.

  Chapter 60

  Oh, come on, you guys.” Everyone but Laura was in our kitchen . . . it was the next evening, and I didn’t think Tina was going to not try to kill my sister anytime soon. And who could blame her? Laura had tricked her, trapped her, and starved her. Something other than a Hallmark card was definitely called for. “We won! The bad guys are vanquished. Why so glum?”

  Sinclair was giving Marc his “you idiot” stare, but Marc was so happy we were all back home he was overlooking a few things.

  Sure, we had friends among the werewolves now . . . including Michael and Jeannie, which was quite a coup. I could practically hear Sinclair trying to figure out how to turn their goodwill to our advantage.

  And yes, we’d found out BabyJon was no ordinary baby—which was a great relief, given our dangerous lifestyles. If he was going to be raised by vampires, it was excellent that he couldn’t be hurt by them.

  The vampires Laura and her minions had killed were all pretty bad characters . . . Sinclair and Tina knew each and every name, and couldn’t deny the planet was better off without those particular undead walking around.

  However, the ends don’t justify, etcetera.

  Worse, I didn’t think Laura had learned her lesson. She had never regretted killing the vamps, she only regre
tted hurting me. There was still work ahead.

  The only thing worse?

  She threw the fight. She let me win. Let me. Which meant she could probably kill me whenever she wanted. If the devil decided to whisper in the wrong ear again, I could be in very serious trouble.

  But even if that never happened (ha!), I had discovered something knew and awful about my sister.

  Despite my earlier assurance, Laura wasn’t necessarily a good guy. In fact, I was pretty sure she was the worst kind of bad guy. She was a bad guy who thought she was a good guy.

  I was normally pretty sanguine about the future, but I wasn’t going to be able to relax for a while.

  I didn’t think any of us were.

  Chapter 61

  Dude,

  This will be my last entry for a while. I think part of the reason I wrote so much this week was because Sinclair and Betsy weren’t here, and it helped fill my days.

  They’re back now, and things are sort of back to normal. Tina’s still not speaking to Laura. Laura’s avoiding all of us. BabyJon apparently has superpowers. And Betsy doesn’t seem quite so bubbleheaded.

  Only Sinclair is the same: cool, calculating, untroubled. Thank God he loves Betsy—I’d hate to think what would happen to us if he didn’t.

  Meeting the devil—that was a new one for me, even for the funhouse we all live in.

  I can’t get what she said out of my head.

  So I’m going to call my dad tonight. Maybe even go see him.

  The devil might have told me he knew my secret to fuck me up, and that’s fine—that’s the devil’s job.

  I plan to use the information to make my life—and maybe my dad’s—a little better.

  That ought to fix that rotten bitch. And hey, Satan, since you’re so busy watching me, let me be the first to say: not even those Vera Wangs can hide the fact that Lena’s got better ankles than you.

  Later, dude.