Undead and Unreturnable (12 page)

She nodded, fiddling with the neckline of her shirt. "Lowercase
dave
, yup, I remember."

"Okay, then. Look, we know Nick's nice, he's great at his job, he
looks
… yum. Go for it. But…"

I trailed off because I was torn. Did I warn my best friend that my fiancé was going to do everything in his power to make that relationship work because he was sneaky and that's how he operated? Nick might like Jessica for herself (or not; we hadn't established that yet), but Sinclair liked Nick for his badge.

Or did I keep quiet out of loyalty to my fiancé, the vampire king?

"But… ?" Jessica prompted.

"But… you… should… wear clean underwear."

She gave me an odd look. "Thanks for the tip."

"I
gotta
admit, I was kind of surprised you said yes."

She shrugged and picked a cloth pill off the arm of the chair. She was very fidgety tonight. "I
dunno
. It's great being with you guys and all, and living here, but the excitement of being best friends with the queen of the vampires doesn't exactly butter my muffin at night, you know? I mean in bed. Because we're all up and running around at night. But you know what I mean, right?"

"Sure. I hope it works out."

"With Sinclair on my side, how can it not?"

"I know! My God, was that weird or what?"

"You boy has a sinister
metrosexuality
going on," she agreed, "and that's a fact."

"That's one way of putting it. Oh, and get this! I have a job again. I'm writing a column for the new vampire newsletter."

"
What
did you just say?"

"I know!" I plopped down on the bed and propped my chin on my elbows, slumber-party-gossip style. "Can you believe it? Talk about practical. How totally unlike vampires to do something that doesn't involve beheadings or the mass slaughter of innocents."

"Maybe," she suggested, "it'll be an evil newsletter."

"Great. Something new to worry about. Which reminds me—"

There was a tentative knock on my door, one I knew well. "Come in, Jon!"

"
Ooooooh
," Jessica said, not looking at me. "I forgot to ask you how Sinclair reacted to the news of his roommate."

"It wasn't pretty," I mumbled back. Then: "Hi, Jon! You caught us. Everybody's about ready to turn in."

"Yeah… I just got up, actually. This is the one time of day that our schedules actually mesh."

"How interesting," Jess said sweetly, "that you've planned that out already. You've been here… what? A day?"

He looked flustered (and adorable!) as he stood in my bedroom doorway, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Well, not the one time," he explained. "Because, you know, it's wintertime. So I'll still be awake when the sun starts to go down, and—"

"Jon. My girl has to get ready for bed, and her fiancé's
gonna
be here any minute. So what's up?"

Not for the first time, I had the impression Jessica didn't much care for Jon.

"I, uh, because I'm going to be in town, I had this idea. Actually, I got it at school. I'm taking a writing class at the U—"

"That'll come in handy on the farm."

"Jessica!" I gasped. What did she have against farmers? "Go on, Jon. We're
all
listening." I glared at her for good measure.

"Well, anyways, I was going to the U last year and then I went back home—"

"Which we already know…" Jessica prompted him by making the "speed up" motion.

"—anyway, today I re-registered, and one of my new classes is—well, last year I took a class called The Writing Sampler—and this year I want to focus on the bio class."

"—logy or
graphy
?" I asked, having trouble seeing where this was going.

"Oh. Biography."

"Is that the one where you write your life story?" I asked, delighted. Yes! Something to keep him busy, and off of me! And off Sinclair's radar, best of all. "What a great idea, Jon! You've lived an incredible life and you're, what? Fifteen?"

"Twenty," he said thinly. "And a biography is when you write about someone else."

"Uh-oh," Jess muttered.

"Oh. Then—oh. Oh! Uh…" I blinked rapidly and tried to keep my mouth from popping open. "Well, that's… really flattering."

"I think it'd be a great project."

"Jon, you can't write about her and then show it to all your little school chums. We're trying to keep a low profile, here."

"Oh, I know," he said with painful earnestness. "I already told my instructor—"

"You did
what
?" we screamed in unison.

"—that it was fiction. A fake biography about a fictional character. He loved the idea."

Then he's missing the point of the class
, I thought but didn't say.

"I mean, come on, you guys. Who'd take it seriously anyway? 'Oh, here's a biography tell-all of a vampire who lives here in the Cities.' Of course he's going to assume it's a fake. In fact," he added proudly, "he can't wait to read it. Said in twenty years of teaching no one's come up with that idea before."

"You didn't come up with it, either!"

He ignored her and looked at me. "So will you do it?"

"Do
what
?"

"Tell me the story of your life."

I opened my mouth.

"No," Jessica said.

I looked at him.

"No," Jessica said. "Bets, I'm doing you the hugest favor of your life here, right now. No. I'm saving you so much trouble right now. From
people
. You know. No."

Jon glared at her. "It's not up to
you
."

"Isn't there a combine you should be changing the oil on?"

"Isn't there a benefit you should be chairing?"

"Come on, guys," I said automatically, thinking.

I knew what Jess was getting at; she was implying that Sinclair would totally flip his gourd. As he sort of had when I told him Jon was staying with us. What could be worse than that?

Aw, Sinclair wouldn't mind. He had more important things to worry about than Jon's schoolwork. Frankly, with vampires like Marjorie running around town, I was kind of surprised he even noticed Jon was here.

And Jon looked so adorably hopeful, so rumpled and sweet in his jeans and yellow "Luke, I'm not your father" T-shirt. And bare feet! My God, you could practically see the straw sticking out of his hair.

"
Welllllllllll
…"

"No."

"Maybe we could try it," I said. "Just to see how it goes. Maybe a couple chapters."

"
Nooooooooooooooo
!" Jessica yowled.

That's when Sinclair walked in. "What is going
on
in here?"

"Jon wants to—"

"That was rhetorical; I heard the discussion on the way up the stairs." He strode into the room, put a hand on Jon's face, and shoved. Jessica darted to the door and actually had it open in time for Jon to stumble through it. She took one look at Eric, said, "Good night, guys," and went through the door herself, at a slightly more dignified speed.

"
Sinclairrrrrrr
!" I yowled. "You can't go around manhandling my friends that way. No wonder he doesn't think I should marry you."

"I know exactly why the infant thinks I shouldn't marry you." He had his back to me, staring at the shelves full of CDs. He'd been sleeping in here for a couple months, but he had yet to move any of his own things in. All his suits and underwear and toiletries (if a vampire needed such things) were in his own room down the hall.

Why had I never wondered what that meant before? That he came to fuck and then left? Unlike me, Eric could move around all day, provided he stayed out of direct sunlight. So I figured, anything was an improvement over all the fighting and massive sexual tension we'd always ever known. And because I assumed after the wedding we'd share a room, not just a bed.

I'd assumed other things before. About Eric. And been wrong.

Worst things first. "You're being a big baby about this. You were a jerk about him staying with us for a while-—"

"We are not the Super 8 Motel."

"Says one of the three people who moved in without paying a dime for the place! Or asking me!
I
at least sold my house for the down payment."

"It is childish to pretend it's the same thing," he sniffed. "I was the king, moving to an appropriate domicile to be at my queen's side. Jon is sniffing up your back trail like an addled bull in the pasture."

Wow. He was
really
mad. The farm metaphors only came out when he was
superpissed
.

"Eric, he's, like, twelve years younger than I am! I'd never go out with someone like that."

He turned away from the wall of Cool. His night attire, I couldn't help but notice, was exceptional: black silk pajama pants. And nothing else. I wished we could quit arguing so I could see if his nipples tasted as good as they looked. "You're sixty years younger than I am."

Nipples be damned! "What?"

"I said, you're sixty years younger than I am."

"
Wh
—
buh
—" I honestly never thought of it in terms like that anymore. I used to, when I was a brand-new vampire and he wanted me to choose between him and
Nostro
, but then I chose, and it's never come up since.

Unless Sinclair thinks it's time to make another choice…

"Look, Eric, you're just being…" I napped my hands helplessly. "Well, weird. You're being weird about this. It's you I love. Not Jon. Not Nick."

His eyes narrowed. "What does Nick have to do with anything?"

"I'm just saying! Everyone's so concerned about my love life, nobody's listening to me, to what I want. It doesn't matter how many Bees or cops end up living here; it doesn't change how I feel about you. I made my choice,
you're
who I want to be with. You! The sneakiest, creepiest,
studliest
guy I've ever known."

He unclenched a bit. "I suppose I must take that as a compliment."