Undead and Unsure (17 page)

“Maybe you need help.”

“Maybe, huh?”

She opened her mouth, and her grin widened. “Naw. Too easy. Like taking a hammer to one of those fat fuzzy caterpillars.”

“I have no idea how to respond to that.” Never had I said something more true.

“I think you probably need help like Laura needed help the first few times.”

“Oooh, yeah! Like that bogus ‘you’ve gotta have physical contact with one of your blood to travel between worlds’ rule I am almost
positive
Satan made up just to fuck with me. At first Laura couldn’t, and then she could, and then she got better, and now she can do it on her own.”

“So . . . ?”

“Practice makes perfect,” I finished, glum. The fat fuzzy caterpillar was sad. “Use something until I don’t need the tool—or the crutch?—anymore. What, just click my silver shoes together? Lame.”

The Ant didn’t say anything.

I didn’t say anything. But I quickly cracked under the stress of silence and said, louder, “What, just click my silver shoes together? Lame!” Still nothing. “If I look down, there’s gonna be a pair of silver shoes at my feet, aren’t there?”

She shrugged. “I don’t make the—”

“
Please
stop.” I looked. Yep. Sparkly silver, cute matching sparkly bows, low wide heels. The way I’d always pictured them as a kid.

I glared at the shiny things. I’d have been delighted any other time, in any other circumstance. But in the hellfog, they just looked childish. A really lame deus ex machina. A
shoe ex machina
. Ha! “Really, Antonia? Silver goddamned shoes?”

She shrugged with a grin. When her mouth wasn’t twisted in a snarl, she had a pretty smile. “I don’t make the rules. And who makes them here in the future has yet to be seen.”

“Swell.” I bent, pulled off Tina’s socks (trudging through hellfog in socks—at least I didn’t have to worry about leaving my shoes here), slipped them in my pocket, then stepped into the silver shoes. A perfect fit. Of course.

“How come they’re not ruby slippers?” the Ant asked, brows arched in curiosity as she stared down at my feet. “That’s what they’re supposed to represent, right? How Dorothy gets home from Oz?”

“How Toto got home. I never gave a shit about Dorothy; Toto was the protagonist. Dorothy was strictly transportation. He’s the only dog I’ve ever liked. Well . . .” I considered. “Him and Fur and Burr. The dog who played him got paid more than a lot of the actors, so I guess the Munchkins had lousy agents. Did you know that in the books, Toto could talk all along, he just chose not to? Baum had to retcon that one a little.”

“You’ve educated yourself about the strangest, most useless things.” Was that admiration I heard in her tone? Nope. Just loathing.

“Anyway, also in the books, they were silver shoes. They made them ruby slippers for the movie because Technicolor was a new thing and they wanted to take advantage. But in the books, the shoes were silver. And the books were a hundred times better than the movie.”

“You really know a lot about shoes.”

“Yep.” I had to admit, they looked terrific on me. Since I was wearing them barefoot, I hoped they wouldn’t shred my feet too much. Yes, I’d heal quickly, but it’s never fun to grow blisters. “Okay, so. I’m not ungrateful.” I could almost see the Ant physically brace herself. “But this is, among other things, anticlimactic.”

“Sure it is.” She laughed. “Real life often is.”

“Oh boy. You think this is real life?”

“As close as we can get.”

“Mmm.” I looked down at my absurdly sparkling toes. “All right. So I’m gonna make with the clicking in a few seconds. Listen.” I tried to find the exact right words, and couldn’t, and tried anyway. “I know you didn’t want to help me. Thanks for doing it anyway.”

“Why wouldn’t I? It was
so
entertaining.” Then, at my look: “What? We don’t have DVRs here. Watching you blunder from one problem to the next, always making it worse without a clue why, and ultimately a victim again of your own shortsightedness . . . this was better than a movie. A summer movie, even.”

“And like that, I hate you again.” Click. “Thanks again. Jerk.” Click. “Also, there’s no place like home. There’s no race like foam. There’s no laying with gnomes.” Click.

“What are you doing now?” she asked incredulously.

“Hey, if it’s about my brain more than the physical world, it shouldn’t matter what I say, as long as I’m visualizing correctly. Ha!” I crowed as the hellfog started to fade, as my stepmother’s shade started to fade. “I was right! It’s working! Suck on that, Antonia! And thanks again, I guess.”

She opened her mouth but I never heard her comeback. Ha! Thanks a bunch, silver shoes.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-EIGHT

“People don’t change,” the infant Antichrist was informing
me while the others were putting on their jackets and preparing to leave
casa
Taylor. “They like to think it, so they say it. But it’s just something, uh, some people say.”

Tina, Dr. Taylor, and I all picked up the
old people
context. I traded glances with my old friend.
Calm. Be calm.
The surest way to annoy a child is to call attention to the fact that she is, in fact, a ch—

“What nonsense,” my mother-in-law said, exasperated. “Laura, I’m sorry, but I can’t accept any sort of ‘this is how everyone is in the whole wide world’
pronouncement from someone who’s been voting age for less than three years. I understand that you’re more than a pretty girl from Minnesota, but some things are true no matter what your pedigree is.”

“I don’t see what pretty has to do with it,” she muttered, and I had to agree.

“I understand that you’re a paranormal force of extraordinary power, maybe even destruction incarnate. And you’ve been that for not quite two decades. You can’t rent a car yet. So enough of your pronouncements on humanity.”

“Then how about not-humanity?” she snapped.

“Sorry, what?”

“Him!” Ah. The moving finger pointeth at me. “Your daughter’s husband, the king of the vampires! She’s killed the devil and he’s here to bully me into bringing her back.”

“Not at all,” I said helpfully. “Merely to tell you that if you do not return the queen, I shall kill you.”

“That’s not bullying,” Tina agreed. “It’s a straightforward if/then proposition.” She turned to Jessica, frantically shaking her head; Marc, making slashing motions across his throat; and Detective Berry, who was holding his head in his hands.
“What?”

“Nothing,” they returned in mumbled unison, followed by Jessica’s whispered, “Should we go outside and let them thrash it out?”

“DVR’s empty,” Marc reminded her.

“Screw that,” the expectant mother replied.

“Laura, you have never approved of me,” I said, “and really, never of the queen, either. Which was irrelevant to me until you snatched her from the world. And it has nothing to do with what we have or have not done. You distrust our very nature. We could present the world with a cure for cancer, and you would explain it away by assuming it was a way to keep our prey healthy.”

“That
would
be just like you,” she said, startled into agreeing.

“Oh, Laura, really!” Dr. Taylor snapped.

“Because we cannot change. Vampires are predators who feed on humans.”

“Yes.”

“Evil incarnate, as you are thought to be destruction incarnate.”

“Yes.” But this time, she could not meet my gaze, and I finally understood.

“Laura.” I took her small, warm hand in mine. It trembled like a small animal, a rabbit in a trap. “Laura, if you do not wish to be evil, do not do evil. That’s all. That is the big secret. You were not born to destroy worlds. If you do so, that is by choice and not by blood. Really, all this drama because you’ve read
The Bad Seed
too many times?” I chided her gently.

“If you’re even being honest with me, it’s not that simple. Don’t you understand?” She took her hand back. “There’s no one like me anywhere. So no matter what happens, no matter what I do or what anyone does, I’m stuck.”

“Yes.” I smiled. “And in that, you and your sister are exactly alike.”

“Oooh, now with the trash talk,” Jessica commented.

“Not at all. Come with me,” I coaxed. “Let me show you something that will make you feel young, as when the world was new.”

“Wait,” Marc said. “Where have I heard that?”

“Curse your near-perfect recall of all things pop culture,” I said, leading Laura to the front door.

“
Wrath of Khan
!” he cried, galloping down the hall after us. “That does not bode well for us! Unless Khan wins in this case!”

“You should all see this,” I said. “Now come along.”

“Eric, are you sure . . . ?” Tina trailed off, and I knew her startlement was profound by her use of my first name. She knew this was a secret I had guarded jealously. It was still so new to me. I wanted to share it only with the queen. But this was no time to close ranks. Quite the opposite. If we were a family, a true family, it was time to behave as such.

“Stay here with Dr. Taylor until it is full dark,” I told her. “Or have Marc take you straight home. We shall all be there shortly. The queen as well, I am sure.” Laura wouldn’t look at me, but I held to my confidence. “I don’t want you to risk further harm. You were foolish to come here at all, which we shall discuss at a later time.” That was as severe a reprimand as I could manage, because I knew she was upset and worried for me . . . and for Elizabeth. Tina did not normally risk immolation.

“It’s okay,” Marc assured me. “I’ll run her home right now. She likes my trunk.”

“This is the sort of thing that makes people scared of vampires,” Laura commented.

“Thank you so much,” I replied politely. “I have never once considered that in all my years of being a blood-seeking denizen of the night.”
Ah, careful. Careful.

“Actually, I do like his trunk,” Tina said quickly. “It’s roomy and he leaves book lights . . .” She mimed turning on the light on a miner’s helmet. “And blankets, and books, too. And yesterday he recharged my Kindle and put that in there. It’s nice!”

To my surprise, the Antichrist burst out laughing. “Sorry, it’s just—the mental image—it’s nice that you like it—” She dissolved into giggles. “It’s good that you take care of them.”

“Oh, yes.” Marc smiled at her. “It’s a full-time job, you know. It keeps me busy.” And I realized he was smiling at all of us.

As they began to file out, I turned to say my farewell to Dr. Taylor, who had left the hallway. “Thank you for—”

“Eric, wait!”

I stopped and stepped back from the door, swinging it almost all the way shut to keep the heat in. The others had filed out, Tina hidden under Marc’s parka/refrigerator/shield. “Yes, Dr. Taylor? What is it?”

“This.” She had run to the living room and plucked Elizabeth’s booking photograph off the wall. Beaming, she brought it to me. “Here,” she said, looking up at me with my wife’s eyes. “I know it’s your favorite. You keep it until you get her back.”

Unspoken:
This is all I can do for you.

Unspoken:
I know you’ll get her back; this is my token.
This meant much to me, because although I was fairly confident Laura would bend to my will—
was
bending to my will—and that Elizabeth had things under control where she was, life and death had taught me nothing if not that things do not always happen as planned.

I took the picture carefully, like it was a baby bird. “Thank you.” For one dreadful moment I thought my voice was going to crack. The dreadful moment passed and not a dreadful moment too soon. “I shall keep it for you until.”

Until.
Vague and hopeful at the same time.

“Thank you.” I realized I had already said that. I realized I needed to leave. To my horror, I found I was close to weeping. I vowed I would not break down and sob in front of a woman wearing Jack Skellington slippers. “Thank you, Dr. Taylor.”

She nodded and smiled. “You’ll get her back. When you do, bring the picture back and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“There is no need to threaten me,” I said dryly and left as quickly as dignity allowed.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-NINE

“This is a bad idea,” Detective Berry said as he helped
Jessica out of the passenger seat. “But I gotta say, it’s nice to see you out in the lack of sunshine.”

The sun had been coyly hiding behind clouds for the last couple of days, but it was only midafternoon, and quite bright. (Compared to the deep dark of the some twenty thousand midnights since Tina turned me, it would have to be cloudy indeed for me to think it less than bright.)

We had not driven far from Dr. Taylor’s home; we were parked outside the First Presbyterian Church, which had been here since 1855 . . . half again as long as I had. It was an enormous structure, brooding over Vermillion Street with thick walls. The twin towers and white arches gave it a Romanesque look, as if the congregation had plucked their church from medieval Europe and brought it to Minnesota piece by piece. I had long admired it.

Laura had parked her car on Sixth Street, behind mine and Marc’s, and walked to my side. Marc had his phone out and was giving Tina, snugly ensconced in his trunk, a tedious moment-by-moment update. “Okay, we’re all standing on the street. But it’s Hastings, so nobody’s getting run over like dogs. Now we’re all staring at a huge church that looks like it’s gonna be stormed by medieval peasants any second. Now your boss and my roommate are walking up to the doors of the—uh—Eric? I think that’s a very bad idea.”

“Come with me,” I said to Laura, who had fallen into step beside me.

“Are you trying to make me bring Betsy back so you won’t kill yourself?” she asked, seeming honestly interested. “Because I have to admit, I’d be torn on the right way to handle that. Not just for me. For all mankind.”

“You were explaining to me that people cannot change. Something you learned after your endless twenty years on the planet.”

“Now Eric’s making fun of Laura’s age,” Marc dutifully reported. “Did she think she was being subtle in Mama Taylor’s kitchen with that ‘people don’t change, it’s just something old people say’ stuff? Because I’m only a couple years older than she is, and I still winced. Ooh, now they’re approaching the big wooden double doors of the church. I guess he’s gonna threaten to burn himself ali—oh, my God! He’s opening the door! And he isn’t on fire! So far!”

“Come along,” I told the Antichrist. “Come pray with me.”

“Pray for what?” Laura whispered, following me into the church.

“My wife’s safe return,” I replied. “And peace on earth for all mankind, I suppose. If you’re inclined. I myself am not; how dull that would be!”

She followed me through the fellowship hall; much of the first floor was used for coffee and snacks after the service, potluck suppers, and the occasional reception. To the rear were several smaller rooms used for classes and day care. To the left was a sizeable area for coats and, past that, steps leading to the chapel.

I walked up the steps, leading the Antichrist by the hand.

“The amusing thing is, there was a time when I believed you were right. That we don’t change; we cannot change. That people were good or bad or cowardly or brave but, ultimately, not terribly original or interesting. Certainly not inclined to modify behavior or, if they did, never for long.

“And then I met the queen. And through her, all the extraordinary people now in our lives. Including you, I suppose,” I added with a smile.

“Now he’s taken her into the part of the church where they hear the service!” Marc nearly shrieked into his phone. “And he’s still not on fire or anything! But I’ll keep you posted on the fire thing! What? I’m shouting? Sorry!” I could hear Detective Berry helping Jessica up the steps. “Hurry up, you guys, you’re missing this!”

“Which has been, I admit, a mixed blessing,” I finished. “You know I love the queen. But . . . ah . . . yes. Mixed.”

Stunned, Laura allowed me to lead her to the altar.

“But I eventually learned that they can change,” I said, kneeling. “And when they don’t, or won’t, I have learned patience. Because perhaps they are not the ones who should change; perhaps I am the one who must change. The queen taught me that.”

I folded my hands. I looked at the altar. The wise eyes of the Shepherd were on me, as they had been the moment I came squalling from my mother.

“‘“Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you, and I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired servants.” . . . But when he was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion—’”

Beside me, Laura was weeping. “‘And ran and fell on his neck and kissed him. And the son said to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven in your sight, and am no longer worthy to be called your son.”’”

“‘But the father said to his servants, “Bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet. And bring the fatted calf here and kill it, and let us eat and be merry.”’”

We finished my mother’s favorite parable in unison: “For this my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.”

“I’m sorry.” Laura wept. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s all right.” I helped the Antichrist up from her knees. “I didn’t ask you here to shame you. Only to show you.”

“You don’t even know.” She fumbled in her pocket, found a napkin, and gustily blew her nose. “You don’t know what I’ve done. I’m sorry.”

“To Elizabeth?” I asked sharply.

She shook her head. “Betsy’s safe.”

“And so am I. And so are you. The rest can be for another time.”

“You. Are not even gonna believe. What’s going on in here.” I looked; Marc was openmouthed, the phone nearly dropping from his fingers. “I don’t have the words. Which sucks for you, since you’re in my car trunk and can only rely on my narration to know what’s happening. But this incredible thing you’re missing is friggin’ incredible!” His last
incredible
was nearly shrieked.

“Shush,” I scolded. “Remember where you are.” I rarely saw people in this church on a weekday in the middle of the day, but it did not follow that disrespectful noise was acceptable.

“Somebody’s been keeping secrets,” Detective Berry scolded. “How long have you been a vampiric Presbyterian?”

“By kidnapping Betsy, you outed him!” Jessica told Laura. “So you can feel good about that. But stop crying now, or you’ll get me started.”

“Ah, give her a break.” Detective Berry hurried down the aisle, but I had already helped Laura to her feet. “How often does someone’s faith in humanity get restored? Let her have her moment.”

“Laura’s crying,” Marc narrated, “but everybody else is in pretty high spirits. Okay, I’m muting my phone for a minute.” He pressed something, took the phone away from his face, and said to me, “God, God,
God
!” At my raised eyebrows, he turned to the others. “See? I knew he was off!”

“Off?” I asked.

“I slipped a couple of times the last few days and apologized, and Eric was always ‘no problem my good man’ about it. I
thought
it was bothering you less.”

I could not hide my amusement. “Less?”

“Well, no. That’s not right. I thought you were hiding it better,” he admitted. “Usually you and Tina react to a God comment like someone lashed you in the eyebrows. Lately you’ve been a little less flinch-ey. I just figured hiding it better was a king-of-the-vampires thing, since Tina’s a lot older but it sure bugs her.”

Something beyond the sun,
I remembered. I had been lost in Elizabeth, drowning in her, and thinking that she had not just given me the light. But that was nothing I wished to share; it belonged to me as did the queen, and as I belonged to her.

“I had no idea you were so observant,” I teased.

“Hey, if Betsy didn’t give a shit about shoes or TV or the movies, she’d be really observant, too. It’s just, she spends a lot of her brainpan focusing on shoes. Hang on, I gotta get Tina back in.” He touched another spot on his phone. “Hey, I’m back. Just had to test a theory. How’s the charge on your Kindle . . . ? It is? Okay, good.” He looked up. “You know, the only thing we need for that extra bit of TV drama is for Jess to instantly go into labor.” He paused and stared at her. We all stared.

“What?” she replied testily. She’d refused to sit in one of the pews and, given how they appeared to be designed to enrich chiropractors, that seemed wise. “I feel fine. Go get your drama somewhere else.”

That seemed as good as any indication that it was time to take our leave.