Read Undead and Unwelcome Online
Authors: MaryJanice Davidson
cavalry. I was torn between the urge to strangle her because she took so long, and
hugging her because I was so relieved.
Even better, they caught Laura practically red-
handed, which was even better, because it saved a lot of time.
Unfortunately, Laura not
only wasn’t sorry, she wasn’t even defensive. She seemed proud and happy that she had
found a way to “help” Betsy, and the more she talked about the vampires she and her
minions had killed, the more pissed Betsy and Sinclair got.
I’ve never been particularly
scared of Betsy, but Sinclair was a whole different story. Even when he was pleasant, he
could be sort of terrifying. And he wasn’t being pleasant now.
I managed to haul Jessica
aside and told her to get her ass out of here and take the baby with her—something fairly
awful was about to happen, and I didn’t want either of them to get hurt.
Jessica must
have believed me, because she didn’t make so much as a token protest. Just picked up the
diaper bag, the baby in the car seat, and left.
Which left Laura, the devil worshippers,
me, Betsy, and Sinclair. That’s when things started to get a little on the violent side.
When Betsy shoved one of the devil worshippers she gave him a bloody nose, so her fangs
popped (you can always tell—she lisps, which is hilarious under most circumstances).
And of course Laura felt obliged to protect her minion. Which is when the rest of them
jumped us.
I still couldn’t believe how quickly things had gone to shit. I should never
have suggested to Laura that she find ways to work with the misguided morons who kept
showing up.
Everything was my fault.
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) I had just enough time to grab Marc by the collar, ignore his surprised squawk, and
bundle him into the closest closet. The poor guy looked ghastly—pale, with dark circles
under his eyes and at least three days of stubble. Clearly he’d been under stress during our
little sojourn to the Cape. And no wonder, with the devil’s daughter cracking up right
under his nose. As usual, things were happening so quickly I was having trouble keeping
up. Even as a bunch of jerks in hoods rushed me, Sinclair was there, knocking and shoving
and punching them out of the way. Which left me free to— “Laura!” Her big blue eyes,
wide, got even wider as I hit her around the thighs in a low tackle. I knocked her
backward a good four feet, and she slammed, back first, into the far wall of the parlor.
“Betsy, have you lost your mind?” Crazy Lady had the nerve to ask. “Get off !” “What’d
you do with Tina, nut job?” “Oh, I like that! After everything I’ve done for you, you can’t
even show me simple gratitude.” “Gratitude?” I almost gagged on the word. “Thank you
for going crazy? For killing our subjects and maybe even our friend? I’d like to put your
fucking head through a wall.” “Like this?” she asked brightly and, cat-quick, she wriggled
free of me, seized a yank of my hair, and drove me face first into the wall. My face blew
up. Or at least, that’s what it felt like. My nose was already dripping, and I was pretty sure
there was a piece of wallpaper in one of my eyes.
Will you get it together? You’re undead;
she’s not. You’re stronger and faster; she’s not
. As I reminded myself of essential facts of
nature, Laura picked me up like a wolf with a cub and heaved me so hard I crashed
through the wall and spilled into the next room. I shook splinters out of my hair, wiped the
blood from my face, and reassessed the situation. Clearly, Laura had been keeping secrets.
Or had never come up with a tactful way to explain she had superhuman strength. Which
was my own fucking fault. She
was
the Antichrist, after all. I’d even seen the breakdown
coming. I’d just kept conveniently shoving it out of my mind. It seemed like there was
always something more important claiming my attention: killing the old vampire king, my
wedding, catching serial killers, my wedding, catching a crooked cop, my wedding . . . and
now I was paying the price. Worse, I wasn’t paying it alone. “After everything I’ve done
for you,” Laura said reproachfully, standing and brushing bits of wall off her sweater.
“Clearly the undead have been a terrible influence on you.” “And clearly your mother’s
been one on you.” As soon as it was out, I wished I could take it back. Because right in
front of my eyes, Laura’s mouth went thin and hard, and her hair turned red. Never a good
sign.
Dude,
Betsy bundled me so efficiently and so quickly into the closet, I hardly had time to
protest. And believe me, dude, the irony of me being
back
in the closet was not lost on
me.
I hammered on the door, wanting to help them any way I could, but she must have
jammed the knob with a chair or something.
Great. My friends were going to live or die
ten feet from me, and I was helpless. I’d
been
helpless this entire week. No matter what I
did, or tried, things just kept getting worse.
I’d been so happy to see Betsy and Sinclair.
Now I wished I’d kept my mouth shut and kept them far, far away.
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Chapter 50
Think about what you’re doing, Laura.” “I told you never to speak of her around me.”
She was striding forward and I was backing up—while trying to tell myself I wasn’t
backing up. Laura’s hair went red when she was indulging a homicidal rage. My little sis
definitely had a dark side. “Can’t we talk this through—oooooh!” This time I crashed,
back first, into the fireplace. Luckily it was a mansion-sized fireplace, not the little ones
you usually see in houses these days. The thing was big enough to roast a sheep in. Or a
vampire. “All right, enough is fucking enough.” I crawled, coughing soot, out of the
fireplace. “No more Mrs. Nice Guy. I’m not pulling any more—” That was as far as I got
before I had to duck. Laura’s clenched fist whistled over my head and went right into the
wall. She hissed in pain, yanked her hand free, and whipped around so fast she’d given me
an eye-watering slap before I knew what was happening. “This isn’t striking you as just a
little bit psychotic?” I asked. Too bad Laura wasn’t bleeding; I could really have used my
fangs about now. “
You’re
the psychotic. Running around saving vampires instead of
killing them, it’s nonsense.” “I’ve killed some vampires,” I whined. “
I
have been trying to
save your soul.” We were stalking each other, circling warily. “My soul’s fine. But
you
need to be on medication.” I could hear tons of racket from the other room—Sinclair,
taking on the thirty or so devil worshippers by himself. I couldn’t help him; I could only
pray he wouldn’t get badly hurt. “I destroy evil, so I should be medicated?” “You’ve
appointed yourself judge, jury, and executioner.” “They’re vampires!” “So am I. Are you
going to kill me, too?” “No,” she said sulkily. “At least, I don’t think so.” “Laura, what’s
wrong
with you? What happened while we were gone?” “Marc gave me an epiphany.”
“What is that, an STD?” She rolled her eyes. “He solved a big problem for me. He showed
me the light.” “I’ll show you a light.” I seized her by the hair (cat fight!), yanked her down
sharply, and brought my knee up into her nose, which broke with a soft crunch. Laura
screamed. My sister was screaming. And bleeding. Here came my fangs—at the worst
possible time. Just what Laura needed to see—a physical reminder that I was one of the
evil beings she was trying to wipe off the planet. I brought my hand up to hide my lips.
“Laura, I think if we dithcuth thith, we can—” Something bright swung toward me,
something that shone like a small sun, something that hurt to look at. I ducked . . . and
Laura’s Hellfire sword whistled over my head. Oh, this was getting better and better. First,
the psychotic break. Then the red hair. Now her weapons. Laura could pull a sword, a
crossbow, whatever, out of thin air and no matter what shape the weapon took, it was
fatal to vampires. And their queen.
Dude,
The door actually split down the middle and, with judicious shoving, I freed
myself . . . and promptly tripped over two unconscious devil worshippers.
Sinclair was a
whirl of activity; I could only get the occasional glimpse of him when he managed to
knock a bad guy away from him. And I realized why the door had been broken—he’d
thrown someone into it so hard, the flimsy closet door had cracked.
I tried to figure out
who to help. Calling the cops was out, for obvious reasons. Getting between Betsy and
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Laura would be a quick and painful way to commit suicide.
So when a hooded jerk ran
past me I caught him by the back of his robe, yanked him back, and smashed my elbow
into the hinge of his jaw.
“That’ll teach you to mess with a licensed physician,” I told the
unconscious Satanist.
Then I ran to see if I could give Sinclair a hand.
I ducked again as her Hellfire sword whistled over my head, and sidestepped so quickly I
tripped over a chair. I was in such a hurry to scramble to my feet that for a few seconds I
ran in place, like the Road Runner. Then I was up and backing away again. “You came
back too soon,” Laura said, circling me. Her knuckles were white on the sword hilt. If my
eyes could water, they would have. It was like she was holding the sun. “Tell me about it,”
I retorted. And I thought I had problems on the
Cape
? Good God, I didn’t know what
problems
were
. “I should have left BabyJon in charge.” “You never mind about him.”
“Your mother infected him, too,” I said brightly as a wonderful idea came to me. “You
shut up.” “Yep. He’s got demonic unholy powers—just like you!” “I said.
Shut. Up.
”
“You know what they say . . . like mother, like dau—” She forgot about the sword and,
the minute she wasn’t concentrating on it, it disappeared . . . back to hell, or whatever
unholy armory her weapons came from. She hooked her long, slender fingers into claws
and ran straight at me. They looked very long and very sharp. And pink! Blech. I managed
to grab her by the wrists and keep her hands away from my face. Sure, it was a cliché, but
she really was trying to dig her fingers into my eye sockets. We danced around in a tight,
difficult circle, me holding on to her wrists for dear life—getting killed was one thing, but
having my eyeballs clawed out was something else again—and her straining to mess up my
pretty face in all sorts of nasty ways. “Can’t—we—just—get—along?” I managed. “You
go to hell,” she snapped. “But I don’t want to see your mom anytime soon.” “Stop calling
her that!” “Fine. I don’t want to see the fallen angel who gave you life. See? I didn’t use
the
M
word.” She yanked me forward, which I wasn’t expecting, and gave me a savage
head butt. Stars actually exploded behind my eyes and I sagged in her grip. Which is when
she picked me up and threw me out the window. 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.
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
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) 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.