MaryJane Davidson - Undead and Unwelcome

“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.

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.

Lucky bastard.

We were back in the ballroom, except it had been set up almost like a courtroom. A long table was at the front of the room, and hundreds of chairs were scattered about.

Because we weren’t sure just what everyone’s problem with BabyJon was, I had prevailed upon Jessica to watch him for me during the whole Council thing.

She’d protested—boy, had she protested, my ears were still ringing—but finally agreed. Good thing, too, because after last night I didn’t trust anyone out here to watch him, except maybe for Sara. And I didn’t like asking favors from someone I’d just met.

I had dressed up for the occasion, as Sinclair had, in a knee-​length black dress with a simple strand of pearls my mom had given me for my sweet sixteen. Manolo pumps in deep purple—they went with almost everything, especially black—completed the picture of a sophisticated vampire queen (ha!).

“Perhaps we should discuss a plan in case things do not go our way this evening,” Sinclair murmured, his hand on the small of my back as we walked in.

“Run like hell?” I suggested, and he grinned, whip-​quick, there and gone almost before I could register the expression.

Michael came forward to greet us, Jeannie right beside him as usual. “Hello, Betsy. Hello, Eric. Thank you for coming.”

Sure, pal. Like we had a choice.

“I’ll introduce you to the Council, and they’ll ask you some questions about what happened the night Antonia was killed.”

“As you like,” Sinclair said politely.

“Good luck,” a familiar voice said, and I turned and saw Sara, who looked ready to pop at any second. Extremely pregnant women make me nervous; it’s like hanging around a ticking time bomb. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Where’s the baby?”