MaryJane Davidson - Undead and Unwelcome

Ha. Worrying was more or less all I was doing. And each time Laura tried to assure me she hadn’t lost her mind, she sounded a little less sane.

“Marc, vampires are—with the possible exception of my sister—evil by nature. Betsy’s life would be so much simpler if she didn’t have to spend so much time policing monsters. And,” she went on with the fervor of an evangelist, “not only am I helping Betsy, I’m keeping the peace in the Twin Cities, keeping the devil worshippers busy doing God’s work—it’s all good.”

“Having me followed every minute of the day or night is God’s work?”

She had the grace to flush a little at that. Maybe she wasn’t entirely gone. “Marc, you don’t know any better. You’ll give Betsy all the wrong ideas. I want her to come home, too, but not until I’ve finished working on the surprise.”

“The surprise? You mean there’s more to come?” I tried not to sound as horrified as I felt.

“Sure! Lots more. You’ll see, Marc. Besides, they’re for your own protection. We can’t have anything happen to you, now can we?”

“Will you at least consider the possibility that you’ve gone insane?” I asked, and got a soft laugh in response. She had thought I was kidding.

“You worry too much.”

“What are you going to tell Betsy and Sinclair when they get back?”

“That I kept things safe for them,” she replied promptly.

That you’ve gone looney tunes, I thought, but prudently kept that to myself.

I tried arguing with her for another ten minutes, and kept getting that sweet smile for a response. Dude, after a while I just wanted to whack that smirk off her face.

At least we still had an Internet connection, though what I knew about such things could be carried in an emesis basin. E-​mails were about all I knew. Sure, I could have gone to an expert, a real techno geek . . . except I had Satan’s Minions constantly on my heels.

In desperation I waited until she and the devil worshippers had left on another kill-​all-​vamps mission, then typed out a quick e-​mail to Betsy. And sent it. And sent it. And sent it. And sent it.

Ah, there’s my boy.”

Jessica and I stared at each other, then Sinclair. It was almost two o’clock in the morning; the place was crawling with werewolves. I was a little curious and was interested in going outside, but Jessica was understandably nervous and had practically barricaded herself in the downstairs library.

And what a library! I swear, it was at least half the size of the New York City Public Library. Towering bookshelves, mahogany furniture, a row of computers . . . the only thing it was missing was a pair of stone lions.

Maybe it seemed larger because it had been empty except for Jessica, me, and the baby. In fact, the mansion was practically deserted. But occasionally we could hear faint wolf howls from outside.

And now here was Sinclair bustling in and actually holding his arms out for BabyJon, formerly his number one rival for my affection.

“Your boy?” I asked, and Jessica raised her eyebrows.

“You know,” Sinclair said, hovering over the baby and me, “it’s not too soon to start planning his education.”

“He can’t even walk yet,” Jessica pointed out.

“Oh, I get it. BabyJon is invulnerable to paranormal harm, so suddenly you’re taking interest in his well-​being.”

“Elizabeth, you’ve got me all wrong.” Sinclair had the nerve to look and sound wounded. “As your husband, and his co-​guardian, it’s my responsibility to do right by this boy.”

“Sure it is.” I handed BabyJon over and Sinclair was so startled he juggled the baby for a few seconds before holding him at arm’s length. “Okay, co-​guardian. He needs changing.”

“Ah . . .”

“Don’t even try to wiggle out of it,” I warned. “I’ve been dying to get out of here and walk around. Think you two can handle the kid for half an hour?”

“One of us can,” Jessica said with a sly wink.

“Something smells awful,” Sinclair moaned, and I practically sprinted out of the library before he could hear me laughing.

It was a beautiful night—cool, with clear skies. The moon seemed to almost hang over Wyndham Manor, huge and white. There wasn’t a cloud anywhere, and the stars seemed brighter and closer than they ever had been.

I started walking on the same path Lara and I had taken to the playground . . . Thanks to my vampire senses I could hear wolves running and walking and fucking all over the place. Two of them crossed my path, clearly playing Chase Me, but they moved so quickly I only got a blurred glimpse of tan fur and lots of teeth.

I must be out of my mind.

Well, that was always a possibility. But for once I wanted to take advantage of the fact that I, too, was fast and strong. I suppose if a few hundred of them ganged up on me I could be in serious trouble, but Jeannie had told me that werewolves didn’t go feral during the full moon. They retained their human personalities, they just felt things more keenly. Sadness became depression; anger became fury; happiness became ecstasy. But no matter how deeply they felt something, innocent bystanders didn’t get eaten.

Not that I was exactly innocent, but I think you know what I’m getting at. And it made sense—they had been coexisting with humans for millennia. People were bound to notice if gobs of mutilated corpses were found after each full moon.

I rounded the curve just in time to see the largest wolf I’d ever seen step out of the woods and block my path. Huge, with extremely light fur—almost white—and the biggest green eyes I’d ever seen. It was powerfully muscled and sat in the middle of the road, staring at me like a living statue.

“Uh, hello.”

Nothing. Of course—what had I expected?

“I, uh, come in peace.”

Then I realized where I’d seen those eyes before—Derik.

Great. A werewolf who was pissed at me for getting his friend killed was now blocking my path. Ah, what a week!

I was suddenly so thirsty I could hardly stand it, but realized that was the vampire equivalent of adrenaline. The fight or flight reflex. The last thing I planned to do was bite him. It would be a novel way to be disemboweled.

“Good dog,” I said, wishing I had a Milk-​Bone. Or a case of them. “Uh—I wish Antonia was here with you right now. She was really happy when she was finally able to change.”

Derik cocked his head, never blinking, and then—ulp—started walking toward me. Good-​bye, cruel world.

He stopped at my feet and looked straight up at me. His head was bigger than a bowling ball. His paws were larger than my hand, even with all my fingers spread wide.

Is he gonna kill me?

Yup. He probably is.

Except he wasn’t. He was just sitting there, staring up at me.

And all at once I stopped being nervous for myself and put myself in his shoes. Paws. His friend had died half a continent away, and he couldn’t save her. Any more than I had been able to save her.

I knelt on the path. We were so close, our eyes were no more than eight inches apart.

“I am so sorry about Antonia,” I said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save her. But you go on and stay mad at me, Derik. It’s my fault she’s dead. If I had it to do over, I’d have taken the bullets myself.”

Derik threw back his head and howled—shrieked—at the moon. I thought my head was going to split. I thought my heart was going to split.

When I couldn’t stand it another second, I flung my arms around his thick, furry neck. And did the thing I swore I wouldn’t do again this week.

I cried and cried.