MaryJane Davidson: Undead and Unwelcome

The parlor was packed with people in dark hooded robes. Laura was standing at the front of the room, holding a clipboard.

“Okay, then after you take care of the two vampires who got away last night, I need some of you back here. I was able to intercept a call to the house—I guess some vampires from Maine are on their way to pay tribute.” Laura shook her head. “Blasphemy. Then we’ll—”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Laura glanced up, startled, and instead of looking ashamed or scared or sad, she looked delighted. “Betsy! Thank goodness you’re back. I’ve got so much to tell you.”

“Why,” I demanded, “are you meeting with monks in our house in the middle of the night?”

“Those aren’t monks,” Marc sighed. “They’re devil worshippers.”

“Devil—” I suddenly realized what was going on. They were confusing Laura with her mother. But why would Laura have anything to do with—

“Laura,” Sinclair said in a calm tone that didn’t fool me at all, “where is Tina?”

“Oh, I had to get her out of the way,” Laura said with Bambi-​like sincerity. “She would have tried to stop me. But I’m being rude. Everybody, this is my sister, Betsy, and her husband, Sin—”

“We don’t need intros!” I snapped. “We need to find out where Tina is.” Not to mention when you lost your mind.

“I’m in a meeting right now,” she said in a scolding mommy voice. “I don’t—”

I hauled one of the robed morons to his—his? yep, it was a guy—feet and tossed him away. He bounced off the wall like he was a SuperBall, hands clapped to his face as his nose gushed blood.

“I want you athholth out of my houth!”

“Protect the Beloved of the Morningstar!” some other hooded freak yelled, and just like that, I had my hands full.

Dude,

Thank God, thank God, thank God, Betsy finally came home and she brought the 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.

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.

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.