MaryJane Davidson - Undead and Uneasy

“We just wanted to talk,” one of them had the unbelievable audacity to begin, but I stomped all over that one right away.

“You all suck at talking without punching.” I listened hard, but there wasn't a sound from Babyjon's room. Thank God. He'd slept through the ruckus— and the gunshots! Or he'd crawled into the laundry chute. Either way: quiet as a little baby mouse. “I mean it, ass—uh, arrogant intruders. You don't want to see my bad side.”

“It gets worse than this?” one of them teased, a real cutie, with blond hair, green eyes, and a Schwarzenegger build. He was the only one who looked genuinely friendly. He was wearing faded blue jeans, beat-​up sneakers, and a T-​shirt that read “Martha Rules.” He rubbed his chest and added, “You pack a pretty good punch, blondie. Ever think of taking up the circus life as the strong man?”

“Ever think of introducing yourselves before you mug a lady?”

“I'm Derik,” the good-​looking blond said, “and this is my Pack leader, Michael Wyndham.” The dark-​haired guy with the impressive smile and yellow eyes nodded at me. “And our alpha female, Jeannie.” The curly haired shooter also nodded. “And Brendan, and Cain, and Lara—Michael and Jeannie's daughter.”

All the ridiculously good-​looking people nodded at me, the soul of politeness, almost like they hadn't been trying to kill me five minutes ago. And they were as amazing looking as any vampire, except they were the picture of robust, superhuman health, with blooming complexions and deep tans.

My mouth was watering just looking at them. God, they smelled so good. Ripe and lush, like grapes on the vine. Except for the blond gun-​toter. She smelled. . . could this be right? Ordinary?

“We came looking for Antonia,” Jeannie said, not taking her hand off the butt of her thirty-​eight. I quickly revised “ordinary” into “gun-​wielding psychobitch.”

“Oh. Duh. Werewolves, right?”

“We did tell you we were coming,” Michael reminded me.

“No, you dumped a totally cryptic conversation on me without even telling me your name, and then you hung up.”

“I told you she wouldn't get it,” Jeannie sighed. She snapped her holster closed, zipped her hoodie (in late June!), and I felt a little better as the gun was hidden away. Bullets couldn't kill me, but they ruined my clothes and stung like crazy.

“Antonia wouldn't have moved in with her without explaining. . . um. . . okay, it's possible my logic where Antonia's concerned is a little faulty.” Michael sighed and added something puzzling while shrugging. “Rogues.”

Derik smirked, Jeannie rolled her eyes, and the other three remained stone-​faced, but Michael had the grace to look abashed. “I, um, like we were saying, I thought Antonia would have explained things to you. I thought you were ignoring instructions and—”

“Hello? You're her—what's it? Pack leader?”

“So she did tell you.”

“And you never noticed that Antonia wouldn't say shit if she had a mouthful?”

“Point,” Derik said cheerfully.

“I'm not the boss of her, dildo breath, just like you prob'ly weren't.”

“What's a dil—” the kid began, but she shut up at a warning glance from her mother. I cringed; I'd forgotten all about her again. I reminded myself that it was their own fault for bringing a child here. Yeah! All on them.

I cleared my throat, which, since I had no saliva was more of a harsh bark than anything else. Two of them jumped, and Jeannie's hand strayed toward her gun again. “Anyway. Antonia. She grew up with you bums, right? She's only been here for a few months, but she grew up with you bums, right?”

“I sense culture clash,” Derik piped up. He really did look like he was enjoying himself, and it was hard not to smile back at him. He gave off friendliness like a teenage girl gave off hair spray fumes. He was like a big. . . well, puppy. “Werewolves punch first and ask questions later.”

“How totally fascinating and yet not interesting to me at all.”

“Unlike vampires, who never ever do anything bad,” he continued, still madly cheerful.

I said nothing.

“But you stood up to our Pack and fought. So we're more inclined to listen to you now.”

“Yawn,” I said, since actual yawning probably wouldn't have shut them up. “So like I was saying, Antonia comes, she goes, she conquers, she bitches, she moans, she eats all the raw hamburger out of the fridge. That's what she does, that's all she does, and we sure don't get into discussions about you guys—she's made mondo-​clear that Pack business isn't any of our business.” Drives my fiancé crazy, I thought but didn't say. he's a ship passing in the night. She and Garrett take all the time. I'm not her damned keeper. I'm her—" Uh. Friend? Ally? Thorn? Fellow bitch? Yeah, that one sounded right.. .

“Point,” Derik repeated, still smiling at me. “Man, you are cute. If I wasn't married—”

“To a sorceress who'd turn her husband inside out if she saw him right now,” Jeannie piped up. “I knew we should have brought her.”

“She's eight months pregnant, for God's sake!” “Still, we could have used her to fight a single vampire. This one is powerful. We could have lost someone.”

I barely stopped myself from saying something stupid like, “A single vampire? Try the Queen of the vampires, you furry nitwits!” But it was a near thing. How was it that I was constantly either denying queen-​hood or embracing it?

“Can we focus, please?” I demanded, as much of myself as of them. “From what I'm gathering, Antonia missed checking in with you guys. So what?”

“So, we'd better sit down, don't you think? I sounds like we've got some catching up to do.”

I nearly wept. "You're not going to leave, are you?

“Not without Antonia,” the kid piped up. She had a look on her face that was absolutely identical to the look on the gun-​toting blonde's. If it hadn't been so weird, it would have been funny. “You didn't take her, I guess. Right?”

“Take her? Shit, I didn't even ask her to move in. She just did. Story of my life,” I added in a mumble.

“Then we'd better talk,” Michael said. “It seems we have a mutual problem.”

“Can't we talk with you guys on the other side of the door? Or the state?”

None of them answered me. Hell. Worth a shot.

“Why'd you shoot me, anyway?” I asked the blonde.

“Because you were winning,” she answered cheerfully.

“Swell. Last chance to leave.”

They didn't move.

I thought about it, and they watched me think about it. Except for Derik and Jeannie, they all looked way too uneasy, shifting their weight and fidgeting like kids. From punching to looking freaked out in. . . what? Ten minutes? What was up with these weirdos?

“I thought you guys didn't believe in vampires,” I said in a lame attempt to stall for time. At least, Antonia had said as much, way back when she'd first moved in.

“Recent events have changed our minds,” the brunette—Cain—said dryly. And what kind of a name was Cain for a five-​foot-​nothing, buzz-​cut brunette with a sharp fox-​like face and smoothly muscled arms?

Then badass buzz-​cut looked down and actually fidgeted like a little kid who needed to pee. What the hell? There were more of them than me, even if I (sort of) won the fight. Or did I? Anyway, I was outnumbered and outgunned (all my shotguns were in the gun safe in the basement). So what was their problem?

I remembered something Antonia had once said— that vampires had no scent. It took her a long time to get used to Sinclair, Tina, and me being able to sneak up on her. Obviously, my lack of scent was giving the werewolves the heebies. Ha, ha, ha !