Undead and Unwelcome (Undead #8)

Undead and Unwelcome (Undead #8) Page 21

Chapter 47

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.

Chapter 48

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.

Chapter 49

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.

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.