Undead and Uneasy (18 page)

"But he loves me. We'll figure something out. First things first. I've got your wedding

present."

She opened the drawer to her right and took out a shoe box wrapped in heavy white paper

and topped with a pale blue bow.

Create PDF
files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (
http://www.novapdf.com
) I smiled in anticipation. Jessica was rich and had great taste. Even better, she knew what I

liked. I plucked off the bow and stuck it to her forehead, ripped off the gorgeous paper,

and flipped the lid off the box.

And stared. Inside the box were a pair of Filippa Scott Rosie bridal shoes in the exact

shade of my dress (the cream-colored part, that was). I knew she hadn't bought them for

less than four hundred bucks. I also knew they were handmade with duchesse satin, with a

padded foot bed that meant even with three-inch heels, they'd be comfortable. And the

slim bow across the front was just the right touch.

"Oh my God," I said.

"I know," Jessica said smugly, reclining in her hospital bed like a goddess being fed

grapes.

"They're perfect."

"I know."

I burst into tears.

"Whoa. Hey!" Jess shot upright, then gagged, and for a minute I thought she'd barf on me

while I wept into the shoe box. We both struggled to control ourselves, but only Jessica

won the battle. "This really wasn't the reaction I was going for."

I cried harder.

Create PDF
files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (
http://www.novapdf.com
)

"Betsy, what's wrong? Is it Nick? We'll figure something out. We're going to have to. But

I don't think he'd really try to hurt you."

"It's Nick," I sobbed, hiding my face with the box. 'It's everything."

"What everything?" So I told her.

“Wow.”

"I know," I sniffed.

"Wow."

"I know."

"Why didn't you—never mind. I know why you didn't say anything." She propped her chin

in her palm and stared past me. "This stinks to high heaven."

"Yeah. I don't know what to do."

"Well, he's not dead." She said this with such authority that I instantly cheered up. "No

Create PDF
files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (
http://www.novapdf.com
) chance. No chance."

"Why? He's not immortal."

"Why? Because he's Sink-Lair, that's why! You think he's easy to kill? You think you

wouldn't know if your king was dead? He's stuck somewhere. Some asshole snatched him,

and you've gotta figure out who."

"That's what I've been trying to do."

"Yeah, so you said. It's not the werewolves, it's not Delk. It's not Laura. It's—what did

you say Nick told you? To go back to the beginning?"

"Yeah."

"So when did things start to get weird?"

I thought about it. I took my time, and Jessica let me. It wasn't the fight we'd had over the

wedding announcements. Sinclair and I fought all the time. What was the first really weird

thing to—

"The double funeral," I said at last. "That's when I realized things were mondo-bizarro. It was like one day everything was the way it's been the last couple of years, and the next, I

was alone. You were sick. Dad and the Ant were dead. Tina was in Europe. Mark had

disappeared. Laura and Mom blew off the funeral. Antonia and Garrett had vamoosed."

"You think your dad and the Ant weren't killed by accident?"

Create PDF
files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (
http://www.novapdf.com
)

"Who'd want to get rid of them? I've been so busy I haven't had time to feel sad. If

someone was trying to hurt me, that's not really the way to do it. I guess that makes me a

bad daughter, but—"

"But your dad was a pud," Jessica said bluntly, "and that's the end of it."

"I'm wondering if there might be some answers in the Book of the—"

"You stay away from that thing," she ordered. "You going psycho-bitch isn't going to help anything."

I sighed and slumped back. "I suppose."

"Tina called it right. This whole thing reeks like last week's sushi. I wish you would have

told me earlier."

"You've got more important things to worry about."

"Oh, what's more important than my best friend?" she asked irritably.

"Your life," I replied. "Focus on getting better."

"Well, today was the last day of chemo. So I ought to be able to come to the wedding

without heaving all over my suit. If I have to be dragged in on a stretcher and propped up

Create PDF
files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (
http://www.novapdf.com
) like Hannibal Lecter, I'll be there," she vowed.

"Revolting," I said. "Yet comforting."

I dragged myself into the silent house. The third floor was dark; I assumed Lara and

Jeannie had hit the sheets. But this wasn't the week to make assumptions, so I tiptoed up

to the third floor and found them in the second bedroom I checked. They were both

conked and both snoring. I shut the door and snuck back downstairs.

I kicked off my pumps, tossed my keys in the general direction of the foyer table, then

went into the library and sat down across from the Book of the Dead.

The nasty thing was on a mahogany book stand by the fireplace, open to God knew what

page. I stared at it and tried to make a decision. Any decision.

"You might as well," a horrifyingly familiar voice said from across the room. "You can't screw this up any worse."

I looked over, and there she was: Laura's mother, the devil, seated behind the desk.

"Fabulous," I muttered.

"So nice to see you, too, dear." Satan looked a lot like Lena Olin: long brown hair

streaked with silver. Calm expression, beautiful gray suit, classic gold earrings (in the

shape of angel wings!), black stockings, and . . . I peeked under the desk. And groaned

silently. She was wearing fourteen-thousand-dollar Manolo Blahnik black alligator boots.

Create PDF
files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (
http://www.novapdf.com
)

"Like them?" She rotated her left foot around her ankle. "I'm sure we could work

something out."

"Get lost."

"Now, Betsy. You need me. After all, you're not using that teeny, tiny brain of yours. In

fact, you haven't been since this whole thing started."

"And what do you know about it? Scratch that: go away." I wasn't the brightest bulb in

the chandelier, but I knew that the devil never gave up anything for free. I was crazy even

to be talking to her.

"Oh, Betsy. Don't you know? I can help you. I want to help you. Him?" She jerked a

thumb toward the ceiling. "Not so much. You think He cares about you now that you're a

vampire?"

"I think you lie like old people fart."

"I've never lied toyou , dear."

I had to admit that was true. Not that I was going to say so out loud.

"It distresses me to see my daughter's sister so upset. So alone in the world. Beset from all

sides."

"Really."

Create PDF
files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (
http://www.novapdf.com
)

"I'll help you, dear. All you need do is ask."

"How about if I ask you to toddle off back to Hell?"

Lena Olin made a tt'tt! noise and shook her head sorrowfully, as if at a disobedient

daughter. "Why make things so much more difficult? You know I can help you."

"I know nothing's free with you, Lena Olin."

"Let me help you. I'mdying to help you. He's still alive, you know. It's not too late . . .

yet."

That hurt. A lot. I closed my eyes and chewed on my tongue so I wouldn't say something

that would cost me my soul.

"I'll be glad to lend a hand. Because once you have your lover back, you'll stop thinking

the worst of my poor Laura. I dislike it when the two of you argue." I grunted.

"All you need to do is ignore Him and pray to me." I nearly fell out of my chair. "Pray toyou ?"

"Well, why not? You've seen the state of His world, right?" she said with a gesture. "Your best friend fighting for her life? Your father dead in a senseless accident? Your brother

orphaned? You alone in your time of greatest need? And let's not even talk about all the

children He does away with every hour of every day. Who knows how long Babyjon has

under His regime? Pray to me, dear. At least I'm not crazy."

Create PDF
files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (
http://www.novapdf.com
)

"That's tempting," I said. "Really tempting." She smiled and smoothed her hair. "We try."

"Well, try this. Take your satanic, designer-shoe-wearing ass right out the door, willya?"

The devil frowned. "Betsy, this is a chance that may never come again."

"Bullshit! You show up whenever I'm in a jam, but I'm not dumb enough to think you care

about me. You're the devil , for crying out loud! Your reputation is horrible! Now get

lost!"

She stood. It seemed to take a long time. It seemed like she was ten feet tall. "Enjoy the

funerals, dear. Because without my help, there will be more. And say hello to my dear one

when you see her again."

I opened my mouth to say something snappy, but I was alone in the room.

It took me about ten minutes to stop shaking. It had never been so hard to tell Lena no.

Sure, my soul would sizzle in the bowels of Hell for eternity, but on the other hand, I was

going to live for at least another thousand years. I wouldn't have to worry about Hell for a

long time.

And I believed her when she said she could help me. She wouldn't have shown up here if

she couldn't help me. Even now, I was tempted to yell for her, call her back, make a deal .

. .

Create PDF
files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (
http://www.novapdf.com
) Had she saidfunerals , as in plural?

The desk extension rang, and I nearly jumped out the window. What now? I snatched up

the receiver. "Hello?"

"Betsy? It's Mom."

"Hi, Mom. You're up late."

"Babyjon had a late nap," she said ruefully. "But I don't have anything scheduled for

tomorrow, so we can sleep late."

"That's good."

"So . . . how are you?"

"Not so good," I admitted. "Things are kind of a mess." And I deeply, deeply covet Satan's footwear.

"I'm sorry," she said at once. "I can relate to what you're saying, hon, make no mistake.

Do you believe the funeral announcement didn't come out until yesterday? I could have

sworn I made the newspaper's deadline, but they said I missed it by twenty-four hours."

"What? You mean Dad and the Ant's funeral?"

Create PDF
files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (
http://www.novapdf.com
)

"Isn't that stupid? My point is, I've been a bit of a scatterbrain since the accident. And I

know I made things harder for you at exactly the wrong time. My only excuse is . . . I

don't really know. It's not like I was still in love with your father. I guess I wasn't ready to

say good-bye forever. Not so soon after you died, anyway."

"I didn't think about it that way," I said. "I guess I shouldn't have been such a jerk."

"Your father died, dear. You were entitled."

"Well, I wasn't there by myself. So how did Dad's coworkers know to be there?"

"Oh, I'd called your dad's secretary—Lorraine?— the day I heard about the accident. And

I guess she called the others. And you know your stepmother wasn't averse to using

Lorraine for her charity work. That's how her friends knew to come. And of course, I had

called you myself."

"Yeah, I remember." Something was bumping my brain like a minnow nudging a weed. It

was great that my mom had called, great that she had apologized, great that we were

patching things up. Why, then, did I feel so weird? Sort of sick to my stomach and excited

at the same time? I was filled with a kind of happy dread, if there was such a thing.

"I thought I'd bring the baby to see Jessica tomorrow," Mom was saying.

I barely heard her. Start at the beginning. The funeral was the beginning. There was no

announcement. So the only people there, would have been people who knew . . . who

knew . . .

"I'll visit during afternoon hours if you'd like to join us . . ."

Create PDF
files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (
http://www.novapdf.com
)

"MARJORIE!" I shouted and heard the receiver crunch as I squeezed it too hard.

Jeannie and Lara were still conked, and thank goodness. With zero traffic and a lead foot,

I made it to the Minneapolis warehouse district in record time, my knuckles white on the

steering wheel. I had to be very careful not to bend it out of shape, or even pull it off.

It had been so thoughtful of Marjorie to pay her respects at my father's funeral. Marjorie,

in fact, seemed to enjoy being helpful in all sorts of ways. Marjorie, the eight-hundred-

year-old vampire who disdained politics.

Why had she come? To see how I was bearing up under all the pressure she was bringing?

To try to get a whiff of my pain? To throw me off her scent?

I didn't know. But I was going to find out.

I pulled up outside a dilapidated warehouse, which I knew was beautiful and spacious

inside, filled with thousands of books and state-of-the-art computers. Marjorie's digs. Her