Undead and Unpopular (19 page)

And oh, boy, the look on Delk's face in the kitchen as everything dawned on him. That was one I'd take to my grave. Assuming I ever went there for any other reason than to visit the currently premature tombstone.

"Delk will be back," Jessica said, trying to cheer me up.

"Yeah, I know. That's what I'm worried about."

The phone rang, and I gave the wall extension an ugly look. It rang again. Jessica got up and said, "I know, you're not here. It might be about your grandpa's transfer… hello?"

I stirred my tea, and simmered next to it. Like Korben Dallas in
The Fifth Element
, I was sure all communications were ultimately bad news. Why hasten it by cutting out the middle man?

"Uh-huh," Jessica was saying. "I'm not sure that's—uh-huh… yeah… yeah, but—listen, I'm just not sure if—let me just ask her, okay? She's right—hello?"

Jessica hung up and looked at me.

"Hours later or a day late?"

"Your stepmother won't be able to get the baby for another couple of hours." Jessica looked at the clock on the wall. "It's still early. I guess she—uh—lost track of—look, this doesn't prove your stupid telephone theory, okay?"

I could hear BabyJon's fretful squealing getting closer and closer. Then the kitchen door opened and Sinclair poked his head in. "The baby wants you," he called, and the door swung shut. Then I saw the door open again as Sinclair held the port-a-crib in his arms. It was a little too wide, fully open and extended, to go through the door, so Sinclair squished it a little and it popped through.

I leaped to my feet as Jessica cracked up. "You carried the whole crib down here? Stop that, you're
folding
him up in it!"

"He has plenty of room on all sides," Sinclair said, louder, to be heard over BabyJon's escalating wails.

"Just pick him up! Or leave him there and come and get me, jeez." I picked him up and he quieted. "Don't blame you for that one, yes, Uncle Sinclair is a big poopie-head, isn't he?"

"I am not his uncle," he replied, making a beeline for the liquor cabinet, "and if I was, it would be Uncle Eric."

"It's Uncle Schmuck right now, bud! I can't believe you just dragged the whole thing down here, all unfolded and everything…"

"He seems fine," Sinclair said, dumping a shot of brandy into an empty teacup, which he then filled with hot water from the kettle.

"We're out of English Breakfast, so ha."

"I will struggle along." He gave the baby a look. "You are expecting your stepmother presently, yes?"

"She's running late."

"Hours late or a day late?"

How well they were coming to know the Ant! It was enough to make me want to cry. No, that was the smell BabyJon's diaper was giving off. "Hours," I said, nearly choking.

"I think that kid does have supernatural powers," Jessica observed as I gagged and looked around wildly for the diaper bag. "Powers in his pants."

"You guys. He's just a baby, doing what all babies do." I could hear the resonant chime of our front door bell. "Maybe that's the Ant!"

Sinclair called something out to me, but I didn't hear it. Okay, wasn't listening. Anyway, I practically galloped through the rooms and the halls that led to the front door. All would be forgiven if I could get out of changing this one sinister diaper.

I swung open the door.

"Majesty," the strange but familiar vampire said. She had a calm center that resembled Alonzo's. Had she been with the European delegation? Yes, I believed she had. Her small stature and close-cropped carroty red hair jogged my memory along. "I beg your indulgence in coming by without an appointment."

"Uh." I shifted BabyJon to my other arm. "That's okay. Uh—"

"Carolina."

"Right. Carolina. What's up."

"I was just—" She looked around on the front step.

"Oh! Sorry, come in."

"Thank you, Majesty." She followed me in and swung the big door shut. "I will not keep you long. I was only wondering if you had decided Alonzo's fate." She seemed perfectly calm, but she couldn't have been. Unless she saw me as no threat whatsoever, and decided to swing by the mansion on the way to Caribou Coffee.

"You were? Wondering, I mean?"

"Yes, ma'am. We all are. Alonzo most of all, of course, but he has surprisingly little to say about you, which is frustrating for the rest of us, as you can imagine." She gave me a small, hopeful smile as if to say,
Isn't all this just so silly
?

"Well, it's nice of you to check in."

She shrugged. "He is my cousin."

"Oh! I didn't know that."

She looked puzzled, and rubbed her nose for a moment. Then rubbed it again. Maybe she was trying to get rid of the freckles. "We were introduced."

"Right, right. Well, about that—I'm sorry you guys are sort of stuck there waiting—you don't have to—" I realized what I was saying and stopped. Of course, they had to. She in particular, if they were family. Family! Real honest to God family; here I'd thought I was the only vampire with blood relatives. And what were the others supposed to do while this little Sophie/Alonzo/Liam triangle was resolved? Blow town and leave their buddy to swing?

But they couldn't exactly go around doing their normal vampire things while this was hanging over their head. And they had to be wondering if they were all going to be painted with the same brush when, and if, Alonzo was punished. Trouble was… "I didn't mean to leave you guys all waiting."

"Majesty, it is too bold of me to come by and ask your intentions, but it would not be the first time my curiosity led me down a sorry path."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"Do you smell something horrible?" she asked, looking at my brother.

"Yeah, well, he's had a lot of bottles today—"

"That is your
brother
?"

"Yeah. Look, that's a whole other—"

"I thought you only had a sister."

"Right, the devil's daughter, but—"

"But how interesting! You must tell me more."

BabyJon blatted and I felt his diaper get warmer. And heavier.
No! Hull integrity would not hold! She's losing it, Captain, she's losing it
!

"Carolina!"

She jumped, and I continued before she could react further. "Look, I'm sorry, but I just can't talk to you right now. Everything's just a mess: my best friend's horribly sick and my other friend's got a crush on Alonzo, I'm stuck babysitting hours past what I agreed to, this kid is shitting up every diaper he gets near, one of my subjects wants to turn her human boyfriend, my birthday's at the end of the week and I'm off blood, my grandpa's sick and he's moving in just down the street, I got shot in the chest with holy water by a young farm boy with a crush on me, and my life story is the promising new fall book. On top of that, I haven't done a fucking thing to prepare for my wedding in three months. It is—how do you say this in Europe?—just
not a fucking good time right now
!"

Carolina had backed up until her back was flat against the door. "So sorry to intrude," she said.

I took a step forward, fragile baby-and-poop bomb bouncing tenderly in my arms. My mouth was beginning to hurt. "Sometimes, I just feel like I'm going to break, you know what I mean? Can you imagine?"

"Yes, Majesty."

"Really, you can? Because I figure it's gotta be something pretty fucking spectacular when a Vampire Queen lights up. I mean, just goes off the deep end. Lets the blood boil and the teeth fly. Have you ever acthually theen that happen?"

"I cannot say that I have, Your Majesty."

My tongue played around the sharp edges of my teeth. Her scent was fascinating—she had turned when young, and even the passage of centuries of evil deeds could not cloud a certain divine innocence. "Would you like to? You and I can lock ourthelves in a thpare room, and I can focuth on your particular thituation and conthernth, and we can thee who leaves the room a few hourth later. Hmm?"

"I will go now. See? I am making no sudden moves." She slowly turned and reached for the doorknob. She was far more facile with the nineteenth-century technology than Delk had been; she was immediately back in the safety of open air. "Good… evening… Majesty…"

The door clicked closed.

"I think," Sinclair's smooth voice came from behind me, "you are finally getting the hang of this, my love."

As my fangs slowly receded, I didn't know whether to thank him or throw the baby-bomb at him.

"Laura, I'm so sorry to do this to you again."

"Betsy, it's fine. I'm delighted to help out." She nuzzled the baby. "And delighted ooo see ooo again! Is ooo my best wittle boy? Is ooo?"

"Really, really sorry. But I had plans for tonight and frankly, if I don't do this now, I'll never psych myself up to do it again."

She had all the baby crap, was hauling it (and BabyJon) easily into the front hall. "Betsy, will you stop? It's my pleasure to help out. You'll let his mom know?"

"Yeah, well, she's not gonna be happy when she finds out I shirked BabyJon on you. Just remind her not to shoot the messenger."

Laura laughed, shaking her blond hair away from her face. "Goodness! I'm sure she'll be fine. You know, Betsy, Mrs. Taylor isn't nearly as bad as you—"

Okay, if I had to get the "give your stepmother a chance" lecture from someone who hadn't grown up with her, I was going to pop a blood vessel. "Yeah, well, thanks, I owe you, bye!" I gave her a helpful shove.