Undead and Uneasy u-6

by Maryjane Davidson

  Delk shifted in his chair, the arrow point never wavering. “What do you want?”

  “Oh, the usual. World peace, a pair of Christian Louboton heels, a perfect wedding.”

  He tried not to wince, and I pretended not to notice. “Still marrying King Psycho, huh?”

  That remains to be seen. Did you kill him, Delk?“ Fraid so," I replied with a cheerfulness I sure didn't feel.

  “What do you want?”

  “Info.”

  “So take a community ed course.”

  “I don't want to learn how to throw clay, Delk. Some extremely weird things are going on in St. Paul. I was wondering if there was anything you wanted to tell me.”

  “Why don't you just mind fuck me and get it over with?” he sneered, but the tip of the crossbow shook.

  “Why don't you just answer me?” I deliberately looked away. I didn't want to take a chance on even accidentally mojoing him. The poor kid had been screwed over enough by me and mine. “People are getting hurt. Some of them are victims. My dad's dead. My stepmother's dead, and I'm Babyjon's new mommy. Vampires have gone missing, and people are acting weird. Jessica's trying not to barf out all her guts from chemo.”

  Delk's jaw dropped in what I hoped was unfeigned surprise. “Jesus Christ!”

  “Something's going on. And. . . well, I couldn't help wondering.”

  “You think I killed your parents?”

  “She wasn't my mother,” I said automatically.

  “I didn't have anything against your dad and your stepmother. I never even met them. And you thought I—”

  “Well. You and I didn't exactly part on good terms.”

  He snorted and leaned back, and the crossbow dipped until it wasn't quite pointing at my chest anymore. “You mean when I found out that I'd written a book about you— your Goddamned biography!—and then Sinclair and Tina made me forget all about it, all to protect the precious vampire nation? Except for some reason this book, which I don't remember writing, ended up getting submitted to a publisher and is a fall title? A fall fiction title?”

  “Well, yeah,” I admitted. “But anything sounds bad when you say it like that.”

  “I take it Sinclair is gone, too?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well. I didn't do it. I doubt any of us did. The Blade Warriors disbanded.”

  I giggled, the way I always did when I heard the name of their kiddie club.

  “Knock it off. My point is, I haven't talked to any of them since Ani and Tina broke up. You know about that.”

  “I also know that we were kind of friends once, and then I let Sinclair and Tina do something I knew was wrong, and then we weren't anything.”

  “Do you blame me?” he asked quietly, setting the crossbow between the sugar bowl and the cream. You had to admire your North Dakota farms. . . good food, sturdy furniture, checkered tablecloths, crossbows.

  “No! Heck, no. I never blamed you. I'd have done the same thing. Possibly discharging a few firearms before I left town.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, I bet. But I've been here helping out with the farm since I last saw you. Grandpa has plenty of help for harvest, so I'll probably finish my senior year at the U this fall. I miss the Cities.”

  “I bet dorm living isn't your cup of crossbow, either.”

  He laughed and looked about sixteen instead of twenty. “After the shit I've seen? And done? I'd probably strangle my roommate before orientation was over.”

  “Well, we've got plenty of room at the mansion. You're welcome to crash there until you find a place of your own.”

  He just looked at me. Now it was my turn to shift uncomfortably. “Look,” I continued, “I'm not saying it wouldn't be awkward or anything—”

  “Awkward?”

  “—but bottom line, we fucked you over, and that was wrong. And I let them do it because I've got responsibilities that I didn't have when I was alive. That doesn't make it right. We owe you one. A big one. You can live with us as long as you like.”

  “I'm sure Sinclair and Tina would love that.”

  “They owe you a big one, too.”

  He chuckled and helped himself to a swig of my tea. “Argh! There's less sugar in a Coke. You'd really let me stay with you.”

  “Sure. Hey, it'd be a pleasant change for me to invite a guest to move in. Usually they just. . . move in.”

  “How do you know I'm not lying? Maybe I got the drop on Sinclair and Tina and threw your dad down the stairs—I'm sorry about your folks, by the way.”

  “Thanks, but Tina's alive and well, and my dad died in a car accident.”

  “Maybe I'm just a really really good actor.”

  “Well. That's why I didn't call. I wanted to talk to you in person. Watch your face. Your eyes.”

  He swallowed hard. “Oh.”

  “You're slick, Delk, but I'm the vampire queen.”

  He fiddled with the yellow tablecloth for a moment, trying not to stare at me. “I think that's the first time I've heard you refer to yourself that way.”

  "Yeah, well, it's been a super fun week. And by 'super fun' I mean 'horrible and endless.''

  “Well,” he said with the air of a person who had suddenly made up his mind, “I don't know about staying with you. But I'll come back with you and help.”

  Part of me leapt at the idea. And part of me wanted to cover my eyes and groan. I had figured this meeting would go one of three ways.

  One: Delk would throw things, aim weapons at my head, chase me away like I was a rabid coyote. Two: Delk would instantly let bygones be bygones and offer to come back and help (more on that in a minute). Three: some weird combination of one and two.

  Once again, I was madly tempted to take him up on his offer, and once again, I wasn't going to allow myself the luxury. For one thing, I had no idea what was going on or how dangerous things could get. Delk, although adept at killing vampires with the Blade Warriors backing him up, was still little more than a kid. For another, it was no secret to me that Delk had a bit of a crush. Leading him on wasn't an option.

  Finally, I didn't drive all the way out here to drag him into my troubles. After what we'd done to him, he didn't owe us a thing.

  “After what we did to you, you don't owe us a thing.”

  “I wasn't thinking 'we' and 'us.' I just want to help you out.”

  “Touching, yet mildly creepy. Nothing's changed, Delk. Once I track Sinclair down, I'm still marrying his sorry ass.”

  “And the rest of him as well, presumably. Look, Betsy, I—I've missed you. And I consider us even.”

  “Oh. Even as in, 'Hey, you mind fucked me, but then I shot you in the chest, so let's start fresh' even?”

  “Anything sounds bad,” he teased, “when you put it that way.”

  “You're sweet,” I said, and I meant it. Once upon a time, I'd thought Delk's crush was cute. Now it just made me tired. I made a mental note: once I'd fixed the current disaster, however it shook out, I was going to fix Delk up with someone nice.

  Laura?

  No, no.

  Hmmm.

  “—no trouble to come back to the Cities with you.”

  “You're sweet,” I said again, “but it's my mess to clean up, not yours. But think about what I said. About this fall.” I drained my tea and finished. “Now, if I expect to make some time before the sun comes up, I'd better book. Sorry to barge in on you like this.”

  “Wait, wait.” Delk grabbed a Post-​It and scribbled on it, then stuck it to my arm. “That's my cell. Call me and I can be in the Cities in less than a day.”

  “Thanks,” I said, not mentioning that Tina had extensive files on various ways to track him down. I pulled it off my arm and stuck it in my pocket. “I'll treasure it always.”

  “Say hi to Jessica and Marc for me.”

  “Sure. Thanks for not staking me the minute I knocked on your door.”

  “Aww. You're too cute to stake.”

  All of a sudden I was in a big hurry to leave. I was afrai
d I'd weaken and tell him to come back with me—I was so tired of being by myself. And I felt guilty about his crush. He'd forgiven me pretty quickly for what I still considered to be an unforgivable act. Was that my fault? I'd never led him on deliberately. I didn't think.

  “Want to hear something funny?” he asked, getting up to walk me to the door.

  “Absolutely.”

  “I wrote the publishing house. The one that's publishing Undead and Unwed? I pretended to be a reviewer, and they sent me an ARC.”

  “ARC?”

  “Advanced reader's copy. Of my book. It's kind of cute. It's told in first person. You know—you're telling your own story.”

  Suddenly the front door was about a hundred miles away. Guilt was washing over me like a tsunami. “Oh?” I managed, trying not to gallop the rest of the way to the door.

  “Yeah.”

  “Delk, I'm—”

  “I know.” He looked at me thoughtfully. I tried not to look at his nipples. “I guess if you're going to be the queen, you have to be the queen.”

  Whatever that meant. “Yep, that's about right.”

  “But I hope you'll remember that you were human first, and for a lot longer.”

  “I try to.” Finally, a pure truth. “Every day, I try to. It's sort of what drives the other vampires batshit.”

  He grinned. “Well then! An even better reason to keep it up.”

  “Thanks for the tea.”

  “Thanks for having the courtesy to come and see me yourself.”

  He held the door open for me. We stood there, fairly awkwardly, while I tried to think of something to say. I didn't dare kiss him, not even a buss on the cheek. Shaking hands seemed kind of overly formal, given all we had been through. Not doing anything at all would be rude.

  “Fuck it,” I said, and grabbed him and gave him a resounding kiss on each cheek, real smackers. “There. Bye.”

  “Hey, if it turns out Sinclair is dead—”

  “Stop.”

  “Too soon for jokes?”

  “Just a bit.” I started down the steps. “Behave yourself. Maybe I'll see you in September.”

  “More like probably,” he said cheerfully. He let the porch door slam behind him and leaned on the railing. “It'd be worth it just to irritate the piss out of your runaway groom.”

  "You're not staring at my ass as I walk away, are you?

  “Of course I am!”

  I grinned in spite of myself and shot him the finger over my right shoulder. He waved as I started the car and put it in gear, and I flashed my high-​beams in response.

  Cross another suspect off my list. But I felt slightly better for coming. And I made a promise to myself. Two promises. I would fix Delk up, and no matter what it took, I'd make sure he got the credit for Undead and Unwed, as well as the royalties.

  How? I had no idea. But it was the least I could do.

  Chapter 30

  “I can't believe you're babysitting me."

  “Hey, you didn't have to come.”

  “Uh-​huh. Rattling around that mausoleum you live in was a much better plan.”

  “Mom, can I have some more paper?”

  Jeannie and Lara Wyndham and I were back at the bridal shop. Tonight was the first night of the full moon. My wedding was in four days.

  Denial? Was that why I was here? Pretending everything was fine and I really was getting married next week? Well, yeah. Besides, if Sinclair did show up (or if I was ever able to figure out where he was), I had no plans to walk down the aisle naked.

  Given that I'd been planning my wedding since the seventh grade, it was slightly insane that I'd left the dress for so late. Not only did it have to be The Dress, but at this stage of the game it needed to require few if any alterations.

  The florist was taken care of, ditto the reception menu. The justice of the peace was booked—he was a friend of my mom's. The RSVPs had all come in long before Sinclair had disappeared. It was a small civil ceremony, so there'd be no rehearsal. No bridesmaids, either, though I'd picked out designer suits for my girlfriends to wear, all Vera Wangs, all jewel colors.

  Speaking of jewel colors, Lara was lying on the floor, drawing with Crayola Sparkly Markers. Jeannie was slumped in one of the armchairs, staring at the ceiling. And, what came as a pleasant surprise, she wasn't armed. And I was trying not to remember the last time I'd been at the bridal shop, when things had been almost normal.

  “How was your wedding?” I asked, waiting for the clerk to haul out some dresses.

  She snorted. “I didn't have one. The day I met Michael I got knocked up with this one.” She nodded at her daughter. “As far as werewolves are concerned, that was the wedding.”

  “Really?” I was interested in spite of my own problems. “I'm kind of in the same boat. We've got this thing called The Book of the Dead, which foretold— uh—me. And my fiancé, Sinclair. So he always figured we were married, too. Even when I couldn't stand him, he assumed we were hitched.”

  “Aggravating.”

  “Say it twice. Anyway, the last thing he wanted was a real wedding with a dress and a caterer and a cake we can't eat.”

  “Oh. And now he's gone?”

  “Yeah.”

  Jeannie was probably a lousy poker player. I was grateful she was too tactful to suggest Sinclair hadn't been kidnapped. She looked at me, bit her lip, and then went back to staring at the ceiling.

  “I hope we get this cleared up sooner rather than later,” she fretted, shifting in her seat. Her shoulder-​length hair, normally curly, was bordering on frizzy, thanks to the humidity, and she shoved a wad of it behind one ear and crossed her legs. “I haven't seen my son in a week.”

  “Oh? How many kids do you have?”

  “Lara here, and my son, Aaron. He'll be two next month.” She sighed. “Obviously this trip was too dangerous for a toddler.”

  “Uh.” I glanced at Lara, reassuring myself she was engrossed and paying no attention. “Not to tell you your business, but I think it's too dangerous for anybody under thirty.”

  She smiled thinly. “Lara will be the next Pack leader. The more she knows about the world before she has to take over, the better.”

  “Yeah, but—not much time to just be a kid, huh?”

  Jeannie said nothing. But I could tell she didn't like it. What must it be like, I wondered, to be a human in the middle of a bunch of werewolves? In love with your husband and glad enough to have kids with him, but caught up in a society with completely different rules?

  I could so totally relate.

  “So even though you have a little boy, Lara will—?”

  “The mantle's passed down by birth order, not gender.”

  “How refreshing!” And I meant it. Men usually got all the breaks.

  “Yeah. But I see where you're going with all this. And yeah, I wish I could protect Lara from—well, everything. But a werewolf cub isn't like a human child. Even a half/half, like my daughter. They're bolder than we are, and faster, more pragmatic and. . . well, crueler, in some ways. From the day she was born she was different than any human baby. I swear, she was born without the fear gene.”

  “Fear is a gene?”

  “You want to get into it, blondie?” she demanded, but she was smiling. “Because we'll go, if you want to go.”

  “Don't call me blondie, fuzzball.”

  “Mom, you worry too much,” Lara said from the floor, drawing what appeared to be a field of upside-​down mushrooms on fire.

  “That's my prerogative.”

  “What's—”

  “It means that as your mom, I retain the right to worry about you pretty much until the day I die.”

  “Oh, yay,” the kid muttered, then giggled when Jeannie nudged her rump with the toe of her sandal.

  “So your husband and his buds are running around on all fours in the middle of St. Paul right about now?”

  Jeannie shrugged. This was obviously old stuff to her. I couldn't help but admire her. She'd adjusted
to her extreme lifestyle change a lot better than I had. Of course, she'd had a few more years to deal with it.

  “I wish I was on all fours right now,” Lara said.

  I looked a question at Jeannie, who replied, “Puberty, usually.”

  “Oh, that sounds like a fun time.”

  She grinned and opened her mouth, but before she could elaborate. . .

  “Ah, Ms. Taylor! So nice to see you again.”

  “Yeah, hi, uh—”

  “Misty, Sherri, and I will be heading out for a quick bite, but you're our only appointment this evening. Christopher is in the back, selecting some gowns we think will superbly suit your height and complexion.”

  “Superb,” I said.

  “Mega superb,” Jeannie added.

  “We've got some lovely things in from Saison Blanche, Nicole Miller, Vera Wang, and Signature.”

  "Terrific. But you know, time's kind of an issue for me.

  “And not wanting to be here is kind of an issue for my mom,” Lara added, ignoring another toe-​poke from her mother.

  “Can't I just go in the back and sort of look around? It'd go a lot faster, don't you think?”

  “I'm afraid that's against policy, Ms. Taylor. But we're willing to stay as late as necessary this evening to be sure you find the perfect gown.”

  Jeannie groaned. I couldn't blame her. If I were in her shoes, I'd probably be bored out of my mind, too. In fact, I was sort of amazed that—

  (Beth)

  “Sorry, what?”

  Jeannie glanced at me. “What?”

  “What'd you say?”

  “Nothing out loud. But I was thinking all sorts of nasty things.” She grinned. “What? Vampires can read minds?”

  “No.” Not entirely true. I could read Sinclair's mind when we were making love. In fact, it was just as well we were fated to rule for a thousand years, because he had ruined sex for me with anybody else.