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.
Chapter 51
Dude,
The door actually split down the middle and, with judicious shoving, I freed myself . . . and promptly tripped over two unconscious devil worshippers.
Sinclair was a whirl of activity; I could only get the occasional glimpse of him when he managed to knock a bad guy away from him. And I realized why the door had been broken—he’d thrown someone into it so hard, the flimsy closet door had cracked.
I tried to figure out who to help. Calling the cops was out, for obvious reasons. Getting between Betsy and Laura would be a quick and painful way to commit suicide.
So when a hooded jerk ran past me I caught him by the back of his robe, yanked him back, and smashed my elbow into the hinge of his jaw.
“That’ll teach you to mess with a licensed physician,” I told the unconscious Satanist.
Then I ran to see if I could give Sinclair a hand.
Chapter 52
I ducked again as her Hellfire sword whistled over my head, and sidestepped so quickly I tripped over a chair. I was in such a hurry to scramble to my feet that for a few seconds I ran in place, like the Road Runner.
Then I was up and backing away again.
“You came back too soon,” Laura said, circling me. Her knuckles were white on the sword hilt. If my eyes could water, they would have. It was like she was holding the sun.
“Tell me about it,” I retorted. And I thought I had problems on the Cape? Good God, I didn’t know what problems were. “I should have left BabyJon in charge.”
“You never mind about him.”
“Your mother infected him, too,” I said brightly as a wonderful idea came to me.
“You shut up.”
“Yep. He’s got demonic unholy powers—just like you!”
“I said. Shut. Up.”
“You know what they say . . . like mother, lik
e dau—”
She forgot about the sword and, the minute she wasn’t concentrating on it, it disappeared . . . back to hell, or whatever unholy armory her weapons came from.
She hooked her long, slender fingers into claws and ran straight at me. They looked very long and very sharp. And pink! Blech.
I managed to grab her by the wrists and keep her hands away from my face. Sure, it was a cliché, but she really was trying to dig her fingers into my eye sockets.
We danced around in a tight, difficult circle, me holding on to her wrists for dear life—getting killed was one thing, but having my eyeballs clawed out was something else again—and her straining to mess up my pretty face in all sorts of nasty ways.
“Can’t--we--just--get--along?” I managed.
“You go to hell,” she snapped.
“But I don’t want to see your mom anytime soon.”
“Stop calling her that!”
“Fine. I don’t want to see the fallen angel who gave you life. See? I didn’t use the M word.”
She yanked me forward, which I wasn’t expecting, and gave me a savage head butt. Stars actually exploded behind my eyes and I sagged in her grip.
Which is when she picked me up and threw me out the window.
I heard the glass shatter but, fortunately, didn’t feel it. Mostly because my entire face had gone numb. When the hell had Laura learned to fight dirty?
I’d actually thought I could take her, reasoning that I’d been in more fights than she had. It was only about the tenth time I’d underestimated the Big Bad.
I hit the lawn with a teeth-rattling thud, thought about passing out for a few seconds, then painfully climbed to my knees.
Where I spotted the feet.
Clad in Vera Wang strappy gold sandals in mint condition.
Only one creature in the galaxy has such great shoes.
I flopped over on my back and stared up into the devil’s smiling face.
Chapter 53
Hello, Betsy,” Satan said cheerfully. “Having a bad week?”
“You,” I groaned.
“Yes, me. That’s it? That’s the best you can do? You were never the sharpest knife in the drawer, Betsy, when it came to rejoinders.”
“Fuck rejoinders. This is your fault. You drove Laura crazy.”
“I certainly did not.” The devil had the nerve to look offended. She was a petite woman with gray-streaked hair pulled back in a bun. Her navy blue suit ruffled, showing her indignation.
“Did, too.”
“No, I stayed well away from Laura.” The devil smiled, revealing dimples. “I might, however, said a word or two in Dr. Marc Spangler’s ear.”
“Oh, man,” I said. It occurred to me I was still lying on the lawn, broken glass everywhere, bleeding, and Satan was standing over me.
Yep. Things could not get any worse.
That’s when Marc came sailing out the same window and landed right on top of me.
Chapter 54
Marc squashed me so thoroughly it was a damned good thing I didn’t need to breathe much. I lay on the grass like a landed trout, my mouth opening and closing, shoving and pushing at his carcass.
“Betsy,” Marc said, remarkably unharmed. Of course, I’d broken his fall. Stretch some rubber over me and call me a trampoline. “This is all my fault.”
“It’s not,” I wheezed.
“No, really, it is. I—”
“Marc, do you think you could get the hell off me sometime today?”
He leaned back, squashing just one lung now. “I’m the one who—”
“It’s not your fault. Marc, this is Satan. Satan, this is—”
“I know Dr. Spangler, thank you.”
Marc was gaping up at the devil. “Satan? Laura’s mother, Satan? That Satan?”
“How many do you know?” I pushed him the rest of the way off me and climbed slowly to my feet. “We’re the flies in her web, as usual.”
The devil shook her head. “I never interfere with free will.”
“No, but you’re sure good at inspiring it. I’ve got to get back in there.”
“But we were having such a nice talk. Where are you going?”
“I’m gonna go tell Laura what you did.”
The devil raised a dark eyebrow. “You’re going to tattle on the devil?”
“Damn right!”
I began the painful climb back up through the window, pausing just long enough to tell Marc, “Will you for God’s sake get the hell out of here? Somebody’s likely to get killed and I’d rather it wasn’t you.”
I’d rather it wasn’t me, either, but I wasn’t placing any bets on that one.
Chapter 55
Dude,
You are not even going to believe what happened next. I was there, and I hardly believe it myself.
I pulled another one of the hooded jerks off Sinclair—there appeared to be an unending supply—but one of them fell back so fast he knocked me through a window. It was a little like being in a Western. The window, luckily, had already been broken.
By Betsy, whom I landed on. It was the closest thing to straight sex I’d experienced in years. Although I have to say, she was more bony than lush. It was those long femurs of hers.
Betsy, clearly squashed, managed a weak groan. I tried to explain what had happened, which is when she introduced me to the devil. The devil. Then she (Betsy) scrambled back through the window.
I decided there was a strong possibility that I was concussed, and reminded myself to watch for symptoms. Surely this was the result of a mind weakened by blunt-force trauma.
“So, Marc. Let’s talk. How have you been?”
I gaped at her. This was Lucifer? The Fallen One? Samael? The Morningstar? She looked like a beautiful middle-aged, gray-streaked brunette with pretty shoes. And those ankles! I was getting straighter and straighter by the moment.
“What do you want with us?”
“Nothing at all.” The devil gazed thoughtfully at the broken window. “Laura’s my primary interest. The rest of you—you’re just wrenches in the toolbox of life. Things to use. Tools.”
“That was a terrible analogy.”
The devil gave me a decidedly unfriendly look.
“Why don’t you just leave Laura alone, to live her own life?”
“Dear boy. Even mothers who aren’t me can’t do that for their children.”
“She could have a happy life if you’d just leave her alone.”
Satan snorted through her nose. “Leave her alone? Never! She’s been poisoned by humanity. She actually thinks what happens to other people matters. I have the cure for that diseased worldview.”
I stood, brushing grass off my knees. “I don’t like you one bit.”
“Ooooh.” The devil smirked. “That one hurt. By the way, Marc, he knows.”
“What?”
“Your father. He knows all about you.” She leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “He has always known. Oh, Marc. How you’ve disappointed him. You should see him cry when he’s alone and thinks no one’s watching. Like you do, sometimes.”
A sliver of ice pushed its way into my gut, but before I could think of a retort, or run away, the devil was gone.
Leaving the rest of us, of course, to clean up the mess she had instigated.
Chapter 56
Laura looked delighted to see me crawl back into the room. “Good. I was hoping to beat the sin right out of your silly vain carcass, and I wasn’t sure I had finished the job.”
“Your mother’s in the yard.”
Laura, already reaching for my throat, hesitated. “Don’t lie, Betsy. You’ve tried everything but that.”
“But she is. I just talked to her. She said she gave Marc the idea about how you could use your followers to kill vampires.”
“That isn’t true.” But she didn’t look at all sure of herself. “Marc would never hurt me.”
She reached for me again and I batted her hand away. “He’s n
ot the one out to push your buttons, dumbass! She is. This is, like, phase five of her plan to have you take over hell when she retires.”
My ears rang and I realized she’d slapped me so hard and fast that I’d barely seen her hand move. “Stop talking about her!”
“Laura, she wants you to do everything you’re doing.”
“That’s not true! I’ve been doing good! We’ve been killing demons!”
“No, you’ve been suckered. If you won’t stop for my sake, or your own, then stop for no other reason than because it will completely foil your mother’s wicked-ass plans for you.”
Here came the bright light. Here came the sword, straight for my heart. Here came the killing blow, and thank goodness, because one way or the other, it meant the fight was almost over.
I sidestepped and punched Laura in the eye. She went down without a sound.
I didn’t realize until it was too late that she’d swung wide on purpose.
Chapter 57
Sinclair staggered through the doorway, looking like he’d been through a hurricane. Or through a whole shitload of devil worshippers. Having vampire strength and reflexes was all fine and good, but it didn’t mean that enough bad guys couldn’t take a piece or two out of you.
His suit was in tatters; his face was streaked with blood. I imagine I didn’t look much better. At least we were both standing. Well, leaning.
“Some of them are dead,” he informed me. “Some of them ran off.”
Marc called from the other room, “And some of them are going to need medical attention! I’ll do what I can.”
Sinclair took in the ruined room, the holes in the walls, the broken windows, Laura, unconscious on the floor.
“Are you all right?”
“Shit, no. But I’ll live. How about you? You look like somebody dropped you into a blender and pressed puree.”
“What a coincidence. That is precisely how I feel.”
Undead and Unwelcome u-8 Page 13
