Undead and Unwelcome

by Davidson, MaryJanice

  “What—what’s going on?” Jessica asked, trying to stare at the kid and extricate herself from Jeannie’s grip while keeping her balance.

  “He’s only eleven. This is his first change. You need to leave right now. He won’t be able to—”

  More adults fell back. One of them spun right into Jessica, and she—oh my God, she—

  She dropped my brother. Right in the path of a brand-new werewolf.

  The crazed adolescent (was there any other kind?) charged at my brother and bit him. I screamed, high and shrill . . .

  (Elizabeth? What’s wrong?)

  ... and cried out for my brother, now surely dead at the hands of—

  He was laughing.

  BabyJon was laughing.

  The new werewolf took off with his tail between his legs with at least three adults in pursuit, and suddenly the marble floor rushed up at me and hit me in the face.

  Chapter 39

  “. . . maybe she . . .”

  “. . . couldn’t have . . .”

  “... her a minute ...”

  “. . . just the shock . . .”

  I opened my eyes and saw Jeannie, Michael, Sinclair, and Jessica all peering down at me.

  “Hey, there you are,” Jess said. She was, thank God, holding BabyJon, who was wriggling and whining to come to me. “You fainted.”

  “I did not faint. Vampires don’t faint.”

  “I know of at least one who does,” Sinclair teased.

  “What happened?” I asked, sitting up.

  “We were hoping you could tell us,” Michael said.

  “Hey, one minute I’m minding my own business and the next some poor kid is falling to his death—except he didn’t die—and then trying to eat my brother. Who appears to be not eaten.”

  In fact, BabyJon appeared to be fine. Which was impossible. I reached up and took him from Jess, inspected him, and found nothing except some saliva. No bite. No blood. Unbelievable.

  “—don’t normally go through their first change until thirteen or fourteen,” Michael was saying. “Aaron’s only eleven; nobody expected him to change during this phase.”

  “Is that why he did it while it was still daylight?” Jessica asked.

  Nobody answered her, which was just rude. Super-Secret Werewolf Business, no doubt. And speaking of daylight, there wasn’t much of it left. I imagine Michael was going to have to get furry pretty soon. Which meant—oh, shit.

  “Sinclair!” I cried. “This castle is practically all windows, what the hell are you doing out of our room?”

  He looked at me as if I’d suddenly grown another head. “You were screaming,” he said simply. “In my head. I had to come.”

  “He jumped down from the third-floor landing,” Jessica added. “I can’t believe his femurs aren’t in his lungs right now.”

  “Gross,” was my only comment.

  “I don’t understand any of this,” Michael said. “You said Aaron bit the baby? You must be mistaken; there isn’t a scratch on him. And whose baby is that, anyway?”

  Oh, for the love—

  “Wait a second. Wait.” Jessica frowned. She frowned harder. Her eyes went all narrow and squinty. Her lips twitched. Michael and Jeannie looked alarmed, but I knew that expression. It was her It’s on the Tip of My Tongue look.

  Then: “Bite him.”

  “What?”

  “Bite the baby.”

  “Nobody’s biting anybody’s baby,” I protested. “Least of all this one.”

  “I’ll bite him,” Jeannie offered.

  Jessica shook her head. “It’s got to be one of the vampires.”

  “Ah,” Sinclair said. “I see what you’re getting at.”

  “Swell,” I grumped. “Somebody want to clue me in?”

  “BabyJon may well be immune to dangers others would find crippling, even fatal.”

  “He’s not immune to anything,” I protested. “He’s had colds. He’s had shots at the pediatrician. He—don’t do that!”

  Sinclair, moving with the spooky speed that, even after all this time, startled the hell out of me, dipped his head and slashed at BabyJon with his jaws. He made a rattlesnake look slow.

  I lashed out and punched him in the eye before I knew what I was doing. Then, when I did know what I was doing, I slapped at his shoulders. It probably looked to the others like he was on fire and I was trying to put him out. “What—do you think—you’re doing?”

  “Proving—ouch—Jessica’s theory.” He rubbed his eye. “Look.”

  “Look at what, you psychotic?”

  “Look at the baby.”

  BabyJon yawned, unmoved by either a) the werewolf attack or b) the vampire bite.

  “He doesn’t have a mark on him!” Jeannie marveled. “That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!”

  “What, you’re saying he’s—what? Invulnerable?” I shook my head, feeling like I should be wearing a dunce cap. “But he’s not. You guys know he’s not. He’s skinned his knee crawling, he’s—”

  “Invulnerable to paranormal harm,” Sinclair said, and Jessica nodded.

  “Wait a minute,” Michael said. “That’s your baby?”

  “Well, look who just caught up. Seriously? You guys think that’s what it is?”

  “I saw Aaron try to bite him,” Jeannie said quietly. “It would have killed a normal infant.”

  “When did you have a baby?” Michael asked, but I waved off his silly-ass questions.

  “So that’s why Derik kept freaking out around him. He knew something was different about BabyJon, but not what. And—Jeannie, how would a Pack leader deal with something he could never hurt?”

  “Why . . . I suppose he would try to gain dominance of some sort,” Jeannie replied slowly. “That’s their nature. That’s—”

  “That’s why Michael kept forgetting about BabyJon. He can’t dominate someone if he doesn’t remember him.”

  “How long has this baby been here?” Michael demanded, poor guy. He was sounding more and more bewildered . . . and the sun was dipping lower every second. Explanations would have to wait.

  “We’ll tell you all about it,” Jeannie promised. “Later.”

  “When you aren’t furry and drooly and such,” I added.

  “So a vampire can bite—and nothing will happen. A werewolf can chomp, a fairy can whack him with her wand—and nothing.” Jessica paused, deep in thought. “Nothing at all. Wow.”

  “But why?” Jeannie asked. “Why would this baby be special?”

  “It’s a really long story,” I said. “Which I’ll probably never tell you.”

  Jeannie laughed. “That seems fair.”

  Chapter 40

  Dude,

  Not only is Tina gone, but her laptop is missing as well. I had hoped to use her e-mail address to get Betsy and Sinclair’s attention, but a room-to-room search revealed nothing.

  I was far too distracted at the hospital to do a reliable job, so I was taking unpaid sick time as I tried to figure out what the hell to do.

  I managed to keep it casual as I asked Laura what she’d done with Tina’s stuff, but just got another one of her insipid smiles and assurances that I didn’t need to worry about a thing.

  Ha. Worrying was more or less all I was doing. And each time Laura tried to assure me she hadn’t lost her mind, she sounded a little less sane.

  “Marc, vampires are—with the possible exception of my sister—evil by nature. Betsy’s life would be so much simpler if she didn’t have to spend so much time policing monsters. And,” she went on with the fervor of an evangelist, “not only am I helping Betsy, I’m keeping the peace in the Twin Cities, keeping the devil worshippers busy doing God’s work—it’s all good.”

  “Having me followed every minute of the day or night is God’s work?”

  She had the grace to flush a little at that. Maybe she wasn’t entirely gone. “Marc, you don’t know any better. You’ll give Betsy all the wrong ideas. I want her to come home, too, but not
until I’ve finished working on the surprise.”

  “The surprise? You mean there’s more to come?” I tried not to sound as horrified as I felt.

  “Sure! Lots more. You’ll see, Marc. Besides, they’re for your own protection. We can’t have anything happen to you, now can we?”

  “Will you at least consider the possibility that you’ve gone insane?” I asked, and got a soft laugh in response. She had thought I was kidding.

  “You worry too much.”

  “What are you going to tell Betsy and Sinclair when they get back?”

  “That I kept things safe for them,” she replied promptly.

  That you’ve gone looney tunes, I thought, but prudently kept that to myself.

  I tried arguing with her for another ten minutes, and kept getting that sweet smile for a response. Dude, after a while I just wanted to whack that smirk off her face.

  At least we still had an Internet connection, though what I knew about such things could be carried in an emesis basin. E-mails were about all I knew. Sure, I could have gone to an expert, a real techno geek . . . except I had Satan’s Minions constantly on my heels.

  In desperation I waited until she and the devil worshippers had left on another kill-all-vamps mission, then typed out a quick e-mail to Betsy. And sent it. And sent it. And sent it. And sent it.

  Chapter 41

  Ah, there’s my boy.”

  Jessica and I stared at each other, then Sinclair. It was almost two o’clock in the morning; the place was crawling with werewolves. I was a little curious and was interested in going outside, but Jessica was understandably nervous and had practically barricaded herself in the downstairs library.

  And what a library! I swear, it was at least half the size of the New York City Public Library. Towering bookshelves, mahogany furniture, a row of computers . . . the only thing it was missing was a pair of stone lions.

  Maybe it seemed larger because it had been empty except for Jessica, me, and the baby. In fact, the mansion was practically deserted. But occasionally we could hear faint wolf howls from outside.

  And now here was Sinclair bustling in and actually holding his arms out for BabyJon, formerly his number one rival for my affection.

  “Your boy?” I asked, and Jessica raised her eyebrows.

  “You know,” Sinclair said, hovering over the baby and me, “it’s not too soon to start planning his education.”

  “He can’t even walk yet,” Jessica pointed out.

  “Oh, I get it. BabyJon is invulnerable to paranormal harm, so suddenly you’re taking interest in his well-being.”

  “Elizabeth, you’ve got me all wrong.” Sinclair had the nerve to look and sound wounded. “As your husband, and his co-guardian, it’s my responsibility to do right by this boy.”

  “Sure it is.” I handed BabyJon over and Sinclair was so startled he juggled the baby for a few seconds before holding him at arm’s length. “Okay, co-guardian. He needs changing.”

  “Ah . . .”

  “Don’t even try to wiggle out of it,” I warned. “I’ve been dying to get out of here and walk around. Think you two can handle the kid for half an hour?”

  “One of us can,” Jessica said with a sly wink.

  “Something smells awful,” Sinclair moaned, and I practically sprinted out of the library before he could hear me laughing.

  Chapter 42

  It was a beautiful night—cool, with clear skies. The moon seemed to almost hang over Wyndham Manor, huge and white. There wasn’t a cloud anywhere, and the stars seemed brighter and closer than they ever had been.

  I started walking on the same path Lara and I had taken to the playground . . . Thanks to my vampire senses I could hear wolves running and walking and fucking all over the place. Two of them crossed my path, clearly playing Chase Me, but they moved so quickly I only got a blurred glimpse of tan fur and lots of teeth.

  I must be out of my mind.

  Well, that was always a possibility. But for once I wanted to take advantage of the fact that I, too, was fast and strong. I suppose if a few hundred of them ganged up on me I could be in serious trouble, but Jeannie had told me that werewolves didn’t go feral during the full moon. They retained their human personalities, they just felt things more keenly. Sadness became depression; anger became fury; happiness became ecstasy. But no matter how deeply they felt something, innocent bystanders didn’t get eaten.

  Not that I was exactly innocent, but I think you know what I’m getting at. And it made sense—they had been coexisting with humans for millennia. People were bound to notice if gobs of mutilated corpses were found after each full moon.

  I rounded the curve just in time to see the largest wolf I’d ever seen step out of the woods and block my path. Huge, with extremely light fur—almost white—and the biggest green eyes I’d ever seen. It was powerfully muscled and sat in the middle of the road, staring at me like a living statue.

  “Uh, hello.”

  Nothing. Of course—what had I expected?

  “I, uh, come in peace.”

  Then I realized where I’d seen those eyes before—Derik.

  Great. A werewolf who was pissed at me for getting his friend killed was now blocking my path. Ah, what a week!

  I was suddenly so thirsty I could hardly stand it, but realized that was the vampire equivalent of adrenaline. The fight or flight reflex. The last thing I planned to do was bite him. It would be a novel way to be disemboweled.

  “Good dog,” I said, wishing I had a Milk-Bone. Or a case of them. “Uh—I wish Antonia was here with you right now. She was really happy when she was finally able to change.”

  Derik cocked his head, never blinking, and then—ulp—started walking toward me. Good-bye, cruel world.

  He stopped at my feet and looked straight up at me. His head was bigger than a bowling ball. His paws were larger than my hand, even with all my fingers spread wide.

  Is he gonna kill me?

  Yup. He probably is.

  Except he wasn’t. He was just sitting there, staring up at me.

  And all at once I stopped being nervous for myself and put myself in his shoes. Paws. His friend had died half a continent away, and he couldn’t save her. Any more than I had been able to save her.

  I knelt on the path. We were so close, our eyes were no more than eight inches apart.

  “I am so sorry about Antonia,” I said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save her. But you go on and stay mad at me, Derik. It’s my fault she’s dead. If I had it to do over, I’d have taken the bullets myself.”

  Derik threw back his head and howled—shrieked—at the moon. I thought my head was going to split. I thought my heart was going to split.

  When I couldn’t stand it another second, I flung my arms around his thick, furry neck. And did the thing I swore I wouldn’t do again this week.

  I cried and cried.

  More wolves were padding out of the trees on either side of the road, one with Michael’s black fur and distinctive golden eyes. They formed a ring around us, and the air was split again and again by the silvery, haunting howls.

  Chapter 43

  I got back to our suite just before dawn. As I passed through the rooms, I checked on BabyJon—sound asleep. Thank God he hadn’t been hurt—could never be hurt, at least by werewolves and vampires. He was mine. I wanted him to live forever.

  Sinclair, with his usual brand of magic—or perhaps because he knew me so well—was waiting for me. I went to him without a word and hid my face against his shirt.

  “Elizabeth, my own, my dear, shhhhh.”

  “It’s all going wrong,” I cried, “and I don’t know how to fix it.”

  “This is very unbecoming to the ball-busting queen I married,” he said, trying to tease me into a smile.

  “But I want to fix it!”

  “You are young, my own.”

  I sniffled and looked up into his black eyes. “So?”

  “So some things—many things—cannot be fixed. Th
ese people will have to be satisfied with your sorrow. You cannot give them any more of yourself.”

  “No, but I can give you more of myself.”

  I went up on tiptoe to kiss him and his mouth pressed over mine, his tongue darting and stroking. I slipped his suit jacket off his shoulders as his fingers were busy with my blouse buttons.

  In another few moments we were naked and falling on the bed together. I was clutching at him, kissing him wildly, biting him, drawing blood even as he was drawing mine.

  His teeth slid into my jugular just as that other part of him slid between my legs. I crossed my ankles behind his back and returned every thrust, every nip, every kiss.

  I took everything. And gave back what I could.

  Sometimes, I figured, that’s all anyone can do, even if they are the queen of the vampires.

  He held me for a long time, after.

  Chapter 44

  It was the next afternoon, late—close to five o’clock. Sinclair was up and working on the laptop (all the shades were drawn, natch). I was moping around, wondering what more the werewolves wanted, wondering how much longer I’d have to stay on the Cape to prevent a paranormal war.

  “That’s odd,” Sinclair said.

  “What now?”

  “You’ve got several e-mails from Marc. Ah . . . thirty at least. And my damn cell phone still isn’t working,” he added in a mutter.

  “Torturing me with more bad grammar and acronyms,” I muttered. I was so not in the mood.

  There was a polite rap at the door, and when I opened it, Derik and Michael were there.

  “Okay to come in?” Derik asked, looking a little more like his old self.

  “Ask him,” I said nodding at Michael. “It’s his house.”

  “Yes.” Michael smiled at me. “We can come in.”

  Sinclair came into the sitting room, nodded politely and, seeming to know what was up, excused himself to give us a false sense of privacy (with his hearing, there was no privacy . . . not when we were only twenty feet away).