I had to admit, it had the ring of authenticity.
"She agreed to check in every month," Michael said, "and that was the end of it. Until, of course, we didn't hear from her. Now. Tell me, Betsy. What is a Fiend? And where can we find the one that killed our Pack member?" Chapter 17
"Whoa, whoa, whoa ! " I said, wishing I wasn't doing this all by myself. "Let's not jump to any conclusions, my eager little pups. Garrett would eat his own balls before he'd ever hurt Antonia, and he'd never, never kill her. "
Derik shuddered and covered his eyes. "Must you use phrases that I'll never get out of my head? 'Eat his own balls'? Who says that?"
"Not to mention, it's hard to believe," Cain added.
"Believe? Why is that so hard? Now all of a sudden you're big vampire and Fiend experts?"
"Vampires aren't accident-prone?" Jeannie asked, and to her credit, it sounded like an honest question.
"Well, I am," I admitted. "But not Garrett. "
"You can explain about Fiends?" Sure.
"There are no taboos against discussing such things with outsiders?"
"I dunno. " Wyndham couldn't hide his surprise, so I borrowed a phrase from his pal Derik. "I think it's that culture clash thing again. If it'll keep you from pulling Garrett's legs off, I'll answer any question you like. "
"That's a good thing, chief," Derik said. "Stop looking like you're expecting the other shoe to drop-on your head. "
"For a ruthless despot of the undead, you're awfully charming," Michael said, and no one in the room was surprised when Jeannie's fist slipped. But he got his breath back in no time at all.
Lara asked-and received-permission to use the bathroom. Jeannie got up to accompany her. And I used the kid's absence to explain about Fiends, about Nostro and his sick-ass psycho games, about Garrett's slow recovery, about all the progress he made and how much he and Antonia loved-
"So by your own admission, this creature was sub-human only six months ago?"
"I don't know if sub-"
"Subsisting on buckets of blood, running around on all fours, and howling at the moon?"
"Physician, howl thyself," I pointed out.
"And he couldn't even talk?" Michael persisted.
"I don't know about couldn't. Didn't talk would be more accurate. But see, after he drank my blood and the dev-and my sister's, he got better. And you guys-you just don't know. I mean, the way he feels about Antonia. She's his everything. He'd ki-uh, he'd die for her. "
"And she for him, I s'pose?"
"Well, it's hard to imagine Antonia getting all mushy and stuff, but yeah, I imagine she'd-" Too late, I saw the trap Michael had set for me. I shot to my feet and started to pace. "You guys, Garrett did not kill Antonia and then take off for parts unknown. There's no way. No way. "
"Mmmm," Wyndham said.
"Hmmm," Derik added, also apparently unconvinced.
"You don't see me with my knickers in a knot, asking you if your Pack member killed my guy and then took off. Did I show up, fists flying, jumping to conclusions? No. " I smirked to see the Wyndhams looking uncomfortable. Except for Brendon, who glared at me.
"We've been over this," Michael said, mildly enough.
"Yeah, but now that your kid's gone, you can apologize for being totally out-of-control, foaming, slavering assholes who hit first and asked questions later. "
He drummed his fingers on the table for a few seconds, and then, after a long, difficult moment (difficult for him, not for me) he said, "I apologize. "
"Okay. It's totally conceivable that Antonia saw the future and got the hell out of here and that Garrett tried to stop her and so she-she-I dunno, gave him a bath in holy water and then left town on the first Amtrak headed east. That could totally happen, but I'm not getting all suspicious and paranoid, right? So there's no reason for you guys to stay beady-eyed. "
"Are there any other unusual goings-on?" Michael asked, leaning forward. "Anything mysterious? Something that might lead us to answers?"
"Everything's fine," I lied. I cocked my head;
I could hear Babyjon asking for a bottle. Loudly. "And you'll have to excuse me a minute; my brother needs me. "
I moved past them, and Wyndham's hand shot out and closed over my forearm. I saw the whole thing and had plenty of time to avoid him. But I didn't. His hand was really warm. I could actually feel his heartbeat through his fingers.
And he smelled-have I mentioned how frigging delicious these guys smelled? No wonder Garrett found Antonia irresistible. It sure wasn't her personality.
Michael's hand squeezed my arm. He was so cute, thinking he was actually holding me in place. "Betsy, really. Is there anything going on?"
I smiled. "Michael, you worry too much, anybody tell you? I said everything's fine, now didn't I? So don't sweat it. "
On my way to the nursery, from one room and a hallway away, I heard Michael's very distinct order to Derik. Chapter 18
Derik bounded beside me on the stairs like a big blond puppy. "It's nothing personal," he said cheerfully keeping pace with me as I climbed the eighty zillion stairs to the nursery. "But we can't tell if you're lying or not-that whole 'no scent' thing-and it's driving the chief out of his head. "
"I'll bet. " I was a smidge--just a smidge- sympathetic. To go your whole life being able to tell if everyone around you was lying or not, that had to come in handy. One of the few things Antonia had mentioned was that her Pack hardly ever bothered with lying. . . there was absolutely no point. And then to run into me, someone who could (she was a short, genius brunette and still smell, fine not smell, as the case was), that had to be frustrating.
"So I, the most charming and handsome werewolf in all the land-"
"Should I throw up here on the stairs? Or try to wait until I can find a garbage can?"
"-will catch you off-guard with my witticism and charisma. "
"And don't forget your sexy Martha Stewart T-shirt. "
"Hey, hey. Don't diss my girl Martha. She could kick your fine undead ass with one homemade seashell napkin holder behind her back. "
"Derik, you're seriously bent, you know that?" He ignored me. "And then I, fearless Pack member, shall swoop down on the truth like a crow on a grub. "
"Did you just call me a worm?"
"I did not," he said, following me into the nursery. "I called you a grub. Big difference. Huge!"
I laughed; I couldn't help it. The big doof probably was the most charming werewolf in all the land. "Dude, you really are the-eh?"
I had reached the crib, bent over, plucked Babyjon it And was surprised to be alone. I turned and Derik was-there was no other word for it-he was cowering beside the nursery door.
"What's going on?" I asked, completely startled to see the six-foot-plus blond huddling in terror.
"I was gonna ask you the same thing. Jesus!" He forced himself to straighten, shook himself all over, then cupped his elbows in his palms. It almost looked like-it looked like the big strong badass werewolf was hugging himself for comfort. But that couldn't be right. "Every hair on my body is trying to jump ship right now. Least that's what it feels like. I've got the worst fucking case of the creeps. I-what's that?"
"This is my baby brother. " Babyjon wasn't crying or anything. I had slung him over one of my hips, and he was just looking at Derik, patiently waiting for his bottle. What a sweetie. Orphaned, and hungry. And not crying! "Isn't he the cutest?"
"Keep him away from me," Derik ordered, actually backing out of the room. Guess he wasn't fond of babies. "It feels like thirteen o'clock in here. "
"Derik, what the hell's gotten into you?" I followed him out into the hall, genuinely puzzled. If Michael had sent his Good Guy WereCop after me to try to look for more info, this was a weird way to go about it. "You're acting all-"
"Don't do that!" Both Derik's hands shot out palm up. He was warding me off? No way. I had it wrong. I
was misreading werewolf body language, or whatever. "I might have to bite you. And not in a nice way, get it? So just-aaaaiiieeeeee!"
He said aaaaiiieeeeee because at that moment he fell down the stairs. All the way down. And with my hands full of Babyjon, I had no chance to catch him. So I just stared, cringing at some of the thuds and wincing at some of Derik's more colorful language as he plummeted to the bottom.
I sighed. Then I put Babyjon back in his crib, ignoring his surprised squawk, shut the nursery door, and started down the stairs.
There was no way they were going to believe Derik fell down the stairs-all the stairs-without assistance. I assumed there was going to be another fight. Best to get it over with.
Too bad, really. Just when I thought we'd established a little trust. Chapter 19
"Well, thanks for stopping by," I said again, and it was even more lame than the first time I said it.
Derik, upon his quick recovery, had done some fast talking to save me from another werewolf beat-down, and now they were all leaving. And not being very subtle about wanting to get the hell out of my house, either. If I hadn't felt so anxious, I would have been amused.
Derik limped past me, which was a big improvement, because he'd broken both legs when he'd hit bottom. These guys regenerated as fast as Sinclair and me. . . maybe faster. Must be their iron-rich, high-in-protein diet. Mmm. . . their yummy, yum diet. I was drooling just watching them file past. Why had I never noticed how delicious Antonia was?
Easy. When Antonia was around, Sinclair had also been around, and his blood was just fine. More than fine. We'd actually incorporated blood-sharing into our lovemaking and now, like a Pavlovian dog (or George on the Seinfeld episode when he equated salted cured meats with sex), all I had to do was get a whiff of someone's delicious blood and also find myself horny as hell. Which wasn't exactly-
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Derik asked, massaging his knee.
"Uh. No reason. Thanks again for visiting. And good luck picking up Antonia's scent. "
I'd offered to show them her and Garrett's room, let them get a whiff of the sheets or whatever, and they'd all looked at me as if I'd lost my mind.
I guess I was picturing a scene right out of a cop movie: baying bloodhounds sniffing sheets or a dirty sweater and then howling off into the night, hot on the trail. Apparently real life was different. And werewolves weren't bloodhounds.
Which was a shame, because bloodhounds were really cute.
"Crazy fucking vampire," Jeannie muttered, so softly she probably assumed I hadn't heard her.
"Don't forget your parting gifts!" I cried, sending Lara after them with a helpful shove.
"Thanks for your hospitality," Michael said without the teensiest bit of irony. We shook hands as the others filed past. He squeezed. I squeezed. He squeezed harder. So did I. I figured anybody else's hands would have been crushed to bloody powder by now. "We'll be doing some checking around town and will keep you posted," he added, slightly out of breath from our mano a bimbo.
"And I'll call you"-I held up the card with his cell phone number on it-"if I hear anything from either of them. "
"Thanks. Have a good night. "
"You, too. Bye, Derik. Cain. Brendon. Lara. Jeannie. Michael. "
"Betsy," Jeannie said, "I want to make clear that I only shot you because-"
I shut the door. And since it was a big heavy door about two hundred years old, it cut her off with solid BOOM!
Did I think they had anything to do with everything that was going on? No. I really didn't. Werewolves weren't exactly famous for lying or subversiveness. I seriously doubted they'd-what? Snatched Antonia back, staked Garrett, then shown up at my house and staged a pretend fight, all the while playing like they had no idea where Antonia and Garrett were?
Vampires would pull that sneaky shit in a cold minute. The Wyndham bunch? Naw.
Probably naw. Their appearance today was still an awful coincidence.
It was either a really really good thing that the werewolves were in town right now, or a really really bad thing. Too bad I had no idea which it was.
I took the stairs two at a time, plucked a fuming Babyjon out of his crib, fixed a fresh bottle (he liked 'em cold, and we kept a supply in the small fridge in his room), and let the poor starving tyke have at it. While I was walking with him back to the kitchen, I wondered about Derik's extreme reaction to my half brother. Hadn't he said that his wife was pregnant? Maybe babies freaked him out.
I cuddled Babyjon closer into my side and kissed the top of his fuzzy dark head. "Guess he'd better get over that in a hurry," I told him. "Unless he likes sleeping on the sorceress's couch. "
The phone rang as I got near the swinging door, and I grimaced. What fresh hell was this? Chapter 20
"Majesty?"
"Tina? Hey, finally! Great to hear from you!" From anybody without fur, frankly. "What's going on?"
"Nothing good, Majesty, I assure you. " She made a sound that from anyone but Tina would have come off sounding like a snort. "Are you well?"
"Oh, sure. A bunch of werewolves stopped by to pick a fight, but-"
"You mean they broke in?" Tina interrupted. Since she never interrupted, I assumed she had to be fairly shocked. Then I remembered her strict instructions, most (or all? I couldn't remember all of them, to be honest) of which I'd broken since we last spoke.
Lucky for me she was half a continent, plus an ocean, away. She could only scold; she couldn't strangle.
"Well, no. They didn't break, exactly. They, um, knocked. "
"And you let them in?"
"Like I said. Knocked. Then, the fight. Which I won, so don't worry. " I decided not to mention Jeannie "Quick Draw" Wyndham. Tina hated it when I got shot. "Turns out they thought we were being sneaky, because Antonia hasn't checked in with them. "
"Um. "
"But I convinced them that we hadn't done away with her or anything, using my Kissinger-like powers of diplomacy. "
"Um-hum. "
"Now we're buddies!" I tried to put as much enthusiasm as I could into that lie. I mean line. "Isn't that great? Even as we speak, they're scouring the town, looking for the hair of Antonia's chinny-chin-chin. Wait, that was the pigs, right? That line made no sense, then. Let me think of-"
"Majesty! I must beg you to-"
"I know, I know. I've been answering the phone and the door. It's all gone horribly, horribly wrong, and all because I didn't listen to you. " I slung Babyjon over my shoulder to burp him, tossing the now-empty bottle in the general direction of the sink. "If only I had listened. " Babyjon yawned, and I knew how he felt. The lecture loometh.
"Majesty, I do not wish to alarm you-"
"Then don't. "
"But I fear the king may be dead. "
"See, that? I find that alarming. " I whacked Babyjon a little too hard, because he groaned-then belched. I plunked him into the port-a-crib so I could pace.
"I'm sorry, Majesty, but it is the only conclusion that fits the data. "
"What the hell makes you think that?"
"He would have answered me by now, Majesty. In seventy-some years, he has never not answered me. We have a code we use for emergencies, and the other one, no matter what is happening in his or her life, the other one must answer. And he has not. "
"He blew off your super secret vampire code?"
"I realize that infantile jokes are your way of dealing with serious issues, but with all due respect, Majesty, now is not the time. "
"Noted," I said, chastened.
"He is not sulking, as you think. He is not hiding. He is not shirking his duties as your groom. And more-"
"What? There's more? What?"
"He would never abandon the queen," she said quietly. "No matter how silly he thought the wedding rituals. Someone has him. Or someone has killed him. "
"What-what are we going to do?"
I heard a thud and realized that Tina, from eighty zillion miles away, had punched a wall. "I. Will do. Nothing!" Another thud. She was pounding the wall like Rocky Balboa worked a punching bag. "I cannot get back to you. There are riots in France, and all flights are canceled until further notice. "
"Riots?"
"Surely you saw on CNN-never mind. "
"Oh, the riots!Right, right. The riots. Those pesky French riots. "
She ignored my lame-ass attempt to pretend I was up on current events. "I cannot even charter a private plane. To go by boat would take too long. I am trapped here, Majesty. And you are alone. "
"Tina, it's-" Okay, I had been about to say, a who was I kidding? Tina, one of the smartest people I'd ever met, thought Sinclair was dead. Ergo, he. . . wasn't.
I would take refuge in my stubbornness. She was wrong, wrong, wrong and also needed a deep conditioning treatment. I wouldn't let the panic take hold. I wouldn't. It couldn't have me. The panic would have to find someone else to bug; I wasn't going to play ball. Sinclair wasn't dead. Or even in danger.
Tina was wrong. This one time, in a matter that was as important to her as it was to me, this one time she had screwed up. Who knew why? The stress of being away from home? The hassle of going through Customs via coffin? The important thing was, she was stressed out and jumping to conclusions. Because the alternative was totally beyond my grasp. I couldn't imagine a world without Sinclair in it. And wasn't that silly? Two years ago, I hadn't even known the guy existed.
"Tina, stop hitting that wall. You're going to hurt yourself. "
"I did," she said dully. "I broke most of the fingers my left hand. "
"Jeez, what are you punching, cement?"
"Yes. "
"Well, stop. Focus on getting back. "
"But the rioters-the roads are closed, or barricaded. No one can get in or out. I cannot help you, my queen, I am stuck in this place. "
"Place" came out like "placcccce" because Tina hissed it as opposed to saying it like person who wasn't half crazy with guilt and grief.
More riots in France! Perfect timing. So typical of France not to consider my needs before passing martial law.
"I know it seems tough, but they'll eventually let planes out, they've got to. For one thing, FedEx can't get there. People need their overnight packages, Tina! They want their Sephora and their cheese. The French people won't stand for it, trust me, the airports won't be closed for long. Or at least get out of the country and take a plane from a country that isn't rioting in the streets. "
Undead and Uneasy Page 7
