"No, you are not. "
"Like hell!"
"Uh-oh," Jessica muttered.
"If I have to go through this farcical event, the very damned least you can do is be Mrs. Elizabeth Sinclair. "
"What does farcical mean?" I asked suspiciously.
"Happy," Jessica said.
"Oh. Okay. Look, Sinclair, I realize, being a million years old, that you can't help being an ancient disgusting chauvinist pig. But you're just gonna have to get over it in this case, because this is the twenty-first century, in case you haven't noticed, and women don't have to submerge their identities with their husband's. "
"The entire point of getting married," Sinclair began, "is to-" He cut himself off and tilted his head to the left. Jessica turned and looked, too. I couldn't understand what the fuss was about; it was Laura. She was, despite recent events, welcome in our home anytime.
She eased the kitchen doors open and stepped in. "Helloooo? May I come in?"
Jessica was staring. "What are you doing here?"
Then I realized. It was Saturday night. Laura always went to Mass on Saturday nights. Said it kept her out of trouble, plus she could sleep late the next day.
She shrugged and pulled up a chair. "Oh, you know. I just-didn't feel like going tonight. "
I was trying not to stare, and failing. "For the first time ever. Your folks are gonna kill me! They're gonna think I'm a bad influence. "
"You are," Jessica said.
"It's no big deal, everyone. Maybe I'll go tomorrow. "
"Forgive us for staring," Sinclair said. "It's just that you are so. . . devout. It was a surprise, seeing you here when you are usually. . . elsewhere. "
"It's no big deal," she said again, and everyone heard the warning that time.
Luckily (?), George the Fiend chose that moment to also walk into the kitchen. I guess we were having a party and nobody told me.
"Now what's he doing up here?" Jessica asked. "To think, I almost didn't come in here for a glass of milk. Look at all the stuff I would have missed. "
"I dunno," I said, staring. George was dragging half the blanket he'd crocheted, hopped up on a kitchen stool, drank all my tea-the first time he'd evinced evidence in anything but blood-spat it out on the floor in disgust, and started crocheting again.
Laura cleared her throat. "I, ah, want to take this chance, Mr. George, to apologize for-for what I did the other night. I was picking a fight because I was angry at someone else, and that's a poor excuse. In fact, it's no excuse. So again, I apologize. I'm very, very sorry. And I'm sorry to you, too, Betsy, and you, Eric, for laying hands on one of your subjects. "
I shrugged it off with a mumbled "Well, what are ya gonna do?" but Sinclair, doubtless used to this sort of thing, waved it off with a kingly, "Think no more of it, Laura, dear. We know your actions are normally above reproach. "
Yeah. Normally.
"He seemed better after I fed him," Laura suggested.
I restrained the impulse to slap my forehead. Of course he was better, duh! He got better after drinking my blood-queen's blood. How much good would the devil's bloodline do him? He could probably do my taxes by now.
"That's the stuff I got him last week," Jessica said, staring at the lavender blanket, which was almost as big as my bed. "He must be just about out. I'll run over to the fabric store and get him some more. "
"Red, please," George the Fiend said.
Pandemonium. Chaos. And no matter what we tempted him with, how much we cajoled, how often Sinclair ordered, or how often I begged, he didn't say another word. Chapter 41
"Is this the third date? Or the fourth?"
"Nosy bitch," Jessica laughed. She checked her diamond earrings for the twentieth time.
"Yes," I assured her. "They're still there. " I'd been saving to get her the matching pendant at Tiffany's; the classic blue box was on the swag-draped parlor mantel right this minute.
Okay, Sinclair was helping me. Not that he was big into Christmas. But he liked the idea of giving Jessica an extravagant gift. It would be the first time we gave anybody a present together. "You look like a tasteful Christmas tree. "
"Meaning my ass looks fat in this green dress. "
"No, no. You just look very spirit-of-the-seasony. "
"Did you ever figure out what to give Sinclair?"
"Yeah. I took back asking him to un-mojo Jon. "
"So now Jon will"-Jessica thought this out-"not remember he wrote the book about you. "
"Right. I mean, it's a rotten thing to do, but I can't just think of myself on this one. There's a bunch of vampires counting on me to look out for them-I finally figured that out when I saved George from Laura. Well, a few days after I saved George from Laura. Even if they don't know I'm looking out for them, I'm supposed to be. So. . . no book of my life. "
"Well, if that's what being the queen means to you, then, because you're the queen, I guess that's it. "
"Yeah, that's it. I mean, I can hardly marry Sinclair and protect vampires and not be the queen. Even for me, that's pretty stupid. "
"Stupid's a harsh word," she said absently, fluffing her lashes with mascara.
"Isn't Jon supposed to turn in his bio after Christmas break?"
"Yeah. " I laughed evilly. "Sinclair's doing it for him. He'd better not fob it off on Tina, either. A history of the life and times of Grover Cleveland. Apparently Sinclair knew him. " I laughed harder. The perfect punishment!
"You talk it out with Laura yet?"
"No. " I quit laughing. "I don't know what to say without sounding like a jerk. I guess-I guess we're just hoping it was a slip. I mean, look who her mom is. She's bound to have a short temper. And it's not like the guy didn't have it coming. "
"Is that what the party line is? He had it coming?"
"No," I almost snapped, "but it's the best I can do. I don't see Nick crying about it. "
"Big-time promotion, probably," she admitted. "And that's what we're celebrating. The Task Force is just about done. Nick's going back to his everyday stuff. And the Driveway Killer's done. And the Scomans are going to have a great Christmas. "
"Assuming she ever stops having nightmares. "
"Your little ghost told you that? What a voyeur. "
"I heard that!" Cathie said, and then popped back out, probably to nag (not that they could hear her) the guys putting up the tree. We were late with it this year, and out of deference to Sinclair and Tina, Jess, Marc, and I didn't join in the trimming festivities. It had been a big enough fight just letting Jessica order one and have it sent to the house.
Needless to say, those two would be avoiding the entire east wing of the house until after New Year's.
"Obviously, if she'd had to pick between her life and nightmares, it's an easy choice. Still, I wish we could have spared her the entire experience. "
"Come on. You saved her. And the bad guy got his. And you're getting married! Probably. "
"What?"
"Well, I'm pretty sure. And I'm finally getting laid. "
"It's a Christmas miracle," I said with mock joy. "With devils and vampires and dead serial killers. "
"It's just gotten so commercial," she agreed, touching up her lipstick. "Want to sneak down and put a cross on the tree later?"
"No, I'd better not. Poor things, they've already got the heebie-jeebies. "
"Boy, there's a phrase I never thought would be associated with bad-ass vampires. "
"Any kind of vampires. Anyway. We'll work on that for next year. If they're going to stay out of the room altogether, why not put a cross on the tree?"
She laughed and slung a black cashmere wrap over her bony shoulders. "Good point. Now, on a scale of one to ten, with one being ratty-ass you, and ten being Halle Berry-"
"Nine point six. Definitely. "
"What a liar you are, my girl. " She kissed me, leaving an orange smear on my cheek, and
floated out on a cloud of Chanel. Chapter 42
And I in my kerchief, and Ma in her cap. . . that was all of it I knew, unfortunately. My mom could recite the whole thing by heart, all twenty verses or however many there were. Jess, Marc, Jon, and I were heading over there tomorrow night for Christmas Eve dinner. She'd tell it to me then.
I shut my-our-bedroom door behind me and saw Sinclair in a miserable huddle in the middle of the bed. "It's here now, isn't it?" he asked. "I can feel it. Draining the strength from me. "
"Oh, jeez, you're such a baby! It's just a Christmas tree. It's not a nuclear device. "
He shuddered. "You say tomato, I say toe-mah-toe. "
"It's not even that big!" I held my hand up to my waist. "It's only like this big. We had to put most of the decorations back in the attic. "
"It's going down the day after tomorrow, right?"
"It just went up! Oh, while I'm thinking of it, I don't suppose you want to go to you-know-what Eve dinner tomorrow with my mom. "
He grimaced, like he smelled something bad. "Your mother is a charming woman in all ways, and normally I would be delighted. "
"Thanks but no thanks, huh?"
"I am not leaving this house until the twenty-sixth. "
"You guys. I swear. "
"You will never understand, which is both boggling and frightening. "
"Uh-huh. You're probably too freaked to get it up, am I right?"
He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Not quite that freaked out. "
Epilogue
"Thanks for not un-hypnotizing Jon," I said drowsily, much later.
His chest rumbled beneath my cheek as he laughed. "Which reminds me, my report on President Cleveland is nearly finished. "
"Ha! Serves you right. Thanks. "
"There is one small problem. "
"About your report?"
"No. Something else, I'm afraid. "
"There aren't any small problems, good-looking. Hit me. "
"Tina and I have looked everywhere, deleted everything we could. But it appears Jon made a hard copy of the book before I reached him. He did something with it. We aren't sure what. "
"Why do I hate where this is going?"
"And if I ask him, really get into his mind and ask him, it could jeopardize-"
"The footprints you've already left," I said glumly. "You think he turned it in to his prof already?"
"I. . . hope so. Because otherwise, a book-length manuscript about our lives has gone missing. And if your column catches on, someone could see it and. . . "
"Well. . . it'll probably turn up. He was doing it for school; it's not like he had some sinister motive or anything. Right? Sinclair? Right?"
"Probably. " Which is as close as Mr. Buzzkill would ever get to admitting nothing would probably come of it.
"Catchy title, though," he said as we both felt the sun start to come up on Christmas Eve. "Undead and Unwed. "
"That title sucks," I said, and then it was morning, and everything went dark, and I went wherever it is vampires go when they aren't Christmas shopping.
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