Undead and Unreturnable (18 page)

Except now…

His glove-tapping sped up. "I had assumed, after what happened earlier, that such things were off limits. To both of us."

"Well, when you
ASSuME
, you make an
ass
out of
you
and
me
. So there!"

"What?"

"We just had a fight, that's all, just a stupid fight. It's not the end of everything. And frankly, I don't want you going out in the cold and biting some other woman, so there!"

"Another 'so there.' You must feel quite strongly about the situation."

"Well, you freaked out when Jon, who I have no intention of biting or boning, moved in. Now you're off to the races, and you're all surprised that I have a problem with it?"

His mouth tightened; it look more like a scar than lips I had come to know well. "That is hardly the same thing."

"Wrong, suck-o! It's exactly the same thing."

"Very well." In a flash—I could see what happened only if I replayed it in my head—he dropped his gloves, kicked out of his shoes, and dragged me up the stairs. In the time it took me to realize he had dropped his gloves, he had kicked my (our) bedroom door shut, jerked my head to one side, and sank his fangs into me.

I screamed, shocked to my toes at what he had done—no,
how
he had done it. I tried to get free, but he had one hand across my shoulders and the other hand was forcing my chin to the side, giving him easy access to my jugular. Wriggling free was like trying to get free of a tree that had planted itself around me.

"Stop it, Eric, stop it, please stop it," I begged, and hated myself for begging.

Yes stop what are you doing why are you hurting her you'll have your pride and that's all you'll have so stop it stop it STOP IT!

He pulled back and licked my blood off his teeth. He watched the small trickle of blood travel down my neck, caught it with a finger, and licked that dry, too. Then he let go of me and I spun away.

I knew it was coming. He knew it was coming. And he stood still for it. Penance? I didn't give a fuck. I slapped him so hard he staggered back, bounced off the wall, and lay on the floor like a stunned cockroach.

I stood over him, saw his fangs were still out, and slapped a hand over the bite on my neck.

"I said I was sorry, okay?" I hated the way my voice shook. Why hadn't I seen that coming? Just how dumb was I? "I said it. And I'm done saying it. So you're either
gonna
get over it, or you won't. Once you decide
that
, move in here or don't. And I mean
move in
, none of this showing up at night for blood and sex and then leaving. But enough of this sulking and pissing and moaning, okay? Believe it or not, I've got bigger problems than your bruised ego. Now get the fuck out. Here, I'll help you."

I bent down, meaning to pick him up and throw him out the window—I was pretty sure I was strong enough to do it, and was dying to find out. I had also counted on Eric's weird contrite mood, which didn't last very long, as I found out when he yanked me down on top of him.

"I guess you didn't hear my speech," I said through gritted teeth. "I guess I
gotta
go through the whole thing again."

"I heard it. What are your bigger problems?"

"What is this, a quiz show?
Undead Wheel of Fortune
?"

"You said 'believe it or not, I've got bigger problems than your bruised ego.'" His eyes were about two inches from my own. I could smell my blood. I hated myself for wanting him to take another bite. "I was wondering what they were."

"After the stunt you just pulled? I'm not telling you a fucking thing, pal!"

"Because I am a king who does not '
noe
' the queen's ways," he said quietly.

"No, jackass, because you just came up here and practically
raped
me because you're in a bad mood! I don't give a shit that you can't read my mind when we're boning, and frankly, you should be relieved! Do you really want all that stuff in your head?"

"It's only a matter of time," he said in a monotone that scared me to death. "If you wish, you may throw me out the window now."

"Sinclair!" I slapped him across the face, a sort of "wake up, you're on fire!" smack, but he didn't say anything. "Dude, you have got to pull yourself together!"
I really need you now. More than I ever did, so please, please get it together, I'm sorry, you're sorry, everybody's sorry, can we please be the way we were a week ago
?

"On the contrary, I have finally seen things for exactly what they are. It's… distressing."

"Eric, come on. It's been a rotten day, and you already scared the shit out of me once."

"Oh, that," he said absently. "I apologize. I was hungry, and you were annoying. It won't happen again."

Don't say that! It wasn't what you did, it was how you did it, please don't say that!

"I'll go," he said quietly, "but before I do, I'd like to remind you that it's very likely you could have a living baby with a living man. I know how fond you are of Baby Jon, and I'm certain you could have one of your own once you come to your senses and jettison me from your life."

"But—I could? But—but I don't want—"

Oblivious to my massive confusion, he sat up and gently picked me up off him, the way you shoo a ladybug off your hand when you're going inside, stood, placed me on the bed, turned, and left.

"Hey, wake up."

I burrowed farther under the covers, a big undead worm.

"Hey, Betsy. Wake up."

"
Hnnnnnnwwwww
," I mumbled, which any sane person would translate as "Go away, I'm sleeping."

"Your sister is beating the living shit out of that vampire who lives in the basement."

That
got my attention. I sat up and there was Cathie, shoeless and looking scared, sitting in Marie's Chair. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Your sister. She came over early, I guess for Christmas shopping? She went downstairs, and I was bored out of my tits, so I followed her. She started beating up that long-haired guy in the basement, the one who can't talk. I didn't want to ask your friends to step in—one of your roommates looks like she's on a date, and her date is actually here, wandering around waiting for her—"

"Christ," I groaned.

"—and you're the only vampire I could wake up."

I tossed the blankets back and glanced at the clock: 5:35 p.m. I'd slept late, but the others wouldn't be awake for a few minutes yet, not until the sun fell down.

"Nice pajamas. Did you get them at a garage sale?"

I started for the stairs at a dead run. I was out my door in half a second, on the stairs in another second, and pounding down the basement steps while the blanket was still falling to the floor upstairs.

I screeched to a halt in front of the long, bare area of the basement we called the sparring section.

Cathie had not been exaggerating. Laura
was
fighting George, and if he hadn't been dead before, he would be soon. It's not that she was such a good fighter—though she was—it's that he wasn't fighting back. Every blow she landed sounded sickening and looked worse.

"Laura!"

"Fight, you demon spawn,
fight
!"

"Laura, stop it!"

"You
fight
so I can send you to my mother. You
fight
so you can tell her I'm doing
just fine
up here and she need not interfere…
again
!"

Laura's hair, I was dismayed to see, was flame red—the color of sullen coals after a raging fire. Her eyes were the color of fall grass—green, but dying. Gone was the rosy-cheeked blond teen we all knew and liked. We were here with the devil's daughter now.

"Jesus," Cathie murmured, finally making it back down to the basement.

"I wish," I said.

"What's wrong with her?"

"She has parental issues."

"No,
I've
got parental issues. She is fucked up severe."

"Later.
Laura
!" I bawled. "Get off him right now!
Now
now
, not in a minute now!"

"Stay out of this, Betsy!" she shrilled back. She smacked George another good one—I could only imagine how much it must have hurt her hand, judging from how it split open George's cheek—and he reeled and almost went down, but didn't fight back.

"Laura, I hate to pull rank on you, but I'm the queen, and that's a subject so get your
fucking hands off him right now
!"

She smacked him again—
wham
thud
!—I couldn't
believe
it. Was I even in the goddamned room?

I raced around them just as her sword materialized on her hip. I couldn't look at the thing—it was made of hellfire and gave me an instant headache, it was like looking into the sun—so I averted my gaze and somehow—I'm still not quite sure how I pulled this off—somehow I was in front of George, my arms spread out protectively, and that's how my sister accidentally plunged her blade into my chest.

"Betsy? Betsy? Betsy?"

"
Gllllkkkkkkkkkk
!"

Is that me? No. Who's choking? It's not me, right?

"Laura, I am quite fond of you—" Sinclair? What was he doing down here? And it sounded like he was throttling my sister… I had no idea how I felt about that, to be honest.
Yay
? Boo?

"
Ggggglllkkkkk
!"

"—yes, thank you, but if she dies, I'm afraid you will die as well. It's this odd little territorial tic I have. I realize it's a problem, and I'm dealing with it, but right now I must stand by what I said."

"Betsy? Can you hear me?" Marc! That was Marc.

Excellent! Finally, he has a day off when it actually helps me.

"She's got a big fucking sword sticking out from between her boobs." That was Cathie. "Of course she can't hear you. Why am I even bothering to talk to you idiots?"

I'm not dead!

"I suppose it's no good looking for vital signs." Tina.

"Well, she doesn't have a pulse, and she's not breathing, so I'd say she's dead. Also, there's a big-ass sword sticking out of her chest."