Undead and Unwelcome (11 page)

the dead in this of all places. But she was telling the truth, which I admired tremendously.

“She
was
kind of a grump,” I admitted. “You’re, um, not a werewolf. Are you?” “No,

no.” “So Jeannie’s not the only human who, ah, runs with the Pack?” “No indeed.

Although I’m not technically human,” she said. “Oh.” “I’m the reincarnation of the

sorceress Morgan Le Fay.” Oh. Great. A crazy woman—a crazy
pregnant
woman—was

sitting less than two feet away. My, what an interesting week this was turning out to be!

Sara laughed, accurately reading my expression. “Never mind, you don’t have to believe

it, just like I don’t have to convince you. Although I should warn you, if you try to hurt

me, the chances are excellent that something awful will happen to you.” “I just met you.

Why would I want to hurt you?” “Nobody knows. Just like no one can predict what you

and your husband are up to at any given time. Are you going to finish that?” I handed her

my cherry Coke—yes, now that the actual service was over, they’d broken out the bar

drinks. “Predict . . . what the hell are you talking about?” Sara gestured to the room. I

looked, but all I saw were hostile gazes pretty much everywhere I turned. “You’re just

making them extremely nervous, that’s all.” “What? Me? But that’s—” “You don’t have a

scent,” she interrupted gently. “So they can’t tell how you’re feeling at any given time. It

makes them—all of them—extremely ner vous.” Of course! I almost slapped my forehead.

I had completely forgotten how much that had weirded Antonia out when she came to live

with us. It took her weeks to get used to us for that exact reason. “Then how come you’re

on this side of the room, talking to me?” Sara shrugged. “You don’t make me nervous.

You’re still our guest, despite the circumstances. And you won’t be able to hurt me.”

Back to that again. “What, are you a superstar pregnant ninja warrior or something?” “No,

no. Nothing like that.” Silence. “Well? Jeez, you can’t make comments like that and then

leave me hanging.” “But you won’t believe me anyway, so why waste my breath?” “Try

me,” I retorted. She shrugged. “I affect the laws of probability. If someone tries to shoot

me, the gun will jam. Or a pinprick aneurysm he had all his life will pick that second to

blow. Or he’ll miss me and the bullet will ricochet back into his brain.” Sara sighed. “I

knew you’d say that.” “I didn’t have a chance to say anything, you—” Poor crazy person,

I’d been about to say, which wasn’t nice, under the circumstances. “So in order for you

to—to—uh—” “Affect the laws of probability.” “Don’t you have to do tons of math all

the time?” “Oh, no. My power’s completely unconscious. I have no control over it at all.

After I won the lottery for the fourth time, I sort of hung it up.” She patted her belly.

“Besides, there are more important things than buying lottery tickets.” “Yeah, I s’pose.”

“And knowing I’ll win sort of takes the fun out of it.” “Sure, I can see that.” Looney

tunes. “Is this your son?” Sara smiled and held her arms out. BabyJon smiled back and

snuggled more firmly into my shoulder. “It’s not you,” I hastily assured the crazy pregnant

woman. “He pretty much only likes me. He’s not my son, though. He’s my half brother.”

“He’s charming,” Sara said admiringly. “What beautiful eyes!” “Thanks.” I perked up a

little. “He’s really a sweet baby. He almost never cries, and he sleeps all day—” “I would

imagine, with a vampire big sister.” “Yeah, we had to do some juggling with everybody’s

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) schedule,” I admitted. “But weren’t you worried about bringing him here with—with

everything that’s happened?” “I haven’t been his guardian very long. My husband and I

need to get in the habit of thinking like parents, not ravenous, slavering monarchs of the

undead.” Sara cracked up, holding her belly and clutching the table so she wouldn’t fall

over. I perked up even more. At least someone at this funeral didn’t blame me for

Antonia’s sacrifice. I could feel the disapproving stares, but Sara just laughed and laughed.

Finally, she settled down and wiped her watering eyes. “Hormones,” she explained.

“Sorry.” “Hey, I’m not offended. It’s kind of nice to see someone—”
Lightening up
, I’d

been about to say, which would have been seriously uncool. “So! I’ve never met a vampire

before.” “Well, I’ve never met a sorceress before.” I was trying to remember what I knew

about Morgan Le Fay, but history was so not my strong point. I thought she’d been a

witch during King Arthur’s time. She was one of the bad guys, I was pretty sure. Well, I

could always ask Sinclair. “We can’t say that any longer, can we?” Sara was asking. “Not

hardly.” I glanced over her shoulder and saw Derik stomping toward us, his normally

smiling countenance twisted into a scowl. “Uh-oh. Pissed off hubby at six o’clock.” Sara

sighed. “It’s been awful for him; I’m sure you can relate. He doesn’t mean to act like you

shoved Antonia into a hail of bullets. But it’s hard. You know?” I did know. Derik was

playing Pin the Blame on the Vampire as an alternative to facing up to the fact that the

only reason Antonia left was because most of the Pack disliked her, or was scared of her. I

understood, even though I didn’t like it one bit. Where was all this concern when she

decided to leave town and never come back? And here he was, looming over our table.

“I’d like you to step away from my wife, please,” he managed through gritted teeth. “I

don’t want—aaaggghhh!” At first I thought he had slipped. Then I realized he’d seen

BabyJon and jerked backward so hard, and so fast, that he lost his balance. “
That
again!

Get that baby away from my wife!” You know those moments in parties where you have

to talk loud to be heard, only you do it the one time everyone’s quiet? So they all hear

exactly what you’re shouting? Yeah. It was like that.

Dude,
It wasn’t long before Laura had a chance to implement Operation Distract. Yes,

another band of devil worshippers showed up. But this time she (we, actually) was ready

for them.
“Oh most gracious and dread lady,” their leader was proclaiming, kneeling

before her. His fellow lemmings followed suit, which meant there were sixteen religious

extremists in one of our parlors. “We but live to serve you in any capacity you require.

Only point us to your enemies and we shall wreak vengeance in your name. In your

father’s name, Lucifer Morningstar.”
That was kind of interesting, because we knew

Laura’s
mother
had been possessed by the devil. And the devil always appeared to Laura

(you can imagine her mood after one of those fun-filled visits) as a woman.
I imagine the

Prince/Princess of Lies can appear as anything he/she wants.
“We are yours to

command!” he shouted at Laura’s feet, since they were all cowering before her on their

knees. None of them could see the way she shook her head in disgust, rolling her eyes.

“Oh most dread sovereign, your coming was foretold and it has come at last!”
“Yes,

yes,” she replied impatiently. “That’s fine. Now. You. All of you.”
All the heads jerked

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)
up at once. It was like watching otters pop their heads out of the water at the zoo.
“I bid

ye go forth. All of you find the soup kitchen on Lake and Fourth, in Minneapolis.

Volunteer for at least fifty hours a week.”
The leader’s sad basset hound face seemed to

sag even further. “But—but we wish to—”
“Are you questioning me?” Laura thundered

in a pretty good imitation of an angry demigod wearing a pink sweater. “You dare

question how I test your loyalty?”
Practically elbowing each other out of the way, they

all denied questioning anything.
“So begone from here, and do my unholy bidding at

Sister Sue’s Soup Kitchen. I will know when you are ready.”
They all galloped out,

several of them getting wedged in the doorway in their eagerness to obey Laura’s

completely unevil command.
They were no sooner out the front door than Laura threw

herself into my arms hard enough to rock me back on my heels. “It worked! Oh, Marc, I

can’t thank you enough, what a
wonderful
idea you had!”
“Fifty hours a week should

keep them out of trouble,” I agreed, patting her back.
“Oh, I don’t know why I didn’t

think of this before!”
Well, honey, you pretty much tense up and close off whenever

anything connecting you with your mother gets shoved in your face. When you’re that

angry, or that upset, or that sad, it’s impossible to think logically.
(Dude, I prudently kept

that to myself.)
“I don’t know how I kept a straight face,” Laura gasped. “I looked at

you and I almost lost it right in front of that band of dimwitted sheep.”
In all modesty, I

had to admit my idea stank with the reek of genius.
Put them to work for you
, I’d said.

Make them volunteer at homeless shelters, at soup kitchens, at church fund-raisers. That

way they’re happy—they think they’re being tested—and you’re happy because not only

are they out of your hair, they’re spending virtually all their free time helping the greater

good.
I’d saved the best for last: ordering devil worshippers to commit good deeds was a

terrific way to defy her mother. If I had needed a deal closer, that was it.
“Marc, if

there’s ever anything I can do for you, you have to come see me or call.”
“Are you

kidding? You just gave me ten minutes of free entertainment. You’re square with the

house, honey.”
Laura turned away for a moment, suddenly lost in thought. “Maybe I’ve

been looking at this the wrong way. If they’ll do anything I say—if they’ll do things for

me they would do for no one else—I wonder what else I can make them do?”
“Hey, one

way to find out,” I said, having absolutely no idea that I was inadvertently, and with the

best of intentions, driving Laura to a break with her conscience and her sanity.
I take full

responsibility for the following events, which I will narrate as quickly and carefully as I

can.

Derik! Apologize this minute,” Sara practically hissed. “I know you’re upset, but this is

ridiculous. He’s just a baby.” “I don’t know what the hell that thing is,” Derik retorted,

“but it’s not a baby.” “You’re acting like you’ve seen a ghoul, or something,” Jeannie said.

“What baby?” Jeannie turned to her husband. “What baby? The one she got off the plane

with, what are you talking about, what baby?” Oh, great, here were Michael and Jeannie

Wyndham, with Sinclair hot on their heels. “Everybody just calm down,” I began, but

Derik drowned me out. He pointed. “That baby.” Michael frowned. “But you don’t have a

baby.” Jeannie stared. “What’s wrong with you?” She nodded toward Derik. “Him, I get.

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) He’s just playing the blame game. But you—” I was flabbergasted. I’d suspected last night

he hadn’t noticed BabyJon, but not noticing or commenting was one thing. Michael didn’t

appear to
see
my brother at all. “Well, he’s not mine,” I said, trying to recover from my

surprise. “I mean, he is now. He’s my brother.” Michael was staring at BabyJon with his

flat, yellow gaze. “Where did he come from?” “Uh, Michael.” I coughed. “Um, he came

with us. On the plane, like Jeannie said. He was in the limo with us last night. And in your

office.” “Oh, well, that’s fine then.” “I wouldn’t call that exactly fine,” Jeannie began, but

Michael had already turned away, gently touching Jeannie’s elbow. “Hon, would you tell

the kitchen they need to send up more—” “Wait.” Sinclair might not have been a Pack

member, but he had no trouble seizing control of a moment . . . Everybody stopped and

looked at him. “Michael,” Sinclair asked quietly, almost gently, “where is the baby?”

Michael frowned and cocked his head, as if listening to a voice from another room. “What

baby?” “That’s it,” Jeannie said firmly. “I’m taking you to a doctor. Right now.” “I’m not

sure it’s something a doctor can fix,” I said, mentally reeling. I mean, I really needed a

minute here. As soon as Michael had turned his back, he’d forgotten—again—about

BabyJon. Derik wouldn’t go anywhere near the kid. And the other werewolves seemed to

be picking up on Derik’s extreme stress. Only Sara seemed unperturbed. “Perhaps it’s

time to go,” Sinclair murmured, his fingers clutching the back of my chair. Perhaps it was

time to call the local mental hospital with some new admits. “Uh, okay,” I said, slowly

getting to my feet. BabyJon, unmoved by recent events, yawned against my neck. “Well,

thanks for the—uh—snacks. I guess we’ll—” “We’re not going to actually let them get