Undead and Unwelcome (17 page)

“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.

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

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) 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.

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

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) 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. These 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.

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). “I, uh, wanted to

apologize,” Derik said stiffly. “About before.” “You don’t have to.” “I do have to, not

least because if I don’t, it’ll get me in trouble with my wife.” I laughed. “When is she

due?” “Any second.” “Yeesh.” I’ve mentioned hugely pregnant women make me nervous,

right? “Well, good luck with all of that.” “I wanted to tell you that the Council is satisfied

with your testimony and thanks you for your cooperation.” I was silent. I wasn’t the

smartest woman in the world, but even I could smell Derik all over that one. Sometime

today, when he woke up with two legs instead of four, he had fixed things with the

Council. “Thanks,” I said. “I’m glad you—I’m glad the Council is satisfied.” “On a more

personal note,” Michael said, giving me the friendliest smile I’d ever seen, “my home and

my lands are open to you and your husband anytime. I hope you’ll come to see us again

soon.” “Oh. Well, thanks.” “Thanks” seemed big-time inadequate, but it was all I could

come up with. Poof! Just like that, our troubles were over. It was hard to believe that we

could just pick up and leave without werewolf repercussions. Sinclair rapped politely, then

came into the room and handed me a hard copy of one of Marc’s e-mails. It was such a

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) disaster it actually hurt my brain to look at it.
Betsy!
CBN grrrl Laura’s LHM and

IDKWTD!!!!! Please you have to GYBBH ASAP! I am so not LOLing right now please

please come!
“It’s the same message over and over.” I rolled my eyes. “Who can make

heads or tails of this? Maybe we should call him.” “I have been. Nobody answers . . . and I

can’t reach Tina.” Huh. That was odd. Tina was available to Sinclair at all times. Derik

peeked over my shoulder. “Holy crap. You’d better get going.” “What?” I looked at the

gibberish. “You mean you actually understand this mess?” “You mean you don’t? ‘Come

back now, girl. Laura’s lost her mind and I don’t know what to do. Please, you have to

get your butt back home as soon as possible! I am so not laughing out loud right now.

Please, please come!’ ” There was a short silence as Sinclair and I locked gazes. He

looked as horrified as I felt. “Oh my God. Oh my—get Jessica. Get the baby. We have to

go right now—oh my God, what’s she done? Did she lose it and kill Tina?” “You’ve got

trouble at home,” Michael said, not wasting our time with silly questions. “Is there

anything we can do to help?” “I’ll come with you, if you want,” Derik offered. “
No
,

that’s—that’s okay. I mean, thanks and everything, but you stay here with your wife.

Sinclair, Jessica’s got to call Cooper and get the plane ready.” I was dashing around the

room, scooping up clothes and flinging them in the general direction of one of the

suitcases. “I’ve got some people at the airport,” Michael said. “I’ll call ahead and make

sure you’re not unnecessarily delayed.” “Great. That’s great. Okay, let’s—damn! I almost

forgot.” “Forgot what?” “Your mom says not to name your daughter after her.” “My—

what
?” “Your mom.” “My mom’s been dead for twenty—” “I know. But that doesn’t

change the fact that she doesn’t want another Theodocia running around in the world.”

That was how we left Antonia’s best friend and the Pack leader: amazed and staring after

us.

I wasn’t sure how Cooper had managed to shave thirty-five minutes off our flight time,

and I didn’t want to know. Sinclair’s car was waiting on the tarmac for us when we

landed, and the four of us piled in and took off. Sinclair made that car
move
, getting us to

the mansion in record time. Before we could even get to the front door, it was yanked

open and Marc was framed in the doorway. “It’s about damned time!” “If you wrote your

emergency messages in English, we would have been back three days ago. Where’s

Laura? Where’s Tina? What’s going on?” “I haven’t seen Tina in days. I think Laura might

have done something.” We followed him through the house. “What’s she been doing?”

“You might as well see for yourself. Because even I don’t believe it, and I’ve
seen
it.” He

stiff-armed the door to the parlor, which swung open. Sinclair, Jessica, and I stared at the

goings-on.
He was right. I didn’t believe it.

The parlor was packed with people in dark hooded robes. Laura was standing at the front

of the room, holding a clipboard. “Okay, then after you take care of the two vampires who

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) got away last night, I need some of you back here. I was able to intercept a call to the

house—I guess some vampires from Maine are on their way to pay tribute.” Laura shook

her head. “Blasphemy. Then we’ll—” “What the
fuck
are you doing?” Laura glanced up,

startled, and instead of looking ashamed or scared or sad, she looked delighted. “Betsy!

Thank goodness you’re back. I’ve got so much to tell you.” “Why,” I demanded, “are you

meeting with monks in our house in the middle of the night?” “Those aren’t monks,” Marc

sighed. “They’re devil worshippers.” “Devil—” I suddenly realized what was going on.

They were confusing Laura with her mother. But why would Laura have anything to do

with— “Laura,” Sinclair said in a calm tone that didn’t fool me at all, “where is Tina?”

“Oh, I had to get her out of the way,” Laura said with Bambi-like sincerity. “She would

have tried to stop me. But I’m being rude. Everybody, this is my sister, Betsy, and her

husband, Sin—” “We don’t need intros!” I snapped. “We need to find out where Tina is.”

Not to mention when you lost your mind.
“I’m in a meeting right now,” she said in a

scolding mommy voice. “I don’t—” I hauled one of the robed morons to his—his? yep, it

was a guy—feet and tossed him away. He bounced off the wall like he was a SuperBall,

hands clapped to his face as his nose gushed blood. “I want you athholth out of my

houth!” “Protect the Beloved of the Morningstar!” some other hooded freak yelled, and

just like that, I had my hands full.

Dude,
Thank God, thank God, thank God, Betsy finally came home and she brought the