Undead and Unwelcome (20 page)

could practically hear Sinclair trying to figure out how to turn their goodwill to our

advantage. And yes, we’d found out BabyJon was no ordinary baby—which was a great

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) relief, given our dangerous lifestyles. If he was going to be raised by vampires, it was

excellent that he couldn’t be hurt by them. The vampires Laura and her minions had killed

were all pretty bad characters . . . Sinclair and Tina knew each and every name, and

couldn’t deny the planet was better off without those particular undead walking around.

However, the ends don’t justify, etcetera. Worse, I didn’t think Laura had learned her

lesson. She had never regretted killing the vamps, she only regretted hurting me. There

was still work ahead. The only thing worse? She threw the fight. She let me win.
Let
me.

Which meant she could probably kill me whenever she wanted. If the devil decided to

whisper in the wrong ear again, I could be in very serious trouble. But even if that never

happened (ha!), I had discovered something knew and awful about my sister. Despite my

earlier assurance, Laura wasn’t necessarily a good guy. In fact, I was pretty sure she was

the worst kind of bad guy. She was a bad guy who
thought
she was a good guy. I was

normally pretty sanguine about the future, but I wasn’t going to be able to relax for a

while. I didn’t think any of us were.

Dude,
This will be my last entry for a while. I think part of the reason I wrote so much

this week was because Sinclair and Betsy weren’t here, and it helped fill my days.

They’re back now, and things are sort of back to normal. Tina’s still not speaking to

Laura. Laura’s avoiding all of us. BabyJon apparently has superpowers. And Betsy

doesn’t seem quite so bubbleheaded.
Only Sinclair is the same: cool, calculating,

untroubled. Thank God he loves Betsy—I’d hate to think what would happen to us if he

didn’t.
Meeting the devil—that was a new one for me, even for the funhouse we all live in.

I can’t get what she said out of my head.
So I’m going to call my dad tonight. Maybe

even go see him.
The devil might have told me he knew my secret to fuck me up, and

that’s fine—that’s the devil’s
job.
I plan to use the information to make my life—and

maybe my dad’s—a little better.
That ought to fix that rotten bitch. And hey, Satan, since

you’re so busy watching me, let me be the first to say: not even those Vera Wangs can

hide the fact that Lena’s got better ankles than you.
Later, dude.

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