Undead and Uneasy

Chapter 30

“I can't believe you're babysitting me."

“Hey, you didn't have to come.”

“Uh-​huh. Rattling around that mausoleum you live in was a much better plan.”

“Mom, can I have some more paper?”

Jeannie and Lara Wyndham and I were back at the bridal shop. Tonight was the first night of the full moon. My wedding was in four days.

Denial? Was that why I was here? Pretending everything was fine and I really was getting married next week? Well, yeah. Besides, if Sinclair did show up (or if I was ever able to figure out where he was), I had no plans to walk down the aisle naked.

Given that I'd been planning my wedding since the seventh grade, it was slightly insane that I'd left the dress for so late. Not only did it have to be The Dress, but at this stage of the game it needed to require few if any alterations.

The florist was taken care of, ditto the reception menu. The justice of the peace was booked—he was a friend of my mom's. The RSVPs had all come in long before Sinclair had disappeared. It was a small civil ceremony, so there'd be no rehearsal. No bridesmaids, either, though I'd picked out designer suits for my girlfriends to wear, all Vera Wangs, all jewel colors.

Speaking of jewel colors, Lara was lying on the floor, drawing with Crayola Sparkly Markers. Jeannie was slumped in one of the armchairs, staring at the ceiling. And, what came as a pleasant surprise, she wasn't armed. And I was trying not to remember the last time I'd been at the bridal shop, when things had been almost normal.

“How was your wedding?” I asked, waiting for the clerk to haul out some dresses.

She snorted. “I didn't have one. The day I met Michael I got knocked up with this one.” She nodded at her daughter. “As far as werewolves are concerned, that was the wedding.”

“Really?” I was interested in spite of my own problems. “I'm kind of in the same boat. We've got this thing called The Book of the Dead, which foretold— uh—me. And my fiancé, Sinclair. So he always figured we were married, too. Even when I couldn't stand him, he assumed we were hitched.”

“Aggravating.”

“Say it twice. Anyway, the last thing he wanted was a real wedding with a dress and a caterer and a cake we can't eat.”

“Oh. And now he's gone?”

“Yeah.”

Jeannie was probably a lousy poker player. I was grateful she was too tactful to suggest Sinclair hadn't been kidnapped. She looked at me, bit her lip, and then went back to staring at the ceiling.

“I hope we get this cleared up sooner rather than later,” she fretted, shifting in her seat. Her shoulder-​length hair, normally curly, was bordering on frizzy, thanks to the humidity, and she shoved a wad of it behind one ear and crossed her legs. “I haven't seen my son in a week.”

“Oh? How many kids do you have?”

“Lara here, and my son, Aaron. He'll be two next month.” She sighed. “Obviously this trip was too dangerous for a toddler.”

“Uh.” I glanced at Lara, reassuring myself she was engrossed and paying no attention. “Not to tell you your business, but I think it's too dangerous for anybody under thirty.”

She smiled thinly. “Lara will be the next Pack leader. The more she knows about the world before she has to take over, the better.”

“Yeah, but—not much time to just be a kid, huh?”

Jeannie said nothing. But I could tell she didn't like it. What must it be like, I wondered, to be a human in the middle of a bunch of werewolves? In love with your husband and glad enough to have kids with him, but caught up in a society with completely different rules?

I could so totally relate.

“So even though you have a little boy, Lara will—?”

“The mantle's passed down by birth order, not gender.”

“How refreshing!” And I meant it. Men usually got all the breaks.

“Yeah. But I see where you're going with all this. And yeah, I wish I could protect Lara from—well, everything. But a werewolf cub isn't like a human child. Even a half/half, like my daughter. They're bolder than we are, and faster, more pragmatic and. . . well, crueler, in some ways. From the day she was born she was different than any human baby. I swear, she was born without the fear gene.”

“Fear is a gene?”

“You want to get into it, blondie?” she demanded, but she was smiling. “Because we'll go, if you want to go.”

“Don't call me blondie, fuzzball.”

“Mom, you worry too much,” Lara said from the floor, drawing what appeared to be a field of upside-​down mushrooms on fire.

“That's my prerogative.”

“What's—”

“It means that as your mom, I retain the right to worry about you pretty much until the day I die.”

“Oh, yay,” the kid muttered, then giggled when Jeannie nudged her rump with the toe of her sandal.

“So your husband and his buds are running around on all fours in the middle of St. Paul right about now?”

Jeannie shrugged. This was obviously old stuff to her. I couldn't help but admire her. She'd adjusted to her extreme lifestyle change a lot better than I had. Of course, she'd had a few more years to deal with it.

“I wish I was on all fours right now,” Lara said.

I looked a question at Jeannie, who replied, “Puberty, usually.”

“Oh, that sounds like a fun time.”

She grinned and opened her mouth, but before she could elaborate. . .

“Ah, Ms. Taylor! So nice to see you again.”

“Yeah, hi, uh—”

“Misty, Sherri, and I will be heading out for a quick bite, but you're our only appointment this evening. Christopher is in the back, selecting some gowns we think will superbly suit your height and complexion.”

“Superb,” I said.

“Mega superb,” Jeannie added.

“We've got some lovely things in from Saison Blanche, Nicole Miller, Vera Wang, and Signature.”

"Terrific. But you know, time's kind of an issue for me.

“And not wanting to be here is kind of an issue for my mom,” Lara added, ignoring another toe-​poke from her mother.

“Can't I just go in the back and sort of look around? It'd go a lot faster, don't you think?”

“I'm afraid that's against policy, Ms. Taylor. But we're willing to stay as late as necessary this evening to be sure you find the perfect gown.”

Jeannie groaned. I couldn't blame her. If I were in her shoes, I'd probably be bored out of my mind, too. In fact, I was sort of amazed that—

(Beth)

“Sorry, what?”

Jeannie glanced at me. “What?”

“What'd you say?”

“Nothing out loud. But I was thinking all sorts of nasty things.” She grinned. “What? Vampires can read minds?”

“No.” Not entirely true. I could read Sinclair's mind when we were making love. In fact, it was just as well we were fated to rule for a thousand years, because he had ruined sex for me with anybody else.

Wait a minute! The Book of the Dead said we were fated to rule for a thousand years. There wasn't anything in there about Sinclair being killed before we even got officially hitched.

Why hadn't I thought of that before?

I was so excited I wanted to run out of the bridal shop and—and—well, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do, but I sure didn't want to sit there a moment longer. I—

“Here we are, Ms. Taylor.” Christopher emerged from a side hall, where I knew he'd hung three or four gowns in a dressing room for me to try on. It was good timing, since the other three clerks had just left.

Concealing my excitement, I slowly got to my feet, sauntered over to Christopher, gripped him by the elbow, and murmured, “Take us to all the dresses.”

He wheeled around like a reprogrammed robot and started marching toward the back. Snickering, Jeannie rose and followed, and Lara followed her.

Now we were getting somewhere. That's right, everything was coming up Betsy!