Undead and Unwelcome

Chapter 37

Betsy, you have to have to have to come home! Laura has LHDM! Quit dicking around on the Cape and CHRTM!

“You’re right,” Jessica said, squinting at the printout of Marc’s latest gabble. “It’s pretty incomprehensible.”

“I’m not answering him until he writes like a grown man instead of a thirteen-​year-​old girl. He knows how I feel about all the silly e-​mail faux-​netiquette garbage. And, hello? I’ve only got about fifty bigger problems to worry about.”

“Yeah, I know. So finish already! You told the Council that you gave Antonia more superpowers than she already had, and then what?”

“Then they decided to call it a night. I’m supposed to answer more questions later.”

“Later, when? Tonight’s the full moon.”

“I know. I guess tomorrow night, maybe. Or—wait. Isn’t the full moon usually for a couple of days?”

Jessica, who had been walking beside me down the beach, stopped and stared at me. I shifted BabyJon to my other arm and faced the dragon: “What? Something’s on that so-​called mind of yours. Spit it out.”

“This is crap, Betsy,” she said, kindly enough. “You’ve done everything they’ve asked. You did everything you could for poor Antonia, and then some. But because they found out you’re a lot stronger than they ever imagined, they’re assuming you can just hang out until they have everything settled their way? Bullshit.”

“So, what? We leave before they’re satisfied? How does that fix anything?”

“I don’t know, but I sure don’t like how you’re letting them push you around.”

“Well, they do sort of outnumber me seventy thousand to one.”

“That’s worldwide. There can’t be more than three thousand on the Cape.”

“Much better odds,” I said glumly.

“Look, that’s part of the reason I had to break up with Nick—”

I moaned and covered my eyes. “Something else to hate myself for.”

“Oh, just stop it,” she scolded. “I don’t blame you—even if he does—and he made his choice.”

“Yeah, but—don’t you miss him?”

“Every day,” she replied quietly. “But letting him stay in my life was going to cost too much. Even for me.”

“I wish . . .” I trailed off. “I don’t know. I wish for everything, I guess.”

“You can’t tell me Sinclair is fine with all of this.”

“No, he’s pissed. I mean, he got pissed during some of the questioning. Then he thought the rest of it was funny.”

“Your husband is a whack job.”

“Tell me. But that’s not even my biggest problem right now.”

“Split ends?” Jessica inquired.

“Shut your cake hole.”

“Ah, cake. That reminds me, I missed lunch today.”

“Can you stay focused, please?”

“Sorry, forgot—only for a minute—that everything’s about you all the time.”

“I’ve mentioned my deep hatred for you, right?”

“Twice today.”

“What I’d like to know is what’s the deal with my brother?” I patted BabyJon on his diapered rump; sunset was about half an hour away. “Derik acts like BabyJon’s head can spin all the way around, and Michael keeps forgetting I even brought a baby! Something is rotten in Hallmark.”

“Denmark.”

“Right.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Betsy, because I know you love him, but he is the spawn of the Ant and your dad. Who knows what twisted up his DNA?”

“That’s fair enough,” I admitted. We were slowly making our way from the beach to the mansion. “Especially when you consider the Ant’s other kid.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Laura that getting laid wouldn’t cure.”

I started laughing so hard I nearly dropped the baby. “That’s quite enough about my siblings from you,” I said, trying (and failing) to sound stern.

“Somebody’s got to help you keep it real.”

“Nobody’s said ‘keep it real’ for about five years.”

We walked through the front door and into the large receiving hall, and I still wasn’t used to the immensity that was Wyndham Manor. It made our place in St. Paul look like an RV. I was about to comment on that to Jess when I noticed a bunch of people running toward us.

I instinctively clutched the baby—What now, for God’s sake?—only to see them run straight past us.

“Betsy, oh my God! Look!”

I spun and looked. A kid—twelve? thirteen?—was falling, oh my God, he was actually falling from the third-​level landing, headed straight for the marble floor. I thrust BabyJon at Jessica, but it was too late and the poor kid hit the floor with an awful, wet smack.