“Yeah. It was great! I wish you could come out with me; the sun felt so good.”
“The sun would incinerate me in a nanosecond.”
“Right. Sorry about that. I haven’t been out during the day in six whole months, so I was glad to get out of here, believe me.”
“Tina,” he said, still looking at me like I was a strange new species of bug, “has not seen the sun in well over a hundred years.”
“Well, I’ll tell her all about it. After I, you know, make things right. Although I’m not sure how much I’ve got to make right with her; she did kick my ass pretty good. You should have seen it,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood a little.
“I missed it, as I was waiting for you to return to bed,” he said coldly, and I almost cringed.
“You—” I tried to fix it. Couldn’t think of a way. I finished the sentence, hating how I sounded like a sad little kid instead of a grown woman. “You really didn’t notice?”
“I was…distracted. I can assure you, it will never happen again.”
His face was so still, so cold. I had to get out of there. Now. This very second. “Where’s Jessica?”
“Hiding from you, of course.” He grabbed the Book and stood. “I should put this back. Since you appear to be back to yourself, there is no need for further research. Good day.”
And that was that.
Chapter 15
“Jessica?” I softly tapped on the door with my knuckles. “Jess? It’s Bets. Can I come in?”
Silence. I could hear her moving around in there, but she wasn’t talking. Ugh. I could take anything—death, torture, knockoffs—but the silent treatment.
“Jess? I fucked up, honey. Really really bad. I’m so sorry. Sorry for hitting you and biting you and saying all those rotten things.” Listing my sins made me feel worse, if possible. “Can I please come in?”
Nothing. And who could blame her? I wouldn’t talk to me, either.
“Jess, let me in, sweetie. Wouldn’t you rather see me groveling in person? And I’ve got a good grovel going, you really don’t want to miss it.”
Nothing.
“Well.” I coughed. “I wanted to tell you I’m not evil anymore and say I’m sorry for—you know. For everything. I’ll—uh—I’ll be around if you need to talk. Or something. Okay? Okay. Well, I’m gonna go now.”
I paused, waiting for her to dramatically fling open the door and holler for me to wait. That’s what always happened in the movies. Then I turned around and walked down the hall.
This was gonna be much, much harder than I thought. I’d fucked it up all the way around, all because I’d decided to read the Book of the Dead instead of rereading Gone With the Wind. I felt like Scarlett after the Yankees went through Tara, except less attractive.
Marc and Tina were at the foot of the stairs, talking. I resisted the urge to eavesdrop—I’d made enough mistakes in the last forty-eight hours—and slowly walked down to meet them.
“Feeling better, Majesty?” Tina asked. Her smile looked real. Marc seemed okay, too. His shoulders were a little set, but he looked relaxed enough.
“Um, yeah. Listen—”
“I’m glad you’re all right now. And I must apologize for taking liberties with your person. I—”
I grabbed her little paws and looked down into her big pansy eyes. “Oh, Tina, I’m the one who owes you the apology. I suck!”
The corner of her mouth twitched as she attempted to extricate her hands. “Majesty, you do not.”
“No, I totally do. I feel so bad that I tried to kill you. I’m glad you kicked my ass. Humiliated, but glad. I didn’t know you could fight like that!”
She laughed and brushed her straw-colored bangs out of her eyes. “Luckily for me. I must admit, I had a bad moment when you threw your necklace at me.”
“Well, I’m really sorry.”
“I, also. I am glad,” she added with touching sincerity, “you are better.”
“Oh, I’m completely evil-free.”
“And…you rose while the sun was up.”
“Yeah. Turn evil, get a new power,” I joked. “It’s like the worst trade-off ever.”
“Hmm,” she replied, giving me the same look Sinclair had. It wasn’t much fun when she looked at me that way, either.
“You should have seen her rolling around in the grass like a big blond puppy,” Marc said. “It was pretty hilarious.”
“You hush,” I said, but I couldn’t help smiling. It felt good after recent events.
Chapter 16
“Well, I do have some good news!” I shouted. “I know how we can track down my sister!”
“Why are we having a meeting in the hallway?” Sinclair asked, looking up from his notes for practically the first time all night.
“So Jessica stays in the loop, duh,” I replied. “Anyway, I thought we could track my long-lost sister down and ask her not to take over the world! Okay? I mean, something good came out of the fuckup du jour, right?!?”
Marc rubbed his ear. “How do you want to start?”
“Well, I know she was born right here in the Cities, on June 6, 1986!”
“Six six eighty-six?” Tina asked. “That’s interesting.”
“It’s lame, is what it is! What, we’re in The Omen now?!? But anyway, we can narrow it down to all the baby girls born to the Ant on six six eighty-six, and how many of them can there be? One, I’m guessing!”
“I don’t think you have to scream,” Marc said. “Her door isn’t that thick.”
“Do you think you can get the records? You said at the Ant’s that you’d try!” This meeting was making me tired. And why wouldn’t Sinclair look at me? I figured he was still pissed about the other night. Not a word about how he didn’t even notice I was evil, natch. I started to get freshly annoyed and tried to squash it. I was in no position to play the victim. “Marc?!?”
“Shit, I heard you.” He rubbed his ear. “Yeah, I don’t think that’ll be too hard.”
“What about confidentiality issues?” Tina asked.
“What’s that you say?” I shrieked. “You want to know how we get around confidentiality stuff?”
They both looked annoyed, and then Marc answered her. “Well, let’s put it this way. Normally I don’t like to go snooping around in charts that are none of my business. But to find Satan’s daughter and save the world, I’ll make an exception. And Tina, if you or Eric come with me, I’m sure we can get past the clerks.”
“All right,” Tina said.
“Do you want me to come, too?” I screamed.
“It’s not necessary,” Tina said, leaning away. “We’ll tend to this errand for you, Majesty. Besides…” She eyed the closed, locked door to Jessica’s bedroom. “You have other things to worry about.”
“Right! Well, here’s what happened! In case you were wondering!”
“I’m wondering how long this meeting will last,” Sinclair muttered.
“The devil got really bored down there in Hell and decided to come to Earth for a while! And she possessed the Ant when she was knocked up! And then she went back to Hell!”
“You know all this?” he asked, looking up again.
“Yes! The Book told me! I mean, it didn’t tell me, I sort of read about it and then just knew the rest!”
“So your stepmother actually was the devil for, what, almost a year?”
“Yes!”
“That’s amazing,” Tina said, wide-eyed.
“Not so amazing! What’s amazing is that she was possessed by Satan for almost a year and nobody noticed anything unusual!”
What was that? I thought I’d heard a muffled laugh from the other side of the door. I listened hard, but I couldn’t hear anything else. Nuts.
“I have to admit, that’s a new one on me,” Marc said. “But you don’t seem surprised.”
“I grew up with the woman. So the devil thought she was the perfect vessel…I guess you called it, Marc.” My voice was getting tired, so I was talking normally for the m
oment. “She lost nearly a year of her life, and when she came back to herself, she must have totally freaked. Dumped the baby, tried to get things back to normal. Then later, she managed to talk my dad into marriage. So she got what she wanted, eventually.”
“But at what cost?” Sinclair asked. He was sitting cross-legged on my right side and turned to give me a look that was almost scorching. Then the moment passed, and he was back to his notes.
“Right,” I said uneasily. “Okay! So, Satan went back to Hell, the Ant broke up my parents’ marriage, my sister was dumped into the foster care system, and now we gotta find her before she takes over the world!”
“An interesting agenda,” Tina said, bringing up a small hand to cover her smile.
“For all the good it will do,” Sinclair said, “your sister is fated to rule the world. As you will recall from your own late reading, there is not a lot of gray area in the Book. I doubt anything we can do will prevent the daughter of the devil from doing that which she pleases.”
“Well, we’re gonna try!” I hollered back. “We can’t not try!”
He shrugged. “As you wish.”
Damn right, as I wish. Now if I could just tear him away from his precious note-taking, things might start getting back to normal around here. What the hell was so damned engrossing, anyway? His last will and testament? His grocery list? I leaned over and peeked, but he was writing in a language I didn’t know.
“Okay, meeting adjourned!” I shrieked. “Unless anybody has anything to add?” I half-turned and watched Jessica’s door, but it didn’t open.
So that was that.
The next afternoon, I drove to my mom’s office at the U. Tina wasn’t up yet, Jessica was still avoiding me, Marc was off somewhere, and if I was exposed to much more of Sinclair’s cold shoulder, I was gonna get frostbite.
We’d find out later tonight what, if anything, Tina and Marc had found out, but for now, the waiting was driving me nuts. The whole situation was driving me nuts.
So, like any insecure, lonely, friendless vampire, I wanted my mommy.
She’d had the same dumpy office for twenty years—tenure didn’t mean a decorating budget, apparently—and I made my way there in no time. DR. ELISE TAYLOR, HISTORY DEPARTMENT was etched on the glass part of the door. Her specialty was the Civil War, specifically the battle of Antietam. Like I hadn’t had my fill of that by the time I was ten.
I could hear her talking in the hallway long before I saw her silhouette against the door. She had half-opened it and was still haranguing her colleague:
“I’m not going to the thing, and you can’t make me, Bob, you absolutely can’t.”
Then she saw I was waiting for her. Her mouth popped open, and her green eyes bulged. Her snow-white hair was straggling out of its usual neat bun; it was her post–sophomore Civil War 124 look. Then she shut the door on poor Bob and ran to me.
“Betsy! You’re up!” She looked out her window, looked back at me, looked out the window again. “My God, what are you doing up?”
“Surprise,” I said, holding out my arms. She jumped into them—I’d been a head taller since I was twelve—and gave me a squeeze. “I thought I’d do the pop-in.”
“I love the pop-in if it’s you. So what’s happened? Is this part of being the queen? Oh!” Her hand went to her mouth. “I just realized…this means you can go to Antonia’s baby shower.”
I grinned. “Thanks. I totally hadn’t thought of that until now. Heh.”
“So…what’s happened?”
I ended up telling her most of it: reading the Book, and going crazy, and what I had done to Jessica and Marc and Tina. I left out what I’d done to Sinclair. Mom didn’t need any updates on my sorry sex life. Besides, she was so fond of Sinclair she’d probably be annoyed with me. I also left out the daughter of the devil angle. Mom was broad-minded, but it was best to give her the info in digestible chunks.
“…and Jess is still hiding from me—she sleeps at night now, behind a locked door. She used to stay up all night because I was up all night. I really screwed the pooch, Mom. Pardon my French. I think the worst part is, I’m in a mess that’s totally of my own making. Sinclair warned me about the Book, but I didn’t listen. And Jess paid for it. Everybody paid for it.”
“You did, too, honey,” my mom said, her eyes soft with sympathy. Ahhhh. A mother’s love…it was like slipping into a sauna—warm, yet hard to breathe. “You’re still paying for it. Of course, Jessica is upset. But you’ve been friends since the seventh grade. A little felony assault isn’t going to change that.”
“Do you think so?”
“Yes,” she said firmly, and I started to perk right up. “Your friendship survived death. It’ll recover from this. Just keep apologizing. Do it every single day. Besides, a little remorse will do you good, dear.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I take it Tina and Marc have forgiven you?”
“Yeah, seems like it. Tina never seemed mad about it in the first place, and Marc’s a little tense around me, but he treats me nice and all. It’s just Jessica.” And Sinclair. But there was only so much I could stand to tell her about my own piss-poor behavior.
“Honey, it wasn’t your fault. It was that Book. Bound in skin and written in human blood, you say? It must be ancient…possibly predating—well—everything.” Her eyes were seeing me and far away at the same time; I’d seen that look before. “What I wouldn’t give to—you say you keep it in your library?”
“Mom. Seriously. If I see you near that thing, I’ll throw it in the fireplace. I might do it anyway. No Book for you.” So she’d know I wasn’t kidding, I went Soup Nazi on her. We were both gigantic Seinfeld fans. “No Book for you!”
“Betsy, you can’t.” She was all somber and reproachful. Not a big fan of book-burning, my mom. “It’s literally priceless. Think of what we could—”
“It’s a priceless pain in my big white butt. You don’t go anywhere near it, get me? The thing’s been around forever, and even Sinclair hasn’t read it all—just enough to torture me with. I mean it, Mom. Promise you won’t try to check it out.”
“I promise if you promise not to burn it.”
“Fine, I promise. And thanks for the escape hatch, but I can’t blame the Book for how I acted after. Nobody stuck a gun in my ear and made me read it. It was my choice. And I’ve got to make it up with Jess.”
“Well, keep trying to apologize. You’ll have more time to do that, now.” She looked out the window again.
I leaned down and rested my head on her shoulder. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll keep at it.”
She rubbed my back, and we watched the sun go down together.
Chapter 17
“It took some doing,” Marc said into the baby monitor, “but we got it figured out. Over.”
“It’s not a walkie-talkie, and you’re not a trucker,” I said, exasperated. “And how much doing could it have taken? You started last night.”
“Hey, next time you track down Damien. Whose name is Laura, by the way.”
We were in the kitchen—everyone but Jessica—and I was getting the scoop on my lost-now-found sister. The three of them were unanimous in their dislike of screaming at Jessica’s closed door, so Marc had picked up a set of baby monitors. He’d popped one into Jessica’s room that morning, while she was out and the rest of us were conked. She couldn’t have minded—we didn’t find the monitor in little pieces in the kitchen garbage, at least.
Wait a minute.
Laura?
“Satan’s kid is named Laura?”
“Laura Goodman.” Tina giggled.
“That’s pretty dumb.”
“Almost as ridiculous a name as Betsy for a vampire queen,” Sinclair commented.
Was that a nasty comment or a nasty-nice comment? Was he getting over being mad? And why did I care so much? He was usually on my shit list.
I had to admit, I didn’t much care for the role reversal. But what could I do? I had the distinct
impression that apologizing for having sex with him would just make everything worse. And things were plenty bad enough, thanks. “So, what else did you guys find out?”
Plenty, as it turned out. Laura had been adopted about ten seconds after the Ant had dumped her, thank goodness, by the Goodmans, who settled with her in Farmington, where she grew up. Even better, Laura was a student at the U of M and had an apartment in Dinkytown. My mom could probably help me out a little there.
“It wasn’t even very hard to find this stuff out,” Marc added. He turned to Tina. “My review is tomorrow. Will you please come to work with me?”
She rolled her eyes and laughed again. “Oh, Marc.”
“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t have been,” I said. I had great respect for Tina’s sinister powers. Hey, trying to kill her could be seen as a compliment! A sad, lame compliment. “If there’s someone out there Tina can’t put the vamp mojo on, I haven’t met them.”
“Less mojo was needed than you would believe. Everyone was very open about…well, everything. The adoption and where she is now and what she’s doing. We’ve even got her phone number.”
“Well, good.” I guess. That was good, right? Right! Time to regain control of this meeting. Assuming I’d ever had it. “So I guess we’ll…what? Go see her? Track her down in the root of all evil—Dinkytown, is it? Tell her we’re onto her, and she’d better not fulfill her destiny or we’ll…what?”
“One thing at a time,” Sinclair said. Since he was having very little to say these days, I was glad to hear him piping up. “We must find her first.”
“Together?”
He speared me with his dark gaze. Which was as uncomfortable as it sounds. “You shouldn’t speak to Satan’s own by yourself. Of course, I will come with you.”
“Of course.” I smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back.
“Meeting’s over,” Marc told the baby monitor. “Over.”
Chapter 18
“She volunteers at the church,” I said. “Oh. My. God! She volunteers at the church!”