Undead and Unreturnable (14 page)
Chewin
' on '
em
in Chaska
Dear
Cheivin
':
Well, you've got the right idea, anyway. Don't kill them, not any of them, if you can help it. They can't help being alive any more than you can help being dead. I try to go out and bite bad guys… you know, someone who's trying to drag me into a dark alley to "meet" his friends, someone I catch breaking into my car… like that. I feel like they got punished for whatever felony they were attempting, and I got to eat. Try that for a while and see how it works. If you ever meet that special someone, you could tell her your secret and maybe she could help you out. Also, as you get older, you won't need to feed as much. Cheer up. This, too, shall pass.
"It's pretty good," Jessica said. "Because the newsletter is new, I guess you had to make up the first few questions?"
"Yeah."
"Well, pretty soon you'll start to get real letters, so that's okay. But this isn't too bad."
I started to cry.
"Jeez!" Jessica said, putting the paper down and hurrying over to me. "I had no idea you were such a touchy edit! It's great, it's really great for your first time. Lots of—uh—lots of good advice."
"Sinclair moved out of my room," I sobbed.
"Well, honey, I don't know that he ever actually moved
in
."
I cried harder.
"Uh, sorry. Did you guys have a fight?"
"A big one. The worst one."
"Worse than when you thought he was putting the moves on your sister?"
"I wish that's what it was," I wept.
"Okay. Is it something you can tell me about?"
"No," I sobbed. Sinclair's humiliation was still fresh; the last thing I was going to do was spread it around.
She had poured a fresh cup of tea for me—we were in the kitchen—and now sat down in the chair next to me. My feeble letter lay on the table between us. I'd been desperate to distract myself from the fight. Thus, Dear Betsy.
"Well, honey, is it something bad you did?"
"I didn't think so. I thought it was good. Proof of something good. But he didn't agree. And then he left. It's been two nights, and he hasn't been back; I haven't even seen him in the house. I've seen George the Fiend more than my own fiancé."
"Right, but… you're not going around killing Girl Scouts or anything, right?"
I shook my head. "Nothing like that."
"And you didn't read the Book… Betsy!" she nearly screamed at my feeble nod. "Did you turn evil again?"
"I wish. I only read the paragraph he made me. He was just making a point. And then he slammed it shut and took it away, and took himself away, too."
"Well, is it something you can say you're sorry for?"
"I don't think I can apologize for this. Besides, I already did. We were pretty mad, though. He might not have noticed. But it was a secret for a long time. I guess I can apologize for not telling him right away."
"That's a start, right?"
"He's afraid of me now," I practically whispered.
Jessica burst out laughing. She laughed so hard she actually slapped the table with her palm. "Scared! Sinclair! Of you!" Slap, slap. "Oh, that's a good one." She sighed and wiped her eyes. "Tell it again; I needed that."
I glared. "I'm serious, Jessica. The thing I told him made him be scared of me. In the past he thought it was cool that I could do things other vampires couldn't—"
"And let's not forget, he wasn't above using you to get what he wanted," she pointed out, her cheeks still shiny from laugh-tears.
"Yeah, I know. But he was never, you know,
scared
of the things I could do. Just… impressed, like. He thought they were neat, and he thought it was great that I killed
Nostro
and what's-her-name, and he thinks it's great that the devil is my sister's mother, but he was never afraid
of me
. I'm telling you. That's what's happened now."
"This thing—whatever it is—it's made him scared of you."
I rubbed my eyes (pure force of habit; I had no tears) and nodded.
"Okay, so you should apologize for keeping the secret and then you
gotta
wait for him to get over his bad self."
"Wait?"
"Honey, have you
seen
the man? Does he strike you as the type of fellow who's scared of anything, much less his own girlfriend? He's
gonna
need some serious time to get used to the idea."
"
Wh
—how much time?"
"You're immortal," she pointed out. "What's the rush?"
"But… wedding stuff. We've got to plan the wedding. I can't do it by myself."
"So postpone it again."
"I can't," I said, appalled all over again. "Oh, I just can't. He's got it in his head that—never mind. But one thing I absolutely can't do is cancel it. Full speed ahead on all wedding prep."
"Are you
sure
this horrible thing you've done, it's not evil? What am I saying, it's Sinclair. Evil doesn't scare him. He probably gets off on it, in his heart of hearts."
"Trust me. It's not evil."
, oh my
Probably never hear that again, so get used to the mental playback, babe. "It's the total opposite of evil. I thought… I thought it was kind of wonderful. But he—he—"
I cried some more. It was lame, but I couldn't stop. Just when I thought that the
one
thing I could count on was Sinclair by my side no matter what happened…
"He's still here, though, right?" I asked, groping for a tissue, again out of habit. I was snot-free. "At the house? He didn't move out?"
"Not that I know of, honey. Probably just back to his old room while he sorts things out." I stared down at the table, and Jess smoothed my crumpled bangs out of my eyes. "Poor Bets. If it's not one thing it's another. You want me to stay in tonight?"
"Yeah, we could—no!"
"Oh, that's flattering," she grumbled.
"No, I mean… tonight's the big night. Your date with Nick. You can't miss it."
"I can reschedule," she said gently.
"My ass!"
"And that's one thing not on the date agenda," she said cheerfully. "He might have asked me out because he knows you're taken—"
"Am I?" I sulked.
"But one thing we're not going to do is talk about your ass. Nor your tits, nor your scintillating personality—which, I
gotta
tell you,
ain't
so great right now."
She was teasing and I smiled, a little. "No rescheduling. You're going. I'll—I'll find something to do."
On cue, the swinging doors on the east end of the kitchen whooshed open and Jon walked in like the world's youngest gunslinger. "Anybody up to telling me the story of their life?" he chirped, waving his Sidekick.
"Well," Jess told me, getting up from her seat, "if whatever you did was evil, and I'm not saying it was, because your word's good enough for me, but if it was, you're
gonna
be punished for it right about now."
"Have you, uh, seen Sinclair around tonight?"
Jon snorted. "Not hardly. We sort of stay out of each other's way. I get the feeling he's not too crazy about me staying here."
"Well, it's not his house, now is it?" I asked sharply. Oh, great. Yell at the kid because your fiancé's not talking to you. "Sorry. I'm grumpy tonight."
"Because you haven't fed?" he asked eagerly, Sidekick poised. I saw he had flipped it around so he could tap on the tiny keyboard.
"No. But I'll worry about that some other night. Listen, Jon, if I do this for you, you've got to do something for me."
"I understand Betsy." He looked around; yes, we were alone in the cavernous parlor. We'd moved there after the housekeeper got back from Rainbow and shooed us out. "I don't—uh—approve of that sort of—um—thing, but you're so—I mean, I'll make an exception for you." He bravely pulled off his T-shirt and inched closer to me. "Besides, it'll be good for the book."
"
Ick
! No!" I shoved him away, and he went flying over the end of the couch and crashed into the carpet. Dust flew. He coughed. I freaked. "Sorry, sorry, sorry!" I hurried around the couch and helped him up. "I didn't mean to shove you so hard."
"
S'okay
," he gasped, in the middle of a major coughing spasm. "
M'sorry
, too."
"It's my fault. I guess I was vague. No, I'm afraid the favor I've got in mind is a lot worse than sucking your blood."
"Whatever it is," he choked, "I'll do it. But first… you
gotta
get someone in here with a vacuum, I mean, right now."
"Who do you think you're talking to? Jon, I couldn't find the vacuum if you stuck a gun in my ear. Which if memory serves, you have."
He reddened and settled himself on a chair across from me. "That stuff's all over with, now."
"And we of the vampire community are grateful, believe me."
"We're talking about you," he said. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"
"Well, I was born in a small town in
"No," he interrupted, "I mean, the beginning, when you became a vampire."
"Oh. Kind of a short bio. I mean, not much has happened to me yet. As a vampire, I mean."
He rolled his eyes. "Betsy, I really like you and you're cute and all, but you are
so
full of crap."
"I am not! I haven't even been a vampire for a year, is what I meant, and I was a human for
th
—for twenty-five years at least. Hell, the Miss Burnsville pageant was way more stressful than vampire politics."
"Yeah, I'll get some of that stuff later for fill-in," he promised, but he was lying. "Let's get to the good stuff."
I sighed. "All right, all right. The good stuff. Well, I guess the good stuff starts on the last day. And it sucked, let me tell you. In fact, the day I died started out bad and got worse in a hurry…"
