Undead and Unwelcome (16 page)

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.

Call an ambulance!” I screamed as a ring of adults surrounded the boy. “He’s—what the

hell
?” He was growling. At least three adults went reeling backward, and I saw a blurred

face, lots of white teeth, a snarl of fur. And the sounds, dear God, the
sounds
! It was the

noise you’d hear coming from a slaughterhouse. Or if a cat was tossed into a pack of wild

dogs. It was chilling; it was terrifying. Suddenly Jeannie was there, hauling Jessica and me

back by our elbows. “You need to go,” she said firmly. “Now.” She was practically

carrying us; our heels were dragging across the floor. “Right now!” “What—what’s going

on?” Jessica asked, trying to stare at the kid and extricate herself from Jeannie’s grip while

keeping her balance. “He’s only eleven. This is his first change. You need to leave right

now. He won’t be able to—” More adults fell back. One of them spun right into Jessica,

Create PDF
files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (
http://www.novapdf.com
) and she—oh my God, she— She dropped my brother. Right in the path of a brand-new

werewolf. The crazed adolescent (was there any other kind?) charged at my brother and

bit him. I screamed, high and shrill . . .
(Elizabeth? What’s wrong?)
... and cried out for

my brother, now surely dead at the hands of— He was laughing. BabyJon was laughing.

The new werewolf took off with his tail between his legs with at least three adults in

pursuit, and suddenly the marble floor rushed up at me and hit me in the face.

“. . . maybe she . . .” “. . . couldn’t have . . .” “... her a minute ...” “. . . just the shock . . .”

I opened my eyes and saw Jeannie, Michael, Sinclair, and Jessica all peering down at me.

“Hey, there you are,” Jess said. She was, thank God, holding BabyJon, who was wriggling

and whining to come to me. “You fainted.” “I did not faint. Vampires don’t faint.” “I

know of at least one who does,” Sinclair teased. “What
happened
?” I asked, sitting up.

“We were hoping you could tell us,” Michael said. “Hey, one minute I’m minding my own

business and the next some poor kid is falling to his death—except he didn’t die—and

then trying to eat my brother. Who appears to be not eaten.” In fact, BabyJon appeared to

be fine. Which was impossible. I reached up and took him from Jess, inspected him, and

found nothing except some saliva. No bite. No blood. Unbelievable. “—don’t normally go

through their first change until thirteen or fourteen,” Michael was saying. “Aaron’s only

eleven; nobody expected him to change during this phase.” “Is that why he did it while it

was still daylight?” Jessica asked. Nobody answered her, which was just rude. Super-

Secret Werewolf Business, no doubt. And speaking of daylight, there wasn’t much of it

left. I imagine Michael was going to have to get furry pretty soon. Which meant—oh, shit.

“Sinclair!” I cried. “This castle is practically all windows, what the hell are you doing out

of our room?” He looked at me as if I’d suddenly grown another head. “You were

screaming,” he said simply. “In my head. I had to come.” “He jumped down from the

third-floor landing,” Jessica added. “I can’t believe his femurs aren’t in his lungs right

now.” “Gross,” was my only comment. “I don’t understand any of this,” Michael said.

“You said Aaron bit the baby? You must be mistaken; there isn’t a scratch on him. And

whose baby is that, anyway?” Oh, for the love— “Wait a second. Wait.” Jessica frowned.

She frowned harder. Her eyes went all narrow and squinty. Her lips twitched. Michael and

Jeannie looked alarmed, but I knew that expression. It was her It’s on the Tip of My

Tongue look. Then: “Bite him.” “What?” “Bite the baby.” “Nobody’s biting anybody’s

baby,” I protested. “Least of all this one.” “I’ll bite him,” Jeannie offered. Jessica shook

her head. “It’s got to be one of the vampires.” “Ah,” Sinclair said. “I see what you’re

getting at.” “Swell,” I grumped. “Somebody want to clue me in?” “BabyJon may well be

immune to dangers others would find crippling, even fatal.” “He’s not immune to

anything,” I protested. “He’s had colds. He’s had shots at the pediatrician. He—don’t do

that!” Sinclair, moving with the spooky speed that, even after all this time, startled the hell

out of me, dipped his head and slashed at BabyJon with his jaws. He made a rattlesnake

look slow. I lashed out and punched him in the eye before I knew what I was doing. Then,

when I did know what I was doing, I slapped at his shoulders. It probably looked to the

others like he was on fire and I was trying to put him out. “What—do you think—you’re

doing?” “Proving—ouch—Jessica’s theory.” He rubbed his eye. “Look.” “Look at
what
,

Create PDF
files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (
http://www.novapdf.com
) you psychotic?” “Look at the baby.” BabyJon yawned, unmoved by either a) the werewolf

attack or b) the vampire bite. “He doesn’t have a mark on him!” Jeannie marveled. “That’s

the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!” “What, you’re saying he’s—what? Invulnerable?”

I shook my head, feeling like I should be wearing a dunce cap. “But he’s
not
. You guys

know he’s not. He’s skinned his knee crawling, he’s—” “Invulnerable to paranormal

harm,” Sinclair said, and Jessica nodded. “Wait a minute,” Michael said. “That’s
your

baby?” “Well, look who just caught up. Seriously? You guys think that’s what it is?” “I

saw Aaron try to bite him,” Jeannie said quietly. “It would have killed a normal infant.”

“When did you have a baby?” Michael asked, but I waved off his silly-ass questions. “So

that’s why Derik kept freaking out around him. He knew something was different about

BabyJon, but not what. And—Jeannie, how would a Pack leader deal with something he

could never hurt?” “Why . . . I suppose he would try to gain dominance of some sort,”

Jeannie replied slowly. “That’s their nature. That’s—” “That’s why Michael kept

forgetting about BabyJon. He can’t dominate someone if he doesn’t remember him.”

“How long has this baby been here?” Michael demanded, poor guy. He was sounding

more and more bewildered . . . and the sun was dipping lower every second. Explanations

would have to wait. “We’ll tell you all about it,” Jeannie promised. “Later.” “When you

aren’t furry and drooly and such,” I added. “So a vampire can bite—and nothing will

happen. A werewolf can chomp, a fairy can whack him with her wand—and nothing.”

Jessica paused, deep in thought. “Nothing at all. Wow.” “But why?” Jeannie asked. “Why

would this baby be special?” “It’s a really long story,” I said. “Which I’ll probably never

tell you.” Jeannie laughed. “That seems fair.”

Dude,
Not only is Tina gone, but her laptop is missing as well. I had hoped to use her e-

mail address to get Betsy and Sinclair’s attention, but a room-to-room search revealed

nothing.
I was far too distracted at the hospital to do a reliable job, so I was taking

unpaid sick time as I tried to figure out what the hell to do.
I managed to keep it casual

as I asked Laura what she’d done with Tina’s stuff, but just got another one of her insipid

smiles and assurances that I didn’t need to worry about a thing.
Ha. Worrying was more

or less all I was doing. And each time Laura tried to assure me she hadn’t lost her mind,

she sounded a little less sane.
“Marc, vampires are—with the possible exception of my

sister—evil by nature. Betsy’s life would be so much simpler if she didn’t have to spend

so much time policing monsters. And,” she went on with the fervor of an evangelist, “not

only am I helping Betsy, I’m keeping the peace in the Twin Cities, keeping the devil

worshippers busy doing God’s work—it’s all good.”
“Having me followed every minute

of the day or night is God’s work?”
She had the grace to flush a little at that. Maybe she

wasn’t entirely gone. “Marc, you don’t know any better. You’ll give Betsy all the wrong

ideas. I want her to come home, too, but not until I’ve finished working on the surprise.”

“The
surprise
? You mean there’s more to come?” I tried not to sound as horrified as I

felt.
“Sure! Lots more. You’ll see, Marc. Besides, they’re for your own protection. We

can’t have anything happen to you, now can we?”
“Will you at least consider the

possibility that you’ve gone insane?” I asked, and got a soft laugh in response. She had

Create PDF
files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (
http://www.novapdf.com
)
thought I was kidding.
“You worry too much.”
“What are you going to tell Betsy and

Sinclair when they get back?”
“That I kept things safe for them,” she replied promptly.

That you’ve gone looney tunes, I thought, but prudently kept that to myself.
I tried

arguing with her for another ten minutes, and kept getting that sweet smile for a

response. Dude, after a while I just wanted to whack that smirk off her face.
At least we

still had an Internet connection, though what I knew about such things could be carried

in an emesis basin. E-mails were about all I knew. Sure, I could have gone to an expert, a

real techno geek . . . except I had Satan’s Minions constantly on my heels.
In desperation

I waited until she and the devil worshippers had left on another kill-all-vamps mission,

then typed out a quick e-mail to Betsy. And sent it. And sent it. And sent it. And sent it.

Ah, there’s my boy.” Jessica and I stared at each other, then Sinclair. It was almost two

o’clock in the morning; the place was crawling with werewolves. I was a little curious and

was interested in going outside, but Jessica was understandably nervous and had

practically barricaded herself in the downstairs library. And what a library! I swear, it was

at least half the size of the New York City Public Library. Towering bookshelves,

mahogany furniture, a row of computers . . . the only thing it was missing was a pair of

stone lions. Maybe it seemed larger because it had been empty except for Jessica, me, and

the baby. In fact, the mansion was practically deserted. But occasionally we could hear

faint wolf howls from outside. And now here was Sinclair bustling in and actually holding

his arms out for BabyJon, formerly his number one rival for my affection. “Your boy?” I

asked, and Jessica raised her eyebrows. “You know,” Sinclair said, hovering over the baby

and me, “it’s not too soon to start planning his education.” “He can’t even walk yet,”

Jessica pointed out. “Oh,
I
get it. BabyJon is invulnerable to paranormal harm, so suddenly

you’re taking interest in his well-being.” “Elizabeth, you’ve got me all wrong.” Sinclair

had the nerve to look and sound wounded. “As your husband, and his co-guardian, it’s my

responsibility to do right by this boy.” “Sure it is.” I handed BabyJon over and Sinclair

was so startled he juggled the baby for a few seconds before holding him at arm’s length.