Undead and Undermined - By MaryJanice Davidson Page 0,36

so found this impressive. It’s soooo boring. And just when you get going, some asshat Statie pulls you over. Like there aren’t any murders and rapes going on, so they can nap under bridges and set speed traps for unwary vampires. Weak.

“Dick. Remember? He’s Dick.”

“I know, I was just testing you. Also, don’t worry that he’s not here. He had to go—”

“I know, he texted me.” She waved her cell phone at me, then grinned at my scowl. “Don’t start with the text bitching.”

“Why is it suddenly uncool to spell? That’s all I want to know.” Just thinking about how texting had taken over both timelines was pissing me off. I stomped through our musty hallway—we had three housekeepers, but the mansion had been born before Lincoln, and there was always dust somewhere. “I wouldn’t trust Dead Ant to tell the truth about this, but has my psycho traitor jerkweed asshat sister been by? Because I’m scratching her eyes out the next time I see her. Then I’m really going to go to work on her.”

“No, we’ve just been massively worried about you since she yanked you into hell. No one’s had time to even look for her—not that we could find a teleporter.”

“Right.” That’s what she was now, wasn’t she? Terrific. “It was terrible,” I agreed. “You were right to fret. I’ve been run over by an Aztek and knocked through a Payless store window in the last three years. And felt up by a strange doctor!”

I must have slowed down, or she sped up, because I felt her big stomach whack into my back. It was surprisingly solid, which, for some reason, put me in a fouler mood. And also scared me. Why was it like a boulder? Shouldn’t it be soft? Pregnancy was weird.

“If you’ve got that telepathic link with Sinclair,” she huffed, trying to keep pace, “why did we have to wait until you stole a cell phone? After, uh, you got felt up by a strange doctor?”

My back actually itched where The Gut had smacked me. “Telepathy’s great if we’re having sex face-to-face. I mean, having sex. But multiple states away it’s less reliable.” In fact, I was still sort of amazed that I’d been able to hear Sinclair from two states away. I guess major stress had amped up our . . . what? Receiving abilities? I didn’t know. There was so much about this bullshit vampire gig that I didn’t understand, and maybe never would.

Not that my sex-pathy was any of her business. She was my best friend, but there were limits. Sex-pathy forever, telling Jess all the perv details, never.

“What is your problem?” Jessica demanded flatly.

“Oh, me? Hmm? Nothing much. I’m just a little busy juggling screwed timelines, looking out for the Antichrist, breaking out of morgues, and trying not to destroy the world with eternal winter.”

“With me. What’s your problem with me? Specifically”—she pointed to her enormous bulge—“this part of me?”

“I’ve got more important things to worry about than what you’re gestating,” I lied, scratching my lower back, which itched madly. What if she had a baby and some sort of fungus going on under there?

“Not right now you don’t.” For a second she was almost as intimidating as Satan. Satan! “If you expect to leave this hallway under your own power, you’ll own your shit.”

“Own my . . . ? Okay, first, I don’t even know what that means. Second . . .” Would I? Could I, even? I did love the front-heavy tart, even if she got pregnant in front of me behind my back. Oh, the hell with it. “Second, I’m jealous, okay?”

“Of Dickie?”

“Who? Oh. Nick. No, no. In fact, he’s a delight in this timeline. You have no idea . . . the father of your demonspawn was a real prick in the old timeline. Jealous, moody, shrill . . .” Like me, actually. But this was no time for self-introspection. “No, I’m jealous of that.” I pointed to her bulge again.

Jessica looked down at it (as if she could look anywhere else), then back up at me. Bewilderment was written across her face; anyone (even me) could have seen how startled she was. “What? Why?”

“Why?” I cried. “Are you serious? Why would I be jealous? Why wouldn’t I? In your timeline, in the last few months you remember, I had ages to get used to Nick-who-is-now-Dick never being a jerk and you being a mom-to-be. Here, I’ve had about fourteen hours. Several of which, I might