Chapter 59

Traffic was light at this time of night, and Sinclair rode the gas pedal like he was in the race of his life. Which wasn't far off.

In next to no time (objectively, subjectively it seemed to take a week), we were at Laura's apartment in Dinkytown, opening the door to the spare bedroom.

Marc, Sinclair, and I all stared. Laura was studiously not staring.

Finally I said, "Devil worshippers brought a coffin up here and nobody noticed?"

Laura shrugged. I moved forward and stripped the crosses off the coffin, off the inside door handle, and the windows-no wonder Tina had disappeared from the picture so completely. The crosses were more effective than bear traps.

I popped the top off of the second coffin in the same week. "Hey, Tina? Rise and shine, it's time to-gggkkk!"

Tina's hands had shot up and out and she was briskly strangling me while I gurgled and grabbed her wrists. "Help me, you idiots," I choked, which seemed to break the spell . . . Marc and Sinclair both sprang forward to prevent Tina from snapping me in half.

The perfect end to a perfect week.

They pulled her off me and Sinclair helped her sit up. She was terribly wasted, terribly old, but I knew some blood would fix her right up. She kept beating her withered hands at Sinclair's shoulders and trying to speak.

"Be calm, Tina."

"Yeah, be calm already," I added. "We'll take care of you."

"Laura," she whispered, so faintly I had to strain to hear. "You have to watch out for Laura."

"They know," Laura said, staring at her shoes.

Then Sinclair and Marc and I had our hands full keeping Tina from ripping out my sister's throat and taking a shower in the blood.

Chapter 60

Oh, come on, you guys." Everyone but Laura was in our kitchen . . . it was the next evening, and I didn't think Tina was going to not try to kill my sister anytime soon. And who could blame her? Laura had tricked her, trapped her, and starved her. Something other than a Hallmark card was definitely called for. "We won! The bad guys are vanquished. Why so glum?"

Sinclair was giving Marc his "you idiot" stare, but Marc was so happy we were all back home he was overlooking a few things.

Sure, we had friends among the werewolves now . . . including Michael and Jeannie, which was quite a coup. I could practically hear Sinclair trying to figure out how to turn their goodwill to our advantage.

And yes, we'd found out BabyJon was no ordinary baby-which was a great relief, given our dangerous lifestyles. If he was going to be raised by vampires, it was excellent that he couldn't be hurt by them.

The vampires Laura and her minions had killed were all pretty bad characters . . . Sinclair and Tina knew each and every name, and couldn't deny the planet was better off without those particular undead walking around.

However, the ends don't justify, etcetera.

Worse, I didn't think Laura had learned her lesson. She had never regretted killing the vamps, she only regretted hurting me. There was still work ahead.

The only thing worse?

She threw the fight. She let me win. Let me. Which meant she could probably kill me whenever she wanted. If the devil decided to whisper in the wrong ear again, I could be in very serious trouble.

But even if that never happened (ha!), I had discovered something knew and awful about my sister.

Despite my earlier assurance, Laura wasn't necessarily a good guy. In fact, I was pretty sure she was the worst kind of bad guy. She was a bad guy who thought she was a good guy.

I was normally pretty sanguine about the future, but I wasn't going to be able to relax for a while.

I didn't think any of us were.

Chapter 61

Dude,

This will be my last entry for a while. I think part of the reason I wrote so much this week was because Sinclair and Betsy weren't here, and it helped fill my days.

They're back now, and things are sort of back to normal. Tina's still not speaking to Laura. Laura's avoiding all of us. BabyJon apparently has superpowers. And Betsy doesn't seem quite so bubbleheaded.

Only Sinclair is the same: cool, calculating, untroubled. Thank God he loves Betsy-I'd hate to think what would happen to us if he didn't.

Meeting the devil-that was a new one for me, even for the funhouse we all live in.

I can't get what she said out of my head.

So I'm going to call my dad tonight. Maybe even go see him.

The devil might have told me he knew my secret to fuck me up, and that's fine-that's the devil's job.

I plan to use the information to make my life-and maybe my dad's-a little better.

That ought to fix that rotten bitch. And hey, Satan, since you're so busy watching me, let me be the first to say: not even those Vera Wangs can hide the fact that Lena's got better ankles than you.

Later, dude.