We ended up sitting down in the kitchen and telling the girls everything. If for no other reason than they had to be warned - Antonia lived there most of the time, after all, and Laura was famous for the pop-in.

Antonia's face got darker; Laura's became more concerned. When I finished (after frequent interruptions from the love of my life and his personal pit bull), there was a long silence, broken by Antonia bawling, "Garrett! Get your ass up here!"

"But you could have been killed!" Laura said, rubbing her ear as Antonia disappeared in the direction of the basement. "Why didn't you call me?"

"It would be unsafe to have you near such dangerous vampires at this time," Sinclair said bluntly.

"What? I could help," she said, hurt.

I glared at Subtle Boy. "Honey, it's not personal. It's just - the Fiends are like this because of my blood and your blood."

"But you're the one who made me - "

"I know, I know. Like I said, it's not personal. But I can't take a chance of one of them attacking you, getting a mouthful, and getting even more dangerous. And, no offense, sometimes your temper gets the better of you." To put it very freaking mildly.

"It does not!"

"Hon. It so totally does."

"That was one time!"

"Are you talking about the time you beat the shit out of Garrett, or the time you killed the serial killer?"

Laura's mouth thinned, but before she could reply, Garrett came skidding into the kitchen on his back, as if someone was using him to play shuffleboard. We heard footfalls, and then Antonia slapped the door open.

"It's one thing to want to help your comrades in arms," she told him as he climbed slowly to his feet. "But something else to put your friends in danger and then hide from what you've done. Literally hide - have you even been out of the basement since you called me?"

"No," Garrett said.

"And you're living under her roof! Calling for me to come save you, calling from her phone! You made this mess, Garrett, and much as I love you, you'll fix it, or I'll pull all your limbs off."

"It's not his fault." Sure, she'd been saying things I had secretly been thinking, but I could have cried at the expression on poor Garrett's face. He was trying to shake the long hair out of his face, and was too ashamed to look at any of us. "He didn't know what would happen. He's only been speaking English for two damn months!"

"It is my fault," he said dully, looking at the floor.

Antonia's tone gentled about a fraction, and she bent to help him to his feet. "I know we have different backgrounds - and the age thing - I'm not stupid, I know we're different. Shit, we're not even the same species; needless to say we weren't brought up the same way. But I can't be with someone who puts his friends in danger and then hides to save himself."

"The Fiends are my responsibility and no one else's," I said, resisting the urge to step between Antonia and Garrett. "This isn't a debate we're having, okay? The Fiends are my problem. How they got on the radar is irrelevant. Does everyone understand that?"

This, as I knew it would, put Antonia in a major bind. A creature of pack leaders and strict hierarchies, when she was under this roof, I was her pack leader pro tem. She could tease me, mouth off, borrow my clothes without asking (though she knew better than to touch my shoes), and give me untold rations of shit, but it was very, very difficult for her to out-and-out cross me.

In a strange way I knew I could count on Antonia's obedience and support more than anyone else's in the room. Of course, I had no power over the devil's daughter, except her willingness to please a sister.

Tina obeyed me in superficial matters (while you're up could you get me a glass of orange juice? Could you show Officer Berry the door? Could you hit Sinclair over the head with the fax machine?), but on matters like this, her allegiance was clearly to Sinclair.

I had zero power over Sinclair.

"If you're taking responsibility, I guess it's none of my business," Antonia said with a shrug. "But holler next time one of them comes calling. Might be fun. As for you..." She pointed to Garrett, and he followed her, slump-shouldered, toward the basement door.

"I hope she isn't too hard on him," Laura worried.

"Ha," I said sourly. Already I could hear things crashing. "She'll be hard on him. But at least they'll kiss and make up."

"You think?"

"Who else could stand to be with either one of them?"

"Point," my sister conceded, and we both laughed.

I asked after BabyJon, whom Laura had been watching, before dropping him off at my mother's for the day.

"She'll be underwhelmed," she pointed out diplomatically, when I suggested BabyJon might need to stay there longer.

"Laura, I know she thought her baby-rearing days were long over - "

"And don't forget BabyJon is a constant reminder of her late ex-husband's infidelity."

" - and I respect that. But she still loves BabyJon, kind of, and she won't want him harmed. If we laid it out for her, told her he could either stay here and maybe get nibbled by Fiends, or stay with her and spit up on her Civil War bullet collection, you know which one she'd pick. But please don't tell her why BabyJon needs to stay. She'll just worry."

"I'll come up with something," Laura promised at once. God, she was so low maintenance. When she wasn't in the grip of a simmering, murderous rage. "It wouldn't be such a big deal, but I think your mother is still taking your father's death kind of hard. Harder than - I mean, hard."

Laura had corrected herself because she'd been about to say "harder than you," which was nothing but the truth. I'd been fairly indifferent about my dad in life and wasn't sure how I felt about him dying. It was even partly my fault he was dead and I wasn't sure how I felt.

When I had died and come back as a vampire, he'd essentially told me to stay away. Seemed only fair that I return the favor... to seem like I didn't care if he was gone forever. But then, that sounded so cold and mean, I couldn't stand it. He was my father.

"Which reminds me," I sighed, slumping in my seat, "you won't even guess who's been hanging around."

"Umm... Detective Berry?"

"Well, yeah, but also my stepmother... and your birth mother."

Laura had been polishing an apple on her immaculate buttercup yellow wool blazer, but stopped. "She's haunting you?"

"Yeppers."

"What does she need you to do?"

"That's the super fun part. She won't tell me."

Laura shook her head; gorgeous blond strands flew about her face and then settled perfectly. "That does it. I can no longer stay away from your house for more than a week. I miss too much!"

"It's not always like this," I sighed.

"In fact, I'm going to stick to you like cow poop on a Furragrammo."

"It's Fair-uh-gahm-oh... and don't even say it!" I begged, but it turned out she wasn't exaggerating.