Read Online Undead and Uneasy by MaryJanice Davidson - Free Book Online
Authors: MaryJanice Davidson
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instead I was embarrassed and my heart actually
flipped over in my chest. Because he sounded bitter, so bitter.
He leaned forward until our eyes were about four niches apart. Mine were wide, I knew,
with amazement. His were slits of blue fire. "I thought I was going crazy, you know? Kept
dreaming about you for months. Dreaming about you biting me and me . . . liking . . . it.
Needing it."
"I didn't know," I said faintly "I was newborn. Still am. I didn't know what I was doing to you. I'd have given anything to fix it, but I didn't know how. An older vampire fixed it."
"I know who fixed it," he informed me. "I dream about him, too. Dream about blowing his fucking mind-meddling head-peeping brains out. Dream about setting him on fire. Most
nights I'm afraid to close my eyes."
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"Nick, I'm sorr—"
"Know who fixed that? Your best friend. The one currently engaged in the business of
dying. Your hellhound bastard lover fixed me, honey, and you're gonna to fixher ."
I thought about taking the gun away. I could probably do it. Probably. Too bad I had the
nasty feeling his finger was white on the trigger. I'd survived arrows to the chest, and a
stake to the chest, and even ;i bullet to the chest. But a Sig Sauer clip to the brain? I had
no idea. And I had no plans to find out. The week had been weird enough without getting
shot, thanks very much.
And who would take care of Babyjon, if I were left with half a head?I need to write a will,
I thought crazily Can I do that, now that I'm dead? Maybe Marjorie can help. But who do
I trust to watch Babyjon—
"I'm waiting," he whispered.
"Nick, you've gone seriously nuts, you know?"
"What can I say?" he replied, almost cheerfully. "I'm in love."
"Uh-huh." I thought about mojoing him, except I had my damned sunglasses on. I doubted
he'd give me the second I needed to take them off. "Listen, Nick, I already told you twice,
I can't—"
He cut me off, smiling. "Are we clear, Betsy? Honey? Deadly sweetheart with a killer
figure and long legs and green eyes to get lost in?Are we clear?"
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"I hear you, detective. But it's her choice. Not mine. And not yours. So get that
peashooter off of me before I make you eat it."
He grinned entirely without humor, but pulled the gun down and holstered it. His eyes
were still flat. "Nice seeing you again, Betsy," he said cheerfully, and actually held the
door for me as I picked up Babyjon, and scuttled out. I didn't know which was scarier: the
Bat rage or the fake (or was it fake?) recovery.
What was going on with everybody?
Chapter 13
All the way home, I was practically gasping for breath. Which, as I didn't need to breathe,
made me dizzy. So I held my breath for five minutes, trying to calm down. It worked. A
little.
Nick knew? A Minneapolis detective knew I was a vampire, that my runaway groom was
a vampire? How many other cops knew? Even if he was the only one (and one was waaay
too many), what if he found out about Antonia the werewolf, assuming the walkabout
wench ever came back? And Garrett? And if Jessica got worse or—oh God please no—
died, what was he ig to do? What the fuck was I going to do?
Mojoing him was out. Sinclair's clearly hadn't ¦ken. Or had taken for a while and then
worn off.
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) II why? Sinclair was a pretty damned powerful vampire—old, and the king besides.
I took a yellow light way too fast, remembered Babyjon trapped—I mean strapped—in the
car seat behind me, and slowed to a reasonable speed.
Why had Sinclair's "you are getting very sleepy" routine worn off? He could make people
forget their own mothers. Was it because—it couldn't be. Naw. That was idiocy and
worse, ego.
But .
flipped over in my chest. Because he sounded bitter, so bitter.
He leaned forward until our eyes were about four niches apart. Mine were wide, I knew,
with amazement. His were slits of blue fire. "I thought I was going crazy, you know? Kept
dreaming about you for months. Dreaming about you biting me and me . . . liking . . . it.
Needing it."
"I didn't know," I said faintly "I was newborn. Still am. I didn't know what I was doing to you. I'd have given anything to fix it, but I didn't know how. An older vampire fixed it."
"I know who fixed it," he informed me. "I dream about him, too. Dream about blowing his fucking mind-meddling head-peeping brains out. Dream about setting him on fire. Most
nights I'm afraid to close my eyes."
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com )
"Nick, I'm sorr—"
"Know who fixed that? Your best friend. The one currently engaged in the business of
dying. Your hellhound bastard lover fixed me, honey, and you're gonna to fixher ."
I thought about taking the gun away. I could probably do it. Probably. Too bad I had the
nasty feeling his finger was white on the trigger. I'd survived arrows to the chest, and a
stake to the chest, and even ;i bullet to the chest. But a Sig Sauer clip to the brain? I had
no idea. And I had no plans to find out. The week had been weird enough without getting
shot, thanks very much.
And who would take care of Babyjon, if I were left with half a head?I need to write a will,
I thought crazily Can I do that, now that I'm dead? Maybe Marjorie can help. But who do
I trust to watch Babyjon—
"I'm waiting," he whispered.
"Nick, you've gone seriously nuts, you know?"
"What can I say?" he replied, almost cheerfully. "I'm in love."
"Uh-huh." I thought about mojoing him, except I had my damned sunglasses on. I doubted
he'd give me the second I needed to take them off. "Listen, Nick, I already told you twice,
I can't—"
He cut me off, smiling. "Are we clear, Betsy? Honey? Deadly sweetheart with a killer
figure and long legs and green eyes to get lost in?Are we clear?"
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com )
"I hear you, detective. But it's her choice. Not mine. And not yours. So get that
peashooter off of me before I make you eat it."
He grinned entirely without humor, but pulled the gun down and holstered it. His eyes
were still flat. "Nice seeing you again, Betsy," he said cheerfully, and actually held the
door for me as I picked up Babyjon, and scuttled out. I didn't know which was scarier: the
Bat rage or the fake (or was it fake?) recovery.
What was going on with everybody?
Chapter 13
All the way home, I was practically gasping for breath. Which, as I didn't need to breathe,
made me dizzy. So I held my breath for five minutes, trying to calm down. It worked. A
little.
Nick knew? A Minneapolis detective knew I was a vampire, that my runaway groom was
a vampire? How many other cops knew? Even if he was the only one (and one was waaay
too many), what if he found out about Antonia the werewolf, assuming the walkabout
wench ever came back? And Garrett? And if Jessica got worse or—oh God please no—
died, what was he ig to do? What the fuck was I going to do?
Mojoing him was out. Sinclair's clearly hadn't ¦ken. Or had taken for a while and then
worn off.
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) II why? Sinclair was a pretty damned powerful vampire—old, and the king besides.
I took a yellow light way too fast, remembered Babyjon trapped—I mean strapped—in the
car seat behind me, and slowed to a reasonable speed.
Why had Sinclair's "you are getting very sleepy" routine worn off? He could make people
forget their own mothers. Was it because—it couldn't be. Naw. That was idiocy and
worse, ego.
But .
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