Sure they did. They just didn't care. They didn't think I was a threat; no vampire had ever thought I was a threat. They only believed me as I was killing them. And even then, the rumor spread that Sinclair had really done it. Even the European faction had taken a damn year to pay their respects.
And who was I kidding, calling myself a vampire queen? If I didn't believe the Book of the Dead said Sinclair and I were married, how could I believe it about anything else? Can’t have it both ways, Bets, as Jessica might have said.
So who had seen my weakness, and acted?
And what the blue hell was I going to do about it?
This was, of course, assuming it was all about me.
I almost laughed. Of course this was all about me! Just not in a good way.
I picked up the phone, dialed my mom's number, and waited for her to answer. 'Mom? Listen, I need a favor. The shit's hitting the fan over here, and I don't think it's safe for Babyjon. Can you take him for a couple of days?
'Mom?
“Hello?”
Chapter 22
“Just what do you think you're doing, young lady?'
I stared at my mom, whose white curls were straggly in her wrath. She'd roared right over to the mansion in her Honda to kick my ass. I was just having trouble figuring out. . .
“You want to know why I'm so angry?”
“Not really.”
“I'll tell you why. You are responsible for this infant.” She pointed a nonmanicured index finger at Babyjon, who yawned. “You. Not me. Not your sister.”
“Did Laura talk to—”
“You. And at the first sign of trouble—”
“The first?” I yelped.
“—you come running to me to kiss your boo-?boos and make everything all better. Well, I can't, Betsy. You're a grown woman, and it's about time you started acting like one.”
I looked at my mother, Dr. “Suburbs” Taylor, with real irritation. I hadn't felt this close to smacking her since I was fourteen and she'd caught me with her credit cards at the Burnsville Mall (she knew what that shoe sale meant to me!).
I was a grown woman, and it was about time I started acting like one, eh? Well, let's see. Let's think about all the things this grown woman did that Dr. Taylor, safe in her book stacks, had no clue ever happened.
There was the overthrowing of not one, but two vampire psychopaths. There was the tracking down and dispatching of the serial killer (though technically Laura got the kill claim on that one). There was taking on the responsibility of governing the vampire nation, whatever the hell that was. The tension of the European faction finally visiting, and solving that subsequent murder. And the zombie in my attic that showed up from God knows where, God knows why, which I had to kill. By myself.
Oh! And let's not forget about the pack of werewolves who showed up trying to tear my head off!
All right, to be fair, it wasn't her fault she didn’t know about any of the above. I had made a conscious choice to leave her out of the vampire side of things, a choice wholeheartedly endorsed by Sinclair and Tina.
But the stuff she knew about was bad enough: the tension of the wedding, not to mention the funerals. Oh! And suddenly being the guardian of a baby. Almost forgot that one! And if she was vague on the details of my vampiric lifestyle, she at least knew the basics: I had died, I had come back, and my life was infinitely more complicated as a result. Oh, and my father had just died .
Ah, but the broad had a few more left. “Really, Betsy. At the first sign of trouble, your impulse is to dump your problems on someone else. You've got to grow up.”
“Are you taking him for the next two days, or aren't you?”
My chilly tone must have startled her, because she finally paused for a few seconds, then said, a tad on me meek side, “Of course I'll take him. Laura promised to give me a hand. I just wanted you to know— to realize what you—I just don't want you to get in the habit of—”
Yawn. I had no time for this. I handed her Babyjon, snug in his carrier (the base was on the front porch, where Mom would pluck it and then strap it unto her backseat), and the diaper bag with the Babycrap™. “Thank you. Good-?bye.”
Mom hesitated, glanced down at the baby, then hurriedly looked back up at me. But not so fast I didn't see the flash of distaste cross her features.
Ah-?ha. And duh. Should have guessed that one. “I appreciate that babysitting the living embodiment of your late ex-?husband's faithlessness can't be easy, but I 'm not exactly having a fun week, either, Mother.”
“I—I know, Betsy, it's just that—”
“I have work to do, Mother.”
“What kind of work?”
“Just a pedicure. You know. The usual thing since I died and came back as a vampire. Thanks for helping me out of yet another frivolous jam.”
“Betsy—if I spoke without thinking—”
I picked up the phone and stared at her. She clutched the car seat to her, then grimaced and eased up on her grip. Babyjon just watched her. So did I.
'Betsy, is there something you want to talk about?”
“Not anymore.” I started to dial Minneapolis General. “If you'll excuse me, I need to call the oncology ward. You know, my best friend's new digs? Boy, talk about frivolous! You should hear her bitching about all the puking the chemo makes her do. Maybe I should send you over for a pep talk.”
“I went and put my foot in it, then,” Mom said, sounding so much more like her old, supportive self that I almost weakened. “And not only was I unfair, but I've got lousy timing, is that it? Well, you're right and I'm sorry. Other than—this—” She frowned down at the baby. “Is there another way I can help?”
“Don't be silly, Mom. I know how hard you're working this month, what with your department not teaching courses all summer.”
“Fair enough.” She started for the foyer. “When you're ready to listen to me grovel, I'll be glad to do so. For now, dear, please call me if you need anything else. And yes, I'm aware of the irony of encouraging you to call me after this argument.”
“Good thing I don't have to point it out, then!” I yelled after her.
While I waited to be connected to Jessica's room,
I pondered the odd series of events that led to my mother babysitting her dead rival's youngest child. I hadn’t wanted to call Mom—I wasn't entirely insensitive. On that topic, anyway. And I hadn't been able to reach Laura. . . most likely because she was busy calling my mom. It sounded like they'd already had at least one conversation today, topic: Babyjon.
But it just wasn't safe around here for Babyjon right now. Shit, it wasn't safe for me. I'd take a lot of chances with my own safety, no problem.
But not Babyjon's, possibly the only baby, ever, who was going to be really mine.
Chapter 23
Some jerk of a male nurse wouldn't connect me (why oh why didn't my vampire mojo work over phone lines?), so I disobeyed Tina (hey, it was that kind of week), hopped in one of Sinclair's Volkswagens (my Ford was in the shop—it needed a new starter), and was at Minneapolis General in fifteen minutes. (One of the blessings of
