Undead and Unstable by Davidson MaryJanice

Author:Davidson, MaryJanice [Davidson, MaryJanice]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781101569153
Publisher: PENGUIN group
Published: 2012-06-05T04:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-EIGHT

We’d gotten off the subject of my murder, and I was just telling Marc to keep his screwdriver away from my iPod charger when Ancient Me walked in. I was on my feet in less than a second.

“Why. Are you wearing. My clothes?”

“My clothes, too,” she said.

“Oh, hell no!”

She crossed to the cupboard where we kept the tall glasses, grabbed one, then went to the fridge and rummaged for a carton of milk like she owned the place or something. Oh, wait…

Screw it. “Ever hear of asking? Bad enough you’re a foul undead dictator from the World on Ice, but you don’t remember your manners?”

“It’s also my house,” she pointed out so calmly I wanted to rip out her highlights. “I know what you’re thinking, and it’s a good way to get your neck broken.”

“Wow,” Marc said respectfully. “All we need is a tumbleweed blowing through here and it’s High Noon. Or High Late Afternoon.”

“I thought you left.”

“I did leave. Now I’m back.”

“Why?”

She sat down across from Marc, who looked alternately fretful and thrilled. “I’m waiting for you to do something. Or not do something.”

“Well, at least I don’t get cryptic in my decrepitude. Get lost, this is a private meeting.”

“Or I could get lost,” Marc offered. “If this is private vampire queen stuff. I can wreck this toaster anywhere.”

“You can stay because I don’t know you.”

“Uh … what?”

“I don’t know you.” Ancient Betsy sounded almost bored. “You were never a zombie in my timeline. Never. You’re the wild card now, Marc. I don’t know how to play you.”

“He’s not yours to play, he’s mine,” I said sharply. Oops! “Um, I’ll rephrase—”

“No need, since I agree a zillion percent,” Marc said, grinning.

“Will you get lost already? This is private roommate meeting stuff. Also, it triggers my vomit reflex just being in the same room with you.”

“Do you think it’s any easier for me?” she asked sharply. She’d pulled her hair back into a low bun on the back of her neck, a dreadful look for us that made us look like we were growing a tumor of hair back there, and was dressed in one of my J.Jill purple sweaters and one of my pairs of black leggings. “Do you think I enjoy being here around people who, in my time, are long dead, or worse?”

“Boo fucking hoo. How about how I feel, knowing what you—we’ll do to Sinclair?”

“You think I like seeing my husband as he once was? Brave and honorable and—”

“Stop!” Marc was holding up one hand like a zombie traffic cop. “You two could take the gold and silver in the Self-absorbed Olympiad, but I’m not sure which of you would walk away with the gold. Let’s agree that it’s hell for both of you, okay?”

At once Ancient Me smiled, and really, it changed her face. Or her eyes. It was hard to describe … she seemed younger and happier all at once. It was almost as unnerving as her ice-sculpture thing. “I’ve missed you, Marc.”

“Well, thanks, I guess.

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