Chapter 20
Laura and I met in the library, which was
interesting. We hadn’t said in so many words, “After I pack and
tuck away a probably angry missive from the dead guy I’m screwing
when he’s not coldly furious with me, let’s meet in the library
next to the hideous and smelly Book of the Dead.” But here we both
were. Ah, sisterhood.
The book stand was
still broken, which was strange. Between the two of them, Jessica
and Sinclair had a battalion of employees at their beck and et
cetera. Things were usually fixed so quickly and efficiently, it
was like living with elves. Elves who washed cars and kept the
fridge stocked with fruit, yogurt, juice, vodka, and (for those of
us in Vamp Central who breathed, ate, and shat) meat and meat
by-products. Also half and-half. I put half-and-half in everything.
Tea. Milkshakes. Booze.
So it was a bit of a
surprise to see something in the house that hadn’t been
fixed.
Anyway, long story
short, the Book of the Dead had been unceremoniously dumped on the
end table by the far window. It should have looked ridiculous, this
big, smelly ancient tome written in blood and bound in (yerrrggh!)
human skin, plunked onto an end table like a TV Guide. But it
didn’t. It looked ominous and weird.
“So.” I glared in the
book’s direction, then glanced at my sister. She’d changed clothes,
which was fine with me—the outfit she’d put together in the
sculpture garden clashed, to put it mildly. No one should have to
rely on the clothes of concussed rapists to accessorize. Luckily
she’d been keeping a few outfits here ever since she recovered from
almost killing me. “Call her.”
“Who? My
mother?”
“Yeah. Give her a
holler. Or the secret devil password, or whatever.”
“I
can’t.”
I sighed. “Laura,
we’ve been over this. We both agreed that it sucks, and we both
agreed that we have to do it. So go and do it
already.”
“I don’t know how to
call her. What makes you think I’d know?” She shivered. “I don’t
even like to speak to her.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t
thought of this. “So ... you’re saying the devil comes when she
wants, not when she’s called. Like a cat. A very, very, very evil
cat.”
As if there were any
other kind. I’d been stuck with Giselle the cat since before I
died, and cordially loathed her. Our home was big enough so entire
weeks went by when I didn’t see her, though I was still
occasionally stuck with her litter box. The elves eschewed dirty
litter boxes.
Laura shrugged. “She
just sort of—you know.”
“Too well. Uh. Maybe
a sacrifice?” My soul shrank from the words. Had I said I already
didn’t like this? I so so so didn’t already like this. It wasn’t
even midnight and we were talking sacrifices. “That’s how they do
it in the movies. Some group of clueless horny teenagers sacrifice
a virgin—”
“I am not going to
let you sacrifice me.”
“—and poof! Up the
devil pops.” I eyed my sister. “You’re probably the only virgin in
a fifteen-block radius.”
She folded her arms
across her chest. “I refuse.”
“Yeah, yeah; don’t
get your borrowed panties in a twist. It sort of defeats the
purpose, sacrificing you so we can get the devil to help
you.”
“There you go, then.”
Laura looked relieved.
I rubbed my forehead
and squashed the urge to boot the book into the fireplace. “She
said something, too. Something she prob’ly thought would be
sinister yet helpful yet cryptic. Which of course I can’t remember.
Something about how I’d know.”
“How you’d know
what?”
“I dunno. I knew the
devil depending on me to remember something weird and out of
context was gonna be bad, bad news. The older I get,” I added
grimly, “the less I enjoy being right all the time.”
“She wouldn’t have
given you a clue if she didn’t think you’d be able to think of
it”
Laura’s faith was
touching, yet insane and misplaced. “Ha! All I can think about are
those beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
beautiful shoes she was—aw, shit.”
“What?”
I sighed. “I know
what to do. I know how we can get her here.”
“There, see!” Laura
sounded delighted. “I knew you’d figure it out! See, she was right
to give you a clue.”
“It’s possible I hate
your mom more than you hate your mom.”
“That’s so nice of
you to say,” Laura said, and squeezed my hand.