Chapter 41
This time, I just stayed where I was. I didn’t even
open my eyes. “Hey, Laura?”
“Yes?”
“There wasn’t
anything on my shoe, right?”
“Right.”
“Thank God. Nice
fake-out.”
“I’m very sorry.” But
... was that a muffled giggle I heard? She might think she was
sorry, but deep down where she really lived, she probably wasn’t.
So was this good for me, or bad for me?
And where were we
now?
I opened my eyes—and
yelled. “Aggh! I’m blind! That rotten bitch-cat mother of yours
arranged for me to be—”
“Betsy.”
“—cruelly blinded
because she’s jealous—”
“Oh, Betsy,
jeepers!”
“—of my awesomeness
in general and also my shoe collection, which will—”
“For heaven’s
sake.”
“—never be hers,
never, I tell you! I’ll set every pair on fire myself if I have to.
Oh God, my poor babies. I’ll burn ‘em and then give ’em all an acid
bath—”
“Will you shut up and
just look?”
“—which is the least
of what I’m gonna do to that rotten—oh, hey, I’m not blind
anymore.”
I sat up, blinking.
Laura had crossed the floor and yanked at what looked like shutters
for the inside. There was a clatter, dusty light fell onto the
floor, and I realized we were on the first floor of a barn. An old
barn—it was cow and cat free. It smelled like ancient shit, dust,
dirt, and corn.
“It’s late afternoon
outside,” Laura was explaining as I hopped to my feet and crossed
the room to look out the grime-streaked window. “I dragged you in
here ... I wasn’t sure if you’d wake up or not.”
“Dragged—” I glanced
over my shoulder and groaned. Yep, dirt from my shoulders to my
calves. Where was I going to find a pair of leggings in my size, in
a color that didn’t make me think of dried puke, and long enough to
fit my freakishly long frame? “Aw, shit. I foresee problems ahead,
kiddo. For starters, depending on where we are, it’s possible the
inventor of leggings hasn’t been born. Or has, but hasn’t been to
high school.”
Laura shrugged.
“Sorry. It was all I could think to do.”
“And it was perfect.”
I looked out the window again. Another small town. And no
streetlights. No telephone poles or lines that I could see. And no
electric lights—not that I could see, anyway. “I know, you’re used
to me squawking for longer, but time is precious, my little
time-traveling tadpole. Dragging my big butt in here was sensible
and quick. We need not speak about the damage to my leggings at
this time.”
“Oh. Well.” Laura
ducked her head, and I could see, even in the dim light of the
barn, she was blushing. She could be so adorable when she wasn’t
lying about shoes and giving her only beloved sister her second
bloody nose of the day. “Thanks. I—you know, I feel stupid, but it
never occurred to me. I know you won’t burn in sunlight, but
...”
“But what else will
we have to worry about, right?”
“No offense,” she
added hastily.
“Yeah, I know I’m a
vampire, Laura. You don’t have to worry about pointing stuff like
that out. Well, I used to be out cold from sunrise to sunset. Then
...” I had started brushing dust and dirt off my clothes, and
swallowed two sneezes in half a second.
“Then you read the
book.”
“Yeah. Big
mistake—bit Jessica, raped my husband—”
“What?”
“And started waking
up a couple of hours before sunset. Not exactly a trade I was
looking for, but...” I shrugged.
“Okay, well.” Laura
sneezed, and like everything she did, it was cute and delicate.
Like how bunnies sneeze. “I’d like to circle back to the raping
Sinclair thing.”
“Perv.”
She laughed. “I deny
nothing!”
“It’s always the
virgins. Those are the ones you gotta watch.” I usually made a
concerted effort not to think about the Antichrist’s love life, but
one of these days, my not-even-drinking-age sister was going to
lose her virginity, and it’d be great if nothing too world-ending
was happening that same week.
And why was I
thinking about Laura’s sexual inevitability when we were time
traveling and I had dirt down my shirt?
Because, I answered myself, it’s something to worry about that doesn’t include time
travel, or hell.
Yeah. My brain was
like everyone else’s—when I got stressed, I couldn’t help thinking
about stuff that was so not important to current
events.
“But maybe,” Laura
was saying, “I can worry about my poor brother-in-law’s
rape—”
“It wasn’t a rape
exactly. I mean, he was all for it. But he didn’t notice I was
evil.”
Laura nodded
politely, then resumed where she’d left off. “... at a time when
we’re in our own century.”
“Yeah, you noticed
the lack of traffic, smog, electricity, and iPods, too,
huh?”
“Yes. Also the lack
of an ocean.”
“So not Salem
again.”
“Most likely
not.”
“D’you think this is
like episodes of Knight
Rider?”
“I don’t know
wh—”
“Never mind. I hate
being reminded of how young and dumb you are.”
“Don’t you mean young
and gorgeous?” Laura grinned at me.
I started to grin
back, always ready for some friendly-like joshin’, when I stopped.
There was something I didn’t like about that smile. And since when
did Laura actually own her gorgeousness?
Time traveling—or
maybe just hanging out in hell—was giving her all sorts of
confidence. I was remembering other incidents—hell, this time around she’d knocked me on my ass before
I’d barely realized we were headed out of hell. A far cry from her
earlier, tentative efforts ... the devil had been so scornful of
those she’d threatened to leave.
So, yeah. I was
uneasy and getting more so. Trouble was, was I threatened by that
because she was young and hot and smart? Or was I threatened
because—ha, ha!—she was supposed to take over the world one of
these days?
“I guess my point
was, d’you think we’re supposed to do little jobs whenever we jump
through time’s door, so to speak? Or is it enough to just be here,
before we try to go home?”
Laura shrugged. “I
don’t know.”
And she didn’t seem
particularly worried, either way.
What’s to worry? my inner bitch whispered.
She’s the one who can move from world to
world, and time to time, You’re the one who’s riding her like a
taxi. So what happens when Laura realizes you’re son much dead
weight?
Hell if I
knew.
Maybe
literally.