Undead and Unappreciated by MaryJanice Davidson Page A

he was done with the mating dance, it was Passat time.
    Ridiculous.
    Right?
    “I’m going in,” I said. I waited for him to caution me, to warn me not to be heedless, to be careful, to insist I wait until the devil’s spawn was in a place he could go, too.
    Instead, I got, “That seems wise. We really must find out more about this girl.”
    “Well, so I’ll go in. Wait here for me, okay?”
    “Mmmm.” He was squinting at the church again; I could have started disrobing, and he probably wouldn’t have looked away.
    “Hey, how come the devil’s kid can go in a church and you can’t?”
    “Ask her,” he suggested.
    “I think I’ll work up to that one,” I replied and climbed out of the Passat to cross the street.
     
    I opened the door and walked into the church, hoping Sinclair was noticing the awesome way I could do just that. Yay, the queen!
    Argh, again, why did the queen care ? Was the queen at heart a pathetic loser who could blow off a guy while he was all over her, but the minute he started ignoring her couldn’t stop thinking about him? And why was the queen referring to herself in the third person?
    But I had to admit, I’d been so focused on being mad at Sinclair for various sins against me, I’d sort of gotten used to him being around. Being concerned about me, always ready to take one for the team, that was Sinclair all the way. When he wasn’t being sneaky and withholding.
    Focus, idiot . Instead of the main part of the church, the part with the pews, I was in a dining area with tables and chairs all over. The gaggle of girls was in the far corner, chatting and giggling, and one of them—the tallest, the blondest, the prettiest—waved at me, said something to her friends, and walked over.
    Too late, I realized I had no cover story. At all.
    “Hi,” she said, smiling. She was wearing a white button-down, crisp and spotless, with khaki pants and loafers. Beat up, ancient, cracked, yukky loafers; no socks. Her hair was long and fine, the blond strands looking like rough silk, and caught away from her face with a white headband. Her eyes were a perfect, clear blue, the exact color of the sky. Her skin was also irritatingly perfect, creamy with peach highlights, and not a freckle in sight. No makeup—she didn’t need it.
    And she was smiling so pleasantly at me, in her casual running-around clothes, that I instantly knew she was one of those beautiful girls who didn’t know they were beautiful. It took all of my powers as the queen of the undead not to instantly hate her.
    “Why are you and your friend following us?”
    “Uh…” Because, as king and queen of the vampires, we feel that you—or one of your friends—as the devil’s daughter (and worse, the Ant’s daughter), should be stopped from ruling the world. Welcome to the family! Now get the fuck out. “We’re…we’re looking for Laura? Laura Goodman?”
    “I’m Laura,” she said, holding out a slim, pale hand for me to shake. I took it, being massively unsurprised. She was too tall (as tall as me!), too pretty, too perfect. And you know what they said about the devil taking a pleasing form. “What can I do for you?”
    “Well…the thing is, I—”
    “Laura!” One of her gaggle was calling over to us. “You coming? This dance isn’t going to plan itself.”
    “Be right there,” she called back, and turned back to me. “You were saying?”
    “It’s kind of a private thing. Do you have any time later tonight? Or tomorrow? Maybe we could have some coffee and talk?”
    “Okay,” she said, and she wasn’t giving off scared vibes, which was good. Really trusting…or really scarily powerful with nothing to fear from the likes of me. “How about lunch tomorrow? Kahn’s?”
    “Ohhhh, I love Kahn’s!” So we couldn’t go there. If I couldn’t eat the awesome garlic noodles with scallions and lamb, I wasn’t going to watch someone else do it. “But lunch is bad for me.”
    “Well, I’ve got class tomorrow