Undead and Unforgiven by MaryJanice Davidson Page B

figuratively
and
literally. There was no way to prove the good (Heaven is a real possibility!) without dredging up the bad (vampires take over the world!). “People don’t know who we are, and they shouldn’t, Laura.”
    She ignored this, so the bright-eyed enthusiasm continued unabated. “There are enough of us who know the truth; if we combine forces we can reach millions!”
    Sure, but so could Taylor Swift, and any Kardashian. In this day and age, reaching millions wasn’t unheard of . . . and oh boy, I hoped that wasn’t her point. That if ordinary mortals
    (sometimes I miss being an ordinary mortal)
    could make their presence known with just a video or a silly trick on YouTube, if the “Leave Britney
alone
!” guy and the ice bucket challenge could go global, the Antichrist and the queen of the vampires could, too.
    â€œOnce we convince the rest of the world, things would change overnight! No more wars, no more murders.”
    Oh boy. She was only a few years younger than me and I felt every day of those years now. “People not knowing if there’s a God is not what causes murders and wars,” I saidcarefully, because she was glowing like a zealot-turned-lightbulb. “At least, not all the time. Anymore. General dickishness causes wars. Money causes wars.” I recalled one of my favorite lines from
Gone with the Wind
:
All wars are in reality money squabbles.
“I promise you, Laura. I promise. There will always be war and murder because there will always be assholes. They are not an endangered species. Even if every single person on the planet converted to Christianity, there’d still be crime.”
    She waved away war and murder and crime with a small, long-fingered hand. “We can quibble about the details later. Say you’ll help me with this.”
    â€œYou mean in addition to being the queen of the vampires—”
    â€œSinclair is perfectly capable of overseeing the vampire nation.”
    â€œâ€”and running Hell—”
    â€œYou’ve made a committee, and even if you hadn’t, Hell will run itself if you leave it alone.”
    I— Wow. Okay. Wow.
    â€œWhat’s the pitch, exactly? Assuming you could prove God’s existence? We somehow prove it and hey presto, everyone in the world becomes a Christian?”
    â€œSure.”
    When I was little I’d wait for the bus with a bunch of neighborhood kids. And after the first big frost, we’d kill time by easing across puddles that looked frozen, but weren’t—or at least, not all the way through. We’d inch across, freezing and giggling at every
crack!
Best case, you made it across and the kids gave you props. Worst case, you broke the ice and soaked your shoes, which was unpleasant but not fatal.
    Well, I felt like I was inching across a puddle that was bottomless. Like if I put a foot wrong I’d fall down so deepno one would ever find me. It
looked
safe enough . . . but probably wasn’t . . . and if I put one foot wrong . . .
    â€œHell being a thing doesn’t mean every other religion is wrong.”
    Laura just looked at me.
    I sighed. “I get it. You’ve decided Hell being a thing
does
mean every other religion is wrong.”
    â€œWe know the devil is real, ergo God is real, ergo Jesus is real.” At my expression, she plowed ahead with, “It’s
not
arrogance. I’m not saying it’s what I think. It’s what we know.”
    â€œBut that doesn’t mean other things
aren’t
real. You’re like someone who’s red/green color-blind and thinks that just because you can’t see them it means red and green don’t exist.”
    â€œYour analogies are starting to suck less,” she said grudgingly.
    â€œThank you!” Ugh, I was always so pleased when she complimented me. It was the dark side of being Miss Congeniality, the thing they