(what did I need a computer in
the bedroom for? We only had, like, nine offices). The thing hadn't made a peep in days,
so for a long moment, all I did was stare. It beeped again, and I lunged for it, ignoring
Babyjon's squawk, and saw the you've got mail icon pop up.
I clicked on it (Sinclair had set the thing up so I could use it whenever I wanted), hoping.
He knew it was in our bedroom, he knew I'd hear the chime wherever I was in the house,
ergo it had to be from—
My sister, Laura.
Grumbling under my breath, I read the e-mail.
Betsy,
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) I'm dreadfully sorry I was unable to attend the funeral of your father and my mother. I
was, as you know, occupied with the arrangements for the wake and the burial, as well as
helping your mother with the baby, but deeply regret my unavoidable absence. I do hope
we can get together soon. Please call me if you need anything, or if you run into trouble.
God bless, Your loving sister, Laura
"And they that know thy name will put their trust in thee: for thou, Lord, hast not
forsaken them that seek thee." (Psalms 9:10)
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I said aloud. "Verrrry helpful." But I was all talk. At least someone hadn't forgotten me, left the country, or disappeared. Or gotten cancer.
Or if you run into trouble?What did that mean? It was almost like she knew things were
getting weirder by the second. Which of course she couldn't. We hadn't even spoken until
the day before the funeral, and that was all Ant stuff, not Jessica and Marc and Sinclair
and Antonia and Garrett stuff.
I shoved the thought out of my head. Of all the people I had to worry about, Laura was so
not one of them. Even if she was, according to the Book of the Dead, fated to take over
the world. She was a good kid( when she wasn't killing vampires pretty much effortlessly)
with a steady head and a kind heart (when she wasn't killing serial killers), and she was the
definitive good girl (even if she was the devil's own) . So there. Dammit.
I said it out loud, just to cement the idea into my lead. "So there. Dammit!"
"Blurrgghh," Babyjon agreed, kicking his footie pajama feet into my hip bones. "Ready for a trip, baby brother?" "Yurrgghh!" "Right. Onward, and all of that."
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) Chapter 12
I was so used to pouring out my troubles to Jessica—I'd been doing it since seventh
grade—that I was actually shocked to find a bunch of doctors and nurses clustered around
her bed. I couldn't even see her, much less talk to her. Not to mention, usually there was
just one nurse, and that was only if it was time for a new bag of death.
Nick was standing off to one side, watching with his jaw clenched so tight I could see the
muscles in his cheek jumping.
He saw me and said dully, "They're doing another round of chemo. She's something of a
nine-day wonder. Everyone's been invited."
"But—" Shocked, I shifted Babyjon to my other ¦ boulder, for once praying he wouldn't
wake up. "But she just had a round of it!"
"It's a hard cancer to kill."
"But—but—I have to tell her . . . um, stuff." Careful , I said to myself. Nick's poor
scrambled brains didn't need any more clues that things weren't normal at the House O'
Vampires. "I mean, I came to talk to her."
"Well, you can't." Clearly distracted, he ran his hands through his thick blond hair. Even
though his black suit was rumpled and he had a ketchup stain on his navy blue shirt, he
looked like a million bucks: swimmer's build, long legs, sharp, Norwegian features—
cheekbones you could shave with!—and ice blue eyes. Before I'd died, he'd been the
closest thing to a boyfriend I'd had for years. And we hadn't been that close, frankly.
Friendly, not friends.
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com )
the bedroom for? We only had, like, nine offices). The thing hadn't made a peep in days,
so for a long moment, all I did was stare. It beeped again, and I lunged for it, ignoring
Babyjon's squawk, and saw the you've got mail icon pop up.
I clicked on it (Sinclair had set the thing up so I could use it whenever I wanted), hoping.
He knew it was in our bedroom, he knew I'd hear the chime wherever I was in the house,
ergo it had to be from—
My sister, Laura.
Grumbling under my breath, I read the e-mail.
Betsy,
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) I'm dreadfully sorry I was unable to attend the funeral of your father and my mother. I
was, as you know, occupied with the arrangements for the wake and the burial, as well as
helping your mother with the baby, but deeply regret my unavoidable absence. I do hope
we can get together soon. Please call me if you need anything, or if you run into trouble.
God bless, Your loving sister, Laura
"And they that know thy name will put their trust in thee: for thou, Lord, hast not
forsaken them that seek thee." (Psalms 9:10)
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I said aloud. "Verrrry helpful." But I was all talk. At least someone hadn't forgotten me, left the country, or disappeared. Or gotten cancer.
Or if you run into trouble?What did that mean? It was almost like she knew things were
getting weirder by the second. Which of course she couldn't. We hadn't even spoken until
the day before the funeral, and that was all Ant stuff, not Jessica and Marc and Sinclair
and Antonia and Garrett stuff.
I shoved the thought out of my head. Of all the people I had to worry about, Laura was so
not one of them. Even if she was, according to the Book of the Dead, fated to take over
the world. She was a good kid( when she wasn't killing vampires pretty much effortlessly)
with a steady head and a kind heart (when she wasn't killing serial killers), and she was the
definitive good girl (even if she was the devil's own) . So there. Dammit.
I said it out loud, just to cement the idea into my lead. "So there. Dammit!"
"Blurrgghh," Babyjon agreed, kicking his footie pajama feet into my hip bones. "Ready for a trip, baby brother?" "Yurrgghh!" "Right. Onward, and all of that."
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) Chapter 12
I was so used to pouring out my troubles to Jessica—I'd been doing it since seventh
grade—that I was actually shocked to find a bunch of doctors and nurses clustered around
her bed. I couldn't even see her, much less talk to her. Not to mention, usually there was
just one nurse, and that was only if it was time for a new bag of death.
Nick was standing off to one side, watching with his jaw clenched so tight I could see the
muscles in his cheek jumping.
He saw me and said dully, "They're doing another round of chemo. She's something of a
nine-day wonder. Everyone's been invited."
"But—" Shocked, I shifted Babyjon to my other ¦ boulder, for once praying he wouldn't
wake up. "But she just had a round of it!"
"It's a hard cancer to kill."
"But—but—I have to tell her . . . um, stuff." Careful , I said to myself. Nick's poor
scrambled brains didn't need any more clues that things weren't normal at the House O'
Vampires. "I mean, I came to talk to her."
"Well, you can't." Clearly distracted, he ran his hands through his thick blond hair. Even
though his black suit was rumpled and he had a ketchup stain on his navy blue shirt, he
looked like a million bucks: swimmer's build, long legs, sharp, Norwegian features—
cheekbones you could shave with!—and ice blue eyes. Before I'd died, he'd been the
closest thing to a boyfriend I'd had for years. And we hadn't been that close, frankly.
Friendly, not friends.
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com )
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