Undead and Unappreciated

"She volunteers at the church," I said. "Oh. My. God! She volunteers at the church!"

"No matter how many times you say it out loud," Sinclair said, "it still seems to be true."

We'd been shadowing a group of kids-all girls in their late teens-for the last two hours. I wasn't sure which of them was my sister-there were three blondes, two brunettes, and even a strawberry blonde in the group. They'd gone from the U (my mom had most helpfully provided Laura's class schedule, breaking about twenty school regs in the process) to an apartment house in Dinkytown, and now they had all trooped into the local Presbyterian church.

"They're like a flock," Sinclair observed.

"That's just what girls do at that age." Heck, any age. "They travel in clumps. Like hair!"

"Charming."

We were in Sinclair's Passat. I know, I know... the king and queen of the vampires, tooling around in a blue Passat? He was keeping the really good cars-the convertible (a Mustang ironically a convertible), the Spider, the various other pretty cars that I didn't know the names of-under wraps for the time being.

Maybe he had hauled the good ones out before to impress me, and now that 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 until four thirty..."

"How about Dunn Brothers, at five? Right around the corner?"

"All right, then." She shook my hand again. "It was nice to meet you..."

"Betsy."

"Right. See you tomorrow for coffee."

"Bye," I told my sister and watched her walk back to her friends.

"So she's this wretched evil beast who's fated to rule the world and she's a natural blonde. Just ridiculously pretty-hair, face, long thin legs, okay clothes, terrible shoes. And sweet as sugar, so far. When she turns into her horrible demon self it should be something to see..."

"I didn't see much resemblance to the Ant or my dad, except for her being tall like me, and blond. But that's not too hard; we're in Minnesota, not Japan. I dunno. I'm having coffee with her tomorrow, trying to suss out her evilness... so I guess that's everything."

I clicked off the baby monitor and then remembered, so I turned it back on. "Almost forgot, I told Sinclair all about this, too. Sun's not going to be down all the way by five-I swear, vampires must have thought up daylight savings-but since it hasn't kicked in yet, he can't come. He didn't even seem to mind that he couldn't be there again. I guess he's still pretty pissed at me. Not that I blame him. Or you," I added hastily. "I can't seem to fix it with either one of you. And it's weird-it's bugging me that he's being so chilly and distant. And it's bugging me that it's bugging me. I can't apologize, and I can't pretend nothing happened. I guess... I guess I'll just focus on other stuff. Oh, my mom's having me over for supper the day after tomorrow, and she says you should come, too. If you want."

Silence.

I clicked the monitor off again and went up to bed.