Undead and Unwelcome (Undead #8)

Chapter 51

Dude,

The door actually split down the middle and, with judicious shoving, I freed myself . . . and promptly tripped over two unconscious devil worshippers.

Sinclair was a whirl of activity; I could only get the occasional glimpse of him when he managed to knock a bad guy away from him. And I realized why the door had been broken-he'd thrown someone into it so hard, the flimsy closet door had cracked.

I tried to figure out who to help. Calling the cops was out, for obvious reasons. Getting between Betsy and Laura would be a quick and painful way to commit suicide.

So when a hooded jerk ran past me I caught him by the back of his robe, yanked him back, and smashed my elbow into the hinge of his jaw.

"That'll teach you to mess with a licensed physician," I told the unconscious Satanist.

Then I ran to see if I could give Sinclair a hand.

Chapter 52

I ducked again as her Hellfire sword whistled over my head, and sidestepped so quickly I tripped over a chair. I was in such a hurry to scramble to my feet that for a few seconds I ran in place, like the Road Runner.

Then I was up and backing away again.

"You came back too soon," Laura said, circling me. Her knuckles were white on the sword hilt. If my eyes could water, they would have. It was like she was holding the sun.

"Tell me about it," I retorted. And I thought I had problems on the Cape? Good God, I didn't know what problems were. "I should have left BabyJon in charge."

"You never mind about him."

"Your mother infected him, too," I said brightly as a wonderful idea came to me.

"You shut up."

"Yep. He's got demonic unholy powers-just like you!"

"I said. Shut. Up."

"You know what they say . . . like mother, like dau-"

She forgot about the sword and, the minute she wasn't concentrating on it, it disappeared . . . back to hell, or whatever unholy armory her weapons came from.

She hooked her long, slender fingers into claws and ran straight at me. They looked very long and very sharp. And pink! Blech.

I managed to grab her by the wrists and keep her hands away from my face. Sure, it was a cliche, but she really was trying to dig her fingers into my eye sockets.

We danced around in a tight, difficult circle, me holding on to her wrists for dear life-getting killed was one thing, but having my eyeballs clawed out was something else again-and her straining to mess up my pretty face in all sorts of nasty ways.

"Can't--we--just--get--along?" I managed.

"You go to hell," she snapped.

"But I don't want to see your mom anytime soon."

"Stop calling her that!"

"Fine. I don't want to see the fallen angel who gave you life. See? I didn't use the M word."

She yanked me forward, which I wasn't expecting, and gave me a savage head butt. Stars actually exploded behind my eyes and I sagged in her grip.

Which is when she picked me up and threw me out the window.

I heard the glass shatter but, fortunately, didn't feel it. Mostly because my entire face had gone numb. When the hell had Laura learned to fight dirty?

I'd actually thought I could take her, reasoning that I'd been in more fights than she had. It was only about the tenth time I'd underestimated the Big Bad.

I hit the lawn with a teeth-rattling thud, thought about passing out for a few seconds, then painfully climbed to my knees.

Where I spotted the feet.

Clad in Vera Wang strappy gold sandals in mint condition.

Only one creature in the galaxy has such great shoes.

I flopped over on my back and stared up into the devil's smiling face.

Chapter 53

Hello, Betsy," Satan said cheerfully. "Having a bad week?"

"You," I groaned.

"Yes, me. That's it? That's the best you can do? You were never the sharpest knife in the drawer, Betsy, when it came to rejoinders."

"Fuck rejoinders. This is your fault. You drove Laura crazy."

"I certainly did not." The devil had the nerve to look offended. She was a petite woman with gray-streaked hair pulled back in a bun. Her navy blue suit ruffled, showing her indignation.

"Did, too."

"No, I stayed well away from Laura." The devil smiled, revealing dimples. "I might, however, said a word or two in Dr. Marc Spangler's ear."

"Oh, man," I said. It occurred to me I was still lying on the lawn, broken glass everywhere, bleeding, and Satan was standing over me.

Yep. Things could not get any worse.

That's when Marc came sailing out the same window and landed right on top of me.