I dragged myself into the silent house. The third floor was dark; I assumed Lara and Jeannie had hit the sheets. But this wasn't the week to make assumptions, so I tiptoed up to the third floor and found them in the second bedroom I checked. They were both conked and both snoring. I shut the door and snuck back downstairs.

I kicked off my pumps, tossed my keys in the general direction of the foyer table, then went into the library and sat down across from the Book of the Dead.

The nasty thing was on a mahogany book stand by the fireplace, open to God knew what page. I stared at it and tried to make a decision. Any decision.

"You might as well," a horrifyingly familiar voice said from across the room. "You can't screw this up any worse."

I looked over, and there she was: Laura's mother, the devil, seated behind the desk. "Fabulous," I muttered.

"So nice to see you, too, dear." Satan looked a lot like Lena Olin: long brown hair streaked with silver. Calm expression, beautiful gray suit, classic gold earrings (in the shape of angel wings!), black stockings, and. . . I peeked under the desk. And groaned silently. She was wearing fourteen-thousand-dollar Manolo Blahnik black alligator boots. "Like them?" She rotated her left foot around her ankle. "I'm sure we could work something out."

"Get lost."

"Now, Betsy. You need me. After all, you're not using that teeny, tiny brain of yours. In fact, you haven't been since this whole thing started."

"And what do you know about it? Scratch that: go away." I wasn't the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but I knew that the devil never gave up anything for free. I was crazy even to be talking to her.

"Oh, Betsy. Don't you know? I can help you. I want to help you. Him?" She jerked a thumb toward the ceiling. "Not so much. You think He cares about you now that you're a vampire?"

"I think you lie like old people fart."

"I've never lied to you, dear."

I had to admit that was true. Not that I was going to say so out loud.

"It distresses me to see my daughter's sister so upset. So alone in the world. Beset from all sides."

"Really."

"I'll help you, dear. All you need do is ask."

"How about if I ask you to toddle off back to Hell?"

Lena Olin made a tt'tt! noise and shook her head sorrowfully, as if at a disobedient daughter. "Why make things so much more difficult? You know I can help you."

"I know nothing's free with you, Lena Olin."

"Let me help you. I'm dying to help you. He's still alive, you know. It's not too late. . . yet."

That hurt. A lot. I closed my eyes and chewed on my tongue so I wouldn't say something that would cost me my soul.

"I'll be glad to lend a hand. Because once you have your lover back, you'll stop thinking the worst of my poor Laura. I dislike it when the two of you argue." I grunted.

"All you need to do is ignore Him and pray to me." I nearly fell out of my chair. "Pray to you?"

"Well, why not? You've seen the state of His world, right?" she said with a gesture. "Your best friend fighting for her life? Your father dead in a senseless accident? Your brother orphaned? You alone in your time of greatest need? And let's not even talk about all the children He does away with every hour of every day. Who knows how long Babyjon has under His regime? Pray to me, dear. At least I'm not crazy."

"That's tempting," I said. "Really tempting." She smiled and smoothed her hair. "We try." "Well, try this. Take your satanic, designer-shoe-wearing ass right out the door, willya?"

The devil frowned. "Betsy, this is a chance that may never come again."

"Bullshit! You show up whenever I'm in a jam, but I'm not dumb enough to think you care about me. You're the devil, for crying out loud! Your reputation is horrible! Now get lost!"

She stood. It seemed to take a long time. It seemed like she was ten feet tall. "Enjoy the funerals, dear. Because without my help, there will be more. And say hello to my dear one when you see her again."

I opened my mouth to say something snappy, but I was alone in the room.