Undead and Unreturnable

"Betsy? Betsy? Betsy?"



"Gllllkkkkkkkkkk!"



Is that me? No. Who's choking? It's not me, right?



"Laura, I am quite fond of you-" Sinclair? What was he doing down here? And it sounded like he was throttling my sister... I had no idea how I felt about that, to be honest. Yay? Boo?



"Ggggglllkkkkk!"



"-yes, thank you, but if she dies, I'm afraid you will die as well. It's this odd little territorial tic I have. I realize it's a problem, and I'm dealing with it, but right now I must stand by what I said."



"Betsy? Can you hear me?" Marc! That was Marc.



Excellent! Finally, he has a day off when it actually helps me.



"She's got a big fucking sword sticking out from between her boobs." That was Cathie. "Of course she can't hear you. Why am I even bothering to talk to you idiots?"



I'm not dead!



"I suppose it's no good looking for vital signs." Tina.



"Well, she doesn't have a pulse, and she's not breathing, so I'd say she's dead. Also, there's a big-ass sword sticking out of her chest."



"Duh!" Cathie shouted.



"But she's been dead before, so this is kind of a stumper for me."



Tina hmmmmed and then said, "For us as well... where's Nick?"



"Jessica's keeping him busy upstairs, thank God. Of all the stupid times for her to start dating again."



"Amen to that," I said and opened my eyes. I was startled to see Marc and Cathie had been right-there was a big-ass sword sticking out of my chest. I'd seen Laura stab vampires with it before, and they instantly disintegrated. I was sort of amazed to see I wasn't a pile of ashes. "Sinclair! Put her down. Laura, get over here. Get this thing out of me."



They both looked over at me, Laura's face so red it looked like she was going to pop a blood vessel. Which, given the firm grip Sinclair had on her throat, was probably imminent. He let go, and she hit the cement, gasping.



"I can't leave any of you people alone for one day without all hell breaking loose," I griped. "Where's George?"



"We put him in the shower to wash away the blood," Tina reported matter-of-factly. She was on one knee beside me and kept squeezing my arm as if to reassure herself that I wasn't going to disintegrate.



Laura had heaved herself to her knees and then her feet. If I were her, I wouldn't be so quick to turn my back on Sinclair, but she only had eyes for me as she staggered toward us.



"Betsy, oh Besty! Forgive me!" She tripped and fell but probably was going to get back on her knees anyway, judging from what came out next, which was: "I swear, you were not my target! I'm an unworthy treacherous bitch, one you have taken into your family, and I repaid you with-" She gestured at her sword. "Please, please, I beg your forgiveness. I--"



"Laura."



"Yes?"



"Can we do this after you've pulled this thing out of me?"



"Oh. Oh! Yes, of course. I-ah-no one's ever-" She grabbed the hilt with easy familiarity. "Either my sword passes harmlessly through them-it only disrupts magic-or it kills them. It's never... gotten stuck halfway."



I felt a little ill. "Well, can we get it un-stuck, please?"



"Yes, of course, but after causing you so much pain, I feel I must warn you it may hurt a bit-"



"Elizabeth!" Sinclair said sharply from his brooding corner. We all snapped around to gape at him; it was not a good thing when he raised his voice. "I must insist you cancel the wedding at once."



I gasped with fresh outrage. "And the hits just keep on coming! Cancel the weddiarrrrrrrggggggggl" I clutched my chest, which was hole-free, thank goodness. "That did hurt, you cow!"



"Perhaps less," he said, looking vastly relieved, "as you were distracted."



"Yeah, thanks for 'helping' me by scaring the shit out of me," I grumped as Tina and Marc helped me to my feet. Marc felt between my boobs, which I didn't take personally, and then circled around to feel my back.



"How do you feel?" Tina asked anxiously.



"Pissed off! I've been up for, what, ten minutes? Cripes. This is worse than prom '91. Laura, you've got some big-time explaining to do."



"Close your eyes," Marc told me, "and think of England." Then he pushed my pajama top up.



"Ack! It's chilly in here, stop that." I jerked away from him. "I'm pretty sure if I had a big old stab wound in my chest, we'd all know it."



"I can't believe you aren't dead!" Laura exclaimed. "I mean, I'm happy and everything, but I've never seen that happen before." Sinclair came up to our little group, and she sort of shrank away from him. "I tried to tell you... before... I didn't mean to stab her. She got between us."



"Yesssssssssss," Sinclair purred. "And who were you trying to stab when she, ah, got between you?"



"It wasn't... it wasn't for real." Laura suddenly looked about twelve years old. The braids helped. So did the fact that she'd put her sword away... to wherever it went when she wasn't killing vampires with it. "We were just practicing."



"I guess what happened at the Ant's bugged you more than you let on," I suggested.



Laura shrugged. She wouldn't look at any of us. Her hair was blond again, and her eyes were blue. The blue of the Ant's mother, apparently, or the devil.



"He's a feral vampire," she pointed out defensively. "It's not like I could have really hurt him... done some lasting damage."



Lie.



"It was just a training exercise."



Lie.



"It has nothing to do with my family life," she insisted, the third and (hopefully) final lie.



"It-"



You fight so I can send you to my mother!



"-doesn't-"



You fight so you can tell her I'm doing just fine up here!



"-mean anything."



"Oh, boy," Cathie said. Tina glanced over at her, but nobody else had a clue. "Did you say she had some parental issues? Because that's a pretty fucking big issue right there. I mean, come on, Liz. You don't believe this happy crappy, do you?"



"Don't call me that. It's all right, Laura," I said after an awkward moment. My life: a series of awkward moments. "It was an accident. I know you'd never want to hurt me."



"Yes, that's just right," she said, guileless blue eyes swimming with tears. "I'd never ever want to hurt you. I'd die before hurting you."



"Really?" Sinclair asked, head cocked to one side.



"Let me, ah, just go check on George, and we can go finish our shopping."



Her face lit up. "You-you still want to?"



"Are you kidding? What part of 'thirty percent off everything in the store' do you not get? It would take a lot more than this to keep me away. I'll meet you out at the car."



"Oh," she said sadly. "I guess this is the part where you all talk about what to do about me."



"It's more like a Secret Santa thing," I said, pushing her toward the stairs.