Free Undead and Unsure by MaryJanice Davidson Page A

leave it that Tina could—oh. I dared not look at Sinclair. It was possible that when we’d come home the night before, BabyJon-less, we had badly wanted some fun. So much fun that we couldn’t wait to get started with the fun, and our bedroom was too far away for instant fun, so we’d ducked into the first unoccupied room for our fun, which was Tina’s office.
    This part would not be fun.
    “Yes. Well. Here it is, Majesty.” She handed it over. I took it silently. Still didn’t dare a peek at Sinclair. “In your, ah, anxiety, you must have dropped it.”
    “Don’t feel bad.” Marc gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder. “They’ve left things where I’ve stumbled across them, too. Terrible things.”
    “I would not have minded so much if they had let me leave before starting.”
    “Wait, you were still in the room?” Huh. Strange how our keen vamp senses hadn’t picked up on that. Horniness apparently correlated with dulling senses. Or Tina turning invisible?
    Sinclair lost it and started to laugh, which got me going, too. Tina just stood there, emanating Disapproving Elder, which didn’t work. I knew she was old and brilliant, but today she looked too much like a cheerleader for me to be cowed
. “Give me a Q! Give me a U! Give me an I! Give me a T! Quit banging in my office, yeeeaaah!”
Cue waving pom-poms and her hair in pigtails.
    “As I was saying,” she said, raking us once more with a glare and then giving up like a sensible brilliant vamp, “Laura called you. I saw her name come up and snatched it; I pray you will pardon my familiarity with your equipment, and with the Antichrist.”
    “Sure, sure, no prob.” I waved all that away. I wasn’t sure if I was thrilled or terrified that she’d called so soon after visiting. “What’d she say?”
    “That she is free to join you for Thanksgiving, if you can do it tomorrow. December fifth,” she added, in case none of us knew what
tomorrow
meant.
    I was so startled I almost dropped my phone. “Wha—? But that’s so great!” I turned to the gang, delighted. “Isn’t that so great?”
    “What’s so great about having to buy another turkey at the last—hmm. Turkey. And stuffing and mashed potatoes and cranb—I’ll help you shop.” Jessica was looking sadly at her (now) empty plate. “Let’s go right now.”
    “Hell yes right now!” I was halfway to the door. “I can’t believe it! I thought she’d hold out for weeks!”
    “Betsy, please.” Mom had stepped in front of me, her hands up, palms out, like she was being arrested. “We haven’t settled—”
    “Mom, I know, and I promise we’ll go over whatever it is later, but I’ve got to head to the grocery store. C’mon, Jess, I’ll drive. We can stop at Dairy Queen on the way.” Jess loved eating ice cream (or whatever Dairy Queen claimed that stuff was) when it was cold. She liked her insides to match her outside. “Okay, so.” I gave Mom a quick kiss. “We’ll talk later, I promise.”
    “But—”
    “Dr. Taylor, as long as you’re here, I have been in touch with an old friend. She has agreed to allow me to show you original letters to Clara Barton for the Friends of the Missing Men of the United States Army.”
    Mom, still pissy about whatever was bugging her, whipped her head around to look at Tina so fast I heard tendons creak. “What? No. What?”
    Tina, who could be pretty literal, began again: “I have been in touch with an old friend. She has agreed to show—”
    “That’s so kind, Tina, but I’ve seen them. The archives—”
    Tina smiled her “I look like a cheerleader but I’ve been to the rodeo a few times” smile. “No one has seen these except Miss Barton and my friend, who found her brother on her own and thus had no need of Miss Barton’s services.” (Tina never said
Ms.
She was old-fashioned.) “My friend took her letter back along with a few other things you may find of interest.”
    Whoa.
    “Whoa.” My mom disappeared in a