Undead and Unwary Read Online Free PDF

time . . . ?”
    “No, I’m good.”
    “Yes indeed,” she said with a small smile.
    “You silver-tongued devil.”
    “That, too.”
    “Tina, d’you like it here?”
    Her big eyes got bigger and I had a “whoa, where’d that come from?” moment. One of those things I had no idea I was going to say until it was out of my mouth.
    “I—yes.”
    “Oh. Good.”
    “May I ask, Majesty . . . ?”
    “I don’t know,” I admitted. “It’s just everybody’s lives have changed in next to no time. Five years ago I didn’t know you. Five years ago I was still alive and you were off doing whatever it was you did before we crossed paths, and I didn’t know Sinclair. Didn’t know I had a half sister, sure as shit didn’t know she was the Antichrist. Didn’t know I was destined to—”
    “Take the throne.”
    “—kill the devil.” What did it say about me that I thought of that first? Other than still being in denial about the whole queen-of-the-undead gig.
    There was a long pause while I tried to read her face, which was just as much a waste of time as it ever was. Tina could outbluff Daniel Negreanu (Sinclair was a World Series of Poker addict). Her fair face, never terribly expressive, now seemed so still it was like she was playing Statues. Which she could also do really well.
    “I don’t,” she said at last.
    “What?”
    “You asked if I like it here.”
    Oh. Right. I remember now. And shit. I knew she’d tell me the truth, but I’d hoped it was good news.
    “ Like is woefully inadequate,” she continued. “I love my new life. And not merely for my own sake. I love his new life, too. Five years ago things were dangerous and we trusted no one and we depended only on each other, and my dear friend the king, the boy I loved from birth, pursued empty relationships and cared not if he lived or burned. And now . . . he does care. About many things. I love that. I love you. I love this house. I love your friends. I love our new lives, and I love the new lives your friends have brought into our home. It strikes me . . .” Her gaze went vague as she looked through me. “It strikes me that I can live a very long time and still be pleasantly, continually surprised. I love that, too.”
    “Oh.” Hmm. She’d just told me this incredible generous thing and I’d better come up with something a little better than “oh.” “That’s great. I’m . . . that’s really great.”
    “Do you have any other questions?”
    “Nope.”
    She nodded and started to turn away from me. “Then I’ll take my leave? Yes?”
    “Sounds like a plan.”
    Well! That was unexpected. And nice. It was almost enough to make me forget why I’d started the conversation in the first place. Which was . . . uh . . .
    Jessica! Right. Tina was feeling fluffy and Jessica was up to something. Busy, busy, lots of mysteries to unravel and Hell would wait.
    It’s not like it was going anywhere, right?

 CHAPTER 
    THREE
    I shoved the swinging door that led to the kitchen. So far there hadn’t been a hilarious sitcom-type swinging-door face smash, but the year was young. “Jess? You in here? Listen, I’m a little worried about you and because I’m incredibly intuitive I realize something’s wrong and want you to know that whatever it is, you have my full support and attention and, oh, what the hell ?”
    Marc Spangler, MD, looked up from yet another revolting kitchen experiment. This time he was freezing, dissecting, and refreezing mice. Did you know frozen mice don’t smell like much of anything? They don’t. Probably because they’re so little. Or because of the cold. Was he doing that out of kindness to those of us with enhanced senses in the house, or was the freezing thing specific to his gross kitchen experiment and, dammit, my kitchen ! Which was also his kitchen since he lived here, too, but still.
    At least I didn’t have to ask where he was getting his test subjects. Since every old house on the