CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
For the tenth time I checked my phone, and for the tenth time I didn’t have a text from Sinclair. I doubted that was AT&T’s fault; it was entirely on Sinclair. The big undead baby was no doubt still pouting because I wasn’t letting him Flintstone Hell.
I was thirsty—no surprise, I always was, it was a downside to vampirism—but didn’t need blood in Hell. I didn’t need blood as much as any of the other vampires (queen thing), and less in Hell (Satan 2.0 thing), but still: thirsty. So I headed to the food court to slake said unnatural thirst and also to check on my project.
I started to pull out my phone again, realized what I was doing, and made myself stop. Yes, that’s right, just stop. He’s almost as stubborn as you are; he won’t be texting anytime soon unless it’s an emergency. And maybe not even then.
God, am I doing this right? Any of this? As they did now and again, my internal thoughts switched over to prayer. Or, as I called it, bitching at my maker. If You have a better idea, or a better candidate, You should speak up anytime. If not, could You at least smite my enemies? They’re, like, legion.
Please help me get this right, and help me figure out how to juggle Hell, the vampire kingdom, my husband, my friends, my unholy thirst for blood, my lessening hatred for the Ant, my increasing hatred for the Antichrist, and the upcoming Gucci sample sale. Thank you, amen.
“Um, hello?”
I’d been so busy praying, I hadn’t realized I’d been standing in front of the Orange Julius counter doing an imitation of a statue. A praying statue running low on sleep, blood, and sex.
“Hi, girls.” Argh. Jennifer Palmer, despite appearances, hadn’t been a girl for a long time. Cindy, who was a girl, didn’t like being reminded. “How’s the buddy system going?”
“Fine,” Jennifer said quickly, already reaching for a cup. “You want the usual?”
“Please.”
“Oh, don’t!” Cindy said, putting a hand over the cup before Jennifer could fill it. “You won’t like it; it’ll taste terrible.”
“Not for her,” Jennifer said, gently pulling the cup away. “It’ll work for her. We talked about this.”
“Oh.” To me: “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for that. You were trying to help me not suck down a cup of awful.” What would the Orange Julius of the damned taste like for me? Hell was tailored; everyone’s experience was different and uniquely terrible. There were probably people here who hated Orange Juliuses, so everything they drank tasted like something Julius. For me, an Orange Julius made with rotten bananas would have been pretty hellish.
“Um, if you don’t mind my asking, what were you doing when you were just standing there? I mean, I know what it looked like, but that can’t be right.” Cindy asked this in a tone of voice more appropriate for “Why were you taking your clothes off and twerking?”
I ignored Jennifer’s shushing motions, probably because they were aimed at Cindy. “Praying.”
“But . . . why?” To Jennifer: “Stop pinching me. It’s okay to ask questions.”
“It’s really not,” she hissed back and gave Cindy another pinch for good measure. “Or at least not personal ones.”
“She’s right, Jennifer, it’s fine.” Cindy had known me (briefly) in life and hadn’t been impressed (I blamed the Peach Parlor: who could come across as an authority figure when they were bathed in peach?). Small wonder she wasn’t as in awe of me here. “As to why I was praying . . . why not? Have you tried it since you got here?”
“No,” Cindy said, sounding shocked.
“Well, think about it. Even if you don’t believe in God it can be like meditation.” Marc had babbled this theory to me a while back, and it stuck with me. Like Velcro! “It can be a way to get in touch with your inner—”
“I never said I didn’t believe in God!” Shocked, shocked at the very idea! While standing behind the Orange Julius counter talking to Satan 2.0 in Hell. It was kind of funny.
“—cheerleader.”
“I believe in God!”
Right, right, that’s why she’s here. Why a lot of them are here. “Okay. So. Why not pray, then?”
“Because I’m a vampire!”
“So am I.”
“I mean I was a vampire on earth—”
“Yeah, for a whole, what? Forty hours? Those two nights didn’t negate the previous sixteen years.”
“—when you killed me, and now I’m in Hell.”
“So am I.”