Undead and Unforgiven(60)
“But . . . come on.” Jess looked around at all of us. “Vampires? Other than goths, who’d be willing to suspend their disbelief?”
“Plenty,” Marc replied grimly. “Take a stroll through a bookstore sometime. Don’t shout at me, I know you’re a new mom and I can’t possibly understand your exhaustion and how you barely have time to breathe, much less go book shopping, blah-blah—”
Jessica, who had in fact opened her mouth, had to grin.
“—but vampires are everywhere. And don’t forget about the Undersea Folk.”
“The what?” I asked blankly.
“Mermaids.”
“Oh, that whole thing.” Apparently mermaids were real. Or an offshoot of humanity mutated into people who looked like mermaids. Or it was a hoax. There were roughly a billion schools of thought on the subject and I had my own problems. Case in point!
Sinclair was frowning at me, big surprise. “You’ve met one,” he reminded me. “And not long ago, either. How can you not remember?”
Oh, now you want to talk? You couldn’t pass up a chance to needle me about forgetting something, could you?
He turned his head away and flicked his fingers in a “shoo, fly” gesture. Fine. As you will.
“Guys? Guys? GUYS! Really need you to pay attention. Look, whether you think the whole Undersea Folk thing is real or some YouTube stunt—”
“Real,” Tina said at once.
“Stunt,” Dick replied.
“—it still got plenty of attention and it’s only been, what? A year? Because plenty of people now believe in mermaids, they’ll be as likely to decide vampires are real, too.”
“Illogical,” Tina pointed out. “The existence of one doesn’t prove the existence of another. It’s like saying because there are zebras, there must be unicorns.”
“You’re looking for logic from the teeming masses?”
“Point,” she admitted.
“Look, even ten years ago Laura’s plan might not have worked, but these days everyone walks around with a camera on their phone. Social media reigns supreme and people want to believe this stuff. I think you’d be surprised how many people want to believe in vampires.”
“And kill them,” Tina pointed out. “Which is, of course, the real danger of exposure.”
“Yeah.” Marc paused and gave us an expectant look. When we just stared back, he said, “That’s it. That’s all I’ve got.”
“And if you had to sum up your presentation in one sentence?” Sinclair asked.
“We might be fucked.”
“Terrific,” I moaned. I was so upset, the thought of a smoothie was nauseating. Probably should stop drinking it, then; I set my glass down and buried my face in my hands. “I’m not sure how, but this is probably my fault.”
“Yes.”
I jerked my head up and glared at my undead skunk hubby. “What? Why? I mean, specifically?”
“You told her to do so at church. You practically dared her.”
“The hell I did! I’ve only talked to her once in the last three weeks and I did not dare her to expose us!”
(“They wouldn’t be so pleased to see him if they knew what he was!”
“Like I give a shit! Like he does! Tell anyone you want who he is, who any of us are, and enjoy the three-day psych hold that results.”)
“It wasn’t a dare, it was a stupid argument! I didn’t think she’d take me up on it. And I sure as shit didn’t think people would believe her.”
Dick’s daughter/son had pretty much passed out, drunk and lolling on milk, and he carefully lifted her/him to his shoulder and started to pat. “All this because you wouldn’t help her with Project Prove God’s Real?”
I rubbed my temples, ignoring the urge to bite something. In the face. Okay, someone. In the face. Her beautiful, lying, holier-than-thou face. “Apparently.”
“With respect, my king, I think you’re being a bit hard on Her Majesty.”
Yeah! I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out and gave Tina my full, hopeful attention.
“This might have been the original plan,” Tina continued. “She may have picked a fight—proposed a project you would have little to no interest in, at a time when she knew you were overwhelmed with your new duties—so she could then go about exposing you with a clear conscience.”
Made sense. The Antichrist was her mother’s daughter that way: she had no qualms about tricking people to make herself look better. Definitely an ends-justify-the-means mind-set.
“Well, Hell, I’d better call her. Or go see her. Right now.”