“That’s exactly the amount of deference we give you,” he replied. “A teensy bit.”
“Oh. Well.” I looked at the Ant. “Thanks for sticking up for me.”
“Let’s not talk about it.”
I laughed; I couldn’t help it. “Agreed. It’ll never be spoken of again.” And to my great surprise, I got a real smile out of Antonia Taylor for the first time ever.
CHAPTER
FORTY-THREE
The last thing. Well, the second-to-last thing. Laura was fretting impatiently in the Peach Parlor (she was no longer welcome in the kitchen and was forever barred from Smoothie Time). “Finally,” she complained, which for some reason she thought was an acceptable greeting. “I’ve been here five minutes.”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s been a busy day. Thanks for coming.”
“Yes, well. I imagine you have some things to say to me.”
I just looked at her. She was earnest and smug, and a little nervous. She looked beautiful, as she always did. She’d taken some care with her appearance; I’d never seen her in a sweater dress before. Deep blue, knee length, with ribbed tights in the same shade. Scuffed flats from Payless, which I heroically decided to ignore. Long hair held back from her face with a wide black headband. No makeup; the lucky bitch didn’t need it.
“It doesn’t matter what you say,” she said, clearly anxious to get on with her agenda. “I’m going forward with this. You think the media was bad this week? More and more cities are picking up the story. People who’ve been attacked by your vampires are speaking up, since they realize there’s a good chance they’ll be believed. None of your denials will—”
“We’re not denying it.”
“—do any— What?”
“We’re not. Denying it. Oh, the first plan was to kidnap and rape a bunch of brains, specifically media brains, you know, the usual. But we’re not doing that this time. We’re not denying anything; we’re not fighting you on this. At all.”
“That— You’re lying.”
“Nope.”
“You are.”
“Nope. And I’ve got you to thank for it.”
“Now you are lying.”
“Are you as deaf as you are outmatched? Pay attention: I’ve made some changes in Hell and they’re going pretty great.” That might be an exaggeration, but Laura didn’t need to know that. “Sometimes old, outdated rules are old and outdated, so they’ve gotta be pitched. Or at least reworked. Doing the job you tricked me into is what gave me the idea, so thanks for that.”
“You would never. It’s too dangerous. You’d never risk your people.” That last was spit out; oooh, jealous much? The mindless worshipping minions not really doing it for you, Laura? It’s not much good without friends, is it? “It’s too risky.”
I laughed. “Risky. That’s funny. What isn’t these days? You used to know that, before you turned traitor. Oh, and you might have doomed the planet, too.”
“I— No!” She was on her feet, but I didn’t move. I was nice and comfy on the love seat across from her and would remain relaxed while she lost her shit. I have to say: I was really looking forward to it. “That’s you; that’s your people, your vampire nation. That’s why you have to stay in the shadows; that’s why you’re lying about coming forward—”
“And that’s exactly my point: we can’t stay in the shadows anymore. Time to embrace the twenty-first century and the sooner the better. We probably would have come to this decision on our own, just not this soon. But . . .” I shrugged. “Since you’re bringing it about, why fight it? But that’s the least of your problems because, again, you might have screwed the world. Good trick for a virgin!”
“Why are you lying?” This in a whisper, and I had to grit my teeth
(stay strong stay strong she’s her mother’s daughter but you are too)
at her sad, overwhelmed expression. Poor kid. No fucking idea what she’d unleashed—as usual.
“Betsy, just tell me the truth. Okay? Stop saying these lies and trying to get me upset and just be honest.”
“Okay.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and had sympathy for anyone who’d had to deal with me when I did something deliberately, awfully stupid. “Here’s the truth: you’re such a numb-cunt sometimes.” I hated that word, I almost never used it. It was so cruel and misogynistic and filthy. But it had to be said. The Antichrist was a cunt.
Shocked, she had no response, but her knuckles whitened. Since she wasn’t clutching anything, it was kind of impressive.