"You look like hot death," I informed my best friend cheerfully.
"Go to hell," she snapped back, then coughed. Her normally gorgeous dark skin was more grayish than ebony, and her eyes were bloodshot. But she sounded a helluva lot better than she did three days ago. They'd finally quit the chemo, so she could get better.
The horrible thing about chemotherapy, of course, is that it is poison, working by killing both cancerous and normal cells. Jessica said the cancer didn't bug her hardly at all, except for making her tired. It was the cure that fucked her up severely: vomiting, constant nausea, weight loss (and if anyone on the planet didn't need to lose weight, it was scrawny Jess). How fucked up was that, I ask you? In a hundred years, doctors will be laughing their asses off at how we, the century-old savages, "cured" cancer. I mean, why not just break out the leeches?
"The moment you barf, I am so out of here." I plopped down in the chair beside her bed and got comfy, Babyjon snuggled against my shoulder.
"I haven't barfed since suppertime, and that's because it was Salisbury Steak night."
"Who could blame you?"
"How go the wedding plans?"
"They sort of screeched to a halt," I admitted. When you all abandoned me.
"What? Bets, you've got to pick a dress! You've got to settle on the flowers-the florist is going out of her mind! You've got to meet with the caterer for the final tasting! You've-"
"I will, I will. There's lots of time."
"There's two weeks. Isn't Eric helping you at all?"
"He's gone. Still sulking."
"Oh, Betsy!" she practically yelled, then coughed again. "Will you just call him and apologize?"
"Me?" I yelped, loud enough to stir Babyjon, who immediately settled back to sleep. "I didn't do a damned thing. He's the one who left in a huff. Stupid runaway groom."
"He'll be back," she predicted. "He can't stay away. He can't leave you, there's no such thing for him. You're in his system like a virus."
"Thanks. That's so romantic, I may cry."
"Well, don't cry. Nick was in here a while ago all teary and junk."
"Big bad Detective Nick Berry, catcher of serial killers?"
"To be fair, you and Laura and Cathie caught the killer."
"Right, but he helped. I mean, he came to the house and warned us."
"He made me promise not to die," she said, folding her arms behind her head and looking supremely satisfied. "And I made him promise. So that's all settled."
"Can I borrow that emesis basin?" I asked politely.
"Cram it, O vampire queen. Nobody barfs but me, it's the new rule."
I grinned, but couldn't help feeling the smallest twinge of jealousy. Which was completely stupid. But. . . Nick had originally been interested in yours truly. And I'd thought he'd asked Jessica out as a way to get closer to me. In fact, that had been utter wishful thinking on my part.
I was wildly happy for Jessica, but couldn't help feel a little miffed that Nick had recovered from his unholy lust for me so quickly. Which was also stupid: the whole reason Sinclair had made him forget our blood sharing was to make him forget. Not to mention, I had the sexiest, smartest vampire in the world on my hook.
When he was talking to me, that is.
"What's with the kid?"
"You won't even believe it."
Jessica covered her eyes. "Don't even tell me. You're his legal guardian."
"Got it in one."
She looked up. "Why so glum? You've wanted a baby since you came back from the dead."
"But not like this! I mean, gross. Garbage trucks, uh, incinerated birth parents? Yech."
"Well, there's plenty of room in the mansion for a baby. And you're crazy about him. And he pretty much only tolerates you. So it all worked out." She paused. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong."
"S'okay. It's always nice when someone else puts their foot in their mouth. I get tired of it sometimes."
"Really?" she asked sweetly. "It's hard to tell."
"Shut up and die."
"See? You just did it!"
I didn't answer. Instead, I jiggled BabyJon to wake him up. Since I was conked out during the day, and alone, if he cried during the day he was shit out of luck. This was going to be a nocturnal baby, by God.
"Better start interviewing day nannies," Jessica observed.
"There's usually a hundred people hanging around the house," I complained. "We need one more? And how can we hide all our weird goings on from her? Or him?"
"How about a vampire nanny?"
I was silent. The thought hadn't occurred to me.
Then: "No good. Any vampire would need to sleep during the day."
"But Marc, me, Cathie, and Antonia are usually around during the day."
I was silent. She had enough problems without knowing that everyone had disappeared on me.
"Maybe a really old vampire? You know Sinclair can stay awake most of the day. Find some seventy-year-old bloodsucker for the job."
"Oh, sure, what a great honor. 'Hey, ancient vampire, mind changing the shitty diapers of my half brother? And don't forget to burp him before his nappy-nap. Also, don't suck his sweet, new, baby blood.'"
"Blabbb," Babyjon agreed. He turned his head and smiled sweetly at Jessica. He really was getting cute. When he was born, he looked like a pissed-off plucked chicken. Now he'd filled out with sweetly plump arms and legs, a rounded belly, and a sunny grin. His hair was a dark thatch that stood up in all directions. Jessica grinned back; she couldn't help it.
"He's definitely growing on me," she said.
"Like a foot fungus."
Jessica's door whooshed open, and the night nurse stood there. Luckily for me, it was a man. "I'm sorry, miss, but visiting hours were over an hour ago."
I slid my sunglasses down my nose and said, "Get lost. I can stay as long as I like."
"These aren't the droids you're looking for," Jessica added, giggling.
Like a badly maintained robot, the nurse swung around and walked stiffly away.
I propped my feet up on Jessica's bed and got comfy. Babyjon squirmed and, to divert him, I plopped him on her bed. He wriggled for a moment, then flopped over .and popped his thumb in his mouth, his deep blue eyes never leaving my face.
"So, dish. How was the funeral?"
"Gruesome. And filled with lies."
"So, like the Ant was in life?"
I laughed for the first time in two days. God, I loved her. That chemo was going to work. Or I would not be responsible for my actions.