Undead 9, Undead and Unfinished - MaryJanice Davidson Page 0,2
most of her clothes, though the girl was a student at the U of M). Then Laura wore them and wore them and wore them until they were actually faded, ripped, et cetera. Waste was a sin, after all. Oh! And let’s not forget the spawn of Satan’s flawless creamy complexion, courtesy of Noxzema.
And faded running shoes, I realized as I got closer. Also by Target. Running shoes! Who wore those to go buy sandals? She’d have to sit down and pull off her shoes and socks each time she ... argh, it was going to make me nuts just thinking about it, so I thought about something else. Like the woman she was waving at.
It wasn’t a surprise the Antichrist was talking to someone; it was a surprise she wasn’t followed around by packs of men and women and small children, all the time. In addition to being gorgeous, people just naturally flocked to Laura. Like I said—for the Antichrist, she was pretty nice.
Except, I realized as I got close enough for her to notice me, she wasn’t talking to the woman. And she wasn’t waving at her, either. Both sets of hands were flying—Laura had either gone deaf or recently become fluent in American Sign Language.
Chapter 2
Oh, and here she is!” Laura’s hands, with their long, slender fingers and bluntly short nails, flew as she introduced me. “This is my sister, Betsy. Betsy, this is Sandy Lindstrom.” A short, plump woman in her thirties, Sandy brushed her shaggy bangs away from her dark, tip-tilted eyes and smiled at me. “She was wondering when Macy’s was having their next sh—”
“November second,” I replied automatically. “It starts at eight a.m., an hour before their store usually opens. Park in the west ramp.”
Laura’s hands moved in translation—I was always amazed at how cool and mysterious sign language looked—while I jabbered shoe-sale tips like a crazed robot.
“Okay, thanks,” Sandy Lindstrom mouthed while signing.
“No problem,” I said, but she was already turning away, so I started to raise my voice, then realized I was getting ready to shout “No problem!” at a deaf person. Not too lame. Instead, I turned to my sister. “Who was that?”
“Eh? Sandy Lindstrom.”
“Oh. You mean you didn’t know her, or—”
“No, but I knew you’d be the perfect person to answer her question.” Laura grinned and linked her arm through mine. The Antichrist was a toucher and a hugger, did I mention?
“So she was just some random person?”
“Sure.” A frown creased Laura’s perfect creamy brow. “Why?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I assured her as we began marching past Crabtree & Evelyn, arms linked like half of the cast from The Wizard of Oz. The brainless and clueless half. (“This isn’t the Burnsville Mall anymore, Toto.”). “I just didn’t know you knew sign language, is all.”
“Oh.” That short reply was completely unlike Laura; so was the shutting-up period that followed. In fact, we were passing Daniel’s Leather before she said, “So is this the way to Payless?”
“Payless?” I nearly screamed, coming to such an abrupt stop the Antichrist nearly brained herself on a nearby pillar. “What foul mouth speaks that filth?”
“Mine,” the spawn of Satan replied, straightening up and making sure she hadn’t dropped her purse in the near collision. Laura was a terrific fighter of the undead (weapons of Hellfire, daughter of Satan, etc.) but not so much a shopper of retail. “You know I’m on a budget, Betsy. We can’t all be married to millionaires.”
“Undead millionaires,” I reminded her, just to see the ninch—and it came, just as I expected. Which is what a lot of people did when mention of my husband, Sinclair, king of the vampires, came up. Hell, half the time I still flinched, but usually in irritation instead of fear. “And be fair—you know damn well I bought designer shoes on an admin’s salary.” Like my precious, precious Burberry rain boots, a steal at two hundred bucks, and it took me almost nine weeks to save up for them.
“Yes, well.” She fussed a bit, then spotted a mall directory. “Um ... Payless Shoes ... You could pay more, but why?”
Now it was my turn to flinch at the sound of the dreaded slogan. You could pay more, but why? But why? How about because quality costs, nimrods? How about—
“Here it is! One Fifty North Garden.”
“Barf Garden.” Sure, it was childish. Sue me.
Can dead people be sued? The way the last three years had gone, I was likely to find out by Thanksgiving.