"I knew you'd be like this," Jessica insisted.
"Oh my God. Oh my God!" I was lying on the cool kitchen tiles, a cold cloth on my forehead. "I can't believe this!"
"Darling," Sinclair said, kneeling beside me, "you are my soul and my life, but this is not even remotely about you."
"How can you say that?" I cried. "My best friend is dying-"
"I'm not dying," Jessica said sharply. Far above me, perched upon her bar stool, she looked more than ever like an impatient Egyptian goddess. "I knew it, I knew it. This is how you get. This is why I didn't say anything."
"How could you keep this from me?" I screeched upward. "I told you when I died."
"I'm not dying," she said again, louder. "I've been to seven different specialists and they're all pretty optimistic."
"Seven? Specialists?" I rolled back and forth on the tile and groaned. "They all knew before I did? I'm like, eighth on your to-know list?" Tenth, I realized, when you counted Eric and Tina. "This is horrible! What kind of friend can I be? I've been sitting around chatting with Spanish murderers and you've been hauling your buns to cancer doctors?"
"I wouldn't put it quite like that," she admitted.
"How long have you been sick?"
"I got the diagnosis a month ago." To Sinclair: "Here we go."
"A month ago? Month? As in four weeks, as in thirty days?"
"Thirty-one," Tina pointed out helpfully.
I ignored her. "You didn't think you could mention it? You had other things on your mind? Why the hell didn't you say anything?" I felt faint, but I was already lying down. That was something. "How could you do this to me?"
"I'm sorry." Jessica sniffed. "I guess I was being selfish."
"You're goddamned fucking right you were!"
"Elizabeth."
I turned on them like a rabid hyena. "You guys knew? You knew and you didn't say anything?"
Jessica looked thoughtful. "You two haven't been spying on me or anything, have you?"
"No, of course not," Tina said. She was patting my hand, kneeling on my other side. Jessica slid off the stool and stood at my feet. Tina looked up at Jess and added, "We didn't need spies to figure this one out."
"Also," Jessica said, "that'd be a crummy thing to do to your friend."
"Yes, yes. As Eric suggested, your scent has been a little anemic lately. There are multiple reasons why this might be, but each reason has its own particular, well, sub-scent. When Eric and I put our heads together, we matched yours with the woman in that nursing home. She also suffered from myeloma. It's rare to be that close to someone who has had it for so long, but the sub-scent is distinctive."
"And Betsy's the Queen, and you vampires should always tell your Queen everything. So. One way to look at it is that you guys should have told me."
The corner of Jessica's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "That's right, they're the ones who screwed up, not me. It's all on them."
"Nice try," I yelled from the floor. "You are still in a shitload of trouble, birdbrain. I can't believe this is happening to me!"
"I know," she sighed. "What a terrible week you're having."
I glared up at her. "When I get off this floor I'm kicking the shit out of you. Then you'll really need a doctor."
She grinned down at me. "Happy birthday."
