Book Eight 12-14

Chapter 12
Since the lights were still off in the living room and the security light was on
outside, from inside the house we could see pretty well. The vampire
standing by himself in the front yard was not particularly tall, but he was a
striking man. He was wearing a business suit. His hair was short and curly,
and though the light wasn’t good for making such a determination, I thought
it was black. He stood with an attitude, like a GQ model.
Eric was pretty much blocking the doorway, so that was all I could tell. It
seemed tacky to go to the window and stare.
“Eric Northman,” said Victor Madden. “I haven’t seen you in a few
decades.”
“You’ve been working hard in the desert,” Eric said neutrally.
“Yes, business has been booming. There are some things I want to discuss
with you—rather urgent things, I’m afraid. May I come in?”
“How many are with you?” Eric asked.
“Ten,” I whispered at Eric’s back. “Nine vamps and Quinn.” If a human
brain left a buzzing hole in my inner consciousness, a vampire brain left an
empty one. All I had to do was count the holes.
“Four companions are with me,” Victor said, sounding absolutely truthful
and frank.
“I think you’ve lost your counting ability,” Eric said. “I believe there are nine
vampires there, and one shifter.”
Victor’s silhouette realigned as his hand twitched. “No use trying to pull the
wool over your eyes, old sport.”
“Old sport?” muttered Amelia.
“Let them step out of the woods so I can see,” Eric called.
Amelia and Bill and I abandoned being discreet and went to the windows to
watch. One by one, the vampires of Las Vegas came out of the trees.
Since they were at the edges of the darkness I couldn’t see most of them
very well, but I noticed a statuesque woman with lots of brown hair and a
man no taller than me who sported a neat beard and an earring.
The last to emerge from the woods was the tiger. I was sure Quinn had
shifted into his animal form because he didn’t want to look at me face-toface.
I felt horribly sorry for him. I figured that however ripped up inside I
was, his insides had to be like hamburger meat.
“I see a few familiar faces,” Eric said. “Are they all under your charge?”
This had a meaning that I didn’t understand.
“Yes,” Victor said very firmly.
This meant something to Eric. He stood back from the doorway, and the
rest of us turned to look at him.
“Sookie,” Eric said, “it’s not for me to invite him in. This is your house.” Eric
turned to Amelia. “Is your ward specific?” he asked. “Will the ward let in him
only?”
“Yes,” she said. I wished she sounded more certain. “He has to be invited
in by someone the ward accepts, like Sookie.”
Bob the cat strolled to the open doorway. He sat in the exact middle of the
threshold, his tail wrapped around his paws, and surveyed the newcomer
steadily. Victor laughed a little when Bob first appeared, but that died away
after a second.
“This is not just a cat,” Victor said.
“No,” I said, loud enough for Victor to hear me. “Neither is the one out
there.” The tiger made a chuffing sound, which I’d read was supposed to be
friendly. I guess it was as close as Quinn could come to telling me he was
sorry about the whole damn thing. Or maybe not. I came to stand right
behind Bob. He raised his head to look at me, and then strolled off with as
much indifference as he’d arrived. Cats.
Victor Madden approached the front porch. Evidently the wards would not
let him cross the boards, and he waited at the foot of the steps. Amelia
flipped on the front porch lights, and Victor blinked in the sudden glare. He
was a very attractive man, if not exactly handsome. His eyes were big and
brown, and his jaw was decided. He had beautiful teeth displayed in a jawcracking
smile. He looked at me very carefully.
“Reports of your attractions were not exaggerated,” he said, which took me
a minute to decipher. I was too scared to be at my most intelligent. I made
out Jonathan the spy among the vampires in the yard.
“Uh-huh,” I said, unimpressed. “You alone can come in.”
“I’m delighted,” he said, bowing. He took a cautious step up and looked
relieved. After that he crossed the porch so smoothly that all of a sudden
he was right in front of me, his pocket handkerchief—I swear to God, a
snowy white pocket handkerchief—almost touching my white T-shirt. It was
all I could do to keep from flinching, but I managed to hold very still. I met
his eyes and felt the pressure behind them.
He was trying his mind tricks to see what might work on me.
Not much would, in my experience. After I’d let him establish that, I moved
back to give him room to enter.
Victor stood quite still just inside the door. He gave everyone in the room a
very cautious look, though his smile never faded. When he spotted Bill, the
smile actually brightened. “Ah, Compton,” he said, and though I expected
he’d follow up with a more illuminating remark, that didn’t happen. He gave
Amelia a thorough scrutiny. “The source of the magic,” he muttered, and
inclined his head to her. Frannie got a quicker evaluation. When Victor
recognized her, he looked, for one second, severely displeased.
I should have hidden her. I simply hadn’t thought about it. Now the Las
Vegas group knew that Quinn had sent his sister ahead to warn us. I
wondered if we’d survive this.
If we lived until daytime, we three humans could leave in a car, and if the
cars were disabled, well, we had cell phones and could call for a pickup.
But there was no telling what other day-walking helpers the vampires of
Las Vegas had . . . besides Quinn. And as far as Eric and Bill being able to
fight their way through the line of vampires outside: they could try. I didn’t
know how far they’d get.
“Please have a seat,” I said, though I sounded about as welcoming as a
church lady forced to entertain an atheist. We all moved to the couch and
the chairs. We left Frannie where she was. It would be better to maintain
every bit of calm we could manage. The tension in the room was almost
palpable as it was.
I switched on some lamps and asked the vampires if they would like a
drink. They all looked surprised.
Only Victor accepted. After a nod from me, Amelia went to the kitchen to
heat up some TrueBlood. Eric and Bill were on the couch, Victor had taken
the easy chair, and I perched on the edge of the recliner, my hands
clenched in my lap. There was a long silence while Victor selected his
opening line.
“Your queen is dead, Viking,” he said.
Eric’s head jerked. Amelia, entering, stopped in her tracks for a second
before carrying the glass of TrueBlood to Victor. He accepted it with a little
bow. Amelia stared down at him, and I noticed her hand was hidden in the
folds of her robe. Just as I drew in breath to tell her not to be crazy, she
moved away from him and came to stand by me.
Eric said, “I had guessed that was the case. How many of the sheriffs?” I
had to hand it to him. You couldn’t tell how he felt from his voice.
Victor made a show of consulting his memory. “Let me see. Oh, yes! All of
them.”
I pressed my lips together hard so no sound would escape. Amelia pulled
out the straight-backed chair we keep to one side of the hearth. She set it
close to me and sank down on it like she was a bag of sand. Now that she
was sitting, I could see she had a knife clutched in her hand, the filleting
knife from the kitchen. It was real sharp.
“What of their people?” Bill asked. Bill was doing the clean-slate imitation,
too.
"There are a few alive. A dark young man named Rasul ... a few servitors
of Arla Yvonne. Cleo Babbitt’s crew died with her even after an offer of
surrender, and Sigebert seems to have perished with Sophie-Anne.”
“Fangtasia?” Eric had saved this for last because he could hardly bear to
speak of it. I wanted to go over to him and put my arms around him, but he
wouldn’t appreciate that at all. It would look weak.
There was a long silence while Victor took a swallow of the TrueBlood.
Then he said, “Eric, your people are all in the club. They have not
surrendered. They say they won’t until they hear from you. We’re ready to
burn it down. One of your minions escaped, and she—we think it is a
female—is taking out any of my people stupid enough to get separated
from the others.”
Yay, Pam! I bent my head to hide an involuntary smile. Amelia grinned at
me. Even Eric looked pleased, just for a split second. Bill’s face didn’t alter
a bit.
“Why am I alive, of all the sheriffs?” Eric asked—the four-hundred-pound
question.
“Because you’re the most efficient, the most productive, and the most
practical.” Victor had the answer ready at his lips. “And you have one of the
biggest moneymakers living in your area and working for you.” He nodded
toward Bill. “Our king would like to leave you in position, if you will swear
loyalty to him.”
“I suppose I know what will happen if I refuse.”
“My people in Shreveport are ready with the torches,” Victor said with his
cheerful smile. “Actually, with more modern devices, but you get the point.
And, of course, we can take care of your little group here. You are certainly
fond of diversity, Eric. I trail you here thinking to find you with your elite
vampires, and we find you in this odd company.”
I didn’t even think about bristling. We were an odd company, no doubt
about it. I also noticed the rest of us didn’t get a vote. This all rested on the
question of how proud Eric was.
In the silence, I wondered how long Eric would ponder his decision. If he
didn’t cave, we’d all die. That would be Victor’s way of “taking care” of us,
despite Eric’s out-loud thought about me being too valuable to kill. I didn’t
think Victor gave a fig for my “value,” much less Amelia’s. Even if we
overwhelmed Victor (and between Bill and Eric that could probably be
managed), the rest of the vampires outside had only to set this house on
fire as they were threatening to do Fangtasia, and we’d be gone. They
might not be able to come in without an invitation, but we certainly had to
get out.
My eyes met Amelia’s. Her brain was pinging with fear, though she was
making a supreme effort to keep her spine stiff. If she called Copley, he
would bargain for her life, and he had the wherewithal to bargain
effectively. If the Las Vegas crew was hungry enough to invade Louisiana,
then they were hungry enough to accept a bribe for the life of the daughter
of Copley Carmichael. And surely Frannie would be okay, since her brother
was right outside? Surely they would spare Frannie to keep Quinn
complaisant? Victor had already pointed out that Bill had skills they
needed, because his computer database had proved lucrative. So Eric and
I were the most expendable.
I thought about Sam, wished I could call him and talk to him for just a
minute. But I wouldn’t drag him into this for the world, because that would
mean his sure death. I closed my eyes and said good-bye to him.
There was a sound outside the door, and it took me a moment to interpret it
as a tiger’s noise. Quinn wanted in.
Eric looked at me, and I shook my head. This was bad enough without
throwing Quinn into the mix. Amelia whispered, “Sookie,” and pressed her
hand against me. It was the hand with the knife.
“Don’t,” I said. “It won’t do any good.” I hoped Victor didn’t realize what her
intent was.
Eric’s eyes were wide and fixed on the future. They blazed blue in the long
silence.
Then something unexpected happened. Frannie snapped out of the trance,
and she opened her mouth and began to scream. When the first shriek
ripped out of her mouth, the door began to thud. In about five seconds
Quinn splintered my door by throwing his four hundred and fifty pounds
against it. Frannie scrambled to her feet and ran for it, seizing the knob and
yanking it open before Victor could grab her, though he missed her by half
an inch.
Quinn bounded into the house so quickly he knocked his sister down. He
stood over her, roaring at all of us.
To his credit Victor showed no fear. He said, “Quinn, listen to me.”
After a second, Quinn shut up. It was always hard to say how much
humanity was left in the animal form of a shifter. I’d had evidence the
Weres understood me perfectly, and I’d communicated with Quinn before
when he was a tiger; he’d definitely comprehended. But hearing Frannie
scream had uncorked his rage and he didn’t seem to know where to aim it.
While Victor was paying attention to Quinn, I fished a card out of my
pocket.
I hated the thought of using my great-grandfather’s Get Out of Jail Free
card so soon (“Love ya, Gramps—rescue me!”), and I hated the thought of
bringing him without warning into a room full of vampires. But if ever there
was a time for fairy intervention, that time would be now, and I might have
left it too late. I had my cell phone in my pajama pocket. I pulled it out
surreptitiously and flipped it open, wishing I’d put him on speed dial. I
looked down, checking the number, and began to press the buttons. Victor
was talking to Quinn, trying to persuade him that Frannie was not being
hurt.
Did I not do everything right? Did I not wait until I was sure I needed him
before I called? Had I not been so clever to have the card on me, to have
the phone with me?
Sometimes, when you do everything right, it still turns out all wrong.
Just as the call went through, a quick hand reached around, plucked the
phone from my hand, and dashed it against the wall.
“We can’t bring him in,” Eric said in my ear, “or a war will start that will kill
all of us.”
I think he meant all of him, because I was pretty sure I would be okay if
Great-grandpa started a war to keep me that way, but there was no help for
it now. I looked at Eric with something very close to hatred.
“There’s no one you can call who would help you in this situation,” Victor
Madden said complacently. But then he looked a little less pleased with
himself, as if he was having second thoughts. “Unless there is something I
don’t know about you,” he added.
“There is much you don’t know about Sookie,” Bill said. It was the first time
he’d spoken since Madden had entered. “Know this: I will die for her. If you
harm her, I’ll kill you.” Bill turned his dark eyes on Eric. “Can you say the
same?”
Eric plainly wouldn’t, which put him behind in the “Who Loves Sookie
More?” stakes. At the moment, that wasn’t so relevant. “You must also
know this,” Eric said to Victor. “Even more pertinently, if anything happens
to her, forces you can’t imagine will be set into motion.”
Victor looked deeply thoughtful. “Of course, that could be an idle threat,” he
said. “But somehow, I believe you are serious. If you’re referring to this
tiger, though, I don’t think he’ll kill us all for her, since we have his mother
and his sister in our grasp. The tiger already has a lot to answer for, since I
see his sister here.”
Amelia had moved over to put her arm around Frannie, both to sooth her
and to include herself in the tiger’s circle of protection. She looked at me,
thinking very clearly, Should I try some magic? Maybe a stasis spell?
It was very clever of Amelia to think of communicating this way with me,
and I thought about her offer furiously. The stasis spell would hold
everything exactly as it was. But I didn’t know if her spell could encompass
the vampires waiting outside, and I couldn’t see the situation would be
much improved if she froze only all of us in the room except for herself.
Could she be specific about whom the spell affected? I wished that Amelia
were telepathic, too, and I’d never wished that on anyone before. As things
lay, there was just too much I didn’t know. Reluctantly I shook my head.
“This is ridiculous,” Victor said. His impatience was calculated. “Eric, this is
the bottom line and my last offer. Do you accept my king’s takeover of
Louisiana and Arkansas, or do you want to fight to the death?”
There was another, shorter pause.
“I accept the sovereignty of your king,” Eric said, his voice flat.
“Bill Compton?” Victor asked.
Bill looked at me, his dark eyes dwelling on my face. “I accept,” he said.
And just like that, Louisiana had a new king, and the old regime was gone.
Chapter 13
I felt the tension whoosh out of me like the air out of a punctured tire.
Eric said, “Victor, call your people off. I want to hear you tell them.”
Victor, beaming harder than ever, whipped a tiny cell phone from his pocket
and called someone named Delilah to give her his orders. Eric used his
own cell to phone Fangtasia. Eric told Clancy about the change in
leadership.
“Don’t forget to tell Pam,” Eric said very clearly, “lest she kill off a few more
of Victor’s people.”
There was an awkward pause. Everyone was wondering what came next.
Now that I was pretty sure I was going to live, I hoped Quinn would change
back to his human form so I could talk to him. There was a lot to talk about.
I wasn’t sure I had a right to feel this, but I felt betrayed.
I don’t think the world is about me. I could see he’d been forced into this
situation.
There was always a lot of forcing around vampires.
As I saw it, this was the second time his mother had set Quinn up, quite
inadvertently, to take her fall with the vamps. I got that she wasn’t
responsible; truly, I did. She’d never wanted to be raped, and she hadn’t
chosen to become mentally ill. I’d never met the woman and probably
never would, but she was surely a loose cannon. Quinn had done what he
could. He’d sent his sister ahead to warn us, though I wasn’t exactly sure
that had ended up helping so very much.
But points for trying.
Now, as I watched the tiger nuzzle Frannie, I knew I’d made mistakes all
the way down the line with Quinn. And I felt the anger of betrayal; no matter
how I reasoned with myself, the image of seeing my boyfriend on the side
of vampires I had to regard as enemies had lit a fire in me. I shook myself,
looking around the room.
Amelia had made a dash for the bathroom as soon as she could decently
let go of Frannie, who was still crying. I suspected the tension had been too
much for my witchy roommate, and sounds from the hall bathroom
confirmed that. Eric was still on the phone with Clancy, pretending to be
busy while he absorbed the huge change in his circumstances. I couldn’t
read his mind, but I knew that. He walked down the hall, maybe wanting
some privacy to reassess his future.
Victor had gone outside to talk to his cohorts, and I heard one of them say,
“Yeah! Yes!” as if his team had scored a winning goal, which I supposed
was the case.
As for me, I felt a little weak in the knees, and my thoughts were in such a
tumult they could scarcely be called thoughts. Bill’s arm went around me,
and he lowered me to the chair Eric had vacated. I felt his cool lips brush
my cheek. I would have to possess a heart of stone not to be affected by
his little speech to Victor—I hadn’t forgotten it, no matter how terrifying the
night had been—and my heart is not made of stone.
Bill knelt by my feet, his white face turned up to me. “I hope someday you’ll
turn to me,” he said. “I’ll never force myself or my company on you.” And he
got up and walked outside to meet his new vampire kin.
Okey-dokey.
God bless me; the night wasn’t over yet.
I trudged back to my bedroom and pushed the door open, intending to
wash my face or brush my teeth or make some stab at smoothing my hair,
because I thought it might make me feel a little less trampled.
Eric was sitting on my bed, his face buried in his hands.
He looked up at me as I entered, and he looked shocked. Well, no wonder,
what with the very thorough takeover and traumatic changing of the guard.
“Sitting here on your bed, smelling your scent,” he said in a voice so low I
had to strain to hear it.
“Sookie . . . I remember everything.”
“Oh, hell,” I said, and went in the bathroom and shut the door. I brushed my
hair and my teeth and scrubbed my face, but I had to come out. I was being
as cowardly as Quinn if I didn’t face the vampire.
Eric started talking the minute I emerged. “I can’t believe I—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, loved a mere human, made all those promises, was
as sweet as pie and wanted to stay with me forever,” I muttered. Surely
there was a shortcut we could take through this scene.
“I can’t believe I felt something so strongly and was so happy for the first
time in hundreds of years,” Eric said with some dignity. “Give me some
credit for that, too.”
I rubbed my forehead. It was the middle of the night, I’d thought I was going
to die, the man I’d been thinking of as my boyfriend had just turned my
whole picture of him upside down. Though now “his” vamps were on the
same side as “my” vamps, I’d emotionally aligned myself with the vampires
of Louisiana, even if some of them had been terrifying in the extreme.
Could Victor Madden and his crew be any less scary? I thought not. This
very night they’d killed quite a few vamps I’d known and liked.
Coming on top of all these events, I didn’t think I could cope with an Eric
who’d just had a revelation.
“Can we talk about this some other time, if we have to talk about it?” I
asked.
“Yes,” he said after a long pause. “Yes. This isn’t the right moment.”
“I don’t know that any time will be right for this conversation.”
“But we’re going to have it,” Eric said.
“Eric . . . oh, okay.” I made an “erase” movement with my hand. “I’m glad
the new regime wants to keep you on.”
“It would hurt you if I died.”
“Yeah, we’re blood bound, yadda yadda yadda.”
“Not because of the bond.”
“Okay, you’re right. It would hurt me if you died. Also I would have died,
too, most likely, so it wouldn’t have hurt for long. Now can you please
scoot?”
“Oh, yes,” he said with a return of the old Eric flare. “I’ll scoot for now, but
I’m going to see you later. And rest assured, my lover, we’ll come to an
understanding. As for the vampires of Las Vegas, they’ll be well-suited to
running another state that relies heavily on tourism. The King of Nevada is
a powerful man, and Victor is not one you can take lightly. Victor is
ruthless, but he won’t destroy something he may be able to use. He’s very
good at reining in his temper.”
“So you’re not really that unhappy with the takeover?” I couldn’t keep the
shock out of my voice.
“It’s happened,” Eric said. “There’s no goal to be met in being ‘unhappy’
now. I can’t bring anyone back to life, and I can’t defeat Nevada by myself.
I won’t ask my people to die in a futile attempt.”
I just couldn’t match Eric’s pragmatism. I could see his points, and in fact
when I’d had some rest, I might agree with him. But not here, not now; he
seemed way too cold for me. Of course, he’d had a few hundred years to
get that way, and maybe he’d had to go through this process many times.
What a bleak prospect.
Eric paused on his way out the door to bend down to kiss me on the cheek.
This was another evening for collecting kisses. “I’m sorry about the tiger,”
he said, and that was the final cap to the night as far as I was concerned. I
sat slumped in the little chair in the bedroom corner until I was sure
everyone was out of the house. When only one warm brain remained,
Amelia’s, I peered out of my room to get a visual. Yep, everyone else was
gone.
“Amelia?” I called.
“Yeah,” she answered, and I went to find her. She was in the living room,
and she was as exhausted as I was.
“Are you going to be able to sleep?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I’m going to try.” She shook her head. “This changes
everything.”
“Which this?” Amazingly, she understood me.
“Oh, the vampire takeover. My dad had lots of dealings with the New
Orleans vampires. He was going to be working for Sophie-Anne, repairing
her headquarters in New Orleans. All her other properties, too. I better call
him and tell him. He’s going to want to get in there early with the new guy.”
In her own way Amelia was being as practical as Eric. I felt out of tune with
the whole world. I couldn’t think of anyone I could call who would feel the
least bit mournful over the loss of Sophie-Anne, Arla Yvonne, Cleo . . . And
the list went on. It made me wonder, for the first time, if vampires might not
get inured to loss. Look at all the life that passed them by and then
vanished. Generation after generation went to their graves, while still the
undead lived on. And on.
Well, this tired human—who would eventually pass on— needed some
sleep in the worst possible way. If there was another hostile takeover
tonight, it would have to proceed without me. I locked the doors all over
again, called up the stairs to Amelia to tell her good night, and crawled
back into my bed. I lay awake for at least thirty minutes, because my
muscles twitched just when I was about to drift off. I would start up into full
wakefulness, thinking someone was coming in the room to warn me about
a great disaster.
But finally even the twitching couldn’t keep me awake any longer. I fell into
a heavy sleep. When I woke, the sun was up and shining in the window,
and Quinn was sitting in the chair in the corner where I’d slumped the night
before while I was trying to deal with Eric.
This was an unpleasant trend. I didn’t want a lot of guys popping in and out
of my bedroom. I wanted one who would stay.
“Who let you in?” I asked, propping myself up on one elbow. He looked
good for someone who hadn’t gotten much sleep. He was a very large man
with a very smooth head and huge purple eyes. I had always loved the way
he looked.
“Amelia,” he said. “I know I shouldn’t have come in; I should have waited
until you were up. You might not want me in the house.”
I went in the bathroom to give myself a minute, another ploy that was
getting all too familiar. When I came out, a little neater and more awake
than when I’d entered, Quinn had a mug of coffee for me. I took a sip and
instantly felt better able to cope with what ever was coming. But not in my
bedroom.
“Kitchen,” I said, and we went to the room that had always been the heart
of the house. It had been dated when the fire had gotten it. Now I had a
brand-new kitchen, but I still missed the old one. The table where my family
had eaten for years had been replaced with a modern one, and the new
chairs were lots more comfortable than the old ones, but regret still caught
at me every now and then when I thought of what had been lost.
I had an ominous feeling that “regret” was going to be the theme of the day.
During my troubled sleep, apparently I’d absorbed a dose of the practicality
that had seemed so sad to me the night before. To stave off the
conversation we were going to have to have, I stepped to the back door
and looked to see that Amelia’s car was gone. At least we were alone.
I sat down opposite the man I’d hoped to love.
“Babe, you look like someone just told you I was dead,” Quinn said.
“Might as well have,” I said, because I had to plow into this and look to
neither the right nor the left. He flinched.
“Sookie, what could I have done?” he asked. “What could I have done?”
There was an edge of anger in his voice.
“What can I do?” I asked in return, because I had no answer for him.
“I sent Frannie! I tried to warn you!”
“Too little, too late,” I said. I second-guessed myself immediately: Was I
being too hard, unfair, ungrateful? “If you’d called me weeks ago, even
once, I might feel different. But I guess you were too busy trying to find your
mother.”
“So you’re breaking up with me because of my mother,” he said. He
sounded bitter and I didn’t blame him.
“Yes,” I said after a moment’s inner testing of my own resolve. “I think I am.
It’s not your mom as much as her whole situation. Your mother will always
have to come first as long as she’s alive, because she’s so damaged. I’ve
got sympathy for that, believe me. And I’m sorry that you and Frannie have
a hard row to hoe. I know all about hard rows.”
Quinn was looking down into his coffee mug, his face drawn with anger and
weariness. This was probably the worst possible moment to be having this
showdown, and yet it had to be done. I hurt too bad to let it last any longer.
“Yet, knowing all this, and knowing I care for you, you don’t want to see me
anymore,” Quinn said, biting each word out. “You don’t want to try to make
it work.”
“I care for you, too, and I had hoped we’d have a lot more,” I said. “But last
night was just too much for me. Remember, I had to find out your past from
someone else? I think maybe you didn’t tell me about it from the start
because you knew it would be an issue. Not your pit fighting—I don’t care
about that. But your mom and Frannie . . . Well, they’re your family. They’re
. . . dependent. They have to have you. They’ll always come first.” I
stopped for a moment, biting the inside of my cheek. This was the hardest
part. “I want to be first. I know that’s selfish, and maybe unattainable, and
maybe shallow. But I just want to come first with someone. If that’s wrong
of me, so be it. I’ll be wrong. But that’s the way I feel.”
“Then there’s nothing left to talk about,” Quinn said after a moment’s
thought. He looked at me bleakly. I couldn’t disagree. His big hands flat on
the table, he pushed to his feet and left.
I felt like a bad person. I felt miserable and bereft. I felt like a selfish bitch.
But I let him walk out the door.
Chapter 14
While I was getting ready for work—yes, even after a night like the one I’d
had, I had to go to work—there was a knock at the front door. I’d heard
something big coming down the driveway, so I’d tied my shoes hastily.
The FedEx truck was not a frequent visitor at my house, and the thin
woman who hopped out was a stranger. I opened the battered front door
with some difficulty. It was never going to be the same after Quinn’s
entrance the night before. I made a mental note to call the Lowe’s in
Clarice to ask about a replacement. Maybe Jason would help me hang it.
The FedEx lady gave a long look at the door’s splintered condition when I
finally got it open.
“You want to sign for this?” she said as she held out a package, tactfully
not commenting.
“Sure.” I accepted the box, a little puzzled. It had come from Fangtasia.
Huh. As soon as the truck had wheeled back out to Hummingbird Road, I
opened the package. It was a red cell phone. It was programmed to my
number. There was a note with it. “Sorry about the other one, lover,” it read.
Signed with a big “E.” There was a charger included. And a car charger,
too. And a notice that my first six months’ bill had been paid.
With a kind of bemused feeling, I heard another truck coming. I didn’t even
bother to move from the front porch. The new arrival was from the
Shreveport Home Depot. It was a new front door, very pretty, with a twoman
crew to install it. All charges had been taken care of.
I wondered if Eric would clean out my dryer vent.
I got to Merlotte’s early so I could have a talk with Sam. But his office door
was shut, and I could hear voices inside. Though not unheard of, the
closed door was rare. I was instantly concerned and curious. I could read
Sam’s familiar mental signature, and there was another one that I had
encountered before. I heard a scrape of chair legs inside, and I hastily
stepped into the storeroom before the door opened.
Tanya Grissom walked by.
I waited for a couple of beats, then decided my business was so urgent I
had to risk a conversation with Sam, though he might not be in the mood
for it. My boss was still in his creaky wooden rolling chair, his feet propped
on the desk. His hair was even more of a mess than usual. He looked like
he had a reddish halo. He also looked thoughtful and preoccupied, but
when I said I needed to tell him some things, he nodded and asked me to
shut the door.
“Do you know what happened last night?” I asked.
“I hear there was a hostile takeover,” Sam said. He tilted back on the
springs of his rolling chair, and they squeaked in an irritating way. I was
definitely balancing on a thin edge today, so I had to bite my lip to keep
from snapping at him.
“Yeah, you might say that.” A hostile takeover was pretty much a perfect
way to put it. I told him what had happened at my house.
Sam looked troubled. “I don’t ever interfere in vamp business,” he said.
“The two-natured and vamps don’t mix well. I’m really sorry you got pulled
into that, Sookie. That asshole Eric.” He looked like there was more he
wanted to say, but he pressed his lips together.
“Do you know anything about the King of Nevada?” I asked.
“I know he has a publishing empire,” Sam said promptly. “And he has at
least one casino and some restaurants. He’s also the ultimate owner of a
management company that handles vampire entertainers. You know, the
Elvis Undead Revue with all-vamp Elvis tribute artists, which is pretty funny
when you think about it, and some great dance groups.” We both knew that
the real Elvis was still around but rarely in any shape to perform. “If there
had to be a takeover of a tourist state, Felipe de Castro is the right vampire
for the job. He’ll make sure New Orleans gets rebuilt like it ought to be,
because he’ll want the revenue.”
“Felipe de Castro ... That sounds exotic,” I said.
“I haven’t met him, but I understand he’s very, ah, charismatic,” Sam said.
“I wonder if he’ll be coming to Louisiana to live or if this Victor Madden will
be his agent here. Either way, it won’t affect the bar. But there’s no doubt
it’ll affect you, Sookie.” Sam uncrossed his legs and sat up straight in his
chair, which shrieked in protest. “I wish there was some way to get you out
of the vampire loop.”
“The night I met Bill, if I’d known what I know now, I wonder if I’d have done
anything different,” I said.
“Maybe I would’ve let the Rattrays have him.” I’d rescued Bill from a sleazy
couple who turned out to be not only sleazy, but murderers. They were
vampire drainers, people who lured vampires to spots where the vamps
could be subdued with silver chains and drained of blood, which sold for big
bucks on the black market. Drainers lived hazardous lives. The Rattrays
had paid the full price.
“You don’t mean that,” Sam said. He rocked in the chair again (squeak!
squeak!) and rose to his feet.
“You would never do that.”
It felt really pleasant to hear something nice about myself, especially after
the morning’s conversation with Quinn. I was tempted to talk to Sam about
that, too, but he was edging toward the door. Time to go to work, for both of
us. I got up, too. We went out and began the usual motions. My mind was
hardly on it, though.
To revive my flagging spirits, I tried to think of some bright point in the
future, something to look forward to. I couldn’t come up with anything. For a
long, bleak moment I stood by the bar, my hand on my order pad, trying not
to step over the edge into the chasm of depression. Then I slapped myself
on the cheek. Idiot! I have a house, and friends, and a job. I’m luckier than
millions of people on the planet. Things will look up.
For a while, that worked. I smiled at everyone, and if that smile was brittle,
by God, it was still a smile.
After an hour or two, Jason came into the bar with his wife, Crystal. Crystal
was looking sullen and slightly pregnant, and Jason was looking . . . Well,
he had that hard look about him, the mean look he got sometimes when
he’d been disappointed.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Oh, not much,” Jason said expansively. “You bring us a couple beers?”
“Sure,” I said, thinking he’d never ordered for Crystal before. Crystal was a
pretty woman several years younger than Jason. She was a werepanther,
but she wasn’t a very good one, mostly because of all the inbreeding in the
Hotshot community. Crystal had a hard time changing if it wasn’t the full
moon, and she had miscarried at least twice that I knew of. I pitied her
losses, the more so because I knew the panther community considered her
weak. Now Crystal was pregnant a third time. That pregnancy had maybe
been the only reason Calvin had let her marry Jason, who was bitten, not
born. That is, he’d become a panther by being repeatedly bitten—by a
jealous male who wanted Crystal for himself. Jason couldn’t change into a
real panther but into a sort of half-beast, half-man version. He enjoyed it.
I brought them their beers along with two frosted mugs and waited to see if
they were going to place a food order. I wondered about Crystal drinking,
but decided it wasn’t my business.
“I’d like me a cheeseburger with fries,” Jason said. No surprise there.
“What about you, Crystal?” I asked, trying to sound friendly. After all, this
was my sister-in-law.
“Oh, I don’t have enough money to eat,” she said.
I had no idea what to say. I looked at Jason inquiringly, and he gave me a
shrug. This shrug said (to his sister), “I’ve done something stupid and
wrong but I’m not going to back down, because I’m a stubborn shit.”
“Crystal, I’ll be glad to stand you lunch,” I said very quietly. “What would
you like?”
She glared at her husband. “I’d like the same, Sookie.”
I wrote her order down on a separate slip and strode to the hatch to turn
them in. I had been ready to get angry, and Jason had lit a match and
thrown it on my temper. The whole story was clear in their heads, and as I
came to understand what was going on, I was sick of both of them.
Crystal and Jason had settled into Jason’s house, but almost every day
Crystal rode out to Hotshot, her comfort zone, where she didn’t have to
pretend anything. She was used to being surrounded by her kin, and she
especially missed her sister and her sister’s babies. Tanya Grissom was
renting a room from Crystal’s sister, the room Crystal had lived in until she
married Jason. Crystal and Tanya had become instant buddies. Since
Tanya’s favorite occupation was shopping, Crystal had gone along for the
ride several times. In fact, she’d spent all the money Jason had given her
for household expenses. She’d done this two pay-checks in a row, despite
multiple scenes and promises.
Now Jason refused to give her any more money. He was doing all the
grocery shopping and picking up any dry cleaning, paying every bill himself.
He’d told Crystal if she wanted any money of her own, she had to get a job.
The unskilled and pregnant Crystal had not succeeded in finding one, so
she didn’t have a dime.
Jason was trying to make a point, but by humiliating his wife in public he
was making the wrong point entirely. What an idiot my brother could be.
What I could do about this situation? Well ... nothing. They had to work it
out themselves. I was looking at two stunted people who’d never grown up,
and I wasn’t optimistic about their chances.
With a deep twinge of unease, I remembered their unusual wedding vows;
at least, they’d seemed odd to me, though I supposed they were the
Hotshot norm. As Jason’s closest living relative, I’d had to promise to take
the punishment if Jason misbehaved, just as her uncle Calvin had
promised the same on Crystal’s behalf. I’d been pretty damn rash to make
that promise.
When I carried their plates to their table, I saw that the two were in the jawclenching,
looking-anywhere-but-at-each-other stage of quarreling. I put the
plates down carefully, got them a bottle of Heinz ketchup, and skedaddled.
I’d interfered enough by buying Crystal lunch.
There was a person involved in this I could approach, and I promised
myself then and there that I would. All my anger and unhappiness focused
on Tanya Grissom. I really wanted to do something awful to that woman.
What the hell was she hanging around for, sniffing around Sam? What was
her goal in drawing Crystal into this spending spiral? (And I didn’t think for a
second it was by chance that Tanya’s newest big buddy was my sister-inlaw.)
Was Tanya trying to irritate me to death? It was like having a horsefly
buzzing around and lighting occasionally ... but never quite close enough to
swat. While I went about my job on autopilot, I pondered what I could do to
get her out of my orbit. For the first time in my life, I wondered if I could
forcibly pin another person down to read her mind. It wouldn’t be so easy,
since Tanya was a wereanimal, but I would find out what was driving her.
And I had the conviction that information would save me a lot of heartache
... a lot.
While I plotted and schemed and fumed, Crystal and Jason silently ate their
food, and Jason pointedly paid his own bill, while I took care of Crystal’s.
They left, and I wondered what their evening would be like. I was glad I
wasn’t going to be a party to it.
From behind the bar Sam had observed all this, and he asked me in a low
voice, “What’s up with those two?”
“They’re having the newlywed blues,” I said. “Severe adjustment problems.”
He looked troubled. “Don’t let them drag you into it,” he said, and then
looked like he regretted opening his mouth. “Sorry, don’t mean to give you
unwanted advice,” he said.
Something prickled at the corners of my eyes. Sam was giving me advice
because he cared about me. In my overwrought state, that was cause for
sentimental tears. “That’s okay, boss,” I said, trying to sound perky and
carefree. I spun on my heel and went to patrol my tables. Sheriff Bud
Dearborn was sitting in my section, which was unusual. Normally he’d pick
a seat somewhere else if he knew I was working. Bud had a basket of
onion rings in front of him, liberally doused with ketchup, and he was
reading a Shreveport paper. The lead story was POLICE SEARCH FOR
SIX, and I stopped to ask Bud if I could have his paper when he was
through with it.
He looked at me suspiciously. His little eyes in his mashed-in face scanned
me as if he suspected he’d find a bloody cleaver hanging from my belt.
“Sure, Sookie,” he said after a long moment. “You got any of these missing
people stowed away at your house?”
I beamed at him, anxiety transforming my smile into the bright grin of
someone who wasn’t all there mentally. “No, Bud, I just want to find out
what’s going on in the world. I’m behind on the news.”
Bud said, “I’ll leave it on the table,” and he began reading again. I think he
would have pinned Jimmy Hoffa on me if he could have figured a way to
make it stick. Not that he necessarily thought I was a murderer, but he
thought I was fishy and maybe involved in things that he didn’t want
happening in his parish. Bud Dearborn and Alcee Beck had that conviction
in common, especially since the death of the man in the library. Luckily for
me, the man had turned out to have a record as long as my arm; and not
only a record, but one for violent crimes. Though Alcee knew I’d acted in
self-defense, he’d never trust me . . . and neither would Bud Dearborn.
When Bud had finished his beer and his onion rings and departed to rain
terror on the evildoers of Renard Parish, I took his paper over to the bar
and read the story with Sam looking over my shoulder. I had deliberately
stayed away from the news after the bloodbath at the empty office park. I’d
been sure the Were community couldn’t cover up something so big; all they
could do was muddy the trail the police would surely be following. That
proved to be the case.
After more than twenty-four hours, police remain baffled in their search for
six missing Shreveport citizens. Hampering them is their inability to
discover anyone who saw any of the missing people after ten o’clock on
Wednesday night.
“We can’t find anything they had in common,” said Detective Willie
Cromwell.
Among the missing is a Shreveport police detective, Cal Myers; Amanda
Whatley, owner of a bar in the central Shreveport area; Patrick Furnan,
owner of the local Harley-Davidson dealership, and his wife, Libby;
Christine Larrabee, widow of John Larrabee, retired school superintendent;
and Julio Martinez, an airman from Barksdale Air Force Base. Neighbors of
the Furnans say they hadn’t seen Libby Furnan for a day prior to Patrick
Furnan’s disappearance, and Christine Larrabee’s cousin says she had not
been able to contact Larrabee by phone for three days, so police speculate
that the two women may have met with foul play prior to the disappearance
of the others.
The disappearance of Detective Cal Myers has the force on edge. His
partner, Detective Mike Loughlin, said, “Myers was one of the newly
promoted detectives, and we hadn’t had time to get to know each other
well. I have no idea what could have happened to him.” Myers, 29, had
been with the Shreveport force for seven years. He was not married.
“If they are all dead, you would think at least one body would have turned
up by now,” Detective Cromwell said yesterday. “We have searched all
their residences and businesses for clues, and so far we have come up
with nothing.”
To add to the mystery, on Monday another Shreveport area resident was
murdered. Maria-Star Cooper, photographer’s assistant, was slain in her
apartment on Highway 3. “The apartment was like a butcher shop,” said
Cooper’s landlord, among the first on the scene. No suspects have been
reported in the slaying. “Everyone loved Maria-Star,” said her mother, Anita
Cooper. “She was so talented and pretty.”
Police do not yet know if Cooper’s death is related to the disappearances.
In other news, Don Dominica, owner of Don’s RV Park, reported the
absence of the owners of three RVs parked on his property for a week. “I’m
not sure how many people were in each trailer,” he said. “They all arrived
together and rented the spaces for a month. The name on the rental is
Priscilla Hebert. I think at least six people were in each RV. They all
seemed pretty normal to me.”
Asked if all their belongings were still in place, Dominica replied, “I don’t
know; I haven’t been checking. I ain’t got time for that. But I haven’t seen
hide nor hair of them for days.”
Other residents of the RV park had not met the new-comers. “They kept to
themselves,” said a neighbor.
Police Chief Parfit Graham said, “I’m sure we’ll solve these crimes. The
right piece of information will surface. In the meantime, if anyone has
knowledge of the whereabouts of any of these people, call the Tipster
Hotline.”
I considered it. I imagined the phone call. “All of these people died as a
result of the werewolf war,” I would say. “They were all Weres, and a
displaced and hungry pack from south Louisiana decided the dissension in
the ranks in Shreveport created an opening for them.”
I didn’t think I’d get much of a hearing.
“So they haven’t found the site yet,” Sam said very quietly.
“I guess that really was a good place for the meeting.”
“Sooner or later, though...”
“Yeah. I wonder what’s left?”
“Alcide’s crew’s had plenty of time now,” Sam said. “So, not much. They
probably burned the bodies somewhere out in the sticks. Or buried them on
someone’s land.”
I shuddered. Thank God I hadn’t had to be part of that; and at least I really
didn’t know where the bodies were buried. After checking my tables and
serving some more drinks, I went back to the paper and flipped it open to
the obituaries. Reading down the column headed “State Deaths,” I got an
awful shock.
SOPHIE-ANNE LECLERQ, prominent businesswoman, residing in Baton
Rouge since Katrina, died of Sino-AIDS in her home. Leclerq, a vampire,
had extensive holdings in New Orleans and in many places in the state.
Sources close to Leclerq say she had lived in Louisiana for a hundred
years or more.
I’d never seen an obituary for a vampire. This one was a complete
fabrication. Sophie-Anne had not had Sino-AIDS, the only disease that
could cross from humans to vampires. Sophie-Anne had probably had an
acute attack of Mr. Stake. Sino-AIDS was dreaded among vampires, of
course, despite the fact that it was hard to communicate. At least it
provided a palatable explanation for the human business community as to
why Sophie-Anne’s holdings were being managed by another vampire, and
it was an explanation that no one would question too closely, especially
since there was no body to refute the claim. To get it in today’s paper,
someone must have called it in directly after she’d been killed, perhaps
even before she was dead. Ugh. I shivered.
I wondered what had really happened to Sigebert, Sophie-Anne’s devoted
bodyguard. Victor had implied Sigebert had perished along with the queen,
but he hadn’t definitely said so. I couldn’t believe the bodyguard could still
be alive. He would never have let anyone get close enough to kill Sophie-
Anne. Sigebert had been at her side for so many years, hundreds upon
hundreds, that I didn’t think he could have survived her loss.
I left the newspaper open to the obituaries and placed it on Sam’s desk,
figuring the bar was too busy a place to talk about it even if we had the
time. We’d had an influx of customers. I was running my feet off serving
them and pocketing some good tips, too. But after the week I’d had, it was
not only hard to feel normally happy about the money, it was also
impossible to feel normally cheerful about being at work. I just did my best
to smile and respond when I was spoken to.
By the time I got off work, I didn’t want to talk to anyone about anything.
But of course, I didn’t get my druthers.
There were two women waiting in the front yard at my house, and they both
radiated anger. One, I already knew: Frannie Quinn. The woman with her
had to be Quinn’s mother. In the harsh glare of the security light I had a
good look at the woman whose life had been such a disaster. I realized no
one had ever told me her name. She was still pretty, but in a Goth sort of
way that wasn’t kind to her age. She was in her forties; her face was gaunt,
her eyes shadowed. She had dark hair with more than a touch of gray, and
she was very tall and thin. Frannie was wearing a tank top that showed her
bra, and tight jeans, and boots. Her mother was wearing pretty much the
same outfit but in different colors. I guessed Frannie had charge of
dressing her mother.
I parked beside them, because I had no intention of inviting them in. I got
out of my car reluctantly.
“You bitch,” Frannie said passionately. Her young face was rigid with
anger. “How could you do that to my brother? He did so much for you!”
That was one way to look at it. “Frannie,” I said, keeping my voice as calm
and level as I could, “what happens between Quinn and me is really not
any of your business.”
The front door opened, and Amelia stepped out on the porch. “Sookie, you
need me?” she asked, and I smelled magic around her.
“I’m coming in, in just a second,” I said clearly, but didn’t tell her to go back
inside. Mrs. Quinn was a pureblood weretiger, and Frannie was half; they
were both stronger than me.
Mrs. Quinn stepped forward and looked at me quizzically.
“You’re the one John loved,” she said. “You’re the one who broke up with
him.”
“Yes, ma’am. It just wasn’t going to work out.”
“They say I have to go back to that place in the desert,” she said. “Where
they store all the crazy Weres.”
No shit. “Oh, do they?” I said, to make it clear I had nothing to do with it.
“Yes,” she said, and lapsed into silence, which was kind of a big relief.
Frannie, however, had not done with me. “I loaned you my car,” she said. “I
came to warn you.”
“And I thank you,” I said. My heart sank. I couldn’t think of any magic words
to lessen the pain in the air. “Believe me, I wish things had worked out
different.” Lame but true.
“What’s wrong with my brother?” Frannie asked. “He’s handsome; he loves
you; he’s got money. He’s a great guy. What’s wrong with you that you
don’t want him?”
The bald answer—that I really admired Quinn but didn’t want to play
second fiddle to his family’s needs—was simply unspeakable for two
reasons: it was unnecessarily hurtful, and I might be seriously injured as a
result. Mrs. Quinn might not be compos mentis, but she was listening with
growing agitation. If she changed to her tiger form, I had no idea what
would happen. She might run off into the woods, or she might attack. All
this zoomed through my mind in little pictures. I had to say something.
“Frannie,” I said very slowly and deliberately because I had no idea what I
was going to follow that up with. “There’s nothing wrong with your brother
at all. I think he’s the greatest. But we just have too many strikes against us
as a couple. I want him to have the best chance at making a match with
some lucky, lucky woman. So I cut him loose. Believe me, I’m hurting, too.”
This was mostly true, which helped. But I hoped Amelia had her fingertips
primed to deliver some good magic. And I hoped she got the spell right.
Just in case, I began shifting away from Frannie and her mother.
Frannie was teetering on the brink of action, and her mother was looking
increasingly restless. Amelia had eased forward to the edge of the porch.
The smell of magic intensified. For a long moment, the night seemed to
catch its breath.
And then Frannie turned away. “Come on, Mama,” she said, and the two
women got into Frannie’s car. I took advantage of the moment to run up on
the porch. Amelia and I stood shoulder to shoulder wordlessly until Frannie
started up the car and drove away.
“Well,” Amelia said. “So, you broke up with him, I’m gathering.”
“Yeah.” I was exhausted. “He had too much baggage.” Then I winced.
“Gosh, I never thought I’d catch myself saying that. Especially considering
my own.”
“He had his mama.” Amelia was on a perceptive roll that night.
“Yeah, he had his mama. Listen, thanks for coming out of the house and
risking a mauling.”
“What are roommates for?” Amelia gave me a light hug and said, “You look
like you need to have a bowl of soup and go to bed.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That sounds about right.”