Book Nine 10-12

Chapter 10
Cold water trickled over my face and neck. I spluttered and choked as some trickled into my mouth.
“Too much?” asked a hard voice, and I pried open my eyes to see Eric. We were in my room, and only the bathroom light was on.
“Enough,” I said. The mattress shifted as Eric got up to carry the washrag into my bathroom. In a second he was back with a hand towel, dabbing at my face and neck. My pillow was damp, but I decided not to worry about it. The house was cooling off now that the sun was gone, and I was lying there in my underwear. “Cold,” I said. “Where are my clothes?”
“Stained,” Eric said. There was a blanket at the end of the bed, and he pulled it up over me. He turned his back to me for a moment, and I heard his shoes hit the floor. Then he got under the blanket with me and propped himself up on an elbow. He was looking down at me. His back was to the light coming from the bathroom, so I couldn’t discern his expression. “Do you love him?” he said.
“Are they alive?” No point in deciding if I loved Quinn or not if he was dead, right? Or maybe Eric meant Bill. I couldn’t decide. I realized I felt a little odd.
“Quinn drove away with a few broken ribs and a broken jaw,” Eric told me, his voice quite neutral. “Bill will heal tonight, if he hasn’t already.”
I considered that. “I guess you had something to do with Bill being here?”
“I knew when Quinn disobeyed our ruling. He was sighted within half an hour of crossing into my area. And Bill was the closest vampire to send to your house. His task was to make sure you weren’t being harassed while I made my way here. He took his role a little too seriously. I’m sorry you were hurt,” Eric said, his voice stiff. He wasn’t used to making apologies, and I smiled in the darkness. It was almost impossible for me to feel anxious, I noticed in a distant kind of way. And yet surely I ought to be upset and angry?
“So they stopped fighting when I hit the ground, I hope.”
“Yes, the collision ended the . . . scuffle.”
“And Quinn left on his own?” I ran my tongue around my mouth, which tasted funny: kind of sharp and metallic.
“Yes, he did. I told him I would take care of you. He knew he’d crossed too many lines by coming to see you, since I’d told him not to enter my area. Bill was less accepting, but I made him return to his house.”
Typical sheriff behavior. “Did you give me some of your blood?” I asked.
Eric nodded quite casually. “You had been knocked unconscious,” he said. “And I know that is serious. I wanted you to feel well. It was my fault.”
I sighed. “Mr. High-handed,” I muttered.
“Explain. I don’t know this term.”
“It means someone who thinks he knows what’s best for everyone. He makes decisions for them without asking them.” Maybe I had put a personal spin on the term, but so what?
“Then I am high-handed,” Eric said with no shame whatsoever. “I’m also very . . .” He dipped his head and kissed me slowly, leisurely.
“Horny,” I said.
“Exactly,” he said, and kissed me again. “I’ve worked with my new masters. I’ve shored up my authority. I can have my own life now. It’s time I claimed what is mine.”
I’d told myself I’d make up my own mind, no matter how Eric and I were tied by our blood exchanges. After all, I still had free will. But whether or not the inclination had been planted by Eric’s blood donation, I found that my body was strongly in favor of returning the kiss and of trailing the palm of my hand down Eric’s broad back. Through the fabric of his shirt, I could feel the muscles and tendons and the bones of his spine as they moved. My hands seemed to remember the map of Eric’s topography even as my lips remembered the way he kissed. We went on this way very slowly for a few minutes as he reacquainted himself with me.
“Do you really remember?” I asked him. “Do you really remember staying with me before? Do you remember what it felt like?”
“Oh, yes,” he said, “I remember.” He had my bra unhooked before I’d even realized his hand was back there. “How could I forget these?” he said, his hair falling around his face as his mouth fastened on my breast. I felt the tiny sting of his fangs and the sharp pleasure of his mouth. I touched the fly of his jeans, brushed my hand against the bulge inside, and suddenly the moment for being tentative was over.
His jeans were off, and his shirt, too, and my panties vanished. His long cool body pressed full-length against my warm one. He kissed me over and over in a kind of frenzy. He made a hungry noise, and I echoed it. His fingers probed me, fluttering against the hard nub in a way that made me squirm.
“Eric,” I said, trying to position myself underneath him. “Now.”
He said, “Oh, yes.” He slid inside as if he’d never been gone, as if we’d made love every night for the past year. “This is best,” he whispered, and his voice had that accent I caught occasionally, that hint of a time and place that were so far distant I could not imagine them. “This is best ,” he said again. “This is right .” He pulled out a little, and I made a choked noise.
“Not hurting?” he asked.
“Not hardly,” I said.
“I am too big for some.”
“Bring it on,” I said.
He shoved forward.
“Omigod,” I said through clenched teeth. My fingers were digging hard into the muscles of his arms. “Yes, again!” He was as deep inside me as he could get without an operation, and he glowed above me, his white skin shining in the darkness of the room. He said something in a language I didn’t recognize; after a long moment, he repeated it. And then he began to move quicker and quicker until I thought I would be pounded into pieces, but I kept up. I kept up, until I saw his fangs glisten as he bent over me. When he bit my shoulder, I left my body for a minute. I’d never felt anything so good. I didn’t have enough breath to scream or even speak. My arms were around Eric’s back, and I felt him shudder all over as he had his own good minute.
I was so shaken I couldn’t have talked if my life had depended on it. We lay in silence, exhausted. I didn’t mind his weight on me. I felt safe.
He licked the bite mark in a lazy way, and I smiled into the darkness. I stroked his back as if I were soothing an animal. I felt better than I’d felt in months. It had been a while since I’d had sex, and this was like . . .gourmet sex. Even now I felt little jolts of pleasure ripple out from the epicenter of the orgasm.
“Will this change the blood bond?” I asked. I was careful not to sound like I was accusing him of something. But of course, I was.
“Felipe wanted you. The stronger our bond, the less chance there is he can maneuver you away.”
I flinched. “I can’t do that.”
“You won’t need to,” Eric said, his voice flowing over me like a feather quilt. “We are pledged with the knife. We are bonded. He can’t take you from me.”
I could only be grateful I didn’t have to go to Las Vegas. I didn’t want to leave home. I couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be surrounded by so much greed; well, yes, I could. It would be awful. Eric’s big, cool hand cupped my breast, and he stroked with his long thumb.
“Bite me,” Eric said, and he meant it literally.
“Why? You said you already gave me some.”
“Because it makes me feel good,” he said, and moved on top of me again. “Just . . . for that.”
“You can’t be . . .” But he was ready again.
“Would you like to be on top?” Eric asked.
“We could do that for a while,” I said, trying not to sound too femme fatale. In fact, it was hard not to growl. Before I could even gather myself, we’d reversed positions. His eyes were intent on mine. His hands went up to my breasts, caressing and pinching gently, and his mouth followed after his hands.
I was afraid I was losing control of my leg muscles, I was so relaxed. I moved slowly, not very regularly. I felt the tension gradually beginning to build again. I began to focus, to move steadily.
“Slow,” he said, and I reduced the pace. His hands found my hips and began to direct me.
“Oh,” I said, as a sharper pleasure began to seep through me. He’d found my pleasure center with his thumb. I began to speed things up, and if he tried to slow me after that, I ignored it. I rose and fell faster and faster, and then I took his wrist, and I bit with all my strength, sucked on the wound. He yelled, an incoherent sound of release and relief. That was enough to finish me, and I collapsed on top of him. I licked his wrist lazily, though I didn’t have the coagulant in my saliva that he possessed.
“Perfect,” he said. “Perfect.”
I started to tell him he couldn’t possibly mean that, as many women as he’d had over the centuries, but I figured, Why spoil the moment? Let it be . In a rare moment of wisdom, I listened to my own advice.
“Can I tell you what happened today?” I asked after we’d drowsed for a few minutes.
“Of course, my lover.” His eyes were half open. He was lying on his back beside me, and the room smelled of sex and vampire. “I’m all ears—for the moment, at least.” He laughed.
This was the real treat, or at least one of the real treats—having someone with whom to share the day’s events. Eric was a good listener, at least in his postcoital relaxed state. I told him about Andy and Lattesta’s visit, about Diantha’s appearance while I was sunbathing.
“I thought I tasted the sun on your skin,” he said, stroking my side. “Go on.”
So off I babbled like a brook in the spring, telling him about my rendezvous with Claude and Claudine and all they’d told me about Breandan and Dermot.
Eric was more alert when I was talking about the fairies. “I smelled fairies around the house,” he said. “But in my overwhelming anger at seeing your tiger-striped suitor, I put the thought aside. Who came here?”
“Well, this bad fairy named Murry, but don’t worry, I killed him,” I said. If I’d ever doubted I had Eric’s full attention, I didn’t doubt it any longer.
“How did you do that, my lover?” he asked very gently.
I explained, and by the time I got to the part where my great-grandfather and Dillon showed up, Eric sat up, the blanket falling away. He was completely serious and alert.
“The body is gone?” he asked for the third time, and I said, “Yes, Eric, it is.”
“It might be a good idea for you to stay in Shreveport,” Eric said. “You could even stay in my house.”
That was a first. I’d never been invited to Eric’s house before. I had no idea where it was. I was astonished and sort of touched.
“I really appreciate that,” I said, “but it would be awful hard for me to commute from Shreveport back here to work.”
“You would be much safer if you left your job until this problem with the fairies is resolved.” Eric cocked his head while he looked at me, his face quite expressionless.
“No, thanks,” I said. “Nice of you to offer. But it would be really inconvenient for you, I bet, and I know it would be for me.”
“Pam is the only other person I’ve invited to my home.”
I said brightly, “Only blondes permitted, huh?”
“I honor you with the invitation.” Still not a clue on his face. If I hadn’t been so used to reading peoples’ minds, maybe I could have interpreted his body language better. I was too accustomed to knowing what people really meant, no matter what words they spoke.
“Eric, I’m clueless,” I said. “Cards on the table, okay? I can tell you’re waiting for me to give you a certain reaction, but I have no idea what it is.”
He looked baffled; that’s what he looked.
“What are you after?” he asked me, shaking his head. The beautiful golden hair tumbled around his face in tangles. He was a total mess since we’d made love. He looked better than ever. Grossly unfair.
“What am I after?” He lay back down, and I turned on my side to face him. “I don’t think I’m after anything,” I said carefully. “I was after an orgasm, and I got plenty of those.” I smiled at him, hoping that was the right answer.
“You don’t want to quit your job?”
“Why would I quit my job? How would I live?” I asked blankly. Then, finally, I got it. “Did you think that since we made whoopee and you said I was yours, I’d want to quit work and keep house for you? Eat candy all day, let you eat me all night?”
Yep, that was it. His face confirmed it. I didn’t know how to feel. Hurt? Angry? No, I’d had enough of all that today. I couldn’t pump another strong emotion to the surface if I had all night. “Eric, I like to work,” I said mildly. “I need to get out of the house every day and mingle with people. If I stay away, it’s like a deafening clamor when I get back. It’s much better for me to deal with people, to stay used to keeping all those voices in the background.” I wasn’t explaining very well. “Plus, I like being at the bar. I like seeing everyone I work with. I guess giving people alcohol isn’t exactly noble or a public service; maybe the opposite. But I’m good at what I do, and it suits me. Are you saying . . . What are you saying?”
Eric looked uncertain, an expression that sat oddly on his normally self-assured face. “This is what other women have wanted from me,” he said. “I was trying to offer it before you asked for it.”
“I’m not anyone else,” I said. It was hard to shrug in my position on the bed, but I tried.
“You’re mine,” he said. Then he noticed my frown and amended his words hastily. “You’re only my lover. Not Quinn’s, not Sam’s, not Bill’s.” There was a long pause. “Aren’t you?” he said.
A relationship discussion initiated by the guy. This was different, if I went by the stories I’d heard from the other barmaids.
“I don’t know if the—comfort—I feel with you is the blood exchange or a feeling I would’ve had naturally,” I said, picking each word carefully. “I don’t think I would have been so ready to have sex with you tonight if we didn’t have a blood bond, because today has been one hell of a day. I can’t say, ‘Oh, Eric, I love you, carry me away,’ because I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. Until I’m sure, I have no intention of changing my life drastically.”
Eric’s brows began to draw together, a sure sign of displeasure.
“Am I happy when I’m with you?” I put my hand against his cheek. “Yes, I am. Do I think making love with you is the greatest thing ever? Yes, I do. Do I want to do it again? You bet, though not right now since I’m sleepy. But soon. And often. Am I having sex with anyone else? No. And I won’t, unless I decide the bond is all we have.”
He looked as if he were thinking of several different responses. Finally he said, “Do you regret Quinn?”
“Yes,” I said, because I had to be honest. “Because we had the beginning of something good going, and I may have made a huge mistake sending him away. But I’ve never been seriously involved with two men at the same time, and I’m not starting now. Right now, that man is you.”
“You love me,” he said, and he nodded.
“I appreciate you,” I said cautiously. “I have big lust for you. I enjoy your company.”
“There’s a difference,” Eric said.
“Yes, there is. But you don’t see me bugging you to spell out how you feel about me, right? Because I’m pretty damn sure I wouldn’t like the answer. So maybe you better rein it in a little yourself.”
“You don’t want to know how I feel about you?” Eric looked incredulous. “I can’t believe you’re a human woman. Women always want to know how you feel about them.”
“And I’ll bet they’re sorry when you tell them, huh?”
He lifted one eyebrow. “If I tell them the truth.”
“That’s supposed to put me in a confiding mood?”
“I always tell you the truth,” he said. And there wasn’t a trace of that smile left on his face. “I may not tell you everything I know, but what I tell you . . . it’s true.”
“Why?”
“The blood exchange has worked both ways,” he said. “I’ve had the blood of many women. I’ve had almost utter control over them. But they never drank mine. It’s been decades, maybe centuries since I gave any woman my blood. Maybe not since I turned Pam.”
“Is this the general policy among vampires you know?” I wasn’t quite sure how to ask what I wanted to know.
He hesitated, nodded. “For the most part. There are some vampires who like to take total control over a human . . . make that human their Renfield.” He used the term with distaste.
“That’s from Dracula , right?”
“Yes, Dracula’s human servant. A degraded creature . . . Why someone of Dracula’s eminence would want so debased a man as that . . .” Eric shook his head disgustedly. “But it does happen. The best of us look askance at a vampire who makes servant after servant. The human is lost when the vampire assumes too much control. When the human goes completely under, he isn’t worth turning. He isn’t worth anything at all. Sooner or later, he has to be killed.”
“Killed! Why?”
“If the vampire who’s assumed so much control abandons the Renfield, or if the vampire himself is killed . . . the Renfield’s life is not worth living after that.”
“They have to be put down,” I said. Like a dog with rabies.
“Yes.” Eric looked away.
“But that’s not going to happen to me. And you won’t ever turn me.” I was absolutely serious.
“No. I won’t ever force you into subservience. And I will never turn you, since you don’t want it.”
“Even if I’m going to die, don’t turn me. I would hate that more than anything.”
“I agree to that. No matter how much I may want to keep you.”
Right after we’d met, Bill had not changed me when I had been close to death. I’d never realized he might have been tempted to do so. He’d saved my human life instead. I put that away to consider later. Tacky to think about one man when you’re in bed with another.
“You saved me from being bonded to Andre,” I said. “But it cost me.”
“If he’d lived, it would have cost me, too. No matter how mild his reaction, Andre would have paid me back for my intervention.”
“He seemed so calm about it that night,” I said. Eric had persuaded Andre to let him be his proxy. I’d been very grateful at the time, since Andre gave me the creeps and he didn’t give a damn about me, either. I remembered my talk with Tara. If I’d let Andre share blood that night, I’d be free now, since he’s dead . I still couldn’t decide how I felt about that—probably three different ways.
Tonight was turning out to be a huge one for realizations. They could just stop coming any old time now.
“Andre never forgot a challenge to his will,” Eric said. “Do you know how he died, Sookie?”
Ah-oh.
“He got stuck in the chest with a big splinter of wood,” I said, swallowing a little. Like Eric, I didn’t always tell the whole truth. The splinter hadn’t gotten in Andre’s chest by accident. Quinn had done that.
Eric looked at me for what seemed like a very long time. He could feel my anxiety, of course. I waited to see if he’d push the issue. “I don’t miss Andre,” he said finally. “I regret Sophie-Anne, though. She was brave.”
“I agree,” I said, relieved. “By the way, how are you getting along with your new bosses?”
“So far, so good. They’re very forward-thinking. I like that.”
Since the end of October, Eric had had to learn the structure of a new and larger organization, the characters of the vampires who made it work, and how to liaise with the new sheriffs. Even for him, that was a big bite to chew.
“I bet the vamps you had with you before that night are extra glad they pledged loyalty to you, since they survived when so many of the other vamps in Louisiana died that night.”
Eric smiled broadly. It would have been really scary if I hadn’t seen the fang display before. “Yes,” he said with a whole bunch of satisfaction. “They owe me their lives, and they know it.”
He slid his arms around me and held me against his cool body. I was content and sated, and my fingers trailed through the happy trail of golden hair that led downward. I thought of the provocative picture of Eric as Mr. January in the “Vampires of Louisiana” calendar. I liked the one he’d given me even more. I wondered if I could get a poster-sized blowup.
He laughed when I asked him. “We should think of producing another calendar,” he said. “It was a real earner for us. If I can have a picture of you in the same pose, I’ll give you a poster of me.”
I thought about it for twenty seconds. “I don’t think I could do a nude picture,” I said with some regret. “They always seem to show up to bite you in the ass.”
Eric laughed again, low and husky. “You talk a lot about that,” he said. “Shall I bite you in the ass?” This led to a lot of other things, wonderful and playful things. After those things had come to a happy completion, Eric glanced at the clock beside my bed.
“I have to go,” he whispered.
“I know,” I said. My eyes were heavy with sleep.
He began to dress for his return to Shreveport, and I pulled down the covers and snuggled into the bed properly. It was hard to keep my eyes open, though watching him move around my bedroom was a sweet sight.
He bent to kiss me, and I put my arms around his neck. For a second, I knew he was thinking of crawling back in the bed with me; I hoped it was his body language and his murmur of pleasure that cued me to his thoughts. Every now and then, I got a flash from a vampire mind, and it scared me to death. I didn’t think I’d last long if vampires realized I could read their minds, no matter how seldom that occurred.
“I want you again,” he said, sounding a little surprised. “But I have to go.”
“I’ll see you soon, I guess?” I was awake enough to feel uncertain.
“Yes,” he said. His eyes were bright and his skin glowed. The mark on his wrist was gone. I touched where it had been. He leaned over to kiss the place on my neck where he’d bitten me, and I shivered all over. “Soon.”
Then he was gone, and I heard the back door close quietly behind him. With the last bit of energy in my muscles, I rose and passed through the kitchen in the dark to shoot the dead bolt. I saw Amelia’s car parked by mine; at some point, she’d returned home.
I went to the sink to get a drink of water. I knew the dark kitchen like the back of my hand, so I didn’t need a light. I drank and realized how thirsty I was. As I turned to go back to bed, I saw something move at the edge of the woods. I froze, my heart pounding in a very unpleasant way.
Bill stepped out of the trees. I knew it was him, though I couldn’t see his face clearly. He stood looking up, and I knew he must have watched Eric take flight. Bill had recovered from the fight with Quinn, then.
I expected to be angry that Bill was watching me, but the anger never rose. No matter what had happened between us, I could not rid myself of the feeling that Bill had not simply been spying on me—he had been watching over me.
Also—more practically—there was nothing to be done about it. I could hardly throw open the door and apologize for having male company. At this moment, I wasn’t the least bit sorry I’d gone to bed with Eric. In fact, I felt as sated as if I’d had the Thanksgiving feast of sex. Eric didn’t look anything like a turkey—but after I had a happy mental image of him lying on my kitchen table with some sweet potatoes and marshmallows, I was able to think only of my bed. I slid under the covers with a smile on my face, and almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was asleep.
Chapter 11
I should have known my brother would come to see me. I should only have felt surprised that he hadn’t appeared earlier. When I got up the next day at noon, feeling as relaxed as a cat in a pool of sunshine, Jason was in the backyard on the chaise I’d used the day before. I thought it was smart of him not to come inside, considering we were at odds with each other.
Today wasn’t going to be nearly as warm as the day before. It was cold and raw. Jason was bundled in a heavy camo jacket and a knit cap. He was staring up into the cloudless sky.
I remembered the twins’ warning, and I looked at him carefully; but no, it was Jason. The feel of his mind was familiar, but maybe a fairy could impersonate even that. I listened in for a second. No, this was definitely my brother.
It was strange to see him sitting idle and even stranger to see him alone. Jason was always talking, drinking, flirting with women, working at his job, or working on his house; and if he wasn’t with a woman, he nearly always had a male shadow—Hoyt (until he’d been preempted by Holly) or Mel. Contemplation and solitude were not states I associated with my brother. Watching him stare at the sky as I sipped my mug of coffee, I thought, Jason’s a widower now .
That was a strange new identity for Jason, a heavy one he might not be able to manage. He’d cared for Crystal more than she’d cared for him. That had been a new experience for Jason, too. Crystal—pretty, stupid, and faithless—had been his female counterpart. Maybe her infidelity had been an attempt to reassert her independence, to struggle against the pregnancy that had tied her more securely to Jason. Maybe she’d just been a bad woman. I’d never understood her, and now I never would.
I knew I’d have to go talk to my brother. Though I’d told Jason to stay away from me, he wasn’t listening. When had he ever? Maybe he’d taken the temporary truce caused by Crystal’s death as a sign of a new state of things.
I sighed and went out the back door. Since I’d slept so late, I’d showered before I’d even made my coffee. I grabbed my old quilted pink jacket off the rack by the back door and pulled it over my jeans and sweater.
I put a mug of coffee on the ground by Jason, and I sat on the upright folding chair close to him. He didn’t turn his head, though he knew I was there. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses.
“You forgiven me?” he asked after he’d taken a gulp of coffee. His voice sounded hoarse and thick. I thought he’d been crying.
“I expect that sooner or later I might,” I said. “But I’ll never feel the same about you again.”
“God, you’ve gotten hard. You’re all the family I’ve got left.” The dark glasses turned to face me. You have to forgive me, because you’re all I have who can forgive .
I looked at him, feeling a little exasperated, a little sad. If I was getting harder, it was in response to the world around me. “If you need me so much, I guess you should have thought twice before you set me up like that.” I rubbed my face with my free hand. He had some family he didn’t know about, and I wasn’t going to tell him. He would only try to use Niall, too.
“When will they release Crystal’s body?” I asked.
“Maybe in a week,” he said. “Then we can have the funeral. Will you come?”
“Yes. Where will it be?”
“There’s a chapel out close to Hotshot,” he said. “It doesn’t look like much.”
“The Tabernacle Holiness Church?” It was a peeling, white ramshackle building way out in the country.
He nodded. “Calvin said they do the burials for Hotshot from there. One of the guys in Hotshot is the pastor for it.”
“Which one?”
“Marvin Norris.”
Marvin was Calvin’s uncle, though he was four years younger.
“I think I remember seeing a cemetery out back of the church.”
“Yeah. The community digs the hole, one of them puts together the coffin, and one of them does the service. It’s real homey and personal.”
“You’ve been to a funeral there before?”
“Yeah, in October. One of the babies died.”
There hadn’t been an infant death listed in the Bon Temps paper in months. I had to wonder if the baby had been born in a hospital or in one of the houses in Hotshot; if any trace of its existence had ever been recorded.
“Jason, have the police been by any more?”
“Over and over. But I didn’t do it, and nothing they say or ask can make that change. Plus, the alibi.”
I couldn’t argue that.
“How are you fixed as far as work goes?” I wondered if they would fire Jason. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in trouble. And though Jason was never guilty of the worst crimes attributed to him, sooner or later his reputation as being a generally okay guy would simply crumple for good.
“Catfish said to take time off until the funeral. They’re going to send a wreath to the funeral home when we get her body back.”
“What about Hoyt?”
“He hasn’t been around,” Jason said, sounding puzzled and hurt.
Holly, his fiancée, wouldn’t want him hanging around with Jason. I could understand that.
“Mel?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Jason said, brightening. “Mel comes by. We worked on his truck yesterday, and this weekend we’re going to paint my kitchen.” Jason smiled at me, but it faded fast. “I like Mel,” he said, “but I miss Hoyt.”
That was one of the most honest things I’d ever heard Jason say.
“Haven’t you heard anything about this, Sookie?” Jason asked me. “You know—the way you hear things? If you could steer the police in the right direction, they could find out who killed my wife and my baby, and I could get my life back.”
I didn’t think Jason was ever going to get his old life back. I was sure he wouldn’t understand, even if I spelled it out. But then I saw what was in his head in a moment of
true clarity. Though Jason couldn’t verbalize these ideas, he did understand, and he was pretending, pretending hard, that everything would be the same . . . if only he could get out from under the weight of Crystal’s death.
“Or if you tell us,” he said, “we’ll take care of it, Calvin and me.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said. What else could I say? I climbed out of Jason’s head and swore to myself I wouldn’t get inside again.
After a long silence, he got up. Maybe he’d been waiting to see if I’d offer to make lunch for him. “I guess I’ll go back home, then,” he said.
“Good-bye.”
I heard his truck start up a moment later. I went back in, hanging the jacket back where I’d gotten it.
Amelia had left me a note stuck to the milk carton in the refrigerator. “Hey, roomie!” it said by way of opening. “Sounded like you had company last night. Did I smell a vampire? Heard someone shut the back door about three thirty. Listen, be sure and check the answering machine. You got messages.”
Which Amelia had already listened to, because the light wasn’t blinking anymore. I pressed the Play button.
“Sookie, this is Arlene. I’m sorry about everything. I wish you’d come by to talk. Give me a call.”
I stared at the machine, not sure how I felt about this message. It had been a few days, and Arlene had had time to reconsider stomping out of the bar. Could she possibly mean she wanted to recant her Fellowship beliefs?
There was another message, this one from Sam. “Sookie, can you come in to work a little early today or give me a call? I need to talk to you.”
I glanced at the clock. It was just one p.m., and I wasn’t due at work until five. I called the bar. Sam picked up.
“Hey, it’s Sookie,” I said. “What’s up? I just got your message.”
“Arlene wants to come back to work,” he said. “I don’t know what to tell her. You got an opinion?”
“She left a message on my answering machine. She wants to talk to me,” I said. “I don’t know what to think. She’s always on some new thing, isn’t she? Do you think she could have dropped the Fellowship?”
“If Whit dropped her,” he said, and I laughed.
I wasn’t so sure I wanted to rebuild our friendship, and the longer I thought about it, the more doubtful I became. Arlene had said some hurtful and awful things to me. If she’d meant them, why would she want to mend fences with a terrible person like me? And if she hadn’t meant them, why on earth had they passed her lips? But I felt a twinge when I thought of her children, Coby and Lisa. I’d kept them so many evenings, and I’d been so fond of them. I hadn’t seen them in weeks. I found I wasn’t too upset about the passing of my relationship with their mother—Arlene had been killing that friendship for some time now. But the kids, I did miss them. I said as much to Sam.
“You’re too good, cher ,” he said. “I don’t think I want her back here.” He’d made up his mind. “I hope she can find another job, and I’ll give her a reference for the sake of those kids. But she was causing trouble before this last blowup, and there’s no point putting all of us through the wringer.”
After I’d hung up, I realized that Sam’s decision had influenced me in favor of seeing my ex-friend. Since Arlene and I weren’t going to get the opportunity to gradually make peace at the bar, I’d try to at least fix things so we could nod at each other if we passed in Wal-Mart.
She picked up on the first ring. “Arlene, it’s Sookie,” I said.
“Hey, hon, I’m glad you called back,” she said. There was a moment of silence.
“I thought I’d come over to see you, just for a minute,” I said awkwardly. “I’d like to see the kids and talk to you. If that’s okay.”
“Sure, come over. Give me a few minutes, so I can pick up the mess.”
“You don’t need to do that for me.” I’d cleaned Arlene’s trailer many a time in return for some favor she’d done me or because I didn’t have anything else to do while she was out and I was there to babysit.
“I don’t want to slide back into my old ways,” she said cheerfully, sounding so affectionate that my heart lifted . . . for just a second.
But I didn’t wait a few minutes.
I left immediately.
I couldn’t explain to myself why I wasn’t doing what she’d asked me to do. Maybe I’d caught something in Arlene’s voice, even over the phone. Maybe I was recalling all the times Arlene had let me down, all the occasions she’d made me feel bad.
I don’t think I’d let myself dwell on these incidents before, because they revealed such a colossal pitifulness on my part. I’d needed a friend so badly I’d clung to the meager scraps from Arlene’s table, though she’d taken advantage of me time after time. When her dating wind had blown the other way, she hadn’t thought twice about discarding me to win favor with her current flame.
In fact, the more I thought, the more I was inclined to turn around and head back to my house. But didn’t I owe Coby and Lisa one more try to mend my relationship with their mom? I remembered all the board games we’d played, all the times I’d put them to bed and spent the night in the trailer because Arlene had called to ask if she could spend the night away.
What the hell was I doing? Why was I trusting Arlene now ?
I wasn’t, not completely. That’s why I was going to scope out the situation.
Arlene didn’t live in a trailer park but on an acre of land a little west of town that her dad had given her before he passed away. Only a quarter acre had been cleared, just enough for the trailer and a small yard. There was an old swing set in the back that one of Arlene’s former admirers had assembled for the kids, and there were two bikes pushed up against the back of the trailer.
I was looking at the trailer from the rear because I’d pulled off the road into the overgrown yard of a little house that had stood next door until its bad wiring had caused a fire a couple of months before. Since then, the frame house had stood half-charred and forlorn, and the former renters had found somewhere else to live. I was able to pull behind the house, because the cold weather had kept the weeds from taking over.
I picked a path through the fringe of high weeds and trees that separated this house from Arlene’s. Working through the thickest growth, I made my way to a vantage point where I could see part of the parking area in front of the trailer and all of the backyard. Only Arlene’s car was visible from the road, since it had been left in the front yard.
From my vantage point, I could see that behind the trailer was parked a black Ford Ranger pickup, maybe ten years old, and a red Buick Skylark of approximately the same vintage. The pickup was loaded down with pieces of wood, one long enough to protrude beyond the truck bed. They measured about four by four, I estimated.
As I watched, a woman I vaguely recognized came out of the back of the trailer onto the little deck. Her name was Helen Ellis, and she’d worked at Merlotte’s about four years before. Though Helen was competent and so pretty she’d drawn the men in like flies, Sam had had to fire her for repeated lateness. Helen had been volcanically upset. Lisa and Coby followed Helen onto the deck. Arlene was framed in the doorway. She was wearing a leopard print top over brown stretch pants.
The kids looked so much older than the last time I’d seen them! They looked reluctant and a little unhappy, especially Coby. Helen smiled at them encouragingly and turned back to Arlene to say, “Just let me know when it’s over!” There was a pause while Helen seemed to struggle with how to phrase something she didn’t want the kids to understand. “She’s only getting what she deserves.” I could see Helen only in profile, but her cheerful smile made my stomach heave. I swallowed hard.
“Okay, Helen. I’ll call you when you can bring ’em back,” Arlene said. There was a man standing behind her. He was too far back in the interior for me to identify with certainty, but I thought he was the man I’d hit on the head with a tray a couple of months back, the man who’d been so ugly to Pam and Amelia. He was one of Arlene’s new buddies.
Helen and the kids drove off in the Skylark.
Arlene had closed the back door against the chill of the day. I shut my eyes and located her inside the trailer. I found there were two men in there with her. What were they thinking about? I was a little far, but I stretched out with my extra sense.
They were thinking about doing awful things to me.
I crouched under a bare mimosa, feeling as bleak and miserable as I’ve ever felt. Granted, I’d known for some time that Arlene wasn’t truly a good person or even a faithful person. Granted, I’d heard her rant and rave about the eradication of the supernaturals of the world. Granted, I’d come to realize that she’d slipped into regarding me as one of them. But I’d never let myself believe that whatever affection she’d ever felt for me had slipped away entirely, transmuted by the Fellowship’s policy of hate.
I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. I called Andy Bellefleur.
“Bellefleur,” he said briskly.
We were hardly buddies, but I sure was glad to hear his voice.
“Andy, it’s Sookie,” I said, taking care to keep my voice quiet. “Listen, there are two guys in Arlene’s trailer with her, and there’re some long pieces of wood in the back of their pickup. They don’t realize I know they’re in the trailer with Arlene. They’re planning on doing the same thing to me that was done to Crystal.”
“You got anything I could take to court?” he asked cautiously. Andy had always been a closet believer in my telepathy, though that didn’t mean he was necessarily a fan of mine.
“No,” I said, “they’re waiting for me to show up.” I crept closer, hoping like hell they weren’t looking out the back windows. There was a box of extra-long nails in the pickup bed, too. I had to close my eyes for second as the horror crawled all over me.
“I’ve got Weiss and Lattesta with me,” Andy said. “Would you be willing to go in if we were there to back you up?”
“Sure,” I said, feeling anything but. I simply knew I was going to have to do this. It could be the end of any lingering suspicion of Jason. It could mean recompense or at least retribution for the death of Crystal and the baby. It could put at least a few of the Fellowship fanatics behind bars and maybe serve as a good lesson to the rest. “Where are you?” I asked, shaking with fear.
“We were already in the car to go to the motel. We can be there in seven minutes,” Andy said.
“I parked behind the Freer house,” I said. “I gotta go. Someone’s coming out the back of the trailer.”
Whit Spradlin and his buddy, whose name I couldn’t recall, came down the steps and unloaded the wood beams from the pickup. The pieces were already formed into the correct lengths. Whit turned to the trailer and called something, and Arlene opened the door and came down the back steps, her purse over one shoulder. She walked toward the cab of the pickup.
Dammit, she was going to get in and drive away, leaving her car parked in front as though she were there! Any lingering tenderness I’d harbored in my heart burned away at that moment. I looked at my watch. Maybe three more minutes until Andy arrived.
She kissed Whit and waved at the other man, and they went into the trailer to hide so I wouldn’t see them. According to their plan, I’d come to the front, knock on the door, and one of them would fling it open and drag me in.
Game over.
Arlene opened the truck door, the keys in her hand.
She had to stay. She was the weak link. I knew this in every way I could know it—intellectually, emotionally, and with my other sense.
This was going to be awful. I braced myself.
“Hi, Arlene,” I said, stepping out of my cover.
She shrieked and jumped. “Jesus Christ, Sookie, what are you doing in my backyard?” She made an elaborate fuss of collecting herself. Her head was a snarled tangle of anger and fear and guilt. And regret. There was some, I swear.
“I’ve been waiting to see you,” I said. I had no idea what to do now, but I’d slowed her down a little. I might have to physically tackle her. The men inside hadn’t noticed my abrupt appearance, but that wouldn’t last long unless I got extremely lucky. And I hadn’t had a run of luck, much less extreme luck, lately.
Arlene was standing still, keys in hand. It was easy to get inside her head and rummage around, reading the awful story in there.
“What you doing, getting ready to go, Arlene?” I asked, keeping my voice very quiet. “You’re supposed to be inside, waiting for me to get here.”
She saw everything, and her eyes closed. Guilty, guilty, guilty. She had tried to construct a bubble to keep the men’s intent hidden from herself, to keep it from touching her heart. That hadn’t worked—but it hadn’t stopped her treachery today, either. Arlene stood exposed to herself.
I said, “You got in too deep.” My own voice sounded detached and level. “No one will understand that or forgive it.” Her eyes went wide with the knowledge that what I was saying was true.
But I was in for my own kind of shock. I knew, suddenly and surely, that she had not killed Crystal and neither had these men; they’d planned to crucify me in emulation of Crystal’s death because it seemed like such a great idea, such an open statement of their opinion of
the shapeshifters’ announcement. I’d been selected as the sacrificial lamb, despite the fact that they knew for sure I wasn’t a shapeshifter; in fact, they thought I wouldn’t put up as much of a fight since I was only a shapeshifter sympathizer, not one of the two-natured. I wouldn’t be as strong, in their opinion. I found this incredible.
“You’re a poor excuse for a woman,” I said to Arlene. I couldn’t seem to stop, and I couldn’t seem to sound anything but matter-of-fact. “You’ve never told the truth to yourself in your whole life, have you? You still see yourself as a pretty, young thing of twenty-five, and you still think some man will come along and recognize that in you. Someone will take care of you, let you quit working, send your kids to private schools where they’ll never have to talk to anyone different from them. That’s not gonna happen, Arlene. This is your life.” And I swept an open hand at the trailer in its weedy yard, the old truck. It was the meanest thing I’d ever said, and every word of it was true.
And she screamed. She couldn’t seem to stop screaming. I looked into her eyes. She kept trying to look away, but she couldn’t seem to do that. “You witch!” she sobbed. “You’re a witch. There are such things, and you’re one of ’em!”
If she’d been right, I could have prevented what happened next.
At that moment, Andy pulled into the Freer yard, just as I had. For all he knew, there was still time to creep up on the trailer. I heard his car more or less at my back. My whole attention was concentrated on Arlene and the rear door of the trailer. Weiss, Lattesta, and Andy came up behind me just as Whit and his friend burst from the back door of the trailer, rifles in hands.
Arlene and I were standing between two armed camps. I felt the sun on my arms. I felt a cold breeze pick up my hair and toss a lock playfully across my face. Over Arlene’s shoulder, I saw the face of Whit’s friend, and I finally remembered his name was Donny Boling. He’d had a recent haircut. I could tell from the white half inch at the base of his neck. He was wearing an Orville’s Stump Grinding T-shirt. His eyes were a muddy brown. He was aiming at Agent Weiss.
“She has children,” I called. “Don’t do it!”
His eyes widened with fright.
Donny swung the rifle toward me. He thought, Shoot HER .
I flung myself to the ground as the rifle went off.
“Lay down your arms!” Lattesta screamed. “FBI!”
But they didn’t. I don’t think his words even registered.
So Lattesta fired. But you couldn’t say he hadn’t warned them.
Chapter 12
In the moments following Special Agent Lattesta’s demand that the two men lay down their arms, bullets flew through the air like pine pollen in the spring.
Though I was in an exposed position, none of them hit me, which I found absolutely amazing.
Arlene, who didn’t dive as fast as I did, got a crease across her shoulder. Agent Weiss took the bullet—the same one that creased Arlene—in the upper right side of her chest. Andy shot Whit Spradlin. Special Agent Lattesta missed Donny Boling with his first shot, got him with his second. It took weeks to establish the sequence, but that’s what happened.
And then the firing was over. Lattesta was calling 911 while I was still prone on the ground, counting my fingers and toes to make sure I was intact. Andy was equally quick calling the sheriff’s department to report that shots had been fired and an officer and civilians were down.
Arlene was screaming over her little wound like she’d been gut shot.
Agent Weiss was lying in the weeds bleeding, her eyes wide with fear, her mouth clamped shut. The bullet had gone in under her raised arm. She was thinking of her children and her husband and of dying out here in the sticks, leaving them behind. Lattesta pulled off her vest and put pressure on her wound, and Andy ran over to secure the two shooters.
I slowly pushed up to a sitting position. There was no way I could stand. I sat there in the pine needles and dirt and looked at Donny Boling, who was dead. There was not the faintest trace of activity in his brain. Whit was still alive though not in good shape. After Andy gave Arlene a cursory examination and told her to shut up, she quit shrieking and settled down to cry.
I have had lots of things to blame myself about in the course of my life. I added this whole incident to the list as I watched the blood seeping into the dirt around Donny’s left side. No one would have gotten shot if I’d just climbed back in my car and driven away. But no, I had to try to catch Crystal’s killers. And I knew now—too late—that these idiots weren’t even the culprits. I told myself that Andy had asked me to help, that Jason needed me to help . . . but right now, I couldn’t foresee feeling okay about this for a long time.
For a brief moment I considered lying back down and wishing myself dead.
“Are you okay?” Andy called after he’d cuffed Whit and checked on Donny.
“Yeah,” I said. “Andy, I’m sorry.” But he’d run into the front yard to wave down the ambulance. Suddenly there were a lot more people around.
“Are you all right?” asked a woman wearing an EMT uniform. Her sleeves were folded up neatly to show muscles I didn’t know women could develop. You could see each one rippling under her mocha skin. “You look kind of out of it.”
“I’m not used to seeing people get shot,” I said. Which was mostly true.
“I think you better come sit on this chair over here,” she said, and pointed to a folding yard chair that had seen better days. “After I tend to the ones that are bleeding, I’ll check you out.”
“Audrey!” called her partner, a man with a belly like a bay window. “I need another pair of hands here.” Audrey hustled over to help, and another team of EMTs came running around the trailer. I had nearly the same dialogue with them.
Agent Weiss left for the hospital first, and I gathered that the plan was to stabilize her at the hospital in Clarice and then airlift her to Shreveport. Whit was loaded into the second ambulance. A third arrived for Arlene. The dead guy waited for the coroner to appear.
I waited for whatever would happen next.
Lattesta stood staring blankly into the pines. His hands were bloodstained from pressing on Weiss’s wound. As I watched, he shook himself. The purpose flooded back into his face, and his thoughts began flowing once again. He and Andy began to consult.
By now the yard was teeming with law enforcement people, all of whom seemed to be very pumped. Officer-involved shootings are not that ordinary in Bon Temps or in Renard Parish. When the FBI is represented at the scene, the excitement and tension were practically quadrupled.
Several more people asked me if I was all right, but no one seemed to be anxious to tell me what to do or to suggest I remove myself, so I sat in the rickety chair with my hands in my lap. I watched all the activity, and I tried to keep my mind blank. That wasn’t possible.
I was worried about Agent Weiss, and I was still feeling the ebbing power of the huge wave of guilt that had washed over me. I should have been upset that the Fellowship guy was dead, I suppose. But I wasn’t.
After a while, it occurred to me that I was also going to be late for work if this elaborate process didn’t get a move on. I knew that was a trivial consideration, when I was staring at the blood that had soaked into the ground, but I also knew it wouldn’t be trivial to my boss.
I called Sam. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember I had to talk him out of coming to get me. I told Sam there were plenty of people on-site and most of them were armed. After that, I had nothing to do but stare off into the woods. They were a tangle of fallen branches, leaves, and various shades of brown, broken up by little pines of various heights that had volunteered. The bright day made the patterns of shadow and shade fascinating.
As I looked into the depths of the woods, I became aware that something was looking back. Yards back within the tree line, a man was standing; no, not a man—a fairy. I can’t read fairies at all clearly; they’re not as blank as vampires, but they’re the closest I’ve found.
It was easy to read the hostility in his stance, though. This fairy was not on my great-grandfather’s side. This fairy would have been glad to see me lying on the ground bleeding. I sat up straighter, abruptly aware I had no idea whether all the police officers in the world could keep me safe from a fairy. My heart thudded once again with alarm, responding to the adrenaline in a sort of tired way. I wanted to tell someone that I was in danger, but I knew that if I pointed the fairy out to any one of the people present, not only would he fade back into the woods, but I might be endangering the human. I’d done enough of that this day.
As I half rose from the lawn chair with no very good plan in mind, the fairy turned his back on me and vanished.
Can’t I have a moment’s peace? At this thought, I had to bend over and cover my face with my hands because I was laughing, and it wasn’t good laughter. Andy came over and squatted in front of me, tried to look into my face. “Sookie,” he said, and for once his voice was gentle. “Hey, girl, get it together. You got to come talk to Sheriff Dearborn.”
Not only did I talk to Bud Dearborn, I also had to talk to lots of other people. Later, I couldn’t remember any of the conversations I had. I told the truth to whoever asked me questions.
I didn’t mention seeing the fairy in the woods simply because no one asked me, “Did you see anyone else here this afternoon?” When I had a second of not feeling stunned and miserable, I wondered why he’d shown himself, why he’d come. Was he tracking me somehow? Was there some kind of supernatural bug planted on me?
“Sookie,” Bud Dearborn said. I blinked.
“Yessir?” I stood up, and my muscles were trembling.
“You can go now, and we’ll talk to you again later,” he said.
“Thanks,” I told him, hardly aware of what I was saying. I climbed into my car, feeling absolutely numb. I told myself to drive home and put on my waitress outfit and get to work. Hustling drinks would be better than sitting at home recycling the events of the day, if I could manage to stand up that long.
Amelia was at work, so I had the house to myself as I pulled on my working pants and my long-sleeved Merlotte’s T-shirt. I felt cold to the bone and wished for the first time that Sam had thought about stocking a Merlotte’s sweatshirt. My reflection in the bathroom mirror was awful: I was white as a vampire, I had big circles under my eyes, and I guessed I looked exactly like someone who’d seen a lot of people bleeding that day.
The evening felt cold and still as I walked out to my car. Night would fall soon. Since Eric and I had bonded, I’d found myself thinking of him every day as the sky grew dark. Now that we’d slept together, my thoughts had turned into cravings. I tried to stuff him in the back of my mind on the drive to the bar, but he persisted in popping to the fore.
Maybe because the day had been such a nightmare, I discovered I would give my entire savings account to see Eric right now . I trudged toward the employee door, gripping the trowel stuffed in my shoulder bag. I thought I was ready for an attack, but I was so preoccupied I didn’t send out my extra sense to detect another presence, and I didn’t see Antoine in the shadow of the Dumpster until he stepped out to greet me. He was smoking a cigarette.
“Geez Louise, Antoine, you scared me to death.”
“Sorry, Sookie. You planning on doing some planting?” He eyed the trowel I’d whipped out of my bag. “We ain’t too busy this evening. I took me a minute to have a smoke.”
“Everybody calm tonight?” I stuffed the trowel down into my purse without trying to explain. Maybe he would chalk it up to my general strangeness.
“Yeah, no one preaching to us; no one getting killed.” He smiled. “D’Eriq’s full of talk about some guy showing up earlier that D’Eriq thought was a fairy. D’Eriq’s on the simple side, but he can see stuff no one else can. But—fairies?”
“Not fairy like gay, but fairy like Tinker Bell?” I’d thought I didn’t have enough remaining energy to be alarmed. I’d thought wrong. I glanced around the parking lot with considerable alarm.
“Sookie? It’s true?” Antoine was staring at me.
I shrugged weakly. Busted.
“Shit,” Antoine said. “Well, shit. This ain’t the same world I was born into, is it?”
“No, Antoine. It isn’t. If D’Eriq says anything else, please tell me. It’s important.” Could have been my great-grandfather watching over me, or his son Dillon. Or it could have been Mr. Hostile who’d been lurking in the woods. What had set the fae world off? For years, I’d never seen one. Now you couldn’t throw a trowel without hitting a fairy.
Antoine eyed me doubtfully. “Sure, Sookie. You in any trouble I should know about?”
Hip-deep in alligators. “No, no. I’m just trying to avoid a problem,” I said, because I didn’t want Antoine to worry and I especially didn’t want him to share that worry with Sam. Sam was sure to be worried enough.
Of course, Sam had heard several versions of the events at Arlene’s trailer, and I had to give him a quick summary as I got ready to work. He was deeply upset about the intentions of Donny and Whit, and when I told him Donny was dead, he said, “Whit should have got killed, too.”
I wasn’t sure I was hearing him right. But when I looked into Sam’s face, I could see he was really angry, really vengeful. “Sam, I think enough people have died,” I said. “I haven’t exactly forgiven them, and maybe that’s not even something I can do, but I don’t think they were the ones who killed Crystal.”
Sam turned away with a snort and put a bottle of rum away with such force that I thought it might shatter.
Despite a measure of alarm, as it turned out I treasured that evening . . . because nothing happened.
No one suddenly announced that he was a gargoyle and wanted a place at the American table.
No one stomped out in a hissy. No one tried to kill me or warn me or lie to me; no one paid me any special attention at all. I was back to being part of the ambience at Merlotte’s, a situation that used to make me bored. I remembered the evenings before I’d met Bill Compton, when I’d known there were vampires but hadn’t actually met one or seen one in the flesh. I remembered how I’d longed to meet an actual vampire. I’d believed their press, which alleged that they were victims of a virus that left them allergic to various things (sunlight, garlic, food) and only able to survive by ingesting blood.
That part, at least, had been quite true.
As I worked, I thought about the fairies. They were different from the vampires and the Weres. Fairies could escape and go to their very own world, however that happened. It was a world I had no desire to visit or see. Fairies had never been human. At least vampires might remember what being human was like, and Weres were human most of the time, even if they had a different culture; being a Were was like having dual citizenship, I figured. This was an important difference between the fairies and other supernaturals, and it made the fairies more frightening. As the evening wore on and I plodded from table to table, making an effort to get the orders right and to serve with a smile, I had times of wondering whether it would have been better if I’d never met my great-grandfather at all. There was a lot of attraction in that idea.
I served Jane Bodehouse her fourth drink and signaled to Sam that we needed to cut her off. Jane would drink whether we served her or not. Her decision to quit drinking hadn’t lasted a week, but I’d never imagined it would. She’d made such resolutions before, with the same result.
At least if Jane drank here, we would make sure she got home okay. I killed a man yesterday . Maybe her son would come get her; he was a nice guy who never took a sip with alcohol in it. I saw a man get shot dead today . I had to stand still for a minute because the room seemed to be a little lopsided.
After a second or two, I felt steadier. I wondered if I could make it through the evening. By dint of putting one foot in front of the other and blocking out the bad stuff (from past experience I was an expert at that), I made it through. I even remembered to ask Sam how his mother was doing.
“She’s getting better,” he said, closing out the cash register. “My stepdad’s filed for divorce, too. He says she doesn’t deserve any alimony because she didn’t disclose her true nature when they got married.”
Though I’d always be on Sam’s side, whatever it was, I had to admit (strictly to myself) that I could see his stepdad’s point.
“I’m sorry,” I said inadequately. “I know this is a tough time for your mom, for your whole family.”
“My brother’s fiancée isn’t too happy about it, either,” Sam said.
“Oh, no, Sam. She’s freaked out by the fact that your mom—?”
“Yeah, and of course she knows about me now, too. My brother and sister are getting used to it. So they’re okay—but Deidra doesn’t feel that way. And I don’t think her parents do, either.”
I patted Sam’s shoulder because I didn’t know what to say. He gave me a little smile and then a hug. He said, “You’ve been a rock, Sookie,” and then he stiffened. Sam’s nostrils flared. “You smell like—there’s a trace of vampire,” he said, and all the warmth had gone out of his voice. He released me and looked at me hard.
I’d really scrubbed myself and I’d used all my usual skin products afterward, but Sam’s fine nose had picked up that trace of scent Eric had left behind.
“Well,” I said, and then stopped dead. I tried to organize what I wanted to say, but the past forty hours had been so tiring. “Yes,” I said, “Eric was over last night.” I left it at that. My heart sank. I’d thought of trying to explain to Sam about my great-grandfather and the trouble we were in, but Sam had enough troubles of his own. Plus, the whole staff was feeling pretty miserable about Arlene and her arrest.
There was too much happening.
I had another moment of sickening dizziness, but it passed quickly, as it had before. Sam didn’t even notice. He was lost in gloomy reflection, at least as far as I could read his twisty shapeshifter mind.
“Walk me to my car,” I said impulsively. I needed to get home and get some sleep, and I had no idea if Eric would show up tonight or not. I didn’t want anyone else to pop up and
surprise me, as Murry had done. I didn’t want anyone trying to lure me to my doom or shooting guns in my vicinity. No more betrayal by people I cared for, either.
I had a long list of requirements, and I knew that wasn’t a good thing.
As I pulled my purse out of the drawer in Sam’s office and called good night to Antoine, who was still cleaning in the kitchen, I realized that the height of my ambition was to get home and go to bed without talking to anyone else, and to sleep undisturbed all night.
I wondered if that was possible.
Sam didn’t say anything else about Eric, and he seemed to attribute my asking him to escort me as an attack of nerves after the incident at the trailer. I could have stood just inside the bar door and looked out with my other sense, but it was best to be double careful; my telepathy and Sam’s nose made a good combination. He was eager to check the parking lot. In fact, he sounded almost disappointed when he announced there was nothing out there but us.
As I drove away, in my rearview mirror I saw Sam leaning on the hood of his truck, which was parked in front of his trailer. He had his hands in his pockets, and he was glaring at the gravel on the ground as if he hated the sight of it. Just as I pulled around the corner of the bar, Sam patted the truck’s hood in an absentminded way and walked back into the bar, his shoulders bowed.