Book Ten 1-2

MARCH
THE FIRST WEEK
“I feel bad that I’m leaving you like this,” Amelia said. Her eyes werepuffy and red. They’d been that way, off and on, ever since
Tray Dawson’s funeral.
“You have to do what you have to do,” I said, giving her a very bright smile. I could read the guilt and shame and ever-present grief
roiling around Amelia’s mind in a ball of darkness. “I’m lots better,” I reassured her. I could hear myself babbling cheerfully along,
but I couldn’t seem to stop. “I’m walking okay, and the holes are all filled in. See how much better?” I pulled down my jeans
waistband to show her a spot that had been bitten out. The teeth marks were hardly perceptible, though the skin wasn’t quite
smooth and was visibly paler than the surrounding flesh. If I hadn’t had a huge dose of vampire blood, the scar would’ve looked
like a shark had bitten me.
Amelia glanced down and hastily away, as if she couldn’t bear to see the evidence of the attack. “It’s just that Octavia keeps emailing
me and telling me I need to come home and accept my judgment from the witches’ council, or what’s left of it,” she said in a
rush. “And I need to check all the repairs to my house. And since there are a few tourists again, and people returning and
rebuilding, the magic store’s reopened. I can work there part-time. Plus, as much as I love you and I love living here, since Tray
died . . .”
“Believe me, I understand.” We’d gone over this a few times.
“It’s not that I blame you,” Amelia said, trying to catch my eyes.
She really didn’t blame me. Since I could read her mind, I knew she was telling me the truth.
EvenI didn’t totally blame myself, somewhat to my surprise.
It was true that Tray Dawson, Amelia’s lover and a Were, had been killed while he’d been acting as my bodyguard. It was true that
I’d requested a bodyguard from the Were pack nearest me because they owed me a favor and my life needed guarding. However,
I’d been present at the death of Tray Dawson at the hands of a sword-wielding fairy, and I knew who was responsible.
So I didn’t feel guilty, exactly. But I felt heartsick about losing Tray, on top of all the other horrors. My cousin Claudine, a fullblooded
fairy, had also died in the Fae War, and since she’d been my real, true fairy godmother, I missed her in a lot of ways. And
she’d been pregnant.
I had a lot of pain and regret of all kinds, physical and mental. While Amelia carried an armful of clothes downstairs, I stood in her
bedroom, gathering myself. Then I braced my shoulders and lifted a box of bathroom odds and ends. I descended the stairs
carefully and slowly, and I made my way out to her car. She turned from depositing the clothes across the boxes already stowed in
her trunk. “You shouldn’t be doing that!” she said, all anxious concern. “You’re not healed yet.”
“I’m fine.”
“Not hardly. You always jump when someone comes into the room and surprises you, and I can tell your wrists hurt,” she said. She
grabbed the box and slid it into the backseat. “You still favor that left leg, and you still ache when it rains. Despite all that vamp
blood.”
“The jumpiness’ll get better. As time passes, it won’t be so fresh and at the front of my mind,” I told Amelia. (If telepathy had taught
me anything, it was that people could bury the most serious and painful of memories, if you gave them enough time and distraction.)
“The blood is not just any vampire’s. It’s Eric’s blood. It’s strong stuff. And my wrists are a lot better.” I didn’t mention that the
nerves were jumping around in them like hot snakes just at this moment, a result of their having been tied together tightly for several
hours. Dr. Ludwig, physician to the supernatural, had told me the nerves—and the wrists—would be back to normal, eventually.
“Yeah, speaking of the blood . . .” Amelia took a deep breath and steeled herself to say something she knew I wouldn’t like. Since
I heard it before she actually voiced it, I was able to brace myself. “Had you thought about . . . Sookie, you didn’t ask me, but I
think you better not have any more of Eric’s blood. I mean, I know he’s your man, but you got to think about the consequences.
Sometimes people get flipped by accident. It’s not like it’s a math equation.”
Though I appreciated Amelia’s concern, she’d trespassed into private territory. “We don’t swap,” I said.Much. “He just has a sip
from me at, you know . . . the happy moment.” These days Eric was having a lot more happy moments than I was, sadly. I kept
hoping the bedroom magic would return; if any male could perform sexual healing, that male would be Eric.
Amelia smiled, which was what I’d been aiming for. “At least . . .” She turned away without finishing the sentence, but she was
thinking,At least you feel like having sex.
I didn’t so much feel like having sex as I felt like I ought to keep trying to enjoy it, but I definitely didn’t want to discuss that. My
ability to cast aside control, which is the key to good sex, had been pinched out of existence during the torture. I’d been absolutely
helpless. I could only hope that I’d recover in that area, too. I knew Eric could feel my lack of completion. He’d asked me several
times if I was sure I wanted to engage in sex. Nearly every time, I said yes, operating on the bicycle theory. Yes, I’d fallen off. But I
was always willing to try to ride it again.
“So, how’s the relationship doing?” she said. “Aside from the whoopee.” Every last thing was in Amelia’s car. She was stalling,
dreading the moment when she actually got into her car and drove away.
It was only pride that was keeping me from bawling all over her.
“I think we’re getting along pretty well,” I said with a great effort at sounding cheerful. “I’m still not sure what I feel as opposed to
what the bond is making me feel.” It was kind of nice to be able to talk about my supernatural connection to Eric, as well as my
regular old man-woman attraction. Even before my injuries during the Fae War, Eric and I had established what the vampires called
a blood bond, since we’d exchanged blood several times. I could sense Eric’s general location and his mood, and he could feel the
same things about me. He was always faintly present in the back of my mind—sort of like turning on a fan or an air filter to provide
a little buzz of noise that would help you get to sleep. (It was good for me that Eric slept all day, because I could be by myself at
least part of the time. Maybe he felt the same way after I went to bed at night?) It wasn’t like I heard voices in my head or
anything—at least no more than usual. But if I felt happy, I had to check to make sure it was me and not Eric who felt happy.
Likewise for anger; Eric was big on anger, controlled and carefully banked anger, especially lately. Maybe he was getting that from
me. I was pretty full of anger myself these days.
I’d forgotten all about Amelia. I’d stepped right into my own trough of depression.
She snapped me out of it. “That’s just a big fat excuse,” she said tartly. “Come on, Sookie. You love him, or you don’t. Don’t keep
putting off thinking about it by blaming everything on your bond. Wah, wah, wah. If you hate the bond so much, why haven’t you
explored how you can get free of it?” She took in the expression on my face, and the irritation faded out of her own. “Do you want
me to ask Octavia?” she asked in a milder voice. “If anyone would know, she would.”
“Yes, I’d like to find out,” I said, after a moment. I took a deep breath. “You’re right, I guess. I’ve been so depressed I’ve put off
making any decisions, or acting on the ones I’ve already made. Eric’s one of a kind. But I find him . . . a little overwhelming.” He
was a strong personality, and he was used to being the big fish in the pond. He also knew he had infinite time ahead of him.
I did not.
He hadn’t brought that up yet, but sooner or later, he would.
“Overwhelming or not, I love him,” I continued. I’d never said it out loud. “And I guess that’s the bottom line.”
“I guess it is.” Amelia tried to smile at me, but it was a woeful attempt. “Listen, you keep that up, the self-knowledge thing.” She
stood for a moment, her expression frozen into the half smile. “Well, Sook, I better get on the road. My dad’s expecting me. He’ll
be all up in my business the minute I get back to New Orleans.”
Amelia’s dad was rich, powerful, and had no belief in Amelia’s power at all. He was very wrong not to respect her witchcraft.
Amelia had been born with the potential for the power in her, as every true witch is. Once Amelia had some more training and
discipline, she was going to be really scary—scary on purpose, rather than because of the drastic nature of her mistakes. I hoped
her mentor, Octavia, had a program in place to develop and train Amelia’s talent.
After I waved Amelia down the driveway, the broad smile dropped from my face. I sat on the porch steps and cried. It didn’t take
much for me to be in tears these days, and my friend’s departure was just the trigger now. There was so much to weep about.
My sister-in-law, Crystal, had been murdered. My brother’s friend Mel had been executed. Tray and Claudine and Clancy the
vampire had been killed in the line of duty. Since both Crystal and Claudine had been pregnant, that added two more deaths to the
list.
Probably that should have made me long for peace above all else. But instead of turning into the Bon Temps Gandhi, in my heart I
held the knowledge that there were plenty of people I wanted dead. I wasn’t directly responsible for most of the deaths that were
scattered in my wake, but I was haunted by the feeling that none of them would have happened if it weren’t for me. In my darkest
moments—and this was one of them—I wondered if my life was worth the price that had been paid for it.
MARCH
THE END OF THE FIRST WEEK
My cousin Claude was sitting on the front porch when I got up on acloudy, brisk morning a few days after Amelia’s departure.
Claude wasn’t as skilled at masking his presence as my great-grandfather Niall was. Because Claude was fae, I couldn’t read his
mind—but I could tell his mind was there, if that isn’t too obscure a way to put it. I carried my coffee out to the porch, though the
air was nippy, because drinking that first cup on the porch had been one of my favorite things to do before I . . . before the Fae
War.
I hadn’t seen my cousin in weeks. I hadn’t seen him during the Fae War, and he hadn’t contacted me since the death of Claudine.
I’d brought an extra mug for Claude, and I handed it to him. He accepted it silently. I’d considered the possibility he might throw it
in my face. His unexpected presence had knocked me off course. I had no idea what to expect. The breeze lifted his long black
hair, tossed it around like rippling ebony ribbons. His caramel eyes were red-rimmed.
“How did she die?” he said.
I sat on the top step. “I didn’t see it,” I said, hunching over my knees. “We were in that old building Dr. Ludwig was using as a
hospital. I think Claudine was trying to stop the other fairies from coming down the corridor to get into the room where I was holed
up with Bill and Eric and Tray.” I looked over at Claude to make sure he knew the place, and he nodded. “I’m pretty sure that it
was Breandan who killed her, because one of her knitting needles was stuck in his shoulder when he busted into our room.”
Breandan, my great-grandfather’s enemy, had also been a prince of the fae. Breandan had believed that humans and the fae should
not consort. He’d believed that to the point of fanaticism. He’d wanted the fae to completely abstain from their forays into the
human world, despite the fae’s large financial stake in mundane commerce and the products it had produced . . . products that
helped them blend into the modern world. Breandan had especially hated the occasional taking of human lovers, a fae indulgence,
and he’d hated the children born as a result of such liaisons. He’d wanted the fae separate, walled away into their own world,
consorting only with their own kind.
Oddly enough, that’s what my great-grandfather had decided to do after defeating the fairy who believed in this apartheid policy.
After all the bloodshed, Niall concluded that peace among the fae and safety for humans could be reached only if the fae blocked
themselves into their world. Breandan had achieved his ends by his own death. In my worst moments, I thought that Niall’s final
decision had made the whole war unnecessary.
“She was defending you,” Claude said, pulling me back into the moment. There was nothing in his voice. Not blame, not anger, not
a question.
“Yeah.” That had been part of her job, defending me, by Niall’s orders.
I took a long sip of coffee. Claude’s sat untouched on the arm of the porch swing. Maybe Claude was wondering if he should kill
me. Claudine had been his last surviving sibling.
“You knew about the pregnancy,” he said finally.
“She told me right before she was killed.” I put down my mug and wrapped my arms around my knees. I waited for the blow to
fall. At first I didn’t mind all that much, which was even more horrible.
Claude said, “I understand Neave and Lochlan had hold of you. Is that why you’re limping?” The change of subject caught me off
guard.
“Yeah,” I said. “They had me for a couple of hours. Niall and Bill Compton killed them. Just so you know—it was Bill who killed
Breandan, with my grandmother’s iron trowel.” Though the trowel had been in my family’s toolshed for decades, I associated it
with Gran.
Claude sat, beautiful and unreadable, for a long time. He never looked at me directly nor drank his coffee. When he’d reached
some inner conclusion, he rose and left, walking down the driveway toward Hummingbird Road. I don’t know where his car was
parked. For all I knew, he’d walked all the way from Monroe, or flown over on a magic carpet. I went into the house, sank to my
knees right inside the door, and cried. My hands were shaking. My wrists ached.
The whole time we’d been talking, I’d been waiting for him to make his move.
I realized I wanted to live.
MARCH
THE SECOND WEEK
JB said, “Raise your arm all the way up, Sookie!” His handsome facewas creased with concentration. Holding the five-pound
weight, I slowly lifted my left arm. Geez Louise, it hurt. Same with the right.
“Okay, now the legs,” JB said, when my arms were shaking with strain. JB wasn’t a licensed physical therapist, but he was a
personal trainer, so he’d had practical experience helping people get over various injuries. Maybe he’d never faced an assortment
like mine, since I’d been bitten, cut, and tortured. But I hadn’t had to explain the details to JB, and he wouldn’t notice that my
injuries were far from typical of those incurred in a car accident. I didn’t want any speculation going around Bon Temps about my
physical problems—so I made the occasional visits to Dr. Amy Ludwig, who looked suspiciously like a hobbit, and I enlisted the
help of JB du Rone, who was a good trainer but dumb as a box of rocks.
JB’s wife, my friend Tara, was sitting on one of the weight benches. She was readingWhat to Expect When You’re Expecting .
Tara, almost five months pregnant, was determined to be the best mother she could possibly be. Since JB was willing but not bright,
Tara was assuming the role of Most Responsible Parent. She’d earned her high school spending money as a babysitter, which gave
her some experience in child care. She was frowning as she turned the pages, a look familiar to me from our school years.
“Have you picked a doctor yet?” I said, after I’d finished my leg lifts. My quads were screaming, particularly the damaged one in
my left leg. We were in the gym where JB worked, and it was after hours, because I wasn’t a member. JB’s boss had okayed the
temporary arrangement to keep JB happy. JB was a huge asset to the gym; since he’d started working, new female clients had
increased by a noticeable percentage.
“I think so,” said Tara. “There were four choices in this area, and we interviewed all of them. I’ve had my first appointment with Dr.
Dinwiddie, here in Clarice. I know it’s a little hospital, but I’m not high risk, and it’s so close.”
Clarice was just a few miles from Bon Temps, where we all lived. You could get from my house to the gym in less than twenty
minutes.
“I hear good things about him,” I said, the pain in my quads making stuff start to slide around inside my head. My forehead broke
out in a clammy sweat. I was used to thinking of myself as a fit woman, and mostly I’d been a happy one. There were days now
when it was all I could do to get out of bed and get in to work.
“Sook,” JB said, “look at the weight on here.” He was grinning at me.
For the first time, I registered that I’d done ten extensions with ten more pounds than I’d been using.
I smiled back at him. It didn’t last long, but I knew I’d done something good.
“Maybe you’ll babysit for us sometime,” Tara said. “We’ll teach the baby to call you Aunt Sookie.”
I’d be a courtesy aunt. I’d get to take care of a baby. They trusted me. I found myself planning on a future.
MARCH
THE SAME WEEK
I spent the next night with Eric. As I did at least three or four timesa week, I woke up panting, filled with terror, completely at sea. I
held on to him as if the storm would sweep me away unless he was my anchor. I was already crying when I woke. It wasn’t the first
time this had happened, but this time he wept with me, bloody tears that streaked the whiteness of his face in a startling way.
“Don’t,” I begged him. I had been trying so hard to act like my old self when I was with him. Of course, he knew differently.
Tonight I could feel his resolve. Eric had something to say to me, and he was going to tell me whether I wanted to listen or not.
“I could feel your fear and your pain that night,” he said, in a choked voice. “But I couldn’t come to you.”
Finally, he was telling me something I had been waiting to learn. “Why not?” I said, trying very hard to keep my voice level. This
may seem incredible, but I had been in such shaky condition I hadn’t dared to ask him.
“Victor wouldn’t let me leave,” he said. Victor Madden was Eric’s boss; he’d been appointed by Felipe de Castro, King of
Nevada, to oversee the conquered kingdom of Louisiana.
My initial reaction to Eric’s explanation was bitter disappointment. I’d heard this story before.A vampire more powerful than me
made me do it: Bill’s excuse for going back to his maker, Lorena, revisited. “Sure,” I said. I turned over and lay with my back to
him. I felt the cold, creeping misery of disillusionment. I decided to pull my clothes on, to drive back to Bon Temps, as soon as I
gathered the energy. The tension, the frustration, the rage in Eric was sapping me.
“Victor’s people chained me with silver,” Eric said behind me. “It burned me everywhere.”
“Literally.” I tried not to sound as skeptical as I felt.
“Yes, literally. I knew something was happening with you. Victor was at Fangtasia that night, as if he knew ahead of time he should
be there. When Bill called to tell me you’d been taken, I managed to call Niall before three of Victor’s people chained me to the
wall. When I—protested—Victor said he couldn’tallow me to take sides in the Fae War. He said that no matter what happened to
you, I couldn’t get involved.”
Rage made Eric fall silent for a long moment. It poured through me like a burning, icy stream. He resumed his story in a choked
voice.
“Pam was also seized and isolated by Victor’s people, though they didn’t chain her.” Pam was Eric’s second-in-command. “Since
Bill was in Bon Temps, he was able to ignore Victor’s phone messages. Niall met Bill at your house to track you. Bill had heard of
Lochlan and Neave. We all had. We knew time would run out for you.” I still had my back to Eric, but I was listening to more than
his voice. Grief, anger, desperation.
“How did you get out of the chains?” I asked the dark.
“I reminded Victor that Felipe had promised you protection, promised it to youpersonally . Victor pretended not to believe me.” I
could feel the bed move as Eric threw himself back against the pillows. “Some of the vampires were strong and honorable enough
to remember they were pledged to Felipe, not Victor. Though they wouldn’t defy Victor to his face, behind his back they let Pam
call our new king. When she had Felipe on the line, she explained to him that you and I had married. Then she demanded Victor
take the telephone and talk to Felipe. Victor didn’t dare to refuse. Felipe ordered Victor to let me go.” A few months ago, Felipe
de Castro had become the king of Nevada, Louisiana,and Arkansas. He was powerful, old, and very crafty. And he owed me bigtime.
“Did Felipe punish Victor?” Hope springs eternal.
“There’s the rub,” Eric said. Somewhere along the line, my Viking honey had read Shakespeare. “Victor claimed he’d temporarily
forgotten our marriage.” Even if I sometimes tried to forget it myself, that made me angry. Victor had been sitting right there in Eric’s
office when I’d handed the ceremonial knife to Eric—in complete ignorance that my action constituted a marriage, vampire-style. I
might have been ignorant, but Victor certainly wasn’t. “Victor told our king that I was lying in an attempt to save my human lover
from the fae. He said vampire lives must not be lost in the rescue of a human. He told Felipe that he hadn’t believed Pam and me
when we’d told him Felipe had promised you protection after you saved him from Sigebert.”
I rolled over to face Eric, and the bit of moonlight coming in the window painted him in shades of dark and silver. In my brief
experience of the powerful vampire who’d maneuvered himself into a position of great power, Felipe was absolutely no fool.
“Incredible. Why didn’t Felipe kill Victor?” I asked.
“I’ve given that a lot of thought, of course. I think Felipe has to pretend he believes Victor. I think Felipe realizes that in making
Victor his lieutenant in charge of the whole state of Louisiana, he has inflated Victor’s ambitions to the point of indecency.”
It was possible to look at Eric objectively, I discovered, while I was thinking over what he’d said. My trust had gotten me burned in
the past, and I wasn’t going to get too close to the fire this time without careful consideration. It was one thing to enjoy laughing with
Eric or to look forward to the times when we twined together in the dark. It was another thing to trust him with more fragile
emotions. I was really not into trust right now.
“You were upset when you came to the hospital,” I said indirectly. When I’d wakened in the old factory Dr. Ludwig was using as a
field hospital, my injuries had been so painful I’d thought dying might prove easier than living. Bill, who had saved me, had been
poisoned with a bite from Neave’s silver teeth. His survival had been up in the air. The mortally wounded Tray Dawson, Amelia’s
werewolf lover, had hung on long enough to die by the sword when Breandan’s forces stormed the hospital.
“While you were with Neave and Lochlan, I suffered with you,” he said, meeting my eyes directly. “I hurt with you. I bled with
you—not only because we’re bonded, but because of the love I have for you.”
I raised a skeptical eyebrow. I couldn’t help it, though I could feel that he meant what he was saying. I was just willing to believe
that Eric would have come to my help much faster, if he could have. I was willing to believe that he’d heard the echo of the horror
of my time with the fae torturers.
But my pain and blood and terror had been my own. He might have felt them, but from a separate place. “I believe you would have
been there if you could have,” I said, knowing my voice was too calm. “I really do believe that. I know you would have killed
them.” Eric leaned over on one elbow, and his big hand pressed my face to his chest.
I couldn’t deny that I felt better since he’d brought himself to tell me. Yet I didn’t feel as much better as I’d hoped, though now I
knew why he hadn’t come when I’d been screaming for him. I could even understand why it had taken so long for him to tell me.
Helplessness was a state Eric didn’t often encounter. Eric was supernatural, and he was incredibly strong, and he was a great
fighter. But he was not a superhero, and he couldn’t overcome several determined members of his own race. And I realized he’d
given me a lot of blood when he himself was healing from the silver chains.
Finally, something inside me relaxed at the logic of his story. I believed him in my heart, not just in my head.
A red tear fell on my bare shoulder and coursed down. I swept it up on my finger, putting my finger to his lips—offering his pain
back to him. I had plenty of my own.
“I think we need to kill Victor,” I said, and his eyes met mine.
I’d finally succeeded in surprising Eric.
MARCH
THE THIRD WEEK
“So,” my brother said. “As you can tell, me and Michele are still seeingeach other.” He was standing with his back to me, turning
the steaks on the grill. I was sitting in a folding chair, looking out over the large pond and its dock. It was a beautiful evening, cool
and brisk. I was actually content to sit there and watch him work; I was enjoying being with Jason. Michele was in the house
making a salad. I could hear her singing Travis Tritt.
“I’m glad,” I said, and I was sincere. It was the first time I’d been in a private setting with my brother in months. Jason had been
through his own bad time. His estranged wife and their unborn child had died horribly. He’d discovered his best male friend had
been in love with him, sick in love. But as I watched him grilling, listened to his girlfriend singing inside the house, I understood that
Jason was a great survivor. Here my brother was, dating again, pleased at the prospect of eating steak and the mashed potato
casserole I’d brought and the salad Michele was making. I had to admire Jason’s determination to find pleasure in his life. My
brother was not a very good role model in a lot of ways, but I could hardly point fingers.
“Michele is a good woman,” I said out loud.
She was, too—though maybe not in the way our gran would have used the term. Michele Schubert was absolutely out-front about
everything. You couldn’t shame her, because she wouldn’t do something she wouldn’t own up to. Operating on the same principle
of full disclosure, if Michele had a grievance with you, you knew about it. She worked in the Ford dealership’s repair shop as a
scheduler and clerk. It was a tribute to her efficiency that she still worked for her former father-in-law. (In fact, he’d been known to
say he liked her a tad better than he liked his son, some days.)
Michele came out on the deck. She was wearing the jeans and Ford-logo polo shirt she wore to work, and her dark hair was
twisted in a knot on her head. Michele liked heavy eye makeup, big purses, and high heels. She was barefoot now. “Hey, Sookie,
you like ranch dressing?” she asked. “Or we got some honey mustard.”
“Ranch will be fine,” I said. “You need any help?”
“Nope, I’m good.” Michele’s cell phone went off. “Dammit, it’s Pop Schubert again. That man can’t find his ass with both hands.”
She went back in the house, the phone to her ear.
“I worry, though, about putting her in danger,” Jason said in the diffident voice he used when he was asking my opinion about
something supernatural. “I mean . . . that fairy, Dermot, the one that looks like me. Do you know if he’s still around?”
He’d turned to face me. He was leaning against the railing of the deck he’d added to the house my mom and dad had built when
they were expecting Jason. Mom and Dad hadn’t gotten to enjoy it for much more than a decade. They’d died when I was seven,
and when Jason had gotten old enough to live on his own (in his estimation), he’d moved out of Gran’s and into this house. It had
seen many a wild party for two or three years, but he’d become steadier. Tonight it was very clear to me that his recent losses had
sobered him further.
I took a swallow from my bottle. I wasn’t much of a drinker—I saw too much overindulgence at work—but it had been impossible
to turn down a cold beer on this bright evening. “I wish I knew where Dermot was, too,” I said. Dermot was the fraternal twin of
our half-fairy grandfather Fintan. “Niall sealed himself into Faery with all the other fairies who wanted to join him, and I’m keeping
my fingers crossed that Dermot’s in Faery with him. Claude stayed here. I saw him a couple of weeks ago.” Niall was our greatgrandfather.
Claude was his grandson from Niall’s marriage to another full fae.
“Claude, the male stripper.”
“The owner of a strip club, who strips himself on ladies’ night,” I corrected. “Our cousin models for romance covers, too.”
“Yeah, I bet the girls faint when he walks by. Michele’s got a book with him on the cover in some genie costume. He must love
every minute of it.” Jason definitely sounded envious.
“I bet he does. You know, he’s a pain in the butt,” I said, and laughed, surprising myself.
“You see him much?”
“Just the once, since I got hurt. But when I picked up the mail yesterday, he’d sent me some free coupons for ladies’ night at
Hooligans.”
“You think you’ll ever take him up on it?”
“Not yet. Maybe when I’m . . . in a better mood.”
“You think Eric would mind you seeing another guy naked?” Jason was trying to show me how much he’d changed by his casual
reference to my relationship with a vampire. Well, give my brother points for “willing.”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “But I wouldn’t watch other guys take off their clothes without letting Eric know about it ahead of time. Give
him a chance to put in his two cents. Would you tell Michele you were going to a club to watch women strip?”
Jason laughed. “I’d at least mention it, just to hear what she’d say.” He put the steaks on a platter and gestured to the sliding glass
doors. “We’re ready,” he said, and I pulled the door open for him. I’d set the table earlier, and now I poured the tea. Michele had
put the salad and the hot potato casserole on the table, and she got some A-1 steak sauce from the pantry. Jason loved his A-1.
With the big barbecuing fork, Jason put one steak on each plate. In a couple of minutes, we were all eating. It was kind of homey,
the three of us.
“Calvin came into the dealership today,” Michele said. “He’s thinking of trading in his old pickup.” Calvin Norris was a good man
with a good job. He was in his forties, and he carried a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. He was my brother’s leader, the
dominant male in the werepanther community centered in the little settlement of Hotshot.
“He still dating Tanya?” I asked. Tanya Grissom worked at Norcross, same as Calvin, but she sometimes filled in at Merlotte’s
when one of the other waitresses couldn’t work.
“Yeah, she’s living with him,” Jason said. “They fight pretty often, but I think she’s staying.”
Calvin Norris, leader of the werepanthers, did his best not to get involved in vampire affairs. He’d had a lot on his plate since the
Weres had come out. He’d declared that he was two-natured the next day in the break room at work. Now that the word had
gotten around, it had only earned Calvin more respect. He had a good reputation in the Bon Temps area, even if most of the people
who lived out in Hotshot were regarded with some suspicion since the community was so isolated and peculiar.
“How come you didn’t come out when Calvin did?” I asked. That was a thought I’d never heard in Jason’s head.
My brother looked thoughtful, an expression that sat a little oddly on him. “I guess I just ain’t ready to answer a lot of questions,” he
said. “It’s a personal thing, the change. Michele knows, and that’s all that’s important.”
Michele smiled at him. “I’m real proud of Jason,” she said, and that was enough. “He manned up when he turned panther. Wasn’t
like he could help it. He’s making the best of it. No whining. He’ll tell people about it when he’s ready.”
Jason and Michele were just startling me all over the place. “I haven’t ever said anything to anyone,” I assured him.
“I never thought you would. Calvin says Eric is like a chief vampire,” Jason said, hopping into a different topic.
I don’t talk about vampire politics at any length with nonvamps. Just not a good idea. But Jason and Michele had shared with me,
and I wanted to share a little back. “Eric’s got some power. But he’s got a new boss, and things are touchy.”
“You want to talk about that?” I could tell Jason was uncertain about hearing whatever I chose to tell them, but he was trying hard
to be a good brother.
“I better not,” I said, and saw his relief. Even Michele was glad to turn back to her steak. “But apart from dealing with other
vampires, Eric and I are doing okay. There’s always some give and take in relationships, right?” Though Jason had had scores of
relationships over the years, he’d learned about give and take only recently.
“I been talking to Hoyt again,” Jason said, and I understood the pertinence. Hoyt, Jason’s shadow for years, had dropped off my
brother’s radar for a while. Hoyt’s fiancée, Holly, who worked at Merlotte’s with me, wasn’t a big Jason fan. I was surprised Jason
had his best buddy back, and I was even more surprised Holly had consented to this renewal.
“I’ve changed a lot, Sookie,” my brother said, as if (for once) he’d been readingmy mind. “I want to be a good friend to Hoyt. I
want to be a good boyfriend to Michele.” He looked at Michele seriously, putting his hand over hers. “And I want to be a better
brother. We’re all we got left. Except for the fairy relations, and I’d just as soon forget about them.” He looked down at his plate,
embarrassed. “I can’t hardly believe that Gran cheated on Grandpa.”
“I had an idea about that,” I said. I’d been struggling with the same disbelief. “Gran really wanted children, and that wasn’t going to
happen for her and Grandpa. I was thinking maybe she was enchanted by Fintan. Fairies can mess with your mind, like the vamps
can. And you know how beautiful they are.”
“Claudine sure was. And I guess if you’re a woman, Claude looks pretty good.”
“Claudine really toned it down since she was passing for human.” Claudine, Claude’s triplet, had been a stunning six-foot-tall
beauty.
Jason said, “Grandpa wasn’t any picture in the looks department.”
“Yeah, I know.” We looked at each other, silently acknowledging the power of physical attraction. Then we said, simultaneously,
“ButGran ?” And we couldn’t help but laugh. Michele tried hard to keep a straight face, but finally she couldn’t help grinning at us.
It was hard enough thinking about your parents having sex, but your grandparents? Totally wrong.
“Now that I’m thinking about Gran, I’ve been meaning to ask you if I could have that table she put up in the attic,” Jason said. “The
pie-crust table that used to sit by the armchair in the living room?”
“Sure, swing by and pick it up sometime,” I said. “It’s probably sitting right where you put it the day she asked you to take it up to
the attic.”
I left soon after with my almost-empty casserole dish, some leftover steak, and a cheerful heart.
I certainly hadn’t thought having dinner with my brother and his girlfriend was any big deal, but when I got home that night I slept all
the way through until morning, for the first time in weeks.
MARCH
THE FOURTH WEEK
“There,” said Sam. I had to strain to hear him. Someone had put JaceEverett’s “Bad Things” on, and just about everyone in the bar
was singing along. “You’ve smiled three times tonight.”
“You counting my facial expressions?” I put down my tray and gave him a look. Sam, my boss and friend, is a true shapeshifter; he
can change into anything warm-blooded, I guess. I haven’t asked him about lizards and snakes and bugs.
“Well, it’s good to see that smile again,” he said. He rearranged some bottles on the shelf, just to look busy. “I missed it.”
“It’s good to feel like smiling,” I told him. “I like the haircut, by the way.”
Sam ran a self-conscious hand across his head. His hair was short, and it hugged his scalp like a red gold cap. “Summer’s coming
up. I thought it might feel good.”
“Probably will.”
“You already started sunbathing?” My tan was famous.
“Oh, yeah.” In fact, I’d started extra early this spring. The first day I’d put on my swimsuit, all hell had broken loose. I’d killed a
fairy. But that waspast . I’d lain out yesterday, and not a thing had happened. Though I confess I hadn’t taken the radio outside,
because I’d wanted to be sure I could hear if something was sneaking up on me. But nothing had. In fact, I’d had a remarkably
peaceful hour lying in the sun, watching a butterfly waft by every now and then. One of my great-great-grandmother’s rosebushes
was blooming, and the scent had healed something inside me. “The sun just makes me feel real good,” I said. I suddenly
remembered that the fae had told me that I came from sky fairies, instead of water fairies. I didn’t know anything about that, but I
wondered if my love of the sun was a genetic thing.
Antoine called, “Order up!” and I hurried over to fetch the plates.
Antoine had settled in at Merlotte’s, and we all hoped he’d stick with the cooking job. Tonight he was moving around the small
kitchen like he had eight arms. Merlotte’s menu was the most basic—hamburgers, chicken strips, a salad with chicken strips cut up
on it, chili fries, French-fried pickles—but Antoine had mastered it with amazing speed. Now in his fifties, Antoine had gotten out of
New Orleans after staying in the Superdome during Katrina. I respected Antoine for his positive attitude and his determination to
start over after losing everything. He was also good to D’Eriq, who helped him with food prep and bused the tables. D’Eriq was
sweet but slow.
Holly was working that night, and in between hustling drinks and plates she stood by Hoyt Fortenberry, her fiancé, who was
perched on a barstool. Hoyt’s mom had proven to be only too glad to keep Holly’s little boy on the evenings Hoyt wanted to spend
time with Holly. It was hard to look at Holly and recognize her as the sullen Goth Wiccan she’d been in one phase of her life. Her
hair was its natural dark brown and had grown to nearly shoulder length, her makeup was light, and she smiled all the time. Hoyt,
my brother’s best friend again since they’d mended their differences, seemed like a stronger man now that he had Holly to brace
him up.
I glanced over at Sam, who’d just answered his cell phone. Sam was spending a lot of time on that phone these days, and I
suspected he was seeing someone, too. I could find out if I looked in his head long enough (though the two-natured are harder to
read than simple basic humans), but I tried hard to stay out of Sam’s thoughts. It’s just rude to rummage around inside the ideas of
people you care about. Sam was smiling while he talked, and it was good to see him looking—at least temporarily—carefree.
“You see Vampire Bill much?” Sam asked when I was helping him close up an hour later.
“No. I haven’t seen him in a long time,” I said. “I wonder if Bill’s dodging me. I went by his house a couple of times and left him a
six-pack of TrueBlood and a thank-you note for all he did when he came to rescue me, but he never called me or came over.”
“He was in a couple of nights ago when you were off. I think you ought to pay him a visit,” Sam said. “I’m not saying any more.”
MARCH
THE END OF THE FOURTH WEEK
On a beautiful night later that week, I was rummaging in my closetfor my biggest flashlight. Sam’s suggestion that I needed to see
Bill had been nagging at me, so after I got home from work, I resolved to take a walk across the cemetery to Bill’s house.
Sweet Home Cemetery is the oldest cemetery in Renard Parish. There isn’t much room left for the dead, so there’s one of those
new “burial parks” with flat headstones on the south side of town. I hate it. Even if the ground is uneven and the trees are all grown
up and some of the fences around the plots are falling down, to say nothing of the earliest headstones, I love Sweet Home. Jason
and I had played there as kids, whenever we could escape Gran’s attention.
The route through the memorials and trees to Bill’s house was second nature, from the time he’d been my very first boyfriend. The
frogs and bugs were just starting up their summer singing. The racket would only build with the hotter weather. I remembered
D’Eriq asking me wasn’t I scared, living by a graveyard, and I smiled to myself. I wasn’t afraid of the dead lying in the ground. The
walking and talking dead weremuch more dangerous. I’d cut a rose to lay on my grandmother’s grave. I felt sure she knew I was
there and thinking of her.
There was a dim light on at the old Compton house, which had been built about the same time my house had been. I rang the
doorbell. Unless Bill was out in the woods roaming around, I was sure he was home since his car was there. But I had to wait some
time until the creaking door swung open.
He switched on the porch light, and I tried not to gasp. He looked awful.
Bill had gotten infected with silver poisoning during the Fae War, thanks to the silver teeth of Neave. He’d had massive amounts of
blood then—and since—from his fellow vampires, but I observed with some unease that his skin was still gray instead of white. His
step was faltering, and his head hung a little forward like an old man’s.
“Sookie, come in,” he said. Even his voice didn’t seem as strong as it had been.
Though his words were polite, I couldn’t tell how he really felt about my visit. I can’t read vampire minds, one of the reasons I’d
initially been so attracted to Bill. You can imagine how intoxicating silence is after nonstop unwanted sharing.
“Bill,” I said, trying to sound less shocked than I felt. “Are you feeling better? This poison in your system . . . Is it going away?”
I could swear he sighed. He gestured me to precede him into the living room. The lamps were off. Bill had lit candles. I counted
eight. I wondered what he’d been doing, sitting alone in the flickering light. Listening to music? He loved his CDs, particularly Bach.
Feeling distinctly worried, I sat on the couch, while Bill took his favorite chair across the low coffee table. He was as handsome as
ever, but his face lacked animation. He was clearly suffering. Now I knew why Sam had wanted me to visit.
“You are well?” he asked.
“I’m much better,” I said carefully. He’d seen the worst they’d done to me.
“The scars, the . . . mutilation?”
“The scars are there, but they’re much fainter than I ever expected they’d be. The missing bits have filled in. I kind of have a dimple
in this thigh,” I said, tapping my left knee. “But I had plenty of thigh to spare.” I tried to smile, but truthfully, I was too concerned to
manage it. “Are you getting better?” I asked again, hesitantly.
“I’m not worse,” he said. He shrugged, a minimal lift of the shoulders.
“What’s with the apathy?” I said.
“I don’t seem to want anything any longer,” Bill told me, after a lengthy pause. “I’m not interested in my computer anymore. I’m not
inclined to work on the incoming additions and subtractions to my database. Eric sends Felicia over to package up the orders and
send them out. She gives me some blood while she’s here.” Felicia was the bartender at Fangtasia. She hadn’t been a vampire that
long.
Could vampires suffer from depression? Or was the silver poisoning responsible?
“Isn’t there anyone who can help you? I mean, help you heal?”
He smiled in a sardonic sort of way. “My creator,” he said. “If I could drink from Lorena, I would have healed completely by now.”
“Well, that sucks.” I couldn’t let him know that bothered me, butouch . I’d killed Lorena. I shook the feeling off. She’d needed
killing, and it was over and done with. “Did she make any other vampires?”
Bill looked slightly less apathetic. “Yes, she did. She has another living child.”
“Well, would that help? Getting blood from that vamp?”
“I don’t know. It might. But I won’t . . . I can’t reach out to her.”
“You don’t know if it would help or not? You-all need a Handy Hints rule book or something.”
“Yes,” he said, as if he’d never heard of such an idea. “Yes, we do indeed.”
I wasn’t going to ask Bill why he was reluctant to contact someone who could help him. Bill was a stubborn and persistent man,
and I wasn’t going to be able to persuade him otherwise since he’d made up his mind. We sat in silence for a moment.
“Do you love Eric?” Bill said, all of a sudden. His deep brown eyes were fi xed on me with the total attention that had played a
large part in attracting me to him when we’d met.
Was everyone I knew fixated on my relationship with the sheriff of Area Five? “Yes,” I said steadily. “I do love him.”
“Does he say he loves you?”
“Yes.” I didn’t look away.
“I wish he would die, some nights,” Bill said.
We were being really honest tonight. “There’s a lot of that going around. There are a couple of people I wouldn’t miss myself,” I
admitted. “I think about that when I’m grieving over the people I’ve cared about who’ve passed, like Claudine and Gran and Tray.”
And they were just at the top of the list. “So I guess I know how you feel. But I—please don’t wish bad stuff on Eric.” I’d lost
about as much as I could stand to lose in the way of important people in my life.
“Who do you want dead, Sookie?” There was a spark of curiosity in his eyes.
“I’m not about to tell you.” I gave him a weak smile. “You might try to make it happen for me. Like you did with Uncle Bartlett.”
When I’d discovered Bill had killed my grandmother’s brother, who’d molested me—that’s when I should have cut and run.
Wouldn’t my life have been different? But it was too late now.
“You’ve changed,” he said.
“Sure, I have. I thought I was going to die for a couple of hours. I hurt like I’ve never hurt before. And Neave and Lochlan enjoyed
it so much. That snapped something inside me. When you and Niall killed them, it was like an answer to the biggest prayer I’d ever
prayed. I’m supposed to be a Christian, but most days I don’t feel like I can even presume to say that about myself any longer. I
have a lot of mad left over. When I can’t sleep, I think about the other people who didn’t care how much pain and trouble they
caused me. And I think about how good I’d feel if they died.”
That I could tell Bill about this awful secret part of me was a measure of how close I’d been to him.
“I love you,” he said. “Nothing you do or say will change that. If you asked me to bury a body for you—or to make a body—I
would do it without a qualm.”
“We’ve got some bad history between us, Bill, but you’ll always have a special place in my heart.” I cringed inside when I heard the
hackneyed phrase coming from my own mouth. But sometimes clichés are true; this was the truth. “I hardly feel worthy of being
cared about that strongly,” I admitted.
He managed a smile. “As to your being worthy, I don’t think falling in love has much to do with the worth of the object of love. But
I’d dispute your assessment. I think you’re a fine woman, and I think you always try to be the best person you can be. No one
could be . . . carefree and sunny . . . after coming as close to death as you did.”
I rose to leave. Sam had wanted me to see Bill, to understand his situation, and I’d done that. When Bill got up to see me to the
door, I noticed he didn’t have the lightning speed he’d once had. “You’re going to live, right?” I asked him, suddenly frightened.
“I think so,” he said, as if it didn’t make any difference one way or another. “But just in case, give me a kiss.”
I put one arm around his neck, the arm that wasn’t burdened with the flashlight, and I let him put his lips against mine. The feeling of
him, the smell of him, triggered a lot of memories. For what seemed like a very long time, we stood pressed together, but instead of
growing excited, I grew calmer. I was oddly conscious of my breathing—slow and steady, almost like the respiration of someone
sleeping.
I could see that Bill looked better when I stepped away. My eyebrows flew up.
“Your fairy blood helps me,” he said.
“I’m just an eighth fairy. And you didn’t take any.”
“Proximity,” he said briefly. “The touch of skin on skin.” His lips quirked up in a smile. “If we made love, I would be much closer to
being healed.”
Bullshit,I thought. But I can’t say that cool voice didn’t make something leap south of my navel, in a momentary twinge of lust. “Bill,
that’s not gonna happen,” I said. “But you should think about tracking down that other vampire child of Lorena’s.”
“Yes,” he said. “Maybe.” His dark eyes were curiously luminous; that might have been an effect of the poisoning, or it might have
been the candlelight. I knew he wouldn’t make an effort to reach out to Lorena’s other get. Whatever spark my visit had raised in
him was already dying out.
Feeling sad, concerned, and also just a tiny smidge pleased—you can’t tell me it’s not flattering to be loved so much, because it
is—I went home through the graveyard. I patted Bill’s tombstone by habit. As I walked carefully over the uneven ground, I thought
about Bill, naturally enough. He’d been a Confederate soldier. He’d survived the war only to succumb to a vampire after his return
home to his wife and children, a tragic end to a hard life.
I was glad all over again that I’d killed Lorena.
Here’s something I didn’t like about myself: I realized I didn’t feel bad when I killed a vampire. Something inside me kept insisting
they were dead already, and that the first death had been the one that was most important. When I’d killed a human I’d loathed, my
reaction had been much more intense.
Then I thought,You’d think I’d be glad that I was avoiding some pain instead of thinking I should feel worse about taking out
Lorena . I hated trying to figure out what was best morally, because so often that didn’t jibe with my gut reaction.
The bottom line of all this self-examination was that I’d killed Lorena, who could have cured Bill. Bill had gotten wounded when he
came to my rescue. Clearly, I had a responsibility. I’d try to figure out what to do.
By the time I realized I’d been alone in the dark and should have been mortally afraid (at least according to D’Eriq), I was walking
into my well-lit backyard. Maybe worrying about my spiritual life was a welcome distraction from reliving physical torture. Or
maybe I felt better because I’d done someone a good turn; I’d hugged Bill, and that had made him feel better. When I went to bed
that night, I was able to lie on my side in my favorite position instead of tossing and turning, and I slept with no dreams—at least,
none that I could remember in the morning.
For the next week, I enjoyed untroubled sleep, and as a result I began to feel much more like my former self. It was gradual, but
perceptible. I hadn’t thought of a way to help Bill, but I bought him a new CD (Beethoven) and put it where he’d find it when he got
out of his daytime hiding place. Another day I sent him an e-card. Just so he knew I was thinking about him.
Each time I saw Eric, I felt a little more cheerful. And finally, I had my very own orgasm, a moment so explosive it was like I’d been
saving up for a holiday.
“You . . . Are you all right?” Eric asked. His blue eyes looked down at me, and he was half-smiling, as if he weren’t sure whether
he should be clapping or calling an ambulance.
“I am very, very all right,” I whispered. Grammar be damned. “I’m so all right I might slide off the bed and lie in a puddle on the
floor.”
His smile became more secure. “So that was good for you? Better than it’s been?”
“You knew that . . . ?”
He cocked an eyebrow.
“Well, of course you knew. I just . . . had some issues that had to work themselves out.”
“I knew it couldn’t be my lovemaking, wife of mine,” Eric said, and though the words were cocky, his expression was definitely on
the relieved side.
“Don’t call me your wife. You know our so-called marriage is just strategy. To get back to your previous statement.A-one
lovemaking, Eric.” I had to give credit where credit was due. “The no-orgasm problem was in my head. Now I’ve self-corrected.”
“You are bullshitting me, Sookie,” he murmured. “But I’ll show you some A-one lovemaking. Because I think you can come again.”
As it turned out, I could.
Chapter 1
APRIL
I love spring for all the obvious reasons. I love the flowers blooming(which happens early here in Louisiana); I love the birds
twittering; I love the squirrels scampering across my yard.
I love the sound of werewolves howling in the distance.
No, just kidding. But the late, lamented Tray Dawson had once told me that spring is the favorite season of werewolves. There’s
more prey, so the hunt is over quickly, leaving more time to eat and play. Since I’d been thinking about Weres, it wasn’t such a
surprise to hear from one.
On that sunny morning in the middle of April, I was sitting on my front porch with my second cup of coffee and a magazine, still
wearing my sleep pants and my Superwoman T-shirt, when the Shreveport packleader called me on my cell phone.
“Huh,” I said, when I recognized the number. I flipped the phone open. “Hello,” I said cautiously.
“Sookie,” said Alcide Herveaux. I hadn’t seen Alcide in months. Alcide had ascended to the position of packleader the year before
in a single evening of mayhem. “How are you?”
“Right as rain,” I said, nearly meaning it. “Happy as a clam. Fit as a fiddle.” I watched a rabbit hop across the clover and grass
twenty feet away. Spring.
“You’re still dating Eric? He the reason for the good mood?”
Everyonewanted to know. “I’m still dating Eric. That sure helps keep me happy.” Actually, as Eric kept telling me, “dating” was a
misleading term. Though I didn’t think of myself as married since I’d simply handed him a ceremonial knife (Eric had used my
ignorance as part of his master strategy), the vampires did. A vampire-human marriage isn’t exactly like a “love, honor, and obey”
human pairing, but Eric had expected the marriage would earn me some perks in the vampire world. Since then, things had gone
pretty well, vampire-wise. Aside from the huge glitch of Victor not letting Eric come to my aid when I was dying, that is—Victor,
who really needed to die.
I turned my thoughts away from this dark direction with the determination of long practice. See? That was better. Now I was
hopping out of bed every day with (almost) my old vigor. I’d even gone to church the past Sunday. Positive! “What’s happening,
Alcide?” I asked.
“I got a favor to ask,” Alcide said, not entirely to my surprise.
“What can I do for you?”
“Can we use your land for our full-moon run tomorrow night?”
I made myself pause to think about his request rather than automatically saying yes. I’m learning through experience. I had the open
land the Weres needed; that wasn’t the issue. I still own twenty-odd acres around my house, though my grandmother had sold off
most of the original farm when she was faced with the financial burden of raising my brother and me. Though Sweet Home
Cemetery took a chunk out of the land between my place and Bill’s, there’d be enough room—especially if Bill didn’t mind
allowing access to his land as well. I remembered the pack had been here once before.
I turned the idea around to look at it from all angles. I couldn’t see any obvious downside. “You’re welcome to come,” I said. “I
think you should check with Bill Compton, too.” Bill hadn’t responded to any of my little gestures of concern.
Vampires and werewolves are not inclined to be buddies, but Alcide is a practical man. “I’ll call Bill tonight, then,” he said. “You
got his number?”
I gave it to him. “Why are you-all not going to your place, Alcide?” I asked, out of sheer curiosity. He’d told me in casual
conversation that the Long Tooth pack celebrated the full moon at the Herveaux farm south of Shreveport. Most of the Herveaux
land was left in timber for the pack hunts.
“Ham called today to tell me there’s a small party of oneys camping by the stream.” “Oneys,” the one-natured, is what the twonatured
Weres call regular humans. I knew Hamilton Bond by sight. His farm was adjacent to the Herveaux place, and Ham farmed
a few acres for Alcide. The Bond family had belonged to the Long Tooth pack as long as the Herveauxes.
“Did they have your permission to camp there?” I asked.
“They told Ham my dad always gave them permission to fish there in the spring, so they didn’t think to ask me. It might be true. I
don’t remember them, though.”
“Even if they’re telling the truth, that’s pretty rude. They should have called you,” I said. “They should have asked you if it was
convenient for you. You want me to talk to them? I can find out if they’re lying.” Jackson Herveaux, Alcide’s late dad, hadn’t
seemed like the kind of man who’d casually allow people to use his land on a regular basis.
“No thanks, Sookie. I hate to ask you for another favor. You’re a friend of the pack. We’re supposed to watch out for you, not
you for us.”
“Don’t worry about it. Y’all can come out here. And if you want me to shake hands with these supposed buddies of your dad’s, I
can do that.” I was curious about their appearance on the Herveaux farm so close to the full moon. Curious and suspicious.
Alcide told me he’d think about the fishermen situation, and thanked me about six times for saying yes.
“No big deal,” I said, and hoped I was telling the truth. Eventually, Alcide felt he’d thanked me enough, and we hung up.
I went inside with my coffee cup. I didn’t know I was smiling until I looked in the living room mirror. I admitted to myself I was
looking forward to the wolves’ arrival. It would be pleasant to feel I wasn’t alone in the middle of the woods. Pathetic, huh?
Though our few evenings together were good, Eric was still spending alot of time on vampire business. I was getting a little tired of
it. Well, not a little. If you’re the boss, you should be able to get some time off, right? That’s one of the perks of being a boss.
But something was up with the vampires; I was unhappily familiar with the signs. By now, the new regime should have been firmly in
place, and Eric should have thoroughly established his new role in the scheme of things. Victor Madden should have been fully
occupied down in New Orleans with the running of the kingdom, since he was Felipe’s representative in Louisiana. Eric should have
been left to run Area Five in his own efficient way.
But Eric’s blue eyes got all glittery and steely when Victor’s name came up. Mine probably did, too. As things stood now, Victor
had power over Eric, and there wasn’t much we could do about that.
I’d asked Eric if he thought Victor might claim dissatisfaction with Eric’s performance in Area Five, a terrifying possibility.
“I’m keeping paperwork to prove differently,” Eric said. “And I’m keeping it in several places.” The lives of all Eric’s people, and
maybe my life, depended on Eric planting his feet firmly in the new regime. I knew so much rested on Eric’s making his position
impregnable, and I knew I shouldn’t whine. It’s not always easy to make yourself feel the way you ought to feel.
All in all, some howling around the house would be a nice change. At least it would be something new and different.
When I went to work that day, I told Sam about Alcide’s phone call. True shapeshifters are rare. Since there aren’t any others in
this area, Sam occasionally spends time with others who have two forms. “Hey, why don’t you come out to the house, too?” I
suggested. “You could turn into a wolf, right, since you’re a pure shifter? And then you’d blend right in.”
Sam leaned back in his old swivel chair, glad to have an excuse to stop filling in forms. Sam, who is thirty, is three years older than
me.
“I’ve been dating someone in the pack, so it might be fun,” he said, considering the idea. But he shook his head after a moment.
“That would be like going to an NAACP meeting in blackface. Being an imitation in front of the real thing. That’s why I’ve never
gone out with the panthers, though Calvin’s told me I’d be welcome.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling embarrassed. “I didn’t think of that. I’m sorry.” I did wonder who he was dating, but there again, not my
business.
“Ah, don’t worry about it.”
“I’ve known you for years, and I should know more about you,” I said. “Your culture, that is.”
“My ownfamily is still learning. You know more than they do.”
Sam had come out when the Weres had. His mother had come out the same night. His family had had a rough time handling the
revelation. In fact, Sam’s stepfather had shot Sam’s mother, and now they were getting divorced—no big surprise there.
“Is your brother’s wedding back on?” I said.
“Craig and Deidra are going to counseling. Her parents were pretty upset that she was marrying into a family with people like me
and Mom in it. They don’t understand that any kids Craig and Deidra have simply can’t turn into animals. It’s only the firstborn of a
pure shifter couple.” He shrugged. “I think they’ll pull through, though. I’m just waiting for them to set a new date. You still willing to
go with me?”
“Sure,” I said, though I had an uneasy twitch when I pictured myself telling Eric I was going out of state with another man. At the
time I’d promised Sam I’d go, the situation between Eric and me hadn’t gelled into a relationship. “You’re assuming taking a Were
as your date would be offensive to Deidra’s family?”
“Truth be told,” Sam said, “the Great Reveal in Wright didn’t go over as well for the two-natured as it did in Bon Temps.”
I knew from the local news that Bon Temps had been lucky. Its citizens had simply blinked when the Weres and the other twonatured
announced their existence, taking a page from the vampire book. “Just let me know what happens,” I said. “And come out
to my place tomorrow if you change your mind about having a run with the pack.”
“Packmaster didn’t invite me,” Sam said, smiling.
“Landowner did.”
We didn’t talk about it any more the rest of my shift, so I figured Sam would find something else to do for his moon time. The
monthly change actually runs for three nights—three nights when all the two-natured, if they can, take to the woods (or the streets)
in their animal form. Most of the twoeys—those born with their condition—can change at other times, but the moon time . . . that’s
special to all of them, including those who’d come to their extra nature by being bitten. There’s a drug you can take, I hear, that can
suppress your change; Weres in the military, among others, have to use it. But they all hate to do that, and I understand they’re
really no fun to be around on those nights.
Fortunately for me, the next day was one of my days off that week. If I’d had to come home from the bar late at night, the short
distance from the car into the house might have been a little nerve-racking with the wolves on the loose. I’m not sure how much of
their human consciousness remains when the Weres change, and not all of Alcide’s pack members are personal friends of mine.
Since I’d be at home, the prospect of hosting the Weres was more or less carefree. When company’s coming to hunt in your
woods, there’s no preparation to be done. You don’t have to cook or clean house.
However, having outside company was good motivation to complete some yard chores. Since it was another beautiful day, I put on
one of my bikinis, pulled on sneakers and gloves, and set to work. Sticks and leaves and pinecones all went in the burn barrel,
along with some hedge clippings. I made sure all the yard tools were put away in the shed, which I locked. I wound up the hose I’d
used to water the potted plants I’d arranged around the back steps. I checked the clamp on the lid on the big garbage can. I’d
bought the can specifically to keep the raccoons out of the trash, but a wolf might get interested, too.
I passed a pleasant afternoon, puttering around in the sun, singing off-key whenever the spirit moved me.
Right at dusk, the cars started arriving. I went to the window. I noticed the Weres had been considerate enough to carpool; there
were several people in each vehicle. Even so, my driveway would be blocked until morning.Lucky I planned to stay at home, I
thought. I knew some of the pack members, and I recognized a few of the others by sight. Hamilton Bond, who’d grown up with
Alcide, pulled up and sat in his truck, talking on his cell phone. My eyes were drawn to a skinny, vivid young woman who favored
flashy fashions, the kind I thought of as MTV clothes. I’d first noticed her in the Hair of the Dog bar in Shreveport, and she’d been
assigned the task of executing injured enemies after Alcide’s pack had won the Were war; I thought her name was Jannalynn. I also
recognized two women who’d been members of the attacking pack; they’d surrendered at the end of the fight. Now they’d joined
their former enemies. A young man had surrendered, too, but he could have been any one of a dozen moving restlessly around my
yard.
Finally, Alcide arrived in his familiar truck. There were two other people sitting in the cab.
Alcide himself is tall and husky, as Weres tend to be. He’s an attractive man. He’s got black hair and green eyes, and of course,
he’s very strong. Alcide is usually well mannered and considerate—but he has his tough side, for sure. I’d heard rumors through
Sam and Jason that since he’d ascended to packleader, that tough side had been getting a workout. I noticed that Jannalynn made a
special effort to be at the truck door when Alcide emerged.
The woman who slid out after him was in her late twenties, and she had some good solid hips on her. She wore her brown hair
slicked back into a little knob, and her camo tank top let me know she was muscular and fit. At the moment, Camo was looking
around the front yard like she was the tax assessor. The man who got out the other door was a little older and a lot harder.
Sometimes, even if you’re not telepathic, you can tell by looking at a man that he’s had a rough life. This man had. The way he
moved told me he was on the alert for trouble. Interesting.
I watched him, because he needed watching. He had shoulder-length dark brown hair that flared around his head in a cloud of
cork-screws. I found myself eyeing it enviously. I’d always wished I could get my hair to do that.
After I’d gotten over my hair envy, I noticed that his skin was the brown of mocha ice cream. Though he wasn’t as tall as Alcide, he
had thick shoulders on an aggressively muscled body.
If I’d had a “Bad to the Bone” alert on the brick path up to the front porch, it would have gone off just after Corkscrew set his foot
on it. “Danger, Will Robinson,” I said out loud. I’d never seen Camo or Corkscrew before. Hamilton Bond got out of his truck and
came over to join the little group, but he didn’t come up the porch steps to stand beside Alcide, Corkscrew, and Camo. Ham held
back. Jannalynn joined him. The Long Tooth pack appeared to be both expanding its ranks and rearranging its pecking order.
When I answered the knock on the door, I had my hostess smile in place. The bikini would have been sending the wrong message
(Yum, yum, available!), so I’d pulled on some cutoff jeans and a Fangtasia T-shirt. I pushed open the screen door. “Alcide!” I said,
truly glad to see him. We gave each other a brief hug. He felt awfully warm, since all my recent hugging experiences had been with
the less-than-room-temperature Eric. I felt a sort of emotional ripple and realized that though Camo was smiling at me, our embrace
hadn’t been a welcome sight to her. “Hamilton!” I said. I nodded at him since he wasn’t within hugging distance.
“Sookie,” Alcide said, “some new members for you to meet. This is Annabelle Bannister.”
I’d never met anyone who looked less like an “Annabelle” than this woman. I shook hands with her, of course, and told her I was
pleased to meet her.
“You know Ham, and you’ve met Jannalynn, too, I think?” Alcide said, inclining his head back.
I nodded at the two at the foot of the steps.
“And this is Basim al Saud, my new second,” Alcide said. It was pronounced “bah-SEEM,” and Alcide trotted the name out like he
introduced Arabic people to me all the time. Okeydokey. “Hi-dee-do, Basim,” I said. I held out my hand. One of the meanings of
“second,” I knew, was the person who scares the shit out of everyone, and Basim seemed well qualified for the job. Somewhat
reluctantly, he extended his own hand to mine. I shook it, wondering what I’d get from him. Weres are often very hard to read
because of their dual nature. Sure enough, I didn’t get specific thoughts: only a confused blur of mistrust and aggression and lust.
Funny, that was pretty much what I was getting from the misnamed Annabelle. “How long have you been in Shreveport?” I asked
politely. I glanced from Annabelle to Basim to include them both in the question.
“Six months,” Annabelle said. “I transferred from the Elk Killer pack in South Dakota.” So she was in the Air Force. She’d been
stationed in South Dakota and then reassigned to Barksdale Air Force Base in Bossier City, adjacent to Shreveport.
“I’ve been here two months,” Basim said. “I’m learning to like it.” Though he looked exotic, he had only the faintest trace of an
accent, and his English was much more precise than mine. Going strictly by the haircut, he was definitely not in the armed services.
“Basim left his old pack in Houston,” Alcide said easily, “and we’re glad he’s become one of us.” “We” didn’t include Ham Bond. I
might not be able to read Ham’s mind as clearly as if he were human, but he was no big Basim fan. Neither was Jannalynn, who
seemed to regard Basim with both lust and resentment. There was lots of lust going around the pack this evening. Looking at Basim
and Alcide, that wasn’t too hard to understand.
“You have a good time here tonight, Basim, Annabelle,” I said, before turning to Alcide. “Alcide, my property extends maybe an
acre beyond the stream to the east, about five acres south to the dirt track that leads to the oil well, and north around the back of
the cemetery.”
The packleader nodded. “I called Bill last night, and he’s okay with us spilling over into his woods. He’s not going to be at home
until dawn, so we won’t be bothering him. What about you, Sookie? Are you going into Shreveport tonight, or staying home?”
“I’ll be here. If you need me for anything, just come to the door.” I smiled at all of them.
Annabelle thought,Not effing likely, Blondie .
“But you might need the phone,” I said to her, and she jumped. “Or some first aid. After all, Annabelle, you never know what
you’re going to meet up with.” Though I’d started out smiling, there was no smile on my face by the time I finished.
People should make an effort to be polite.
“Thanks again for the use of your land. We’ll be heading into the woods,” Alcide said quickly. The dark was falling steadily, and I
could see the other Weres drifting into the cover of the trees. One of the women threw back her head and yipped. Basim’s eyes
were rounder and more golden already.
“Have a good night,” I said, as I stepped back and latched the screen door. The three Weres started down the front steps. Alcide’s
voice drifted back. He was saying, “Itold you she was telepathic,” to Annabelle as they went across the driveway into the woods,
trailed by Ham. Jannalynn suddenly started running for the tree line, she was so anxious to change. But it was Basim who glanced
back at me as I pushed the wooden door shut. It was the kind of look you get from the animals in the zoo.
And then it was full dark.
The Weres were a bit of a disappointment. They didn’t make as much noise as I’d thought they would. I stayed in the house, of
course, all locked up, and I pulled my curtains closed, which wasn’t my normal habit. After all, I lived in the middle of the woods. I
watched a little television, and I read some. Somewhat later, while I was brushing my teeth, I heard howling. I thought it came from
far off, probably near the eastern edge of my property.
Early the next morning, just as dawn was breaking, I woke up because I heard car engines. The Weres were taking their departure.
I almost turned over to go back to sleep, but I realized I had to get up and pay a trip to the bathroom. After I took care of that, I
was a little more awake. I padded down the hall to the living room and peeked through a gap in the front curtains. Out of the tree
line came Ham Bond, a bit worse for wear. He was talking to Alcide. Their trucks were the only remaining vehicles. Annabelle
appeared a moment after.
As I looked at the early morning light falling across the dewy grass, the three Weres walked across the lawn slowly, clothed as they
had been the night before, but carrying their shoes. They looked exhausted but happy. Their clothes weren’t bloody, but their faces
and arms were speckled. They’d had a successful hunt. I had aBambi twinge, but I suppressed it. This was little different from going
up in a blind with a rifle.
A few seconds later Basim emerged from the woods. In the slanted light, he looked like a woodland creature, his wild hair full of
bits of leaf and twig. There was something ancient about Basim al Saud. I had to wonder how he’d become a werewolf in wolfless
Arabia. As I watched, Basim turned away from the other three and came to my front porch. He knocked, low and firm.
I counted to ten and opened the door. I tried not to stare at the blood. You could tell he’d washed his face in the stream, but he’d
missed his neck.
“Miss Stackhouse, good morning,” Basim said courteously. “Alcide says I should tell you that other creatures have been passing
through your property.”
I could feel the pucker between my eyes as I frowned. “What kind, Basim?”
“At least one was a fairy,” he said. “Possibly more than one fairy, but one for sure.”
That was incredible for about six reasons. “Are these tracks . . . or traces . . . fresh? Or a few weeks old?”
“Very fresh,” he said. “And the scent of vampire is strong, too. That’s a bad mixture.”
“That’s unpleasant news, but something I needed to know. Thanks for telling me.”
“And there’s a body.”
I stared at him, willing my face to stillness. I have a lot of practice at not showing what I’m thinking; any telepath has to be good at
that. “How old a body?” I asked, when I was sure I had my voice under control.
“Around a year and a half, maybe a little less.” Basim wasn’t making a big deal about finding a body. He was strictly letting me
know it was there. “It’s quite far back, buried very deeply.”
I didn’t say anything. Geez Louise, must be Debbie Pelt. Since Eric had recovered his memory of that night, that’s one thing I’d
never asked him: where he’d buried her body after I’d killed her.
Basim’s dark eyes examined me with great attention. “Alcide wants you to call if you need help or advice,” he said finally.
“Tell Alcide I appreciate the offer. And thanks again for letting me know.”
He nodded, and then he was halfway back to the truck, where Annabelle sat with her head resting on Alcide’s shoulder.
I raised my hand to them as Alcide started the truck, and I shut my door firmly as they left.
I had a lot to think about.
Chapter 2
I went back to the kitchen, looking forward to my coffee and a slice ofthe applesauce bread Halleigh Bellefleur had dropped off at
the bar the day before. She was a nice young woman, and I was real glad she and Andy were expecting a baby. I’d heard that
Andy’s grandmother, ancient Mrs. Caroline Bellefleur, was beside herself with delight, and I didn’t doubt it for a moment. I tried to
think about good things, like Halleigh’s baby, Tara’s pregnancy, and the last night I’d spent with Eric; but the disturbing news Basim
had told me gnawed at me all morning.
Of all the ideas I had, calling the Renard Parish’s sheriff’s office was the one that got almost zero brain time. There was no way I
could tell them why I was worried. The Weres were out, and there was nothing illegal about letting them hunt on my land. But I
couldn’t picture myself telling Sheriff Dearborn that a Were had told me fairies had been crossing my property.
Here’s the thing. As far as I’d known until this moment, all the fairies except my cousin Claude had been barred from the human
world. At least, all the fairies in America. I’d never wondered about those in other countries, and now I closed my eyes and winced
at my own stupidity. My great-grandfather Niall had closed all the portals between the fae world and ours. At least, that was what
he’d told me he was going to do. And I’d assumed they were all gone, except for Claude, who’d lived among humans as long as
I’d known him. So how come there’d been a fairy tromping through my woods?
And who could I ask for advice on the situation? I couldn’t just sit on my hands and do nothing. My great-grandfather had been
looking for the self-loathing half-human renegade Dermot until the moment he closed the portal. I needed to face the possibility that
Dermot, who was simply insane, had been left in the human world. However it had come about, I had to believe that fae proximity
to my house couldn’t be a good thing. I needed to talk to someone about this.
I might confide in Eric, since he was my lover, or in Sam, because he was my friend, or even in Bill, because his land shared a
boundary with mine and he would also be concerned. Or I could talk to Claude, see if he’d give me any insight into the situation. I
sat at the table with my coffee and my hunk of applesauce bread, too distracted to read or turn on the radio to catch the news. I
finished one cup of coffee and started another. I showered, in an automatic sort of way, and made my bed and did all my usual
morning tasks.
Finally, I sat down at the computer I’d brought home from my cousin Hadley’s New Orleans apartment, and I checked my e-mail.
I’m not methodical about doing this. I know very few people who might send me e-mail, and I simply haven’t gotten into the habit
of looking at my computer every day.
I had several messages. I didn’t recognize the return address on the first one. I moved the mouse to click on it.
A knock at the back door made me jump like a frog.
I pushed back my chair. After a second’s hesitation, I got the shotgun from the closet in the front room. Then I went to the back
door and peeked through the new peephole. “Speak of the devil,” I muttered.
This day was just full of surprises, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock.
I put down the shotgun and opened the door. “Claude,” I said. “Come in. You want a drink? I’ve got Coke and coffee and orange
juice.”
I noticed that Claude had the strap of a big tote bag slung over his shoulder. From its solid appearance, the bag was jammed with
clothes. I didn’t remember inviting him to a slumber party.
He came in, looking serious and somehow unhappy. Claude had been in the house before, but not often, and he looked around at
my kitchen. The kitchen happened to be new because the old kitchen had burned down, so I had shiny appliances and everything
still looked squared away and level.
“Sookie, I can’t stay in our house by myself any longer. Can I bunk with you for a while, Cousin?”
I tried to pick my jaw up off the floor before he noticed how shocked I was—first, that Claude had confessed he needed help;
second, that he confessed it to me; and third, that Claude would stay in the same house with me when he normally thought of me as
about on the same level as a beetle. I’m a human and I’m a woman, so I’ve got two strikes against me as far as Claude’s
concerned. Plus, of course, there was the whole issue of Claudine dying in my defense.
“Claude,” I said, trying to sound only sympathetic, “have a seat. What’s wrong?” I glanced at the shotgun, unaccountably glad it
was within reach.
Claude gave it only a casual glance. After a moment, he put down his bag and simply stood there, as if he couldn’t figure out what
to do next.
It seemed surreal to be in my kitchen alone with my fairy cousin. Though he had apparently made the choice to continue living
among humans, he was far from warm and fuzzy about them. Claude, albeit physically beautiful, was an indiscriminate jerk, as far as
I’d observed. But he’d gotten his ears surgically altered to look human, so he wouldn’t have to expend his energy perpetuating a
human appearance. And as far as I knew, Claude’s sexual connections had always been with human males.
“You’re still living in the house you shared with your sisters?” It was a prosaic three-bedroom ranch in Monroe.
“Yes.”
Okay. I was looking for a little expansion on the theme here. “The bars aren’t keeping you occupied?” Between owning and
operating two strip clubs—Hooligans and a new place he’d just taken over—and performing at Hooligans at least once a week, I’d
imagined Claude to be both busy and well-to-do. Since he was handsome to the nth degree, he made a lot of money in tips, and the
occasional modeling job boosted his income. Claude could make even the most staid grandmother drool. Being in the same room
with someone so gorgeous gave women a contact high . . . until he opened his mouth. Plus, he no longer had to share the club
income with his sister.
“I’m busy. And I don’t lack for money. But without the company of my own kind . . . I feel I’m starving.”
“Are youserious ?” I said without thinking, and then I could have kicked myself. But Claude needing me (or anyone, for that matter)
seemed so unlikely. His request to stay with me was wholly unexpected and unwelcome.
But my gran chided me mentally. I was looking at a member of my family, one of the few still living and/or accessible to me. My
relationship with my great-grandfather Niall had ended when he’d retreated into Faery and pulled the door shut behind him. Though
Jason and I had mended our fences, my brother very much led his own life. My mom, my dad, and my grandmother were dead, my
aunt Linda and my cousin Hadley were dead, and I rarely saw Hadley’s little son.
I had depressed the hell out of myself in the space of a minute.
“Do I have enough fairy in me to be any help to you?” That was all I could think of to say.
“Yes,” he said very simply. “I already feel better.” This seemed a weird echo of my conversation with Bill. Claude halfway smiled. If
Claude looked incredible when he was unhappy, he looked divine when he smiled. “Since you’ve been in the company of fairies,
it’s accentuated your streak of fairy essence. By the way, I have a letter for you.”
“Who from?”
“Niall.”
“How’s that possible? I understood the fae world was shut off now.”
“He has his ways,” Claude said evasively. “He’s the only prince now, and very powerful.”
He has his ways.“Humph,” I said. “Okay, let’s see it.”
Claude pulled an envelope out of his overnight bag. It was buff-colored and sealed with a blue blob of wax. In the wax was
imprinted a bird, its wings spread in flight.
“So there’s a fairy mailbox,” I said. “And you can send and receive letters?”
“This letter, anyway.”
Fae were very good at evasion. I huffed out a breath of exasperation.
I got a knife and slid it under the seal. The paper I extracted from the envelope had a very curious texture.
“Dearest great-granddaughter,” it began. “There are things I didn’t get to say to you and many things I didn’t get to do for you
before my plans collapsed in the war.”
Okay.
“This letter is written on the skin of one of the water sprites who drowned your parents.”
“Ick!” I cried, and dropped the letter on the kitchen table.
Claude was by my side in a flash. “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking around the kitchen as if he expected to see a troll pop up.
“This is skin! Skin!”
“What else would Niall write on?” He looked genuinely taken aback.
“Ewww!” Even to myself, I sounded a little too girly-girly. But honestly . . . skin?
“It’s clean,” Claude said, clearly hoping that would solve my problem. “It’s been processed.”
I gritted my teeth and reached down for my great-grandfather’s letter. I took a deep, steadying breath. Actually, the . . . material
hardly smelled at all. Smothering a desire to put on oven mitts, I made myself focus on reading.
“Before I left your world, I made sure one of my human agents talked to several people who can help you evade the scrutiny of the
human government. When I sold the pharmaceutical company we owned, I used much of my profit to ensure your freedom.”
I blinked, because my eyes were tearing up a little. He might not be a typical great-grandfather, but by golly, he’d done something
wonderful for me.
“He’s bribed some government officials to call off the FBI? Is that what he’s done?”
“I have no idea,” Claude said, shrugging. “He wrote me, too, to let me know that I had an extra three hundred thousand dollars in
my bank account. Also, Claudine hadn’t made a will, since she didn’t . . .”
Expect to die. She had expected to raise a child with a fairy lover I’d never met. Claude shook himself and said in a cracked voice,
“Niall produced a human body and a will, so I don’t have to wait years to prove her death. She left me almost everything. She said
this to our father, Dillon, when she appeared to him as part of her death ritual.”
Fairies told their relatives they had passed, after they’d translated to spirit form. I wondered why Claudine had appeared to Dillon
instead of to her brother, and I asked Claude, phrasing it as tactfully as I could.
“The next oldest receives the vision,” Claude said stiffly. “Our sister, Claudette, appeared to me, since I was older than her by a
minute. Claudine made her death ritual to our father, since she was older than I.”
“So she told your dad she wanted you to have her share of the clubs?” It was pretty lucky for Claude that Claudine had let
someone else know about her wishes. I wondered what happened if the oldest fae in the line was the one who was doing the dying.
I’d save that question for later.
“Yes. Her share of the house. Her car. Though I already had one.” For some reason, Claude was looking self-conscious. And
guilty. Why on earth would he look guilty?
“How do you ride in it?” I asked, sidetracked. “Since fairies have such issues with iron?”
“I wear the invisible gloves over exposed skin,” he said. “I put them on after every shower. And I’ve built up a little more tolerance
with every decade of living in the human world.”
I returned to the letter. “There may be more I can do for you. I will let you know. Claudine left you a gift.”
“Oh, Claudine left me something, too? What?” I looked up at Claude, who didn’t look exactly pleased. I think he hadn’t known the
contents of the letter for certain. If Niall hadn’t revealed Claudine’s legacy, Claude might not have. Fairies don’t lie, but they don’t
always tell all the truth, either.
“She left you the money in her bank account,” he said, resigned. “It contains her wages from the department store and her share of
the income from the clubs.”
“Aw . . . that was so nice of her.” I blinked a couple of times. I tried not to touch my savings account, and my checking account
wasn’t too healthy because I’d missed a lot of work recently. Plus, my tips had suffered because I’d been so down. Smiling
waitresses make more than sad waitresses.
I could sure use a few hundred dollars. Maybe I could buy some new clothes, and I really needed a new toilet in the hall bathroom.
“How do you do a transfer like that?”
“You’ll get a check from Mr. Cataliades. He is handling the estate.”
Mr. Cataliades—if he had a first name, I’d never heard it—was a lawyer, and he was also (mostly) a demon. He handled the
human legal affairs of many supernaturals in Louisiana. I felt subtly better when Claude said his name, because I knew Mr.
Cataliades had no bone to pick with me.
Well, I had to make up my mind about Claude’s housemate proposal.
“Let me make a phone call,” I said, and pointed to the coffeepot. “If you need some more, I can make some. Are you hungry?”
Claude shook his head.
“Then after I call Amelia, you and I need to have a little chitchat.” I went to the phone in my bedroom. Amelia was an earlier riser
than me, because my job kept me up late. She answered her cell phone on the second ring. “Sookie,” she said, and she didn’t
sound as gloomy as I’d anticipated. “What’s up?”
I couldn’t think of any casual way to lead into my question. “My cousin would like to stay here for a while,” I said. “He could use
the bedroom across from mine, but if he stays upstairs, we’d each have a little more privacy. If you’re coming back anytime soon,
of course he’ll go on and put his stuff in the downstairs bedroom. I just didn’t want you to come back to find someone sleeping in
your bed.”
There was a long silence. I braced myself.
“Sookie,” she said, “I love you. You know that. And I loved living with you. It was a godsend to have somewhere to go after that
thing with Bob. But right now I’m stuck in New Orleans for a while. I’m just . . . in the middle of a lot of stuff.”
I’d expected this, but it was still a tough moment. I hadn’t really expected her to come back. I’d hoped she’d heal faster in New
Orleans—and it was true she hadn’t mentioned Tray. It sounded like more than grieving was going on. “You’re okay?”
“I am,” she said. “And I’ve been training with Octavia some more.” Octavia, her mentor in witchcraft, had returned to New Orleans
with her long-lost love. “Also, I finally got . . . judged. I’ve got to pay a penalty for—you know—the thing with Bob.”
“The thing with Bob” was Amelia’s way of referring to accidentally turning her lover into a cat. Octavia had returned Bob to his
human form, but naturally Bob hadn’t been happy with Amelia, and neither had Octavia. Though Amelia had been training in her
craft, clearly transformational magic had been beyond her skills.
“So, they’re not going to whip you or anything, right?” I asked, trying to sound as if I were joking. “After all, it’s not like he died.”
Just lost a big chunk of his life and missed Katrina entirely, including being able to inform his family that he’d survived.
“Some of them would whip me if they could. But that’s not how we witches roll.” Amelia tried to laugh, but it wasn’t convincing.
“As a penalty, I’ve got to do, like, community service.”
“Like picking up litter or tutoring kids?”
“Well . . . mixing potions and making up bags of common ingredients so they’re ready to hand. Working extra hours in the magic
store, and killing chickens for rituals every now and then. Doing a lot of legwork. Without pay.”
“Thatsucks,” I said, because money is almost always a touchy subject with me. Amelia had grown up rich, but I had not. If
someone deprives me of income, I get pissed off. I had a fleeting moment of wondering how much Claudine’s bank account might
have had in it, and I blessed her for thinking of me.
“Yeah, well, Katrina wiped the New Orleans covens out. We lost some members who’ll never come back, so we don’t get their
contributions anymore, and I never use my dad’s money for the coven.”
“So, the bottom line?” I said.
“I’ve gotta stay down here. I don’t know if I’ll ever make it back to Bon Temps. And I’m really sorry about that, because I really
liked living with you.”
“Same here.” I took a deep breath, determined not to sound forlorn. “What about your stuff? Not that there’s that much here, but
still.”
“I’ll leave it there for now. I’ve got everything here I need, and the rest is yours to use as you see fit till I can make arrangements to
get it.”
We talked a bit more, but we’d said everything important. I forgot to ask her if Octavia had found a way to dissolve Eric’s blood
bond with me. Possibly I wasn’t very interested in an answer. I hung up, feeling both sad and glad: glad that Amelia was working off
her debt to her coven and that she was happier than she’d been in Bon Temps after Tray’s death, and sad because I understood
she didn’t expect to return. After a moment of silent farewell to her, I went to the kitchen to tell Claude that the upstairs was all his.
After I’d absorbed his gratified smile, I moved on to another issue. I didn’t know how to approach my question, so finally I simply
asked him. “Have you been out in my woods back of the house?”
His face went absolutely blank.
“Why would I do that?” he said.
“I didn’t ask for your motivation. I asked if you had been there.” I know evasion when I hear it.
“No,” he said.
“That’s bad news.”
“Why?”
“Because the Weres tell me a fairy’s been back there very recently.” I kept my eyes fixed on his. “And if it’s not you, who could it
be?”
“There aren’t many fairies left,” Claude said.
Again, evasion. “If there are other fairies that didn’t make it in before the portal was shut, you could hang around with them,” I said.
“You wouldn’t need to stay with me, with my little dash of fairy blood. Yet here you are. And somewhere in my woods is yet
another fairy.” I eyed his expression. “I don’t see you excited about tracking down whoever it is. What’s the deal? Why don’t you
dash out there, find the fairy, do some bonding, and be happy?”
Claude looked down. “The last portal to close was in your woods,” he said. “Possibly it’s not completely shut. And I know
Dermot, your great-uncle, was on the outside. If Dermot is the fairy the Weres sensed, he wouldn’t be glad to see me.”
I thought he would have more to say, but he stopped right there.
That was plenty of bad news, and another whopping dollop of dodging the issue. I was still dubious about his goals, but Claude was
family, and I had precious little family left. “All right,” I said, opening a kitchen drawer where I stowed odds and ends. “Here’s a
key. We’ll see how this pans out. I have to go to work this afternoon, by the way. And we have to have a talk. You know that I’ve
got a boyfriend, right?” I was already feeling kind of embarrassed.
“Who are you seeing?” Claude asked, with a sort of professional interest.
“Ah, well . . . Eric Northman.”
Claude whistled. He looked both admiring and cautious. “Does Eric spend the night? I need to know if he’s going to jump me.”
Claude looked as though that wouldn’t be totally unwelcome. But the pertinent issue was that fairies are really intoxicating to
vampires, like catnip to cats. Eric would have a hard time restraining himself from biting if Claude was close to him.
“That would probably end badly for you,” I said. “But I think, with a little care, we can get around it.” Eric seldom spent the night at
my house because he liked to be back in Shreveport before dawn. He had so much work to get through every night that he’d found
it was better for him to wake up in Shreveport. I do have a hidden place where a vampire can stay in relative safety, but it’s not
exactly deluxe, not like Eric’s house.
I was a little more concerned about the possibility of Claude bringing strange men back to my house. I didn’t want to encounter
someone I didn’t know when I was on my way to the kitchen in my nightie. Amelia had had a couple of overnight guests, but they’d
been people I knew. I took a deep breath, hoping what I was about to say wouldn’t come out homophobic. “Claude, it’s not that I
don’t want you to have a good time,” I said, wishing this conversation were over and done with. I admired Claude’s unblushing
acceptance of the fact that I had a sex life, and I only wished I could match that nonchalance.
“If I want to have sex with someone you don’t know, I’ll take him to my house in Monroe,” Claude said, with a wicked little smile.
He could be perceptive when he chose, I noted. “Or I’ll let you know ahead of time. That okay?”
“Sure,” I said, surprised at Claude’s easy compliance. But he’d said all the right words. I relaxed some as I showed Claude where
strategic kitchen stuff was, gave him some tips on the washer and the dryer, and told him the hall bathroom was all his. Then I led
him upstairs. Amelia had worked hard on making one of the little bedrooms pretty, and she’d decorated the other one as a sitting
room. She’d taken her laptop with her, but the TV was still there. I checked to make sure that the bed was made up with clean
linens and the closet was mostly clear of Amelia’s clothing. I pointed out the door to the walk-in attic, in case he needed to store
anything. Claude pulled it open and took a step inside. He looked around at the shadowy, crowded space. Generations of
Stackhouses had stored things they thought they might need someday, and I admit it was a little on the cluttered and chaotic side.
“You need to go through this,” he said. “Do you even know what’s up here?”
“Family debris,” I said, looking in with some dismay. I’d just never worked up the heart to tackle it since Gran died.
“I’ll help you,” Claude declared. “That will be my payment to you for my room.”
I opened my mouth to point out that Amelia had given me cash, but then I reflected, again, that he was family. “That would be
great,” I said. “Though I don’t know if I’m up to it yet.” My wrists had been aching this morning, though they were definitely better
than they’d been. “And there are some other jobs around the house that are beyond me, if you wouldn’t mind giving a hand.”
He bowed. “I would be delighted,” he said.
This was a different side of Claude from the one I’d come to know and disparage.
Grief and loneliness seemed to have woken something in the beautiful fairy; he appeared to have come to the realization that he had
to show a little kindness to other people if he wanted to receive kindness in return. Claude seemed to understand that he needed
others, especially now that his sisters were gone.
I was a little more at ease with our arrangement by the time I left for work. I’d listened to Claude moving around upstairs for a
while, and then he’d come down with an armful of hair-care products to arrange in the bathroom. I’d already put out clean towels
for him. He seemed satisfied with the bathroom, which was very old-fashioned. But then Claude had been alive in a time before
indoor plumbing, so maybe he saw it from a different perspective. Truthfully, hearing someone else in the house had relaxed
something deep inside me, a tension I hadn’t even known I felt.
“Hey, Sam,” I said. He was behind the bar when I came out of the back room, where I’d left my purse and put on an apron.
Merlotte’s wasn’t very busy. Holly, as always, was talking to her Hoyt, who was dawdling over his supper. With her Merlotte’s Tshirt,
Holly was wearing pink and green plaid shorts instead of the regulation black.
“Looking good, Holly,” I called, and she gave me a radiant smile. While Hoyt beamed, Holly held out her hand to show off a
brand-new ring.
I let out a shriek and hugged her. “Oh, this is so great!” I said. “Holly, it’s so pretty! So, have you picked a date yet?”
“It’ll be in the fall, probably,” Holly said. “Hoyt has to work long hours through the spring and summer. That’s his busy time, so we
figured maybe October or November.”
“Sookie,” Hoyt said, his voice dropping and his face growing solemn. “Now that Jason and I have mended our fences, I’m going to
ask him to be my best man.”
I glanced very quickly over to Holly, who’d never been a big Jason fan. She was still smiling, and if I could detect the reservations
she had, Hoyt couldn’t.
I said, “He’ll be thrilled.”
I had to hustle off to make the rounds of my tables, but I smiled while I worked. I wondered if they’d have the ceremony after dark.
Then Eric could go with me. That would be great! That would transform me from “poor Sookie who hasn’t even ever been
engaged” to “Sookie who brought the gorgeous guy to the wedding.” Then I thought of a contingency plan. If the wedding was a
daytime wedding, I could getClaude to go with me! He looked exactly like a romance cover model. He’dbeen a romance cover
model. (Ever readThe Lady and the Stableboy , orLord Darlington’s Naughty Marriage ? Woo-hoo!)
I was unhappily aware that I was thinking about the wedding strictly in terms of my own feelings . . . but there’s nothing more
forlorn than being an old maid at a wedding. I realize that it’s silly to feel like you’re on the shelf at twenty-seven. But I had missed
some prime time, and I was increasingly conscious of that fact. So many of my high school friends had gotten married (some more
than once), and some of them were pregnant—like Tara, who was coming through the door in an oversized T-shirt.
I gave a wave to let her know I’d come talk to her when I could, and I got an iced tea for Dr. Linda Tonnesen and a Michelob for
Jesse Wayne Cummins.
“What’s up, Tara?” I bent over to give her a neck hug. She had plunked herself down at a table.
“I need some caffeine-free Diet Coke,” she said. “And I need a cheeseburger. With lots of French-fried pickles.” She looked
ferocious.
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll get the Coke and put in your order right now.”
When I returned, she drank the whole glass. “I’ll be sorry in five minutes because I’ll have to go to the bathroom,” she said. “All I
do is pee and eat.” Tara had big rings under her eyes, and her complexion was not at its best. Where was the glow of pregnancy
that I’d heard so much about?
“How much longer do you have to go?”
“Three months, a week, and three days.”
“Dr. Dinwiddie gave you a due date!”
“JB just can’tbelieve how big I’m getting,” Tara said, with an eye roll.
“He said that? In those words?”
“Yep. Yes. He did.”
“Geez Louise. That boy needs a lesson or two in rephrasing.”
“I’d settle for him keeping his mouth shut entirely.”
Tara had married JB knowing brains weren’t his strong suit, and she was reaping the result, but Iso wanted them to be happy. I
couldn’t be all, “You made your bed, now you gotta lie in it.”
“He loves you,” I said, trying to sound soothing. “He’s just . . .”
“JB,” she said. She shrugged and summoned up a smile.
Then Antoine called that my order was up, and the avid expression on Tara’s face told me that she was more focused on the food
than on her husband’s tactlessness. She returned to Tara’s Togs a happier and fuller woman.
As soon as it was dark, I called Eric on my cell while I was in the ladies’ room. I hated to sneak off on Sam’s time to call my
boyfriend, but I needed the support. Now that I had his cell number, I didn’t have to call Fangtasia, which was both bad and good.
I’d never known who was going to answer the phone, and I’m not a universal favorite among Eric’s vampires. On the other hand, I
missed talking to Pam, Eric’s second-in-command. Pam and I are actually almost friends.
“I am here, my lover,” Eric said. It was hard not to shiver when I heard his voice, but the atmosphere of the ladies’ room in
Merlotte’s was not at all conducive to lust.
“Well, I’m here, too, obviously. Listen, I really need to talk to you,” I said. “Some things have come up.”
“You’re worried.”
“Yes. With good reason.”
“I have a meeting in thirty minutes with Victor,” Eric said. “You know how tense that’s likely to be.”
“I do know. And I’m sorry to pester you with my problems. But you’re my boyfriend, and part of being a good boyfriend is
listening.”
“Your boyfriend,” he said. “That sounds . . . strange. I am sonot a boy.”
“Foof, Eric!” I was exasperated. “I don’t want to stand here in the bathroom trying to talk terminology! What’s the bottom line?
Are you going to have free time later or not?”
He laughed. “Yes, for you. Can you drive over here? Wait, I’ll send Pam for you. She’ll be at your house at one o’clock, all right?”
I might have to hurry to get home by then, but it was doable. “Okay. And warn Pam that . . . Well, tell her not to get carried away
by anything, hear?”
“Oh, certainly, I’ll be glad to pass that very specific message along,” Eric said. He hung up. Not big on saying good-bye, like most
vampires.
This was going to be a very long day.