Book Ten 6-8

Chapter 6
At six in the morning, Hunter climbed onto my bed. “Aunt Sookie!” hesaid, in what he probably thought was a whisper. Just this
once, his using our mind-to-mind communication would have been better. But naturally, he decided to talk out loud.
“Uh-huh?” This had to be a bad dream.
“I had a funny dream last night,” Hunter told me.
“Uh?” Maybe a dream within a dream.
“This tall man came in my room.”
“Did?”
“He had long hair like a lady.”
I pushed up on my elbows and looked at Hunter, who didn’t seem frightened. “Yeah?” I said, which was at least borderline
coherent. “What color?”
“Yellow,” Hunter said, after a little thought. I suddenly realized that most five-year-olds might be a little shaky on the identification of
colors.
Uh-oh. “So what did he do?” I asked. I struggled to sit all the way up. The sky outside was just getting lighter.
“He just looked at me, and he smiled,” Hunter said. “Then he went in the closet.”
“Wow,” I said inadequately. I couldn’t be sure (until dark, that is), but it sounded very much as though Eric was in the secret hiding
place in my closet and dead for the day.
“I gotta go pee,” Hunter said, and slid off my bed to scamper into my bathroom. I heard him flush a minute later, and then he
washed his hands—or at least, he turned on the water for a second. I collapsed back onto my pillows, thinking sadly of the hours of
sleep I was doomed to lose. By sheer force of will, I got out of bed in my blue nightgown and threw on a robe. I stepped into my
slippers, and after Hunter exited my bathroom, I entered it.
A couple of minutes later we were in my kitchen with the lights on. I went directly to the coffeepot, and I found a note propped on
it. I recognized the handwriting immediately, and the endorphins flooded my system. Instead of being incredulous that I was up and
moving so ungodly early, I felt happy that I was sharing this time with my little cousin. The note, which had been written on one of
the pads I keep around for grocery lists, said, “My lover, I came in too close to dawn to wake you, though I was tempted. Your
house is full of strange men. A fairy upstairs and a little child downstairs—but as long as there’s not one in my lady’s chamber, I can
stand it. I need to talk to you when I rise.” It was signed, in a large scrawl, “ERIC.”
I put the note aside, trying not to worry about Eric’s urgent need to talk to me. I started the coffee to perking, and then I pulled out
the griddle and plugged it in. “I hope you like pancakes,” I told Hunter, and his face lit up. He put his orange juice cup down on the
table with a happy bang, and juice slopped over the edge. Just as I was about to give him a long look, he jumped up and fetched a
paper towel. He took care of the spill with more vigor than attention to detail, but I appreciated the gesture.
“I love pancakes,” he said. “You can make ’em? They don’t come out of the freezer?”
I hid a smile. “Nope. I can make ’em.” It took about five minutes to mix up a batch, and by then the griddle was hot. I put on some
bacon first, and Hunter’s expression was ecstatic. “I don’t like it floppy,” he said, and I promised him it would be crisp. That was
the way I liked it, too.
“That smells wonderful, Cousin,” said Claude. He was standing in the doorway, his arms spread wide, looking as good as anyone
can look that early in the morning. He was wearing a maroon University of Louisiana at Monroe T-shirt and some black workout
shorts.
“Who are you?” Hunter asked.
“I’m Sookie’s cousin Claude.”
He has long hair like a lady, too,Hunter said.
He’s a man, though, just like the other man.“Claude, this is another cousin of mine, Hunter,” I said. “Remember, I told you he was
coming to visit?”
“His mother was—” Claude began, and I shook my head at him.
Claude might have been about to say any number of things. He might have said, “the bisexual” or “the one the albino, Waldo, killed
in the cemetery in New Orleans.” These would both have been true, and Hunter needed to hear neither of them.
“So we’re all cousins,” I said. “Were you hinting around that you wanted to eat some breakfast with us, Claude?”
“Yes, I was,” he said gracefully, pouring himself some coffee from the pot without asking me. “If there’s enough for me, too. This
young man looks like he could eat a lot of pancakes.”
Hunter was delighted with this idea, and he and Claude began topping each other on the number of pancakes they could consume. I
was surprised that Claude was so at ease with Hunter, though the fact that he was charming the child effortlessly was no surprise to
me. Claude was a professional at charming.
“Do you live here in Bon Temps, Hunter?” Claude was asking.
“No,” said Hunter, laughing at the absurdity of such an idea. “I live with my daddy.”
Okay, that was enough sharing. I didn’t want anyone supernatural knowing about Hunter, understanding what made him special.
“Claude, would you get out the syrup and the molasses?” I said. “It’s in the pantry over there.”
Claude located the pantry and brought out the Log Cabin and the Brer Rabbit. He even opened both bottles so Hunter could smell
them and pick which one he wanted on his pancakes. I got the pancakes on the griddle and made some more coffee, pulling some
plates out of the cabinets and showing Hunter where the forks and knives were so he could set the table.
We were a strange little family grouping: two telepaths and a fairy. During our breakfast conversation, I had to keep each male from
knowing what the other was, and that was a real challenge. Hunter told me silently that Claude must be a vampire, because he
couldn’t hear Claude’s thoughts, and I had to tell Hunter that there were some other people we couldn’t hear, too. I pointed out
that Claude couldn’t be a vampire because it was daytime, and vampires couldn’t come out in the daytime.
“There’s a vampire in the closet,” Hunter told Claude. “He can’t come out in the daytime.”
“Which closet would that be?” Claude asked Hunter.
“The one in my room. You want to come see?”
“Hunter,” I said, “the last thing any vampire wants is to be disturbed in the daytime. I’d leave him alone.”
“Your Eric?” Claude asked. He was excited by the idea of Eric being in the house. Damn.
“Yes,” I said. “You know better than to go in there, right? I mean, I don’t have to get tough with you, right?”
He smiled at me. “You, tough with me?” he said, mockingly. “Ha. I’m fae. I am stronger than any human.”
I started to say, “So how come I survived the war between the fae and so many fairies didn’t?” Thank God I didn’t. The minute
after, I knew how good it was that I’d choked on those words, because I could see by Claude’s face that he remembered who’d
died all too well. I missed Claudine, too, and I told him so.
“You’re sad,” Hunter said accurately. And he was picking up on all this, which shouldn’t be thought of in his hearing.
“Yes, we’re remembering his sister,” I said. “She died and we miss her.”
“Like my mom,” he said. “What’s a fay?”
“Yes, like your mom.” Sort of. Only in the sense that they were both dead. “And a fae is a special person, but we’re not going to
talk about that right now.”
It didn’t take a telepath to pick up on Claude’s interest and curiosity, and when he sauntered back down the hall to use the
bathroom, I followed him. Sure enough, Claude’s steps slowed and stopped at the open door to the bedroom Hunter had used.
“Keep right on walking,” I said.
“I can’t take a peek? He’ll never know. I’ve heard how handsome he is. Just a peek?”
“No,” I said, knowing I’d better stay in sight of that door until Claude was out of the house. Just a peek, my round rosy ass.
“What about your ass, Aunt Sookie?”
“Oops! Sorry, Hunter. I said a bad word.” Didn’t want Claude to know I’d only thought it. I heard him laughing as he shut the
bathroom door.
Claude stayed in the bathroom so long that I had to let Hunter brush his teeth in mine. After I heard the squeak of the stairs and the
sound of the television overhead, I was able to relax. I helped Hunter get dressed, and then I got dressed myself and put on some
makeup under Hunter’s unwavering attention to the process. Evidently, Kristen had never let Hunter watch what he considered to
be a fascinating procedure.
“You should come to live with us, Aunt Sookie,” he said.
Thanks, Hunter, but I like to live here. I have a job.
You can get another one.
“It wouldn’t be the same. This is my house, and I love it here. I don’t want to leave.”
There was a knock on the front door. Could Remy be arriving this early to collect Hunter?
But it was another surprise altogether, an unpleasant one. Special Agent Tom Lattesta stood on the front porch.
Hunter, naturally, had run to the door as fast as he could. Don’t all kids? He hadn’t thought it was his dad, because he didn’t know
exactly when Remy was supposed to show up. He just liked to find out who was visiting.
“Hunter,” I said, picking him up, “this is an FBI agent. His name is Tom Lattesta. Can you remember that?”
Hunter looked doubtful. He tried a couple of times to say the unfamiliar name and finally got it right.
“Good job, Hunter!” Lattesta said. He was trying to be friendly, but he wasn’t good with kids and he sounded fake. “Ms.
Stackhouse, can I come in for a minute?” I looked behind him. No one else. I thought they always traveled in pairs.
“I guess so,” I said, without enthusiasm. I didn’t explain who Hunter was, because it was none of Lattesta’s business, though I
could tell he was curious. He’d also noticed there was another car parked outside.
“Claude,” I called up the stairs. “The FBI is here.” It’s good to inform unexpected company that someone else is in the house with
you.
The television fell silent, and Claude came gliding down the stairs. Now he was wearing a golden brown silk T-shirt and khakis, and
he looked like a poster for a wet dream. Even Lattesta’s heterosexual orientation wasn’t proof against a surge of startled
admiration. “Agent Lattesta, my cousin Claude Crane,” I said, trying not to smile.
Hunter and Claude and I sat on the couch while Lattesta took the La-Z-Boy. I didn’t offer him anything to drink.
“How’s Agent Weiss?” I asked. The New Orleans-based agent had brought Lattesta, based in Rhodes, out to my house last time,
and in the course of many terrible events, she’d been shot.
“She’s back at work,” Lattesta said. “Still on a desk job. Mr. Crane, I don’t believe I’ve met you before?”
No one forgot Claude. Of course, my cousin knew that very well. “You haven’t had the pleasure,” he told the FBI man.
Lattesta spent a moment trying to figure that out before he smiled. “Right,” he said. “Listen, Ms. Stackhouse, I came up here today
to tell you that you’re no longer a subject for investigation.”
I was stunned with the relief that swept over me. I exchanged glances with Claude. God bless my great-grandfather. I wondered
how much he’d spent, how many strings he’d pulled, to make this come true.
“How come?” I asked. “Not that I’m going to miss it, you understand, but I have to wonder what’s changed.”
“You seem to know people who are powerful,” Lattesta said, with an unexpected depth of bitterness. “Someone in our government
doesn’t want your name to come up in public.”
“And you flew all the way to Louisiana to tell me that,” I said, putting enough disbelief into my voice to let him know I thought that
was bullshit.
“No, I flew all the way down here to go to a hearing about the shooting.”
Okay. That made more sense. “And you didn’t have my phone number? To call me? You had to come here to tell me you weren’t
going to investigate me, in person?”
“There’s something wrong about you,” he said, and the façade was gone. It was a relief. Now his outside matched his inside. “Sara
Weiss has undergone some kind of . . . spiritual upheaval since she met you. She goes to séances. She’s reading books about the
paranormal. Her husband is worried about her. The bureau is worried about her. Her boss is having doubts about putting her back
out in the field.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. But I don’t see that there’s anything I can do about it.” I thought for a minute, while Tom Lattesta stared at
me with angry eyes. He was thinking angry thoughts, too. “Even if I went to her and told her that I can’t do what she thinks I can
do, it wouldn’t help. She believes what she believes. I am what I am.”
“So you admit it.”
Even though I didn’t want the FBI noticing me, that hurt, oddly enough. I wondered if Lattesta was taping our conversation.
“Admitwhat ?” I asked. I was genuinely curious to hear what he’d say. The first time he’d been on my doorstep, he’d been a
believer. He’d thought I was his key to a quick rise in the bureau.
“Admit you’re not even a human being.”
Aha. He really believed that. I disgusted and repelled him. I had more insight into what Sam was feeling.
“I’ve been watching you, Ms. Stackhouse. I’ve been called off, but if I can tie you in to any investigation that will lead back to you,
I’ll do it. You’rewrong . I’m leaving now, and I hope you—” He didn’t get a chance to finish.
“Don’t think bad things about my aunt Sookie,” Hunter said furiously. “You’re abad man .”
I couldn’t have put it better myself, but I wished for Hunter’s own sake that he had kept his mouth shut. Lattesta turned white as a
sheet.
Claude laughed. “He’s scared of you,” he told Hunter. Claude thought it was a great joke, and I had a feeling he’d known what
Hunter was all along.
I thought Lattesta’s grudge might constitute a real danger to me.
“Thanks for coming to give me the good news, Special Agent Lattesta,” I said, in as mild a voice as I could manage. “You have a
safe drive back to Baton Rouge, or New Orleans, or wherever you flew in.”
Lattesta was on his feet and out the door before I could say another word, and I handed Hunter to Claude and followed him.
Lattesta was down the steps and at his car, fumbling around in his pocket, before he realized I was behind him. He was turning off a
pocket recording device. He wheeled around to give me an angry look.
“You’d use a kid,” he said. “That’s low.”
I looked at him sharply for a minute. Then I said, “You’re worried that your little boy, who’s Hunter’s age, has autism. You’re
scared this hearing you came to attend will go badly for you and maybe for Agent Weiss. You’re scared because you reacted to
Claude. You’re thinking of asking to transfer into the BVA in Louisiana. You’re mad that I know people who can make you back
off.”
If Lattesta could have pressed himself into the metal of the car, he would’ve. I’d been a fool because I’d been proud. I should have
let him go without a word.
“I wish I could tell you who it was who put me off-limits to the FBI,” I said. “It would scare your pants off.” In for a penny, in for a
pound, right? I turned and went back up the front steps and into the house. A moment later, I heard his car tear down my driveway,
probably scattering my beautiful gravel as it went.
Hunter and Claude were laughing in the kitchen, and I found them blowing with straws into the dishwashing water in the sink, which
still had some soap bubbles. Hunter was standing on a stool I used to reach the top shelves of the cabinets. It was an unexpectedly
happy picture.
“So, Cousin, he’s gone?” Claude asked. “Good job, Hunter. I think there’s a lake monster under that water!”
Hunter blew even harder, and water drops spattered the curtains. He laughed a little too wildly.
“Okay, kids, enough,” I said. This was getting out of hand. Leave a fairy alone with a child for a few minutes, and this was what
happened. I glanced at the clock. Thanks to Hunter’s early wake-up call, it was only nine. I didn’t expect Remy to come to collect
Hunter until late afternoon.
“Let’s go to the park, Hunter.”
Claude looked disappointed that I’d stopped their fun, but Hunter was game to go somewhere. I grabbed my softball mitt and a
ball and retied Hunter’s sneakers.
“Am I invited, too?” Claude said, sounding a little miffed.
I was taken by surprise. “Sure, you can come,” I said. “That would be great. Maybe you should take your own car, since I don’t
know what we’ll be doing afterward.” My self-absorbed cousin genuinely enjoyed being with Hunter. I would never have
anticipated this reaction—and truthfully, I don’t think he had anticipated it, either. Claude followed me in his Impala as I drove to
the park.
I went to Magnolia Creek Park, which stretched on either side of the creek. It was prettier than the little park close to the
elementary school. The park wasn’t much, of course, since Bon Temps is not exactly a wealthy little town, but it had the standard
playground equipment, a quarter-mile walking track, and plenty of open area, picnic tables, and trees. Hunter attacked the jungle
gym as if he’d never seen one before, and maybe he hadn’t. Red Ditch is smaller and poorer than Bon Temps.
I found that Hunter could climb like a monkey. Claude was ready to steady him at every move. Hunter would’ve found that
annoying if I’d done it. I wasn’t sure why that should be, but I knew it to be true.
A car pulled up as I enticed Hunter down from the jungle gym to play ball. Tara got out and came over to see what we were doing.
“Who’s your friend, Sookie?” she called.
The tight top she was wearing made Tara look a little bigger than she had when she’d come into the bar to eat lunch. She was
wearing some pre-pregnancy shorts scooted down under her belly. I knew extra money wasn’t plentiful in the du Rone/Thornton
household these days, but I hoped Tara could find money in the budget to get some real maternity clothes before too long.
Unfortunately, her clothing store, Tara’s Togs, didn’t carry maternity stuff.
“This is my cousin Hunter,” I said. “Hunter, this is my friend Tara.” Claude, who had been swinging on the swing set, chose that
moment to leap off and bound over to where we stood. “Tara, this is my cousin Claude.”
Now, Tara had known me all her life, and she knew all the members of my family. I gave her high points for absorbing this
introduction and giving Hunter a friendly smile, which she then extended to Claude. She must have recognized him—she’d seen him
in action. But she never blinked an eye.
“How many months are you?” Claude asked.
“A little more than three months away from delivery,” Tara said, and sighed. I guess Tara had gotten used to relative strangers
asking her personal questions. She’d told me before that all conversational bars were removed when you were pregnant. “People
will ask you anything,” she’d said. “And the women’ll tell you labor and delivery stories that make your hair curl.”
“Do you want to know what you’re having?” Claude asked.
That was way out of bounds. “Claude,” I said reprovingly. “That’s too personal.” Fairies just didn’t have the same concept of
personal informationor personal space that humans did.
“I apologize,” my cousin said, very insincerely. “I thought you might enjoy knowing before you buy their clothes. You color-code
babies, I believe.”
“Sure,” Tara said abruptly. “What sex is the baby?”
“Both,” he said with a smile. “You’re having twins, a boy and a girl.”
“My doctor’s heard only one heartbeat,” she said, trying to be gentle about telling him he was wrong.
“Then your doctor is an idiot,” Claude said cheerfully. “You have two babies, alive and well.”
Tara obviously didn’t know what to make of this. “I’ll get him to look harder next time I go in,” she said. “And I’ll tell Sookie to let
you know what he says.”
Fortunately, Hunter had mostly ignored this conversation. He had just learned how to throw the softball up in the air and catch it,
and he was distracted by the effort to put my mitt on his little hand. “Did you play baseball, Aunt Sookie?” he asked.
“Softball,” I said. “You bet I did. I played right field. That means I stood way out in the field and waited to see if the girl batting
would hit the ball out my way. Then I’d catch it, and I’d throw it in to the pitcher, or whichever player needed it most.”
“Your aunt Sookie was the best right fielder in the history of the Lady Falcons,” Tara said, squatting down to talk to Hunter eye to
eye.
“Well, I had a good time,” I said.
“Did you play softball?” Hunter asked Tara.
“No, I came and cheered for Sookie,” Tara said, which was the absolute truth, God bless her.
“Here, Hunter,” Claude said, and gave the softball an easy toss. “Go get it and throw it back to me.”
The unlikely twosome wandered around the park, throwing the ball to each other with very little accuracy. They were having a great
time.
“Well, well, well,” Tara said. “You have a habit of picking up family in funny places. A cousin? Where’d you get a cousin? He’s not
a secret by-blow of Jason’s, right?”
“He’s Hadley’s son.”
“Oh . . . oh my God.” Tara’s eyes widened. She looked at Hunter, trying to pick out a likeness to Hadley in his features. “That’s
not the dad? Impossible.”
“No,” I said. “That’s Claude Crane, and he’s my cousin, too.”
“He’s sure not Hadley’s kid,” Tara said, laughing. “And Hadley’s the only cousin you had that I ever heard of.”
“Ah . . . sort of wrong-side-of-the-blanket stuff,” I said. It was impossible to explain without casting Gran’s integrity into question.
Tara saw how uncomfortable I was with the subject of Claude.
“How are you and the tall blond getting along?”
“We’re getting along okay,” I said cautiously. “I’m not looking elsewhere.”
“I should say not! No woman in her right mind would go out with anyone else if she could have Eric. Beautifuland smart.” Tara
sounded a bit wistful. Well, at least JB was beautiful.
“Eric can be a pain when he wants to be. And talk about baggage!” I tried to picture stepping out on Eric. “If I tried to see
someone else, he might . . .”
“Kill that someone else?”
“He sure wouldn’t be happy,” I said, in a massive understatement.
“So, you want to tell me what’s wrong?” Tara put her hand on mine. She’s not a toucher, so that meant a lot.
“Truth be told, Tara, I’m not sure.” I had an overwhelming feeling that something was askew, something important. But I couldn’t
put my finger on what that might be.
“Supes?” she said.
I shrugged.
“Well, I got to go into the shop,” she said. “McKenna opened for me today, but I can’t ask her to do that for me all the time.” We
said good-bye, happier with each other than we’d been in a long time. I realized that I needed to throw Tara a baby shower, and I
couldn’t imagine why it hadn’t occurred to me before now. I needed to get cracking on the planning. If I made it a surprise shower,
and did all the food myself . . . Oh, and I’d have to tell people Tara and JB were expecting twins. I didn’t doubt Claude’s accuracy
for a second.
I thought I would go out into the woods myself, maybe tomorrow. I’d be alone then. I knew that Heidi’s nose and eyes—and
Basim’s, for that matter—were far more acute than mine, but I had an overwhelming impulse to see what I could see. Once again,
something stirred in the back of my head, a memory that wasn’t a memory. Something to do with the woods . . . with a hurt man in
the woods. I shook my head to rid myself of the haziness, and I realized I couldn’t hear any voices.
“Claude,” I called.
“Here!”
I walked around a clump of bushes and saw the fairy and the little boy enjoying the whirligig. That’s what I’d always called it,
anyway. It’s circular, several kids can stand on it, a few others run around the edges pushing, and then it whirls in a circle until the
impetus is gone. Claude was pushing it way too fast, and though Hunter was enjoying it, his grin was looking a little tense, too. I
could see the fear in his brain, seeping through the pleasure.
“Whoa, Claude,” I said, keeping my voice level. “That’s enough speed for a kid.” Claude stopped pushing, though he was
reluctant. He’d been having a great time himself.
Though Hunter pooh-poohed my warning, I could tell he was relieved. He hugged Claude when Claude told him he had to go to
Monroe to open up his club. “What kind of club?” Hunter asked, and I had to give Claude a significant look and keep my head
blank.
“See you later, sport,” the fairy told the child, and hugged him back.
It was time for an early lunch, so I took Hunter to McDonald’s as a big treat. His dad hadn’t mentioned any ban on fast food, and I
figured one trip was okay.
Hunter loved his Happy Meal, ran the toy car from the container over the tabletop until I was absolutely tired of it, and then wanted
to go into the play area. I was sitting on a bench watching him, hoping the joys of the tunnels and the slide would hold him for at
least ten more minutes, when another woman came out the door into the fenced area, with a boy about Hunter’s age in tow. Though
I practically heard the ominous thud of bass drums, I kept a smile pasted on my face and hoped for the best.
After a few seconds of regarding each other warily, the two boys began shouting and running around the small play area together,
and I relaxed, but cautiously. I ventured a smile at Mom, but she was brooding off into the distance, and I didn’t have to read her
mind to see she’d had a bad morning. (I discovered that her dryer had broken down, and she couldn’t afford another one for at
least two months.)
“Is this your youngest?” I asked, trying to look cheerful and interested.
“Yes, youngest of four,” she said, which explained her desperation about the dryer. “All the rest of ’em are at Little League baseball
practice. It’ll be summer vacation soon, and they’ll be home for three months.”
Oh. I was out of things to say.
My unwilling companion sank back into her own grim thoughts, and I did my best to stay out. It was a struggle, because she was
like a black hole of unhappy thoughts, kind of sucking me in with her.
Hunter came to stand in front of her, regarding her with open-mouthed fascination.
“Hello,” the woman said, making a great effort.
“Do you really want to run away?” he asked.
This was definitely an “oh shit” moment. “Hunter, we need to be going,” I said quickly. “Come on, now. We’re late, late!” And I
picked Hunter up and carried him away, though he was squirming and wiggling in protest (and also much heavier than he looked).
He actually landed a kick on my thigh, and I almost dropped him.
The mother in the play area was staring after us, her mouth agape, and her little boy had come to stand in front of her, puzzled at his
playmate’s abrupt departure.
“I was having a good time!” Hunter yelled. “Why do we have to go?”
I looked him straight in the eyes. “Hunter, you be quiet until we’re in the car,” I said, and I meant every word. Carrying him through
the restaurant while he was yelling had focused every eye on us, and I hadn’t enjoyed the attention. I’d noticed a couple of people I
knew, and there would be questions to answer later. This wasn’t Hunter’s fault, but it didn’t make me feel any kinder.
As I buckled his seat belt, I realized I’d let Hunter get too tired and overexcited, and I made a mental note not to do that again. I
could feel his little brain practically jiggling up and down.
Hunter was looking at me as though his heart were broken. “I was having a good time,” he said again. “That boy was my friend.”
I turned sideways to look him in the face. “Hunter, you said something to his mom that let her know you’re different.”
He was realistic enough to admit the truth of what I was saying. “She was really mad,” he muttered. “Moms leave their kids.”
His own mother had left him.
I thought for a second about what I could say. I decided to ignore the darker theme here. Hadley had left Remy and Hunter, and
now she was dead and would never return. Those were facts. There was nothing I could do to change them. What Remy wanted
me to do was to help Hunter live the rest of his life.
“Hunter, this is hard. I know it. I went through the same thing. You could hear what that mom was thinking, and then you said it out
loud.”
“But shewas saying it! In her head!”
“But not out loud.”
“That was what she wassaying .”
“In her head.”He was just being stubborn now. “Hunter, you’re a very young man. But to make your own life easier, you have to
start thinking before you talk.”
Hunter’s eyes were wide and brimful with tears.
“You have to think, and you have to keep your mouth shut.”
Two big tears coursed down his pink cheeks. Oh, geez Louise.
“You can’t ask people questions about what you hear from their heads. Remember, we talked about privacy?”
He nodded once uncertainly, and then again with more energy. He remembered.
“People—grown-ups and children—are going to get real upset with you if they know you can read what’s in their heads. Because
the stuff in someone’s head is private. You wouldn’t want anyone telling you you’re thinking about how bad you need to pee.”
Hunter glared at me.
“See? Doesn’t feel good, does it?”
“No,” he said, grudgingly.
“I want you to grow up as normal as you can,” I said. “Growing up with this condition is tough. Do you know any kids with
problems everyone can see?”
After a minute, he nodded. “Jenny Vasco,” he said. “She has a big mark on her face.”
“It’s the same thing, except you can hide your difference, and Jenny can’t,” I said. I was feeling mighty sorry for Jenny Vasco. It
seemed wrong to be teaching a little kid that he should be stealthy and secretive, but the world wasn’t ready for a mind-reading
five-year-old, and probably never would be.
I felt like a mean old witch as I looked at his unhappy and tear-stained face. “We’re going to go home and read a story,” I said.
“Are you mad at me, Aunt Sookie?” he said, with a hint of a sob.
“No,” I said, though I wasn’t happy about being kicked. Since he’d know that, I’d better mention it. “I don’t appreciate your
kicking me, Hunter, but I’m not mad anymore. I’m really mad at the rest of the world, because this is hard on you.”
He was silent all the way home. We went inside and sat on the couch after he paid a visit to the bathroom and picked a couple of
books from the stash I’d kept. Hunter was asleep before I finishedThe Poky Little Puppy . I gently eased him down on the couch,
pulled off his shoes, and got my own book. I read while he napped. I got up from time to time to get some small task done. Hunter
slept for almost two hours. I found this an incredibly peaceful time, though if I hadn’t had Hunter all day, it might simply have been
boring.
After I’d started a load of laundry and tiptoed back into the room, I stood by the sleeping boy and looked down. If I had a child,
would my baby have the same problem Hunter had? I hoped not. Of course, if Eric and I continued in our relationship, I would
never have a child unless I was artificially inseminated. I tried to picture myself asking Eric how he felt about me being impregnated
by an unknown man, and I’m ashamed to say I had to smother a snigger.
Eric was very modern in some respects. He liked the convenience of his cell phone, he loved automatic garage-door openers, and
he liked watching the news on television. But artificial insemination . . . I didn’t think so. I’d heard his verdict on plastic surgery, and
I had a strong feeling he’d consider this in the same category.
“What’s funny, Aunt Sookie?” Hunter said.
“Nothing important,” I said. “How about some apple slices and some milk?”
“No ice cream?”
“Well, you had a hamburger and French fries and a Coke at lunch. I think we’d better stick to the apple slices.”
I putThe Lion King on while I prepared Hunter’s snack, and he sat on the floor in front of the television while he ate. Hunter got
tired of the movie (which of course he’d seen before) about halfway through, and after that, I taught him how to play Candy Land.
He won the first time.
As we were working our way through a second game, there was a knock. “Daddy!” Hunter shrieked, and pelted for the door.
Before I could stop him, he’d pulled it open. I was glad he’d known who the caller was, because it gave me a bad moment. Remy
was standing there in a dress shirt, suit pants, and polished lace-ups. He looked like a different man. He was grinning at Hunter as if
he hadn’t seen his child in days. In a second, the boy was up in his arms.
It was heartwarming. They hugged each other tight. I had a little lump in my throat.
In a second, Hunter was telling Remy about Candy Land, and about McDonald’s, and about Claude, and Remy was listening with
complete attention. He gave me a quick smile to say he’d greet me in a second, once the torrent of information had slowed down.
“Son, you want to go get all your stuff together? Don’t leave anything,” Remy cautioned his son. With a quick smile in my direction,
Hunter dashed off to the back of the house.
“Did it go okay?” Remy asked, the minute Hunter was out of earshot. Though in a sense Hunter wasnever out of hearing, it would
have to do.
“Yes, I think so. He’s been so good,” I said, resolving to keep the kick to myself. “We had a little problem on the McDonald’s
playground, but I think it led to a good talk with him.”
Remy looked as if a load had just dropped back onto his shoulders. “I’m sorry about that,” he said, and I could have—well, kicked
myself.
“No, it was only normal stuff, the kind of thing you brought him here so I could help with,” I said. “Don’t worry about it. My cousin
Claude was here, and he played with Hunter at the park, though I was there all the time, of course.” I didn’t want Remy to think I’d
farmed Hunter out to any old person. I tried to think of what else to tell the anxious father. “He ate real good, and he slept just fine.
Not long enough,” I said, and Remy laughed.
“I know all about that,” he told me.
I started to tell Remy that Eric was asleep in the closet and that Hunter had seen him for a few minutes, but I had the confused
feeling that Eric would be one man too many. I’d already introduced the idea of Claude, and Remy hadn’t been totally delighted to
hear about that. A typical dad reaction, I guessed.
“Did the funeral go okay? No last-minute hitches?” You never know what to ask about funerals.
“No one threw themselves into the grave or fainted,” Remy said. “That’s about all you can hope for. A few skirmishes over a dining
room table that all the kids wanted to load into their trucks right then.”
I nodded. I’d heard many brooding thoughts through the years about inheritances, and I’d had my own troubles with Jason when
Gran died. “People don’t always have their nicest face on when it comes to dividing up a household,” I said.
I offered Remy a drink, but he smilingly turned me down. He was obviously ready to be alone with his son, and he peppered me
with questions about Hunter’s manners, which I was able to praise, and his eating habits, which I was able to admire, too. Hunter
wasn’t a picky kid, and that was a blessing.
Within a few minutes, Hunter had returned to the living room with all his stuff, though I did a quick patrol and found two Duplos that
had escaped his notice. Since he’d likedThe Poky Little Puppy so much, I stuck it in his backpack for him to enjoy at home. After a
few more thank-yous, and an unexpected hug from Hunter, they were gone.
I watched Remy’s old truck go down the driveway.
The house felt oddly empty.
Of course, Eric was asleep underneath it, but he was dead for a few more hours, and I knew I could rouse him only in the direst of
circumstances. Some vampires couldn’t wake in the daytime, even if they were set on fire. I pushed that memory away, since it
made me shiver. I glanced at the clock. I had part of the sunny afternoon to myself, and it was my day off.
I was in my black-and-white bikini and lying out on the old chaise before you could say, “Sunbathing is bad for you.”
Chapter 7
The minute the sun sank, Eric was out of the compartment below theguest-bedroom closet. He picked me up and kissed me
thoroughly. I’d already warmed up some TrueBlood for him, and he made a face but gulped it down.
“Who is the child?” he asked.
“Hadley’s son,” I said. Eric had met Hadley when she’d been going with Sophie-Anne Leclerq, the now-finally-deceased Queen of
Louisiana.
“She was married to a breather?”
“Yes, before she met Sophie-Anne,” I said. “A very nice guy named Remy Savoy.”
“Is that him I smell? Along with a big scent of fairy?”
Uh-oh. “Yes, Remy came to pick up Hunter this afternoon. I was keeping him because Remy had to go to a family funeral. He
didn’t think that would be a good place to take a kid.” I didn’t bring up Hunter’s little problem. The fewer who knew about it, the
better, and that included Eric.
“And?”
“I meant to tell you this the other night,” I said. “My cousin Claude?”
Eric nodded.
“He asked if he could stay here for a while, because he’s lonely in his house with both his sisters dead.”
“You are letting a man live with you.” Eric didn’t sound angry—more like he was poised to be angry, if you know what I mean?
There was just a little edge in his voice.
“Believe me, he’s not interested in me as a woman,” I said, though I had a guilty flash of him walking in on me in the bathroom. “He
is all about the guys.”
“I know you are fully aware of how to take care of a fairy who gives you trouble,” Eric said, after an appreciable silence.
I’d killed fairies before. I hadn’t particularly wanted to be reminded of that. “Yes,” I said. “And if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll keep
a squirt gun loaded with lemon juice on my bedside table.” Lemon juice and iron—the fairy weaknesses.
“That would make me feel better,” Eric said. “Is it this Claude that Heidi scented on your land? I felt you were very worried, and
that’s one reason I came over last night.”
The blood bond was hard at work. “She says neither of the fairies she tracked was Claude,” I said, “and that really worries me.
But—”
“It worries me, too.” Eric looked down at the empty bottle of TrueBlood, then said, “Sookie, there are things you should know.”
“Oh.” I’d been about to tell him about the fresh corpse. I was sure he would have led off the discussion with the body if Heidi had
mentioned it, and it seemed pretty important to me. I may have sounded a little peeved at being interrupted. Eric gave me a sharp
look.
Okay, I was at fault,excuse me . I should have been longing to be chock-full of information that Eric felt would help me negotiate
the minefield of vampire politics. And there were nights I’d have been delighted to learn more about my boyfriend’s life. But tonight,
after the unusual stresses and strains of Hunter care, what I’d wanted was (again,excuse me ) to tell him about the body-in-thewoods
crisis and then have a good long screw.
Normally, Eric would be down with that program.
But not tonight, apparently.
We sat opposite each other at the kitchen table. I tried not to sigh out loud.
“You remember the summit at Rhodes, and how a sort of strip of states from south to north were invited,” Eric began.
I nodded. This didn’t sound too promising. My corpse was way more urgent. Not to mention the sex.
“Once we had ventured from one side of the New World to another, and the white breathing population migrated across, too—
wewere the first explorers—a large group of us met to divide things up, for better governing of our own population.”
“Were there any Native American vampires here when you came? Hey, were you on the Leif Ericson expedition?”
“No, not my generation. Oddly enough, there were very few Native American vampires. And the ones that were here were
different in several ways.”
Now, that was pretty interesting, but I could tell Eric wasn’t going to stop and fill in the blanks.
“At that first national meeting, about three hundred years ago, there were many disagreements.” Eric looked very, very serious.
“No, really?” Vampires arguing? I could yawn.
And he didn’t appreciate my sarcasm, either. He raised blond eyebrows, as if to say, “Can I go on and get to the point? Or are you
going to give me grief?”
I spread my hands: “Keep on going.”
“Instead of dividing the country the way humans would, we included some of the north and some of the south in every division. We
thought it would keep the cross-representation going. So the easternmost division, which is mostly the coastal states, is called
Moshup Clan, for the Native American mythical figure, and its symbol is a whale.”
Okay, maybe I looked a little glazed at that point. “Look it up on the Internet,” Eric said impatiently. “Our clan—the states that met
in Rhodes compose this one—is Amun, a god from the Egyptian system, and our symbol is a feather, because Amun wore a
feathered headdress. Do you remember that we all wore little feather pins there?”
Ah. No. I shook my head.
“Well, it was a busy summit,” Eric conceded.
What with the bombs, and the explosions, and all.
“To our west is Zeus, from the Roman system, and a thunderbolt is their symbol, of course.”
Sure. I nodded in profound agreement. Eric may have sensed that I was not exactly on board, by then. He gave me a stern look.
“Sookie, this is important. As my wife, you must know this.”
I wasn’t even going to get into that tonight. “Okay, go ahead,” I said.
“The fourth clan, the West Coast division, is called Narayana, from early Hinduism, and its symbol is an eye, because Narayana
created the sun and moon from his eyes.”
I thought of things I’d like to ask, like “Who the hell sat around and picked the stupid names?” But when I ran my questions through
my inner censor, each one sounded snarkier than the last. I said, “But there were some vampires at the summit in Rhodes—the
Amun Clan summit—that should be in Zeus, right?”
“Yes, good! There are visitors at the summits, if they have some vested interest in a topic under discussion. Or if they are engaged
in a lawsuit against someone in that division. Or if they’re going to marry someone in the division whose time it is to have a summit.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners with his smile of approval.Narayana created the sun from his eyes, I thought. I smiled back.
“I understand,” I said. “So, how come Felipe conquered Louisiana, since we’re Amun and he’s . . . Ah, is Nevada in Narayana or
Zeus?”
“Narayana. He took Louisiana because he wasn’t as frightened of Sophie-Anne as everyone else. He planned, and executed
quickly and with precision after the governing . . . board . . . of Narayana Clan approved his plan.”
“He had to present a plan before he moved on us?”
“That’s the way it’s done. The kings and queens of Narayana wouldn’t want their territory weakened if Felipe failed and Sophie-
Anne managed to take Nevada. So he had to outline his plan.”
“They didn’t think we might want to say something about that plan?”
“Not their concern. If we’re weak enough to be taken, then we are fair game. Sophie-Anne was a good leader, and much
respected. With her incapacitation, Felipe judged we were weak enough to attack. Stan’s lieutenant in Texas has struggled these
past few months since Stan was injured in Rhodes, and it’s been hard for him to hold on to Texas.”
“How would they know how hurt Sophie-Anne was? How hurt Stan is?”
“Spies. We all spy on each other.” Eric shrugged. (Big deal. Spies.)
“What if one of the rulers in Narayana had owed some favor to Sophie-Anne and decided to tip her off to the takeover?”
“I’m sure some of them considered it. But with Sophie-Anne so severely wounded, I suppose they decided that the odds lay with
Felipe.”
This was appalling. “How do you trust anyone?”
“I don’t. There are two exceptions. You, and Pam.”
“Oh,” I said. I tried to imagine feeling like that. “That’s awful, Eric.”
I thought he’d shrug that off. But instead, he regarded me soberly. “Yes. It’s not good.”
“Do you know who the spies in Area Five are?”
“Felicia, of course. She is weak, and it’s not much of a secret that she must be in the pay of someone; probably Stan in Texas, or
Freyda in Oklahoma.”
“I don’t know Freyda.” I’d met Stan. “Is Texas in Zeus or Amun?”
Eric beamed at me. I was his star pupil. “Zeus,” he said. “But Stan had to be at the summit because he was proposing to go in with
Mississippi on a resort development.”
“He sure paid for that,” I said. “If they have spies, we have spies, too, right?”
“Of course.”
“Who? I’m not missing anyone?”
“You met Rasul in New Orleans, I believe.”
I nodded. Rasul had been of Middle Eastern stock, and he’d had quite a sense of humor. “He survived the takeover.”
“Yes, because he agreed to become a spy for Victor, and therefore for Felipe. They sent him to Michigan.”
“Michigan?”
“There is a very large Arab enclave there, and Rasul fits in well. He tells them he fled the takeover.” Eric paused. “You know, his
life will be ended if you tell anyone this.”
“Oh, duh. I’m not telling anyone any of this. For one thing, the fact that you-all named your little slices of America after gods is just .
. .” I shook my head. Really something. I wasn’t sure what. Proud? Stupid? Bizarre? “For another thing, I like Rasul.” And I
thought it was pretty damn smart of him to take the chance to get out from under Victor’s thumb, no matter what he’d agreed to do.
“Why are you telling me all this, all of a sudden?”
“I think you need to know what’s going on around you, my lover.” Eric had never looked more serious. “Last night, while I was
working, I found myself distracted by the idea that you might suffer for your ignorance. Pam agreed. She’s wanted to give you the
background of our hierarchy for some weeks. But I thought the knowledge would burden you, and you had enough problems to
handle. Pam reminded me that ignorance could get you killed. I value you too much to let yours continue.”
My initial thought was that I’d really enjoyed that ignorance, and it would have been okay with me if I’d retained it. Then I had to
hop all over myself. Eric was really trying to include me in his life and its ins and outs. And he was trying to help me acclimatize to
his world because he considered me a part of it. I tried to feel warm and fuzzy about that.
Finally, I said, “Thanks.” I tried to think of intelligent questions to ask. “Um, okay. So the kings and queens of each state in a
particular division get together to make decisions and bond—what, every two years?”
Eric was eyeing me cautiously. He could tell not all was well in Sookieville. “Yes,” he said. “Unless there’s some crisis that calls for
an extra meeting. Each state is not a separate kingdom. For instance, there’s a ruler of New York City and a ruler of the rest of the
state. Florida is also divided.”
“Why?” That took me aback. Until I considered. “Oh, lots of tourists. Easy prey. High vampire population.”
Eric nodded. “California is in thirds—California Sacramento, California San Jose, and California Los Angeles. On the other hand,
North and South Dakota have become one kingdom, since the population is so thin.”
I was getting the hang of looking at things through vampire eyes. There’d be more lions where the gazelles crowded around the
watering hole. Fewer prey animals, fewer predators. “How does the business of—well, of Amun, say—get conducted between
those biennial meetings?” There had to be stuff that came up.
“Message boards, mostly. If we have to have a face-to-face, committees of sheriffs meet, depending on the situation. If I had an
argument with the vampire of another sheriff, I’d call that sheriff, and if he wasn’t ready to give me satisfaction, his lieutenant would
meet with my lieutenant.”
“And if that didn’t work?”
“We’d kick the dispute up the ladder, to the summit. In between meeting years, there’s an informal gathering, with no ceremony or
celebration.”
I could think of a lot of questions, but they were all of the “what if” variety, and there wasn’t any immediate need for me to know
the answers.
“Okeydokey,” I said. “Well, that was real interesting.”
“You don’t sound interested. You sound irritated.”
“This isn’t what I expected when I found out you were sleeping in the house.”
“What did you expect?”
“I expected you’d come over here because you couldn’t wait an extra minute to have fabulous, mind-blowing sex with me.” And to
hell with the corpse, for the moment.
“I’ve told you things for your own good,” Eric said soberly. “However, now that that’s done, I am as ready as ever to have sex
with you, and I can certainly make it mind-blowing.”
“Then cut to the chase, honey.”
With a movement too fast for me to follow, Eric’s shirt was off, and while I was admiring the view, his other clothes followed.
“Do I actually get to chase you?” he asked, his fangs already out.
I made it halfway to the living room before he caught me. But he carried me back to the bedroom.
It was great. Even though I had a niggling anxiety gnawing at me, that gnawing was successfully stifled for a very satisfying forty-five
minutes.
Eric liked to lie propped on his elbow, his other hand stroking my stomach. When I protested that since my stomach wasn’t
completely flat, this made me feel fat, he laughed heartily. “Who wants a bag of bones?” he said, with absolute sincerity. “I don’t
want to hurt myself on the sharp edges of the woman I’m bedding.”
That made me feel better than anything he’d said to me in a long time. “Did women . . . Were women curvier when you were
human?” I asked.
“We didn’t always have choices about how fat we were,” Eric said dryly. “In bad years, we were all skin and bones. In good
years, when we could eat, we did.”
I felt abashed. “Oh, sorry.”
“This is a wonderful century to live in,” Eric said. “You can have food anytime you want.”
“If you have the money to pay for it.”
“Oh, you can steal it,” he said. “The point is, the food is here to be had.”
“Not in Africa.”
“I know people still starve in many parts of the world. But sooner or later, this prosperity will extend everywhere. It just got here
first.”
I found his optimism amazing. “You really think so?”
“Yes,” he said simply. “Braid my hair for me, would you, Sookie?”
I got my hairbrush and an elastic band. Color me silly, but I really enjoyed doing this. Eric sat on the stool in front of my vanity
table, and I threw on a robe he’d given me, a beautiful peach-and-white-silk one. I began brushing Eric’s long hair. After he said he
didn’t mind, I got some hair gel and slicked the blond strands back so there wouldn’t be any loose hairs ruining the look. I took my
time, making the neatest braid I could, and then I tied off the end. Without his hair floating around his face, Eric looked more
severe, but just as handsome. I sighed.
“What is this sound coming from you?” he asked, turning from side to side to get several views of himself in the mirror. “Are you not
happy with the result?”
“I think you look great,” I said. Only the fact that he might accuse me of false modesty kept me from saying, “So what on earth are
you doing with me?”
“Now I’ll do your hair.”
Something in me flinched. The night I’d had sex for the very first time, Bill had brushed my hair until the sensuality of the movement
had turned into a very different kind of sensuality. “No, thanks,” I said brightly.
I realized that I felt very odd, all of a sudden.
Eric swung around to look up at me. “What’s making you so jumpy, Sookie?”
“Hey, what happened to Alaska and Hawaii?” I asked at random. I still had the brush in my hand, and without meaning to, I
dropped it. It clattered on the wooden floor.
“What?” Eric looked down at the brush, then up at my face, in some confusion.
“What section are they in? They both in Nakamura?”
“Narayana. No. Alaska is lumped in with the Canadians. They have their own system. Hawaii is autonomous.”
“That’s just not right.” I was genuinely indignant. Then I remembered there was something very important I had to tell Eric. “I guess
Heidi reported back to you after she sniffed out my land? She told you about the body?” My hand jerked involuntarily.
Eric was watching my every move, his eyes narrowed. “We already talked about Debbie Pelt. If you really want me to, I’ll move
her.”
I shivered all over. I wanted to tell him that the body was fresh. I’d started out to do that, but somehow I was having trouble
formulating my sentence. I felt so peculiar. Eric cocked his head, his eyes locked on my face. “You’re behaving very strangely,
Sookie.”
“Do you think Alcide could tell from the smell that the corpse was Debbie?” I asked. What was wrong with me?
“Not from the scent,” he said. “A body is a body. It doesn’t retain the distinctive scent that identified it as a particular person,
especially after this long. Are you so worried about what Alcide thinks?”
“Not as much as I used to be,” I said, babbling on. “Hey, I heard on the radio today that one of the senators from Oklahoma came
out as a Were. He said he’d register with some government bureau the day they pried his fangs from his cold, dead corpse.”
“I think the backlash from this will benefit vampires,” Eric said with some satisfaction. “Of course, we’d always realized the
government would want to keep track of us somehow. Now it seems that if the Weres win their fight to be free of supervision, we
may be able to do the same.”
“You better get dressed,” I said. Something bad was going to happen soon, and Eric needed clothes.
He turned and peered at himself in the mirror one last time. “All right,” he said, a little surprised. He was still nude and magnificent.
But at the moment, I wasn’t feeling a bit lusty. I was feeling jangly, and nervous, and worried. I felt like spiders were crawling all
over my skin. I didn’t know what could be happening to me. I tried to speak but found I couldn’t. I made my fingers move in a
“hurry up” gesture.
Eric gave me a quick, worried glance and wordlessly began searching for his clothes. He found his pants, and he pulled them on.
I sank down to the floor, my hands on both sides of my head. I thought my skull might detach from my spine. I whimpered. Eric
dropped his shirt.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” he asked, sinking down to the floor beside me.
“Someone’s coming,” I said. “I feel sostrange . Someone’s coming. Almost here. Someone with your blood.” I realized I’d felt a
faint, faint trace of this same oddness before, when I’d confronted Bill’s maker, Lorena. I hadn’t had a blood bond with Bill, or at
least not one anything like as binding as the one I had with Eric.
Eric rose to his feet in less than the blink of an eye, and I heard him make a sound deep in his chest. His hands were in white fists. I
was huddled against my bed, and he was between me and the open window. In the blink of an eye, I realized there was someone
right outside.
“Appius Livius Ocella,” Eric said. “It’s been a hundred years.”
Geez Louise. Eric’s maker.
Chapter 8
Between Eric’s legs I could see a man, very scarred and very muscular, with dark eyes and hair. I knew he was short because I
could only see his head and shoulders. He was wearing jeans and a Black Sabbath T-shirt. I couldn’t help it. I giggled.
“Haven’t you missed me, Eric?” The Roman’s voice had an accent I really couldn’t have broken down, it had so many layers.
“Ocella, your presence is always an honor,” Eric said. I giggled harder. Eric was lying.
“What is wrong with my wife?” he asked.
“Her senses are confused,” the older vampire said. “You have my blood. She’s had your blood. And another child of mine is here.
The bond between us all is scrambling her thoughts and feelings.”
No shit.
“This is my new son, Alexei,” Appius Livius Ocella told Eric.
I peered past Eric’s legs. The new “son” was a boy of no more than thirteen or fourteen. In fact, I could hardly see his face. I froze,
trying not to react.
“Brother,” said Eric by way of greeting his new sibling. The words came out level and cold.
I was going to stand up now. I was not going to crouch here any longer. Eric had crowded me into a very small space between the
bed and the nightstand, with the bathroom door to my right. He hadn’t shifted from his defensive posture.
“Excuse me,” I said, with a great effort, and Eric took a step forward to give me room, keeping himself between me and his maker
and the boy. I rose to my feet, pushing on the bed to get upright. I still felt fried. I looked Eric’s sire right in his dark and liquid eyes.
For a fraction of a second, he looked surprised.
“Eric, you need to go to the front door and let them in,” I said. “I’ll bet they don’t really need an invitation.”
“Eric, she’s rare,” said Ocella in his oddly accented English. “Where did you find her?”
“I’m asking you in out of courtesy, because you’re Eric’s dad,” I said. “I could just leave you outside.” If I didn’t sound as strong
as I wanted, at least I didn’t sound frightened.
“But my child is in this house, and if he is welcome, so am I. Am I not?” Ocella’s thick black brows rose. His nose . . . Well, you
could tell why they coined the term “Roman nose.” “I waited to come in out of courtesy. We could have appeared in your
bedroom.”
And the next moment they were inside.
I didn’t dignify that with an answer. I spared a glance for the boy, whose face was absolutely blank. He was no ancient Roman. He
hadn’t been a vampire a full century, I estimated, and he seemed to come from Germanic stock. His hair was light and short and cut
evenly, his eyes were blue, and when he met my own, he inclined his head.
“Your name is Alexei?” I asked.
“Yes,” said his maker, while the boy stood mute. “This is Alexei Romanov.”
Though the boy didn’t react, and neither did Eric, I had a moment of sheer horror. “Youdidn’t ,” I said to Eric’s maker, who was
about my height. “Youdidn’t .”
“I tried to save one of his sisters, too, but she was beyond my recall,” Ocella said bleakly. His teeth were white and even, though he
was missing the one next to his left canine. If you had lost teeth before you became a vampire, they didn’t regenerate.
“Sookie, what is it?” Eric was not following, for once.
“The Romanovs,” I said, trying to keep my voice hushed as though the boy couldn’t hear me from twenty yards away. “The last
Russian royal family.”
To Eric, the executions of the Romanovs must seem like yesterday, and perhaps not very important in the tapestry of deaths he’d
experienced in his thousand years. But he understood that his maker had done something extraordinary. I looked at Ocella without
anger, without fear, for just a few seconds, and I saw a man who, finding himself an outcast and lonely, looked for the most
outstanding “children” he could find.
“Was Eric the first vampire you made?” I asked Ocella.
He was bemused by what he saw as my brazen attitude. Eric had a stronger reaction. As I felt his fear roll through me, I understood
that Eric had to physically perform whatever Ocella ordered him to do. Before, that had been an abstract concept. Now I realized
that if Ocella ordered Eric to kill me, Eric would be compelled to do it.
The Roman decided to answer me. “Yes, he was the first one I brought over successfully. The others I tried to bring over—they
died.”
“Could we please leave my bedroom and go into the living room?” I said. “This is not the right place to receive visitors.” See? I was
trying to be polite.
“Yes, I suppose,” said the older vampire. “Alexei? Where do you suppose the living room is?”
Alexei half turned and pointed in the right direction.
“Then that’s where we’ll go, dearest,” Ocella said, and Alexei led the way.
I had a moment to look up at Eric, and I knew my face was asking,“What the hell is going on here?” But he looked stunned, and
helpless. Eric. Helpless. My head was whirling.
When I had a second to think about it, I was pretty nauseated, because Alexei was a child and I was fairly sure that Ocella had a
sexual relationship with the boy, as he’d had with Eric. But I wasn’t foolish enough to think that I could stop it, or that any protest I
made would make the slightest difference. In fact, I was far from sure Alexei himself would thank me for intervening, when I
remembered Eric telling me about his desperate attachment to his maker during the first years of his new life as a vampire.
Alexei had been with Ocella for a long time now, at least in human terms. I couldn’t remember exactly when the Romanov family
had been executed, but I thought it was sometime around 1918, and apparently it had been Ocella who’d saved the boy from final
death. So whatever constituted their relationship, it had been ongoing for more than eighty years.
All these thoughts flickered through my head, one after another, as we followed the two visitors. Ocella had said he could have
entered without warning. It would have been nice if Eric had told me about that. I could see how he might have hoped that Ocella
would never visit, so I was willing to give Eric a pass . . . but I couldn’t help thinking that instead of his lecture on the ways vampires
had sliced up my country according to their own convenience, it would have been more practical to let me know his maker could
appearin my bedroom .
“Please, have a seat,” I said, after Ocella and Alexei had settled on the couch.
“So much sarcasm,” said Ocella. “Will you not offer us hospitality?” His gaze ran up and down me, and though the color of his eyes
was rich and brown, they were utterly cold.
I had a second to realize how glad I was that I’d put a robe on. I would have rather eaten Alpo than been naked in front of these
two. “I’m not happy with your popping up outside my bedroom window,” I said. “You could have come to the door and knocked,
like people with good manners do.” I wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know; vampires are good at reading people, and
the oldest vampires are usually better than humans at telling what humans are feeling.
“Yes, but then I wouldn’t have seen such a charming sight.” Ocella let his gaze brush Eric’s shirtless body almost tangibly. Alexei,
for the first time, showed an emotion. He looked scared. Was he afraid Ocella would reject him, throw him out onto the mercy of
the world? Or was he afraid that Ocella would keep him?
I pitied Alexei from the bottom of my heart, and I feared him just as much.
He was as helpless as Eric.
Ocella had been looking at Alexei with an attention that was almost frightening. “He’s already much better,” Ocella murmured.
“Eric, your presence is doing him so much good.”
I’d kind of figured things couldn’t get more awkward, but a peremptory knock at the back door followed by a “Sookie, you here?”
told me that actually the night could get worse.
My brother, Jason, came in without waiting for me to answer. “Sookie, I saw your light on when I pulled up, so I figured you were
awake,” he said, and then he stopped abruptly when he realized how much company I had. And what they were.
“Sorry to interrupt, Sook,” he said slowly. “Eric, how you doing?”
Eric said, “Jason, this is my . . . This is Appius Livius Ocella, my maker, and his other son Alexei.” Eric said it properly, “AP-pi-us
Li-WEE-us Oh-KEL-ah.”
Jason nodded at both of the newcomers, but he avoided looking directly at the older vampire. Good instinct. “Good evening,
O’Kelly. Hey, Alexei. So you’re Eric’s little brother, huh? Are you a Viking like Eric?”
“No,” said the boy faintly. “I am Russian.” Alexei’s accent was much lighter than the Roman’s. He looked at Jason with interest. I
hoped he wasn’t thinking about biting my brother. The thing about Jason, and what made him so attractive to people (particularly
women), was that he practically radiated life. He just seemed to have an extra helping of vigor and vitality, and it was returning with
a boom now that the misery of his wife’s death was fading. This was his manifestation of the fairy blood in his veins.
“Well, good to meet you-all,” Jason said. Then he quit paying attention to the visitors. “Sookie, I came to get that little side table
from up in the attic. I came by here once before to pick it up, but you were gone and I didn’t have my key with me.” Jason kept a
key to my house for emergencies, just as I kept a key to his.
I’d forgotten his asking me for the table when we’d had dinner together. At this point, he could have asked me for my bedroom set,
and I would have agreed just to get him out of danger. I said, “Sure, I don’t need it. Go on up. I don’t think it’s very far inside the
door.”
Jason excused himself, and everyone’s eyes followed him as he bounded up the stairs. Eric was probably just trying to keep his
eyes busy while he thought, but Ocella watched my brother with frank appraisal, and Alexei with a kind of yearning.
“Would you like some TrueBlood?” I asked the vampires, through clenched teeth.
“I suppose, if you won’t offer yourself or your brother,” the ancient Roman said.
“I won’t.”
I turned to go to the kitchen.
“I feel your anger,” Ocella said.
“I don’t care,” I said, without turning to face him. I heard Jason coming downstairs, a little more slowly now that he was carrying
the table. “Jason, you want to come with me?” I said over my shoulder.
He was more than glad to leave the room. Though he was civil to Eric because he knew I loved him, Jason was not happy in the
company of vamps. He put the table down in a corner of the kitchen.
“Sook, what’s going on here?”
“Come into my room for a second,” I said after I’d gotten the bottles out of my refrigerator. I’d feel a lot better if I had more
clothes on. Jason trailed after me. I shut the door once we were inside my bedroom.
“Watch the door. I don’t trust that old one,” I said, and Jason obligingly turned his back and watched the door while I pulled off the
robe, getting into my clothes as fast as I’ve ever dressed in my life.
“Whoa,” Jason said, and I jumped. I turned to see that Alexei had opened the door and would have entered if Jason hadn’t been
holding it.
“I’m sorry,” Alexei said. His voice was a ghost of a voice, a voice that once had been. “I apologize to you, Sookie, and you,
Jason.”
“Jason, you can let him in. What are you sorry for, Alexei?” I asked. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen and I’ll warm up the
TrueBlood.” We trailed into the kitchen. We were a little farther from the living room, and there was a chance Eric and Ocella
wouldn’t hear us.
“My master is not always like this. His age, it turns him.”
“Turns him into what? A total jerk? A sadist? A child molester?”
A faint smile crossed the boy’s face. “At times, all of those,” he said succinctly. “But truthfully, I haven’t been well myself. That’s
why we’re here.”
Jason began to look angry. He likes kids, always has. Even though Alexei could have killed Jason in a second, Jason thought of
Alexei as a child. My brother was building up a big mad, actually thinking of charging into the living room to confront Appius Livius
Ocella.
“Listen, Alexei, you don’t have to stay with that dude if you don’t want to,” Jason said. “You can stay with me or Sookie, if Eric
won’t put you up. Nobody’s gonna make you stay with someone you don’t want to be with.” Bless Jason’s heart, he sure didn’t
know what he was talking about.
Alexei smiled, a faint smile that was simply heart-piercing. “Really, he is not so bad. He is a good man, I believe, but from a time
you can’t imagine. I think you are used to knowing vampires who are trying to . . . mainstream. Master, he is not trying to do this.
He is much happier in the shadows. And I must stay with him. Please don’t trouble yourselves, but I thank you for your concern.
I’m feeling better already now that I’m with my brother. I don’t feel as if I’ll suddenly do something . . . regrettable.”
Jason and I looked at each other. That was enough to make us both worried.
Alexei was looking around the kitchen as if he seldom saw one. I figured that was probably true.
I took the warm bottles out of the microwave and shook them. I put some napkins on the tray with the bottles. Jason got himself a
Coke from the refrigerator.
I didn’t know what to think about Alexei. He apologized for Ocella like the Roman was his grumpy grandpa, but it was apparent
that he was in Ocella’s sway. Of course he was; he was Ocella’s child in a very real sense.
It was an awfully strange situation, having a figure out of history sitting in your living room. I thought of the horrors he’d experienced,
both before and after his death. I thought of his childhood as the tsarevitch, and I knew that despite his hemophilia, that childhood
must have contained some glorious moments. I didn’t know whether the boy often longed for the love, devotion, and luxury that had
surrounded him from birth until the rebellion, or (considering he’d been executed along with his whole immediate family) whether it
was possible he saw being a vampire as an improvement over being buried in a pit in the woods in Russia.
Though with the hemophilia, his life expectancy in those days would have been pretty damn short anyway.
Jason added ice to his glass and looked in the cookie jar. I didn’t keep cookies anymore, because if I did, I’d eat ’em. He closed
the jar sadly. Alexei was watching everything Jason did as if he were observing an animal he’d never seen before.
He noticed me looking at him. “Two men took care of me, two sailors,” he said, as though he could read the questions in my mind.
“They carried me around when the pain was bad. After the world turned upside down, one of them abused me when he had the
chance. But the other died, simply because he was still kind to me. Your brother reminds me a little of that one.”
“Sorry about your family,” I said awkwardly, since I felt compelled to say something.
He shrugged. “I was glad when they found them and gave the burial,” he said. But when I saw his eyes, I knew that his words were
a thin layer of ice over a pit of pain.
“Who was that in your coffin?” I asked. Was I being tacky? What on earth else was there to talk about? Jason was looking from
Alexei to me, mystified. Jason’s idea of history was remembering Jimmy Carter’s embarrassing brother.
“When the big grave was found, Master knew they would find my sister and me soon. We overestimated the searchers, perhaps. It
took sixteen more years. But in the meantime, we revisited the place where I was buried.”
I felt my eyes fill with tears.The place where I was buried . . .
He continued, “We had to provide some of my bones for it, because we had learned about DNA by then. Otherwise, of course,
we could have found a boy about the right age. . . .”
I really couldn’t think of anything remotely normal to say. “So you cut out some of your own bones to put in the grave,” I said, my
voice clogged and shaky.
“In steps, over time. Everything grew back,” he said reassuringly. “We had to burn my bones a little. They had burned Maria and
me, and poured acid on us, too.”
Finally, I managed, “Why was that necessary? To put your bones there?”
“Master wanted me to be at rest,” he said. “He didn’t want any sightings. He reasoned that if my bones were found, there would be
no more controversy. Of course, by now no one would expect me to be alive anyway, much less looking like I did then. Perhaps
we weren’t thinking clearly. When you’ve been out of the world so long . . . And in the first five years after the revolution, I was
seen by a couple of people who did recognize me. Master had to take care of them.”
That, too, took a minute to sink in. Jason looked nauseated. I wasn’t far behind him. But this little chitchat had already taken long
enough. I didn’t want “Master” to think we were plotting against him.
“Alexei,” Appius Livius called in a sharp voice. “Is all well with you?”
“Yes, sir,” Alexei said, and hurried back to the Roman.
“Jesus Christ, Shepherd of Judea,” I said, and turned to carry the tray of bottles into the living room. Jason was clearly unhappy,
but he followed me.
Eric was fixed on Appius Livius Ocella like a 7-Eleven clerk watches a customer who may have a gun. But he seemed to have
relaxed a smidgen, now that he’d had a little time to recover from the shock of his maker’s appearance. Through the bond, I felt a
wash of overwhelming relief from Eric. After I thought about that, I believed I understood. Eric was relieved beyond measure that
the older vampire had brought a bedmate with him. Eric, who had given a pretty good impression of indifference about his many
years as Ocella’s sexual companion, had had a moment of crazed unwillingness when he actually saw his maker again. Eric was
reassembling and rearming himself. He was returning to being Eric, the sheriff, from his abrupt reversion to Eric, the new vampire
and love slave.
The way I perceived Eric would never be quite the same again. I knew now what he feared. What I was getting from Eric was that
it wasn’t so much the physical aspect as the mental; above all else, Eric did not want to be under the control of his maker.
I served each of the vampires a bottle, carefully placing it on a napkin. At least I didn’t have to worry about serving an
accompanying snack . . . unless Ocella decided all three of them would feed from me. In which case, I had no hope I would
survive, and there wouldn’t be a damn thing I could do about it. This should have made me the model of discretion. I should have
determined to sit there with my ankles crossed and not let butter melt in my mouth.
But it just pissed me off.
Eric’s hand twitched, and I knew he was reading my mood. He wanted to tell me to tone it down, to cool off, to come in under the
radar. He might not want to be under Ocella’s sway again, but he loved the vampire, too. I made myself back down. I hadn’t given
the Roman a chance. I didn’t really know him. I only knew some things I didn’t like about him, and there must be some other things
I would like or admire. If he’d been Eric’s for-real father, I’d have given him lots of chances to prove his worth.
I wondered how clearly Ocella could sense my emotions. He was still tuned in to Eric and always would be, and Eric and I were
bonded. But it seemed my feelings didn’t carry over; the Roman didn’t so much as glance my way. I cast my eyes down. I would
have to learn how to be stealthier, and in a hurry. Normally, I was good at hiding what I felt, but the nearness of the ancient vampire
and his new protégé, their blood so like Eric’s, had thrown me for a loop.
“I’m not sure what to call you,” I said, meeting the Roman’s eyes. I was trying to mimic my grandmother’s best company voice.
“You may call me Appius Livius,” he said, “since you are Eric’s wife. It took Eric a hundred years to earn the right to call me
Appius, rather than Master. Then centuries to be able to call me Ocella.”
So only Eric got to call him Ocella. Fine with me. I noticed Alexei was still at the “Master” stage. Alexei was sitting as still as if he’d
taken a huge tranquilizer, his synthetic blood sitting on the coffee table in front of him with only a sip missing.
“Thanks,” I said, aware that I didn’t sound very thankful. I glanced over at my brother. Jason was thinking he had a pretty good
idea about what he wanted to call the Roman, but I gave my head a small but definite shake.
“Eric, tell me how you are doing these days,” Appius Livius said. He sounded genuinely interested. His hand went over to Alexei,
and I saw he was stroking the boy’s back, as if Alexei were a puppy. But I couldn’t deny there was affection in the gesture.
“I’m very well. Area Five is prosperous. I was the only Louisiana sheriff to survive the takeover by Felipe de Castro.” Eric
managed to sound matter-of-fact.
“How did that come about?”
Eric gave the older vampire a rundown on the political situation with Victor Madden. When he thought Appius Livius was up to
speed on the Felipe de Castro/Victor Madden situation, Eric asked him, “How did you come to be on hand for the rescue of this
young man?” Eric smiled at Alexei.
This would be a story worth listening to, now that I’d heard Alexei’s horrifying tale about “salting” his grave. While Alexei Romanov
sat by his side in remote silence, Appius told Eric about tracking down the Russian royal family in 1918.
“Though I had expected something of the sort, I had to move much faster than I had anticipated,” Appius said. He finished his
bottled blood. “The decision to execute them was made so swiftly, conducted at such speed. No one wanted the men to have time
to think twice about it. For many of the soldiers, it was a terrible thing they were doing.”
“Why did you want to save the Romanovs?” Eric asked, as if Alexei weren’t there.
And Appius Livius laughed. He gave great laugh. “I hated the fucking Bolsheviks,” he said. “And I had a tie to the boy. Rasputin
had been giving him my blood for years. I happened to be in Russia already; you remember the St. Petersburg Massacre?”
Eric nodded. “I do indeed. I had not seen you in many years, and only caught a glimpse of you then.” Eric had talked about the St.
Petersburg Massacre before. A vampire named Gregory had had madness visited on him by a vengeful maenad, and it had taken
twenty vampires to pin him down and then disguise the results.
“After that night, when so many of us worked together to tidy up the scene after Gregory was subdued, I developed a fondness for
the Russian vampires—and the Russian people, too.” He tacked the Russian people on with a gracious nod toward me and Jason,
as representatives of the human race. “The fucking Bolsheviks killed so many of us. I was grieved. The deaths of Fedor and
Velislava were particularly hard. They were both great vampires, and hundreds of years old.”
“I knew them,” Eric said.
“I sent them a message to get out before I started to look for the royal family. I could track Alexei because he’d had my blood.
Rasputin knew what we were. Whenever the empress would call him to heal the boy when the hemophilia was very bad, Rasputin
would beg some of my blood and the boy would recover. I heard a rumor they were thinking of killing the royal family, and I began
following the scent of my blood. When I set out to rescue them, you can imagine how like a crusader I felt!”
They both laughed, and I suddenly understood that the two vampires had actually seen crusaders, the original Christian knight
crusaders. When I tried to comprehend how old they were, how much they’d witnessed, how many experiences they’d had that
almost no one else walking the earth remembered, it made my head hurt.
“Sook, you got the most interesting company,” Jason said.
“Listen, I know you want to go, but if you could stick around for a while, I’d appreciate it,” I said. I wasn’t happy with having
Eric’s maker and the poor child Alexei here, and since Alexei was clearly happy with Jason, his presence might help ease this
uncomfortable situation.
“I’ll just go put the table out in the truck and call Michele,” he said. “Alexei, you want to come with me?”
Appius Livius didn’t move, but he definitely grew tense. Alexei looked over at the ancient Roman. After a long pause, Appius Livius
nodded at the boy. “Alexei, remember your company manners,” Appius Livius said softly. Alexei bobbed his head.
Having been given permission, the tsarevitch of Russia went outside with the road-crew worker to stow a table in the back of a
pickup.
When I was alone with Eric and his maker, I felt a stab of anxiety. Actually, it was flowing right through the bond I had with Eric. I
wasn’t the only one around here who was worried. And their conversation appeared to be at a standstill.
“Excuse me, Appius Livius,” I said carefully. “Since you were in the right empire at the right time, I wonder if you ever saw Jesus?”
The Roman was staring at the hallway, willing Alexei to reappear. “The carpenter? No, I didn’t see him,” Appius said, and I could
tell he was making an effort to be courteous. “The Jew died right around the time I was changed. As you will appreciate, I had
many other things to think of. In fact, I didn’t hear the whole myth until some time later when the world began to change as a result
of his death.”
That would really have been amazing, talking to a creature who’d seen the living God . . . even if he called him a “myth.” And I went
back to fearing the Roman—not for what he’d done to me, or what he’d done to Eric, or even what he was doing to Alexei, but for
what hemight do to all of us, if he took a mind to. I had always tried to find the good in people, but the best I could say of Appius
was that he had good taste in those he picked to become vampires.
While I brooded, Appius was explaining to Eric how conveniently it had worked out in the cellar in Ekaterinburg. Alexei had almost
bled out from his wounds, so he’d given the boy a big gulp of his blood—moving at superspeed, and therefore invisible to the
execution squad. Then he’d watched from the shadows while the bodies were thrown down a well. The next day, the royal family
was dug up again since the murderers feared the uproar that might follow the deaths of the Romanovs.
“I followed them the minute the sun set the next day,” Appius said. “They’d stopped to rebury them. Alexei and one of his sisters . .
.”
“Maria,” Alexei said softly, and I jumped. He had reappeared silently in the living room, standing behind Appius’s chair. “It was
Maria.”
There was a silence. Appius looked hugely relieved. “Yes, of course, dear boy,” Appius said, and he did manage to sound as
though he cared. “Your sister Maria was completely gone, but there was a tiny spark in you.” Alexei put his hand on Appius
Livius’s shoulder, and Appius Livius reached up to pat him.
“They had shot him many times,” he explained to Eric. “Twice in the head. I put my blood directly in the bullet holes.” He turned his
head to look at the boy behind him. “My blood worked well, since you had lost so much of yours.” It was like he was recollecting
happy times. Hoo, boy. The Roman turned back to look at Eric and me, and he smiled proudly. But I could see Alexei’s face.
Appius Livius genuinely felt that he’d been a savior to Alexei. I wasn’t so sure Alexei was totally convinced of that.
“Where’s your brother?” Appius Livius suddenly asked, and I pushed to my feet to go find him. I had put two and two together,
and I understood that Eric’s maker wanted to be sure Alexei hadn’t drained Jason and left him out in the yard.
Jason came into the living room just then, slipping his cell phone into his pocket. He narrowed his eyes. Jason was not a nuance
kind of guy, but he could tell when I was unhappy. “Sorry,” he said. “Talkin’ to Michele.”
“Hmmm,” I said. I made a mental note that Appius Livius was worried about Alexei being alone with humans, and I knew that
should scare me quite a bit. The night was growing older, and I had things to find out. “I hate to change the subject, but there are a
few things I need to know.”
“What, Sookie?” Eric asked, looking directly at me for the first time since Old Master had popped up. He was pouring caution
down the bond between us.
“I just have a couple of questions,” I said, smiling as sweetly as I could. “Have you been in this area for any length of time?”
I met the ancient dark eyes again. It was hard to take Appius all in, somehow; I found I couldn’t look at him as a cohesive
individual. He scared the shit out of me.
“No,” he said mildly. “We have not. We’ve come here from the south-west, from Oklahoma, and we have only just arrived in
Louisiana.”
“So you wouldn’t know anything about the new body buried at the back of my land?”
“No, nothing. Would you like us to go dig it up? Unpleasant, but doable. You are wanting to see who it is?”
That was an unexpected offer. Eric was looking at me very oddly. “I’m sorry, honey,” I told him. “I was trying to tell you when our
unexpected guests showed up.”
“Not Debbie,” he said.
“No, Heidi says there’s a new burial. But we do need to know who it is, and we need to find out who put it there.”
“The Weres,” Eric said instantly. “This is the thanks you get for letting them use your land. I’ll call Alcide, and we’ll have a meeting.”
Eric looked positively delighted to get the chance to do something bosslike. He whipped out his cell phone and dialed Alcide before
I could say anything.
“Eric,” he said into the phone by way of identification. “Alcide, we have to talk.” I could hear the buzz on the other end of the line.
A moment later Eric said, “That’s not good, Alcide, and I am sorry to hear you have troubles. But I have other concerns. What did
you do on Sookie’s land?”
Oh, crapanola.
“You should come here and see, then. I think some of your people have been bad. Very well, then. I’ll see you in ten minutes. I am
at her house.”
He hung up, looking triumphant. “Alcide was in Bon Temps?” I asked.
“No, but he was on the interstate and nearly at our exit,” Eric explained. “He’s returning from some meeting in Monroe. The
Louisiana packs are trying to present a united front to the government. Since they’ve never organized before, this is not going to
work.” Eric snorted, clearly scornful. “The Weres are always—what did you say the other day about FEMA, Sookie? ‘A day late
and a dollar short,’ right? At least he’s close, and when he gets here we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
I sighed, trying to make it discreet and silent. I hadn’t realized things would go so far so fast. I asked Eric, Appius Livius, and Alexei
if they wanted more TrueBlood, but they turned it down. Jason was looking bored. I glanced at the clock.
“I’m afraid I have only one spot that’s suitable for a vampire. Where are you-all planning to sleep, come the dawn? I just want to
know in case I need to call around and find a place.”
“Sookie,” said Eric gently, “I will take Ocella and his son back to my house. They can have the guest coffins there.”
Eric ordinarily slept in his bed, because his bedroom was windowless. There were a couple of other coffins in the guest bedroom,
sleek fiberglass things that looked sort of like kayaks, which he kept stowed under the beds. The most wrong thing about Alexei
and Appius Livius staying with Eric was that if they were there, I was definitely staying here.
“I think your darling would love to come in during the day and sink a stake into our chests,” Appius Livius said, as if that were a big
joke. “If you think you can do it, young woman, you are welcome to try.”
“Oh, not at all,” I said, absolutely insincerely. “I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing to Eric’s dad.” Not a bad idea, though.
Beside me, Eric twitched all over; it was a funny movement, like a dog running in its sleep. “Be polite,” he told me, and there was no
element of fun in his voice at all. He was giving me an order.
I took a deep breath. It was on the tip of my tongue to rescind Eric’s invitation to my house. He’d have to leave, and presumably
Appius Livius and Alexei would, too. It was that “presumably” that stopped me. The idea of being alone with Appius Livius even
for a second trumped the pleasurable vision of the three vampires walking out backward.
It was probably lucky for all of us that the doorbell rang then. I was out of my seat as if a rocket had fired me. It would be good to
have more breathers around.
Alcide was wearing a suit. He was flanked by Annabelle, who was wearing a dark green sheath and heeled pumps, and Jannalynn,
Sam’s new interest. Jannalynn had a sense of style, though it was a style that left me stunned. She had on a shiny silver dress that
barely covered her assets and silver high-heeled sandals that laced up the front. The silver eye shadow over her heavily outlined
eyes completed the look. In a scary kind of way, she looked great. Sam certainly dated women who were extraordinary in some
way, and he wasn’t afraid of strong characters, which was a thought I’d have to save for later. Maybe it was a two-natured thing?
Alcide was the same way.
I gave the packleader a hug, and I said hello to Annabelle and to Jannalynn, who gave me a curt nod.
“What is this problem Eric called me about?” Alcide was saying as I stood aside to let them enter. When the Weres realized they
were in a room with three vampires, all of them tensed. They’d expected only Eric. When I glanced back at the vampires, I saw
they were all standing, too, and even Alexei was on the alert.
Jason said, “Alcide, good to see you. Ladies, looking mighty fine tonight.”
I went into high gear. “Hi, you-all!” I said brightly. “It was so nice of you to come at such short notice. Eric, you know Alcide.
Alcide, this is Eric’s longtime friend Appius Livius Ocella, who’s in town visiting with his, ah, protégé, Alexei. Eric, I don’t know if
you’ve met Alcide’s friend Annabelle, a new pack member, and Jannalynn, who’s been in the Long Tooth pack for ages.
Jannalynn, we’ve never had a chance to talk much, but of course Sam talks about you all the time. And I think you all know my
brother, Jason.”
Whew. I felt like I’d run an introduction marathon. Since vamps don’t shake hands, that concluded the opening ceremonies. Then I
had to get them all to sit down while I offered them drinks, which no one accepted.
Eric fired the opening volley. “Alcide, one of my trackers went over Sookie’s land after Basim al Saud warned her about the
strangers he smelled in her woods. Our tracker has found a new body buried there.”
Alcide looked at Eric as though he had begun speaking in tongues.
“We didn’t kill anyone that night,” Alcide said. “Basim said he told Sookie we smelled an old body, and a fairy or two, and a
vampire. But he didn’t mention a fresh body.”
“Yet there’s a new burial there now.”
“Which we had nothing to do with.” Alcide shrugged. “We were there three nights before your tracker smelled the scent of a fresh
body.”
“It seems quite a huge coincidence, doesn’t it? A body on Sookie’s land, right after your pack is there?” Eric was looking
aggravatingly reasonable.
“Maybe it’s more of a coincidence that there was already a body on Sookie’s land.”
Oh, boy, Ireally didn’t want to go there.
Jannalynn was actually snarling at Eric. It was an interesting look, with the eye makeup and all. Annabelle was standing with her
arms slightly away from her body, waiting to see which way she needed to jump.
Alexei was staring off into space, which seemed to be his fallback stance, and Appius Livius simply seemed bored.
“I say we should go see who it is,” Jason said unexpectedly.
I looked at him with approval.
So out we went into the woods to dig up a corpse.