Chapter 15
Luis and Antonio came in first. They were clearly wary. It was like watching a cop show on television; they came inside in a rush, immediately
separating to flank the door. I almost smiled, and Immanuel actually grinned, which was not a good idea. Luckily, humans are the last creatures
vampires will worry about when they’re anticipating trouble. The two handsome vamps, clad in jeans and T-shirts instead of leather loincloths,
quickly searched the club, checking out places other vampires could hide. It would have been a severe breach of etiquette to demand body
searches, but you could tell they were eyeballing each local vampire for guns or stakes. Maxwell had to give up his gun, which he did without a
second’s protest. He’d expected it.
After a thorough scan of the premises and a bow to Eric, Luis stuck his head out to give the all-clear.
The rest of Victor’s entourage entered in order of expendability: the married human couple he’d been with at Vampire’s Kiss (Mark and Mindy),
two young vampires whose names I never learned, Ana Lyudmila (who looked much better out of her fantasy bondage gear), and a vampire I’d
never seen, an Asian guy with ivory skin and jetblack hair pulled up on his head in a complicated knot. He would have looked great in traditional
clothes, but instead he wore jeans and a black vest, no shirt or shoes.
“Akiro,” Heidi said in an awed whisper. She’d eased closer to me, and the tension had crept into her, too.
“You know him from Nevada?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “I didn’t know Victor had called for him. He’s finally replaced Bruno—and Corinna, too. That’s how good Akiro’s reputation
is.”Since he was now officially second-in-command, it was okay for Akiro to be openly armed. He was carrying a sword, like one other Asian
vampire I’d met. (Come to think of it, she’d been a bodyguard, too.) Akiro stood in the center of the room, conscious of all the eyes on him, his face
cold and hard, and his eyes relentless.
And then Victor made his entrance, resplendent in a white threepiece suit.
“Good God almighty,” I said blankly, not daring to meet anyone’s eyes. Victor’s dark curls were carefully arranged, and his pierced ear sported a
big gold hoop earring. His shoes were beautifully black. Victor was a trip. It almost seemed a shame to try to destroy all that beauty, and I wished he
weren’t so determined to ruin our lives. I set my purse on the bar and unzipped it so I’d have quick access. Immanuel slid off his stool and moved
away to the wall, his eyes fixed on the newcomers. Heidi took his place while Victor and his party moved farther into the club.
Though my eyes were fixed on Victor, I felt obliged to speak to Heidi, since I felt she’d perched beside me for a reason. “How’s your son?” I
asked, like you do, when you know someone had a loved one.
“Eric has offered to let me bring him here,” Heidi said, carefully keeping her eyes on the visitors.
“That’s very good news,” I said, and I meant it. One more on our side.
In the meantime, the reception was moving slowly forward.
“Victor,” Eric said. He moved front and center, a careful two yards away from the regent. He was smart enough not to give Victor a fulsome
welcome, since that would be a huge tip that something bad was about to come down. “Welcome to Fangtasia. We’re glad to have the chance to
entertain you.” Eric bowed. Akiro’s face remained blank, as if Eric weren’t there.
Still standing and flanked by Luis and Antonio, Victor inclined his curly head. “Sheriff, I present my new right hand, Akiro,” he said with his flashing
smile. “Akiro recently agreed to relocate from Nevada to Louisiana.”
Eric said, “I welcome such a well-known vampire as Akiro to Louisiana. I’m sure you’ll be a great addition to the regent’s staff.” Eric could give
impassive as well as the next vampire.
Akiro had to acknowledge the greeting of a sheriff, who was higher on the food chain, but you could tell he didn’t want to. His bow was a
millimeter too shallow.
Vampires.
Great, I thought, very put out. Finally, Victor replaces his lieutenant and his best fighter. Just at this moment. “I guess this Akiro is a pretty good
fighter, huh?” I whispered to Heidi.
“You could say that,” Heidi said dryly, and she drifted forward to greet her regent. All Eric’s vampires had to take turns offering obeisance. Jock,
the newest member of Eric’s staff, was last in line. You could tell he was ready to kiss Victor’s ass if he got half a chance.
Mindy, with ill-timed lust, gave Jock a hopeful look. She was so dumb, but that didn’t mean she ought to die. I wondered if I could get her to make
a trip to the women’s room before the time came. No. Unless it was her idea, such a maneuver would be a red flag. I looked at the newcomers and
tried to brace myself for what was to come.
This was particularly horrible—this waiting, this planning, knowing I was about to do my best to kill the people in front of me. I was looking into
their eyes and hoping they would die in the next hour. Was this how soldiers felt? I wasn’t as wired as I thought I’d be; I was suspended in an eerie
calm, perhaps because now that Victor had arrived, nothing could stop what was going to happen.
When Victor indicated he was satisfied with his greeting by taking the central chair, Eric told Jock to bring drinks all around. The out-of-town
vamps all waited for Luis to drink from a glass he picked from the tray at random. After Luis survived for several minutes, all the newcomers
selected glasses and one by one, they all took sips. The atmosphere grew much easier after that, because the drinks were absolutely kosher:
warmed synthetic blood, a premium brand.
“You stick to the letter of the law here at Fangtasia,” Victor observed. He smiled at Eric. Mindy was between them, and she was leaning on
Victor’s shoulder, her own Diet Coke with rum in front of her. Her husband, Mark, on Victor’s left, didn’t seem to feel well. His color was bad, and he
seemed listless. When I saw the fang marks on his neck, I wondered if Victor had overindulged. Mindy didn’t seem worried.
“Yes, Regent,” Eric said. He smiled back, just as sincerely, and he didn’t elaborate.
“Your beautiful wife?”
“Is present, of course,” Eric said. “What would the evening be without her?” Eric waved me forward, and Victor raised his drink to me in
appreciation of my appearance. I managed to look pleased. “Victor,” I said, “we’re so glad you could come tonight.” I didn’t try to summon more
than “pleased.” Victor wouldn’t expect me to be as good at concealing my feelings as Eric was, and I wasn’t going to give him cause to think any
different.
Of course, Eric hadn’t wanted me to be there. He’d made it plain that a frail human should not be around when vampires were fighting. In theory, I
agreed. I would much rather have been at home—but I would have worried every second. The clincher in my argument was that Victor would
definitely go on the alert if I were conspicuous by my absence, which would have been a clear signal that Eric was about to spring something. Eric
couldn’t deny that when I’d made the point at our meeting.
Akiro positioned himself behind Victor’s chair. Hmmm, awkward. I was trying to think what I could do about that. Pam was behind Eric’s chair.
When Eric beckoned to me, I smiled and went to join him, my purse over my shoulder.
Colton and Audrina were blending into the background by carrying trays of drinks around the club.
To my astonishment, Heidi went down on one knee by my chair, her posture indicating alert attention. Eric glanced at her but didn’t comment.
Heidi was taking a stance as though Eric had ordered her to protect me during what might be a touchy visit. I looked down at her, but she didn’t
meet my eyes. Yep, that was exactly what had happened. At least that was within the scope of “normal” and wouldn’t necessarily make the visitors
worried.
“Bill,” Eric called. “We’re ready!”
And Bill emerged from the back hallway, smiling—a totally uncharacteristic broad grin—to stand with his arm outflung toward the hall (tah-DAH!)
to announce Bubba’s entrance.
And what an entrance it was! It put Victor’s in the shade.
“Ohmygosh,” I murmured. Bubba was wearing a red jumpsuit that someone had taken a Bedazzler to; he had fake jewels and sequins
everywhere, and his hair was styled in an amazing pompadour. He was wearing black boots and big rings. He was smiling that amazing lopsided
smile that had made women swoon all over the globe, and he was waving as though there were thousands of us instead of a handful. Bill stood by
the boom box Maxwell had set up, and when Bubba leaped onto the tiny stage and thanked us all very much, the lights went down. Bill started the
music—“Kentucky Rain.”
It was incredible. What can I say?
Victor was totally entranced, or as totally as someone who’s perpetually wary can be. Victor leaned forward—Mindy and Mark forgotten, the other
vampires forgotten—to absorb the experience. After all, he had Akiro to watch out for him. And Akiro was on the job, no doubt about it. His eyes
never fixed on Bubba, but swept the room. Luis and Antonio had positioned themselves by the front door, guarding Akiro’s back, and the
bodyguard’s eyes were doing a 180-degree scan of the rest of the club as he stood behind Victor.
As Bubba bowed to the applause, which was as thunderous as our small crowd could manage, Bill started the music again. This time we heard
“In the Ghetto.”
Red tears ran down Victor’s face. I glanced over my shoulder to see that Luis and Antonio were rapt. The two nameless vampires were standing
close to Bill, their hands folded in front of them, watching the show.
Ana Lyudmila was not a music lover, apparently. She was looking bored as she sat on the end of a bench at one of the booths close to the front
door. I could see her over Mark’s shoulder. Thalia, who was about half Ana Lyudmila’s size, sidled up to her and silently offered a tray laden with
more drinks. Ana Lyudmila nodded graciously, selected one, and took a big swallow. After a second in which her expression flashed absolute
horror, she crumpled. Thalia caught the bottle as it fell from Ana Lyudmila’s fingers. The lethal and ancient vampire silently shoved the limp body
farther into the booth and turned to look at the stage, standing so as to block the sprawl of Ana Lyudmila’s legs. The whole episode took less than
thirty seconds. I had no idea what had been in the drink; some form of liquid silver? Was that possible? That little subplan had been contingent on
one of the vamps being out of the line of sight of the others, and fortunately for us it had paid off.
One down. We wanted to take out as many as possible before the fighting even started.
Palomino, whose whitish hair and lovely golden skin made her a standout, worked her way close to Antonio by casual increments. She caught
Antonio’s eye and she smiled, but she was careful not to overdo it.
My purse was on the floor in the tiny space between my chair and Eric’s. I dipped my hand down into its open mouth and withdrew a very sharp
stake. I pressed it into Eric’s waiting hand. After a second of leaning on his shoulder to cover the move, I eased upright to give him room.
Maxwell Lee, who’d been standing by the door back to the offices, took off his suit coat and folded it carefully. I appreciated his clothes care, but
it was like a signal he was about to take action. He seemed to realize it, because he settled on the edge of a booth after that.
While Bubba stuck to ballad-type songs he was entrancing, but for his next number he’d picked “Jailhouse Rock,” and somehow a tinge of
sadness seemed to wash over the performance. Though the transition to vampirism had eased all of his infirmities, he’d still died in poor physical
condition, and he still bore the marks of age. Now that he was singing a dancing number, the effect was slightly pathetic. I saw the little audience
begin to lose their engrossment in the performance.
Switching the tone was a mistake, but one we couldn’t have foreseen.
I could feel Eric’s arm tense beside me, and then with the speed of a striking snake he leaned forward to clear Mindy Simpson to his left, his right
arm rose up, and he swung in to stake Victor in the chest. As a sneak attack it was perfect. Eric would have hit the mark exactly if Akiro, with equally
terrifying speed, hadn’t whipped out his sword and brought it down as Eric moved.
Mindy Simpson was doomed to be in the wrong place at the wrong second. Akiro’s sword struck her shoulder during its passage to Eric’s arm
and simply hewed through it, her bones and flesh slowing the lethal blade almost long enough for Eric to escape.
All hell broke loose.
Mindy screamed and died within seconds, and the amount of blood was simply incredible. While she died, a lot of things happened almost
simultaneously. As Mark was still gaping, Victor was trying to shove aside Mindy’s slumping and bleeding body, Akiro was trying to disentangle his
sword, and Eric was ducking and moving forward to evade another slice of the sword. Eric’s arm was bleeding, but thanks to Mindy’s unintentional
block, it was still operative. I stood and lunged backward to get out of the way, knocking my chair aside, and rammed right into Luis, who was
launching himself forward to protect his master. I spoiled Luis’s trajectory, and we ended up in a heap on the floor. Fortunately for me, he was too
intent on the vampire part of the fight to consider me at all dangerous, and he simply used me as a springboard to push off.
Not that that felt exactly good, but it wasn’t fatal.
I scrambled up to a crouch and tried to figure out what to do next. In the dimmed lights, it wasn’t easy to decide what was happening. A fighting
pair close to the club doors proved to be Palomino and Antonio, and a small figure flying through the air must have been Thalia. She meant to land
on Akiro’s back, but he turned at the last second—so incredibly fast—and instead she hit his chest, and he staggered. His sword was not a
weapon for close fighting, not with Thalia doing her best to rip his throat out with her teeth.
Mark Simpson was staggering away from the body of his wife and the fighting vampires, and he was saying, “Oh my God, oh my God,” over and
over. But he did manage to take cover behind the bar, where he grabbed a bottle and began trying to find someone to hit. I felt I could handle Mark
Simpson, and I pushed to my feet.
Colton took care of it before I could get there. He grabbed his own bottle and swung it at the back of Mark Simpson’s head, and Mark staggered
and went down.
While Thalia was keeping Akiro occupied, Eric and Pam went for Victor. There’s no such thing as a fair bar brawl. They double-teamed him.
Maxwell Lee very precisely staked Antonio from the back while he was struggling with Palomino.
I could hear Bubba yelling in an agitated way. I got myself over to the stage and took Bubba’s arm.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I said. So many people were yelling and screaming that I wasn’t sure he’d hear me, but after I repeated myself about twenty more
times, he stopped the screaming (thank you, God) and said, “Miss Sookie, I want to get out of here.”
“Sure,” I said, trying to keep my own voice calm and level when I wanted to scream, too. “You see that door over there?” I pointed to the door that
led back to the rest of the club, Eric’s office and so on. “You go back there and wait. You did great, just great! Bill will be back there directly, I’m
sure.”
“Okay,” he said forlornly, and I saw his silhouette moving against the faint light coming from the opened door. I finally located Bill, who was picking
his way through the combatants with his eyes on the prize. He took Bubba by the arm to steer him to safety, which was Bill’s designated job. I was
proud to see that Bill had left one of the nameless vampires dead on the floor, already flaking away.
I was so intent on Bubba that I didn’t see Audrina staggering toward me, her hands on her throat and blood pouring from a wound, until she
actually collided with me, causing me to go down on my knees. I don’t know what her goal was—maybe she was trying to go past me to the bar to
get a towel to staunch the red flow, maybe she was just trying to get away from her attacker—but she never made it. She went down full-length on
the floor a yard past me, and there was nothing I could do for her. I sensed movement behind me as I touched her wrist, and I threw myself away
from the body just in time to dodge a blow from the bartender, Jock. He had excellent survival instincts, going after human women instead of
vampires. Indira, her sari billowing around her, gripped Jock’s heavy arm and swung him with enough force that he cannoned into a wall. A hole
appeared in the wall, and Jock reeled back, unsteady on his feet. Indira threw herself down to the floor, reached between his legs, and gripped.
Screaming, Jock stomped and kicked, but Indira emasculated him.
I had a new “most horrible thing I’ve ever seen.”
Blood poured from Jock, thick and dark, and he looked down in shock while Indira shrieked in victory. With sudden determination, he swung his
clenched fists and smacked her in the side of her head. Indira went flying, and it was her turn to collide with the wall. She lay still on the floor for a
second, shaking her head as if there were flies buzzing around it. Jock went for her, but I caught hold of his shoulder long enough to slow him down
a bit, and at the moment he reached her Indira revived enough to launch herself upward, throwing a fold of her sari over his face long enough to
blind him while she caught the stake I tossed to her and drove it into his heart.
Jock, I hardly knew ye.
I tried to do a quick evaluation.
Jock down, Mark and Mindy Simpson down, Ana Lyudmila down, Antonio down, Unknown Enemy Vamp #1 down. Luis . . . Where’d he gone? I
heard a shot outside and figured that answered my question. Sure enough, Luis ran back into the club with a wound in his left shoulder. Mustapha
Khan was waiting with a very long knife. Luis put up a furious fight despite the bullet wound, and he had a concealed weapon, too. He drew out his
own blade and scored a cut on Mustapha, but Immanuel kicked Luis’s knee from the back and Luis crumpled. Rubio took advantage of the moment
of weakness to drive in a stake. Though Mustapha said, “Oh, hell,” with great disgust, he bowed to Rubio. Surprised, Rubio bowed back.
Palomino was having trouble with Unknown Enemy Vamp #2, who fought like a fiend. Maybe Palomino was not as skilled a fighter, or as old, but
she was bloody and weakening. Parker, who was evidently not much of a brawler, kept to Two’s back and repeatedly jabbed him with an ice pick,
which was not too effective but obviously irritating. Two, a hefty vamp who’d been turned in his thirties, would heal up only to be punctured again. I’m
sure it hurt like hell. Parker was apparently too scared to get in close enough to pierce Two’s heart. Palomino was too slow from her many wounds
to immobilize him. Mustapha, thwarted from the Luis kill, shoved Parker aside and beheaded Two with a dramatic sweep of his blade.
Now Akiro and Victor were the only enemies left standing.
They both knew they were fighting for their lives. Pam’s mouth was bloody, but I couldn’t tell if the blood was her own or Victor’s. I felt the cluviel
dor press into my waist and I thought of pulling it out, but the next instant Akiro managed to cut Thalia’s arm off. Thalia grabbed it as it fell and hit
Akiro with it, and Heidi jumped in behind him and stabbed him through the neck.
Akiro dropped his sword to pluck at his throat, and I nipped in to seize the weapon so he couldn’t retrieve it. The sword was long, and not as
heavy as I had anticipated. I stepped back to get it farther away from his groping hands, and just then Victor knocked Eric to the wall and pushed
Pam down on her back, throwing himself on top of her right in front of me. He bit her neck, his hands locking her shoulders down.
She looked up at me, her face eerily calm. “Do it,” she said.
“No.” I might cut Pam.
“Do it.” She was absolutely compelling. Her own hands flew up to grip Victor by his upper arms, locking him down.
Eric was staggering to his feet, blood dripping from his head, his wounded arm, and his side. He’d bitten Victor at least once, going by his
reddened mouth. I looked down at Pam, who was holding on to our enemy with everything she had. She nodded, turned her head to the side. She
closed her eyes. I wished I could do the same. I took a breath and swung the sword down.
Chapter 16
Pam shoved Victor off and leaped to her feet. I’d been so scared I’d kill Pam that I hadn’t been forceful enough. I hadn’t cut all the way through
Victor, though I’d severed his spinal column. The sword stuck on the bone and I couldn’t remove it. Horrified at myself, at the sensation of cutting
into Victor, I backpedaled and covered my mouth.
Pam yanked the sword out of the wound and decapitated Victor.
“Surrender,” Eric said to the gravely wounded Akiro.
Akiro shook his head. The wound in his throat prevented him from speaking.
“All right, then,” Eric said wearily. He grabbed Akiro’s head and broke his neck. The audible snap was deeply disgusting. I turned away, my
stomach heaving while I told it to sit down and shut up. While Akiro lay helpless, Eric staked him.
And it was over. Victor and all his vampire attendants—and his human attendants, too—were dead. There were enough flaking vampires to
change the quality of the air.
I sank down on a chair. Actually, I lost control of my legs and a chair happened to be underneath me.
Thalia was weeping over the pain of her amputated arm, but she was struggling hard against this display of weakness. Indira squatted on the
floor looking exhausted but gleeful. Maxwell Lee, Parker, and Rubio had lesser injuries. Pam and Eric were covered in blood, both their own and
Victor’s. Palomino walked slowly over to Rubio and put her arms around him, drawing Parker into the embrace. Colton was kneeling by the dead
Audrina, weeping.
I never wanted to see another battle, large or small, in my life. I looked at my lover, my husband, and he looked like a stranger to me. He and Pam
stood facing each other, holding hands and beaming through the blood. Then they simply collapsed into each other, and Pam began laughing in a
breathless way. “It’s done!” she said. “It’s done. We’re free.”
Until Felipe de Castro comes down on us like a ton of bricks because he wants to know what happened to his regent, I thought, but I didn’t say
anything. A, I wasn’t sure I could. B, we’d already wondered what would happen, but Eric’s opinion was that it was better to ask forgiveness than
permission.
Mustapha was on his cell phone, which was about as big as a cricket. “Warren, no point in you coming in, man,” he said. “The deed is done.
Good shot. Yeah, we got him.”
Parker said, “Sheriff, we’re leaving for home unless you need us.” The weedy young man was supporting Palomino, and Rubio was on her other
side. They were all pretty battered in one way or another.
“You may go.” Eric, smeared with blood, was still very much the ruler. “You answered my call and did your jobs. You’ll be rewarded.”
Palomino, Rubio, and Parker mutually assisted each other to the back door. From their expressions, I was sure they hoped Eric didn’t call them
in again for a long, long time, no matter what the reward might be.
Indira crawled over to Thalia to apply Thalia’s severed arm to its shoulder with force. She held it there, beaming. Indira was the happiest person
in the club.
“Will that work?” I asked Pam, nodding at the shoulder-arm conjunction. Pam was wiping the bloody sword on Akiro’s clothing. His throat was
almost gone; wounded parts disintegrate more quickly than uninjured parts.
“Sometimes,” she said, shrugging. “Since Thalia is so old, there’s a chance. It’s less painful and time-consuming than regeneration.”
“Thalia, can I get you some blood?” I didn’t think I’d ever been brave enough to address Thalia directly, but I could sure bring her some bottled
blood and be glad to do it. She looked up at me, her eyes full of involuntary tears. It was obvious she was forcing herself to hold still. “Not unless you
want to donate yourself,” she said in her heavily accented English. “But Eric wouldn’t be pleased if I drank from you. Immanuel, give me a mouthful?”
“All right,” he said. The skinny hairdresser looked more than a little dazed.
“You sure?” I asked. “You don’t quite seem yourself.”
“Hell, yes,” Immanuel said unconvincingly. “The guy who killed my sister is dead. I’m feeling good.”
He didn’t look it, but I was sure I didn’t, either. I’d said as much as I could, so I sat by while Immanuel crouched awkwardly before Thalia’s chair.
The height differential was not in their favor. Thalia wrapped her good arm around Immanuel’s neck and sank her fangs in without any further
discussion. The expression on Immanuel’s face went from bleak to blissful.
Thalia was a noisy eater.
Indira squatted beside her in her blood-drenched sari, patiently holding the severed limb to its source. As Thalia drank, I noticed that the arm
looked more and more natural. The fingers flexed. I was astonished, but it was only one more extreme event during an evening of them.
Pam looked a little put out once her victory celebration with Eric was over and she saw that Immanuel was offering his blood to someone else.
She asked Mustapha if he’d give her a drink, and he shrugged. “Comes with the job,” he said, pulling down the neck of his black T-shirt. Pam
looked incredibly white against Mustapha, and Mustapha’s teeth bared in a grimace when she bit in. He, too, looked happier after a second.
Eric came over to me, beaming. I had never been more undilutedly glad that our bond was broken, because I didn’t want to feel what he was
feeling, even a little bit. He put his arms around me, kissed me with enthusiasm, and all I could smell was blood. He was wet with it. It was getting all
over my dress and my arms and my chest.
After a minute he drew back, frowning. “Sookie?” he said. “You’re not rejoicing?”
I tried to think of what to say. I felt like a big fat hypocrite. “Eric, I’m glad we don’t have to worry about Victor anymore. And I know this was what
we planned. But surrounded by dead people and body parts is not my idea of a good place for a celebration, and I’ve never been less horny in my
life.”
His eyes narrowed. He didn’t like my raining on his parade. Understandable.
And that was the thing, wasn’t it? I found all of this understandable . But I still hated it, hated myself, wasn’t too fond of anyone else. “You need
some blood,” I said. “I really am sorry you were wounded, and you go ahead and take some.”
“You are being a hypocrite, and I will take blood,” he said, and he struck.
It hurt. He didn’t make it feel good, an action almost automatic for a vampire. Tears ran down my face without my wanting them to. In an odd way, I
felt the pain was merited, justified—but I also understood this was a turning point in our relationship.
Our relationship had been marked by a thousand turning points, seemed like.
Then Bill stood at my shoulder, staring at Eric’s mouth on my throat. His expression was complex: rage, resentment, longing.
I was ready for something simple, and I was ready for the pain to stop. My eyes met Bill’s.
“Sheriff,” Bill said. His voice had never been smoother. Eric twitched, and I knew he’d heard Bill, knew Eric realized he should stop. But he didn’t.
I shook myself free of the lethargy and self-loathing, grabbed hold of Eric’s earlobe, and pinched as hard as I could.
He detached with a gasp. His mouth was bloody.
“Bill’s gonna take me home,” I said. “We’ll talk tomorrow night. Maybe.”
Eric bent down to kiss me, but I flinched. Not with that bloody mouth.
“Tomorrow,” Eric said, his eyes searching my face. He turned away and called, “Listen up, people! We have to start cleaning the club.”
They groaned like kids told to pick up their toys. Immanuel went to Colton and helped him up. “You can stay at my place,” Immanuel said. “It’s not
too far.”
“I won’t sleep,” Colton answered. “Audrina’s dead.”
“We’ll get through the night,” Immanuel told him.
The two human men left Fangtasia, their shoulders slumped with exhaustion and grief. I wondered how they felt about their vengeance now that it
had been accomplished, but I knew I’d never ask them. I might never see them again.
Bill put his arm around me as I stumbled a little, and I found myself glad he was there to help me. I knew I couldn’t have driven myself. I found my
purse, still with a couple of stakes inside, and I pulled my keys out of an inside pocket.
“Where did Bubba go?” I asked.
“He likes to go hang around the old Civic Auditorium,” Bill said. “He used to perform there. He’ll dig a hole, sleep in the ground.”
I nodded. I was too tired to say anything.
Bill didn’t speak again the whole way home, which was a blessing. I stared through the windshield into the black night, wondering how I’d feel
tomorrow. That had been a lot of killing, and it had been so fast and bloody—like watching one of those violence-porn movies. I’d seen a few
seconds of one of the Saw movies when I was at Jason’s house. That had been enough for me.
I fully believed that Victor had set this in motion with his own intransigence. If Felipe had put someone else in charge of Louisiana, the whole
catastrophe wouldn’t have occurred. Maybe I could blame Felipe? No, the buck had to stop here.
“What are you thinking of?” Bill said as we were going down my driveway.
“I’m thinking about blame and guilt and assassination,” I said.
He simply nodded. “Me, too. Sookie, you know that Victor did his best to provoke Eric.”
We’d parked behind the house, and I turned to him questioningly, my hand on the car door handle.
“Yes,” Bill said. “He was doing his best to provoke Eric to act, so that he could kill Eric without having to justify it. It’s only because of superior
planning that Eric has survived and Victor has not. I know that you love Eric.” His voice remained calm and cool as he said this, and only the lines
around his eyes told me how much it cost him. “You have to be glad, and maybe tomorrow you will be glad, that this situation has ended the way it
has.”
I pinched my mouth together for a second while I formed my response. “I’d rather Eric be alive than Victor,” I said. “True enough.”
“And you know violence was the only way to achieve that result.”
I could even see that. I nodded.
“So why the second-guessing?” Bill said. He was calling me on my reaction.
I let go of the door handle and turned to face him. “It was bloody and ghastly, and people suffered,” I said, surprised by the anger in my voice.
“Did you think Victor would die without bleeding? Did you think Victor’s people wouldn’t do their best to prevent his death? Did you think that no
one would die?”
His voice was so calm and nonjudgmental that I didn’t get angry. “Bill, I never believed any of those things. I’m not naïve. But seeing is always
different from planning.”
Abruptly, I was tired of this topic. It had happened, it was done, I had to find a way to get over it. “Have you met the Queen of Oklahoma?” I asked
him.
“Yes,” he said, a definite note of caution in his voice. “Why do you ask?”
“Before he died, Appius sort of gave Eric to her.”
This did shock Bill. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. He finally told me after Pam did everything but stick her hand up his ass and wiggle her fingers to make him talk.”
Bill turned away, but not before I saw the smile he was trying to suppress. “Pam’s very determined when she wants Eric to take a particular
course of action. Did Eric tell you what he intends to do about this situation?”
“He’s trying to get out of it, but evidently Appius signed something. When Appius told me before he died that I’d never keep Eric, I didn’t know that
was what he meant. I thought he meant Eric wouldn’t want to fool with me when I got old and wrinkled, or that we’d quarrel and break up, or that . . .
Oh, I don’t know. Something would happen to separate us.”
“And now something has.”
“Well . . . yes.”
“You know that he’ll have to put you aside if he marries the queen? Eric can certainly feed off humans if he’s married to a royal, and he can even
have a pet human, but he can’t have a wife.”
“That’s what he gave me to understand.”
“Sookie . . . don’t do anything rash.”
“I already broke the bond.”
After a long pause, Bill said, “That’s a good thing, because the bond was risky for both of you.” Not exactly news.
“I sort of miss having the connection,” I confessed, “but at the same time it’s a relief.”
Bill didn’t say anything. Very carefully.
“Have you ever . . . ?” I asked.
“Once, long ago,” he said. He didn’t want to talk about it.
“Did it end well?”
“No,” he said. His voice was flat and didn’t invite me to continue that line of conversation. “Let it go, Sookie. I’m telling you this not as a former
lover, but as a friend. Let Eric make up his own mind about this. Don’t ask him questions. Though we can’t stand each other, I know Eric will try his
best to get out of this situation simply because he loves his freedom. Oklahoma is very beautiful, and Eric loves beauty, but he already has that in
you.”
I must be feeling better if I could appreciate a compliment. I wondered what the queen’s real name was. Often the ruler was called by the name of
the land she ruled; Bill hadn’t meant that the state was beautiful, but that the woman who ruled its night creatures was.
When I didn’t respond, Bill continued, “She also has a lot of power. That is, she has territory, minions, real estate, oil money.” And we both knew
Eric loved power. Not complete power—he’d never wanted to be a king—but he loved being able to call the shots in his own bailiwick.
“I get what power is,” I said. “And I get that I don’t have it. You want to take the car to your house, or leave it here and go through the woods?”
He handed the keys to me and said, “I’ll go through the woods.”
There was nothing more to be said.
“Thanks,” I told him. I opened the porch door, stepped in, locked it behind me. I unlocked the back door and went in, switching on the kitchen light.
There was a quiet emptiness to the house, which I found immediately soothing, and the air conditioners were doing their best to make everything
cool.
Though I’d come out of the fight at Fangtasia better than anyone, at least physically, I felt battered and bruised. I’d be sore the next day. I
unbuckled the big belt and returned the cluviel dor to my makeup drawer. I pulled off the stained dress, went to the back porch to toss it in the
washing machine on cold soak, and got in the shower, turning the water as hot as I could bear it. When I’d scrubbed myself all over, I changed the
temperature to cool. I was delightfully clean and fresh when I got out to dry myself.
I wondered if I would start crying or praying or sitting in a corner with my eyes wide open the rest of the night. But none of those reactions set in. I
got into bed feeling relieved, as if I’d had a successful surgery or as if a biopsy had turned out well.
I thought, as I curled into a ball and composed myself for sleep, that the fact that I could sleep tonight was almost more frightening than anything
else.
Chapter 17
All the women in my living room were happy. Some of them were happier than others, true, but none of them were miserable. They were there to
give gifts to someone who deserved them, and they were happy that Tara was expecting twins. All the yellow and green and blue and pink tissue
paper mounded up in an almost overwhelming way, but Tara was getting a lot of things she needed and wanted.
Dermot was unobtrusively helping with the refreshments and bagging up the torn gift paper to keep the floor clear. Some of my older guests were
definitely at the tottering stage, so we didn’t need anything on the floor that might cause them to slip. JB’s mom and grandmother were here, and his
grandmother was seventy-five if she was a day.
When Dermot had come to the back door earlier, I’d let him in and gone back to my coffee without a word. As soon as he was in the door, I felt
measurably better. Maybe I hadn’t noticed the contrast these past few weeks because I’d been so wrapped up in the blood bond? I’d been under
the influence of a lot of supernatural things. I couldn’t say it felt better to be just myself, but it certainly made me feel more in touch with reality.
Once my guests had gotten a good look at Dermot and realized how much he looked like Jason, there’d been a lot of raised eyebrows. I’d told
them he was a distant cousin from Florida, and I’d heard from a lot of brains that ladies were going to be consulting their family trees to find a
Florida connection for my family.
I felt like myself today. I felt like I was doing what I was supposed to be doing, in the community where I lived. I might not even be that same person
who’d participated in a slaughter the night before.
I took a sip from my glass cup. Maxine’s punch had turned out well, the cake I’d picked up from the bakery was delicious, my cheese straws were
crispy and just a little spicy, and the salted pecans were toasted just enough. We played Baby Bingo as Tara opened her gifts, and she glowed and
said “Thank you” about a million times.
I felt more and more like the old Sookie Stackhouse as the event progressed. I was around people I understood, doing a good thing.
As a kind of bonus, JB’s grandmother told me a lovely story about my grandmother. Taken altogether, it was a good afternoon.
When I went in the kitchen with a tray full of dirty dishes, I thought, This is happiness. Last night wasn’t the real me.
But it had been. I knew—even as I thought this—that I wasn’t going to be able to fool myself. I’d changed in order to survive, and I was paying the
price of survival. I had to be willing to change myself forever, or everything I’d made myself do was for nothing.
“Are you all right, Sookie?” Dermot asked, as he brought in more glasses.
“Yes, thanks.” I tried to smile at him but felt it was a weak effort.
There was a knock at the back door. I supposed it was a late guest, trying to sneak in unobtrusively.
Mr. Cataliades stood there. He was wearing a suit, as always, but for the first time it seemed somewhat the worse for wear. He seemed not quite
as circular as he had been, but he was smiling politely. I was astonished at his presence and not completely sure I wanted to talk to him, but if he
was the guy who could answer big questions about my life, I really didn’t have a lot of choice. “Come in,” I told him, standing back and holding open
the door.
“Miss Stackhouse,” he said formally. “Thank you for your welcome.”
He stared at Dermot, who was washing dishes very carefully, proud to be trusted with Gran’s good china. “Young man,” he said in
acknowledgment.
Dermot turned and froze. “Demon,” he said. Then he turned back to the sink, but I could tell he was thinking furiously.
“You’re having a social occasion?” Mr. Cataliades asked me. “I can tell there are many women in the house.”
I hadn’t even noticed the cacophony of feminine voices floating down the hall, but it sounded like there might be sixty women in the living room
instead of twenty-five. “Yes,” I agreed. “There are. It’s a baby shower for a friend of mine.”
“Perhaps I could sit at your kitchen table until it’s over?” he suggested. “Perhaps a bite to eat?”
Reminded of my manners, I said, “Of course, you can have as much as you like!” I quickly made a ham sandwich and put some chips and pickles
out, and prepared a separate plate with party goodies. I even poured him a cup of punch.
Mr. Cataliades’s dark eyes glowed at the sight of the food in front of him. It might not be as fancy as he was used to (though for all I knew he ate
raw mice), but he dug in with a will. Dermot seemed all right, if not exactly relaxed, at being in the same room with the lawyer, so I left them to make
the best of it and returned to the living room. The hostess couldn’t be away for long; it wasn’t polite.
Tara had opened all the presents. Her shop assistant, McKenna, had written down all the gifts and the givers, and taped the card in with each
offering. Everyone was talking about her own labor and delivery—oh, joy—and Tara was fielding questions about her ob-gyn, the hospital where
she’d deliver, what names they’d thought of for the babies, whether they knew the sexes of the twins, how far away her due date was, and on and
on. Gradually, the guests began to depart, and when they were all gone I had to fend off sincere offers from Tara and her mother-in-law and Jason’s
girlfriend, Michele, to help with the dishes. I told them, “No sirree, you just leave them there, that’s my job,” and I could hear my grandmother’s words
flowing right out of my mouth. It almost made me laugh. If I hadn’t had a demon and a fairy in my kitchen, I might have. We got all the gifts loaded into
Tara’s and her mother-in-law’s cars, and Michele told me she and Jason were having a catfish fry the next weekend and they wanted me to come. I
said I’d see, that sounded wonderful.
It was a huge relief when all the humans were gone.
I would have thrown myself in the chair and read for thirty minutes or watched an episode of Jeopardy! before starting to clean up if I hadn’t had
the two men waiting in my kitchen. Instead, I had to march back laden with still more plates and cups.
To my surprise, Dermot was gone. I hadn’t noticed his car go down the driveway, but I assumed he’d blended in with all the other departing
guests. Mr. Cataliades was sitting in the same chair, drinking a cup of coffee. He had put his plate over by the sink. Hadn’t washed it, but he’d
carried it over.
“So,” I said, “they’ve left. You didn’t eat Dermot, did you?”
He beamed at me. “No, dear Miss Stackhouse, I did not. Though I’m sure he would be tasty. The ham sandwich was delicious.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I responded automatically. “Listen, Mr. Cataliades, I found a letter from my grandmother. I’m not sure I understand our
relationship correctly, or maybe I just don’t understand what it means that you are my sponsor.”
His beam intensified. “Though I’m in a slight hurry, I’ll do everything I can to dispel your confusion.”
“Okay.” I wondered why he was in a hurry, if he was still being pursued, but I wasn’t going to be sidetracked. “Let me sort of repeat this back to
you and you can tell me if I got it straight.”
He nodded his round head.
“You were good friends with my birth grandfather, Fintan. Dermot’s brother.”
“Yes, Dermot’s twin.”
“But you don’t seem that fond of Dermot.”
He shrugged. “I’m not.”
I almost got off on a tangent there, but I stuck to my train of thought. “So, Fintan was still alive when Jason and I were born.”
Desmond Cataliades nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, he was.”
“My gran said in her letter that you visited my dad and his sister, Fintan’s actual children.”
“I was here.”
“So, did you give them—us—a gift?”
“I tried, but you couldn’t all accept it. Not all of you had the essential spark.”
That was a phrase Niall had used. “What is the essential spark?”
“What a clever question!” Mr. Cataliades said, regarding me as if I were a monkey who’d opened a hatch to retrieve a banana. “The gift I gave to
my dear friend Fintan was that any of his human descendants who possessed the essential spark would be able to read the minds of their fellow
humans, as I can.”
“So, when it turned out that my dad and aunt Linda didn’t have it, you returned when Jason and I were born.”
He nodded. “Seeing you wasn’t absolutely necessary. After all, the gift had been given. But by visiting Jason and then you, I could know for
certain. I was very excited when I held you, though I think your poor grandmother was frightened.”
“So only I and—” I choked back Hunter’s name. Mr. Cataliades had written Hadley’s will, and she hadn’t mentioned Hunter. It was possible he
didn’t know Hadley had had a child. “Only I have had it so far. And you still haven’t explained what the spark is.”
He gave me an arch look as if to say he sure couldn’t get anything by me. “The essential spark isn’t easy to pin down in terms of your DNA,” he
told me. “It’s an openness to the other world. Some humans literally can’t believe there are creatures in another world besides ours, creatures who
have feelings and rights and beliefs and deserve to live their own lives. Humans who are born with the essential spark are born to experience or
perform something wonderful, something amazing.”
I’d done something pretty amazing the night before, but it surely wasn’t wonderful . . . unless you hated vampires.
“Gran had the essential spark,” I said suddenly. “So Fintan thought he’d find it in one of us.”
“Yes, though of course he never wanted me to give her my gift.” Mr. Cataliades looked wistfully at the refrigerator, and I got up to make him
another ham sandwich. This time I sliced some fresh tomato and put it on a little plate, and he piled every single bit on the sandwich and still
managed to eat it neatly. Now that was supernatural.
When he’d finished half the sandwich, Mr. Cataliades paused to say, “Fintan loved humans, and he especially loved human women, and he even
more greatly loved human women with the essential spark. They aren’t easy to find. He adored Adele so much that he put the portal in the woods so
he could visit her more easily, and I’m afraid he was mischievous enough to . . .”
And it was Mr. Cataliades’s turn to stop and look at me uneasily, weighing his words.
“He took my grandfather for a test drive every now and then,” I said. “Dermot recognized Fintan in some of the family pictures.”
“I’m afraid that was very naughty of him.”
“Yes,” I said heavily. “It was very naughty.”
“He had great hopes when your father was born, and I was here the day after to inspect him, but he was quite normal, though of course attractive
and magnetic, as those who are part fae are. Linda, the second child, was, too. And I’m sorry about the cancer; that shouldn’t have happened. I
blame it on the environment. She should have been perfectly healthy all her life. Your father would have been, if the terrible infighting hadn’t broken
out among the fairies. Perhaps if Fintan had survived, Linda’s health would have stayed with her.” Mr. Cataliades shrugged. “Adele tried to reach
Fintan to ask if there was anything he could do for Linda, but by then he had passed away.”
“I wonder why she didn’t use the cluviel dor to cure Aunt Linda’s cancer.”
“I don’t know,” he said, with apparent regret. “Knowing Adele, I imagine she didn’t think it would be Christian. It’s possible that she didn’t even
remember she had it by that time, or that she regarded it as a romantic love token but nothing more. After all, by the time her daughter’s illness
became evident, it had been many years since I’d given it to her on Fintan’s behalf.”
I thought hard, trying to pare down this conversation to learn what I had to know. “Why on earth did you think telepathy would be such a great gift?”
I blurted.
For the first time, he looked a bit miffed. “I thought it would give Fintan’s descendants an edge over their fellow humans for all of their lives, to
know what other people were thinking and planning,” he said. “And since I’m nearly all demon, and I had it to give, it seemed a splendid gift to me. It
would be wonderful even for a fairy! If your great-grandfather had known that Breandan’s henchmen were determined to murder him, he could have
squelched the rebellion before it caught hold. Your father could have saved himself and your mother from drowning if he’d known a trap was set for
him.”
“But those things didn’t happen.”
“Full-blooded fairies aren’t telepathic—though they can sometimes send messages, they can’t hear an answer—and your father didn’t have the
essential spark.”
This seemed like a circular kind of conversation.
“So what this all boils down to is this: Since you two were such good buddies, Fintan asked you to give his and Adele’s descendants a gift, to
stand as their—our—sponsor.”
Mr. Cataliades smiled. “Correct.”
“You were willing to do this, and you thought telepathy would be a dandy present.”
“Correct again. Though it seems I was mistaken.”
“You were. And you gave this gift in some mysterious demon way—”
“Not so mysterious,” he said indignantly. “Adele and Fintan each drank a thimbleful of my blood.”
Okay, I could not picture my grandmother doing that. But then, I couldn’t have imagined her consorting with a fairy, either. In point of fact, it had
become obvious that I’d known my grandmother very well in some respects and not at all in others.
“I put it in wine and told her it was a special vintage,” Mr. Cataliades confessed. “And in a way it was so.”
“Okay, you lied. No big surprise there,” I said. Though Gran had been plenty smart, and I was sure she’d at least had suspicions. I waved my
hands in the air. I could think about that later. “Okeydokey. So after they’d both ingested your blood, any descendants of theirs would be telepathic if
they were also born with this essential spark.”
“Correct.” He smiled so broadly that I felt I’d gotten an A on my test.
“And my grandmother never used the cluviel dor.”
“No, it’s a one-use thing. A very pretty gift from Fintan to Adele.”
“Can I use it to take away the telepathy?”
“No, my dear, it would be like wishing away your spleen or your kidneys. But an interesting thought.”
So I couldn’t help Hunter with it. Or myself, either. Damn.
“Can I kill someone with it?”
“Yes, of course, if that someone is threatening someone you love. Directly. You couldn’t cause the death of your tax assessor . . . unless he was
standing over your brother with an ax, say.”
“Was it a coincidence that Hadley wound up with the queen?”
“Not really, because she is part fairy, and as you know, part fairy is very attractive to vampires. It was only a matter of time before a vampire came
into the bar and saw you.”
“He was sent by the queen.”
“Do tell.” Cataliades didn’t look a bit surprised. “The queen never asked me about the gift, and I never told her I was your sponsor. She never paid
much attention to the world of the fae unless she wanted to drink fairy blood. She certainly never cared who my friends were or how I spent my time.”
“Who’s on your trail now?”
“A pertinent question, my dear, but one I can’t answer. In fact, I’ve been able to sense them getting nearer this past half hour, and I must take my
departure. I noticed some excellent wards on the house, and I must congratulate you. Who laid them?”
“Bellenos. An elf. He’s at the club called Hooligans in Monroe.”
“Bellenos.” Mr. Cataliades looked thoughtful. “He’s my fifth cousin on my mother’s side, I think. By the way, on no account let the riffraff gathered at
Hooligans know you have a cluviel dor, because they’ll kill you for it.”
“What do you think I ought to do with it?” I asked curiously. He was standing and straightening the coat of his summer-weight blue suit. Though it
was hot outside and he was heavy, he hadn’t been sweating when I let him in. “And where is Diantha?” His niece was as different from Mr.
Cataliades as you could imagine, and I was kind of fond of her.
“She’s far away and safe,” he said tersely. “And as for the cluviel dor, I can’t advise you. I’ve already done enough to you, it seems.” Just like that,
he was out the back door. I caught a glimpse of his heavy body moving at incredible speed across the backyard, and then he was simply lost from
sight.
Well, that had been plenty amazing—and now I was out of ham.
What an enlightening conversation—in some ways. Now I knew more about my own background. I knew that my telepathy was a sort of prepregnancy
baby shower gift from Desmond Cataliades to his friend Fintan the fairy and my grandmother. That was a stunning revelation, in and of
itself.
After I’d finished thinking about that, or at least after I’d pondered it as much as I could bear to, I thought about Cataliades’s reference to the
“riffraff” at Hooligans. He had a low opinion of the gathering of exiles. I wondered more than ever what the fae were doing in Monroe, what they were
plotting and planning. It couldn’t be anything good. And I thought of Sandra Pelt, still out there somewhere and determined to see me die.
When my head was exhausted, I let my hands take over. I put the leftover food away, transferring it from the pretty serving pieces to Ziploc bags. I
washed the epergne and a couple of cut-glass bowls. I glanced out the window as I rinsed them, which was how I came to observe two gray streaks
crossing the yard at great speed. I could not identify what I’d seen, and I almost called animal control. But then I realized the creatures were pursuing
the half-demon lawyer, and at the speed they were moving, they must already be far away. Besides, it wouldn’t be wise to try to lure anything that
could move like that into a cage in the back of a pickup truck. I hoped Mr. Cataliades had his running shoes on. I hadn’t checked.
Just when I got everything cleaned up and had changed into my cutoffs and a brown tank top, Sam called. There were no bar sounds in the
background: no chink of ice in glasses, no juke box, no babble of conversation. He must be in his trailer. But it was Saturday, late in the afternoon,
when Merlotte’s would be getting busy. Maybe he had a date with Jannalynn?
“Sookie,” he said, and his voice sounded funny. My stomach instantly tied up in a knot. “Can you run into town? Come by the trailer. Someone
dropped off a package for you at the bar.”
“Who?” I asked. I was looking at the living room mirror as I talked to Sam, and I saw that I looked tense and frightened.
“I didn’t know him,” Sam said. “But it’s sure a nice box with a big bow. Maybe you have a secret admirer.” Sam emphasized those words, but not
in an obvious way.
“I think I know who that might be,” I said, putting a smile into my voice. “Sure, Sam, I’ll come. Oh, wait! Could you bring it out here? I’m still cleaning
up from the party.” Out here would be a lot quieter.
“Let me check,” Sam said. There was a silence while he covered the receiver with his hand. I could hear a little muffled conversation, nothing
specific. “That’ll be great,” he said, sounding like it would be anything but. “We’ll be out in a few minutes.”
“Super,” I said, genuinely pleased. That gave me a bit of time to plan a welcome. “See you then.” After I hung up, I stood for a second organizing
my thoughts before I sped to the front closet to retrieve my shotgun. I checked it out to make sure it was ready. Hoping I’d gain an element of
surprise, I decided to hide in the woods. I laced up some running shoes and was out the back door, glad I’d put on a dark-colored tank.
It wasn’t Sam’s truck that came up the driveway, it was Jannalynn’s little car. Jannalynn was driving, Sam was in the front seat passenger, and
someone else was in the rear seat.
Jannalynn got out first and looked around. She could smell me, knew I was nearby. She could probably smell the gun, too. She smiled, and it was
an awful smile. She was hoping I would shoot the person who’d forced them to come out here, shoot her dead.
Of course, the person holding a gun on them, the person in the backseat, was Sandra Pelt. Sandra got out with a rifle in her hand and pointed it at
the car, standing a careful distance away. Then Sam emerged. He was mad as hell; I could tell by the set of his shoulders.
Sandra looked older, thinner, and crazier than she had only days before. She’d dyed her hair black, and her fingernails matched. If she’d been
anyone else, I’d have pitied her—parents dead, sister dead, mental troubles. But my pity stopped when someone held a rifle on people I cared
about.
“Come out, Sookie!” Sandra sang out. “Come out! I got you now, you piece of shit!”
Sam moved unobtrusively to Sandra’s right, trying to turn to face her. Jannalynn, too, began moving around the car. Sandra, afraid she was losing
control of the situation, began to scream at them. “Stay still, don’t move, or I’ll shoot the hell out of you! You, bitch! You don’t want to see his head
shot off, do you? Your little doggie lover-boy?”
Jannalynn shook her head. She was wearing shorts, too, and a Hair of the Dog T-shirt. Her hands had flour on them. She and Sam had been
cooking.
I could let this escalate, or I could take action. I was too far away, but I had to risk it. Without responding to Sandra at all, I stepped out of the
woods and fired.
The roar of the Benelli from an unexpected direction took everyone by surprise. I saw red blotches appear on Sandra’s left arm and cheek, and
she staggered for a moment in shock. But that wouldn’t stop a Pelt, no it wouldn’t. Sandra swung up her rifle and aimed at me. Sam leaped for her,
but Jannalynn got there first. Jannalynn caught hold of the rifle, wrenched it from Sandra’s hands, and flung it away, and then the battle was on. I’d
never seen two people fight each other as hard, and given my recent experiences that was saying something.
I couldn’t find a way to shoot Sandra again, not with Jannalynn struggling with her hand-to-hand. The two women were much the same size, short
and sinewy, but Jannalynn was born to battle while Sandra was more used to quick brawls. Sam and I both circled them as they punched and bit
and pulled hair and did everything to each other they could possibly do. Real damage was inflicted on both sides, and after a few seconds
Jannalynn’s side was stained red, and the flow from Sandra’s shotgun wounds had accelerated. Sam reached into the struggling duo—it was like
putting your hand in a fan—to grasp Sandra’s hair and yank, and she screamed like a banshee and spared a fist to punch Sam in the face. He kept
his grip on her hair, though I thought she’d broken his nose.
I felt obliged to do my share—after all, this was my fault—so I waited my turn. It was oddly like waiting to jump into the turning rope when I was on
the playground in elementary school. When I saw my moment, I surged into the fight zone and gripped the first thing that came to my hands,
Sandra’s upper left arm. Her momentum seized, she couldn’t deliver the punch she was aiming to throw at Jannalynn’s face. Instead, Jannalynn
cocked one of her own hard little fists and knocked the consciousness right out of Sandra Pelt.
Suddenly I was holding the shoulder of a woman who’d gone completely limp. I let go, and she fell to the ground. Her head sagged oddly.
Jannalynn had broken her neck. I didn’t know if Sandra was dead or alive.
“Fuck,” Jannalynn said pleasantly. “Fuck, fuck, fuckety fuck.”
“Amen,” Sam said.
I burst into tears. Jannalynn looked disgusted. “I know, I know,” I said despairingly, “but I saw a lot of people get killed last night, and this is just
one person too many! I’m sorry, y’all.” I think Sam would have hugged me if Jannalynn hadn’t been right there. I know he thought about it. That was
the important thing.
“She isn’t completely gone,” Jannalynn said after a moment’s concentration on the inert Sandra, and before Sam or I could say or do one thing,
she knelt by Sandra, clenched her fists, and brought them down on Sandra’s skull.
And that was that.
Sam looked across the corpse at me. I didn’t know what to say or do. I’m sure my face reflected that helplessness.
“Well,” said Jannalynn brightly, dusting her hands together with the air of one who’s finally completed an unpleasant job, “what shall we do with the
body?”
Maybe I should install a crematorium in my backyard. “Should we call the sheriff?” I asked, since I felt obliged to at least suggest it.
Sam looked troubled. “More bad news for the bar,” he said. “I’m sorry to think about that, but I have to.”
“She took you all hostage,” I said.
“We say.”
I got Sam’s point.
Jannalynn said, “I don’t think anyone saw us leaving the bar with her. She was sitting low in the backseat.”
“Her car’s still at my place,” Sam said.
“I know somewhere she’ll never be found,” I heard myself saying, to my own complete surprise.
“Where would that be?” Jannalynn asked. She looked up at me, and I could tell that we were never going to be best friends or paint each other’s
nails. Aww.
“We’ll throw her in the portal,” I said.
“What?” Sam was still staring down at the body, looking sick.
“We’ll throw her in the fairy portal.”
Jannalynn gaped at me. “There are fairies here?”
“Not at the moment. It’s hard to explain, but I’ve got a portal in my woods.”
“You’re quite the . . .” She couldn’t seem to think how to end the sentence. “Quite the surprise,” she said finally.
“That’s what everyone says.”
Since Jannalynn was still bleeding, I stooped over to get Sandra’s feet. Sam got her shoulders. He seemed to have gotten over the worst of the
shock. He was breathing through his mouth, since his broken nose was clogged. “Where we headed?” he said.
“Okay, it’s about a quarter mile that way.” I jerked my head in the right direction, since my hands were occupied.
So off we went, slowly and awkwardly. The blood had quit dripping, and she was light, and it went as well as carrying a body through the woods
can go. I said, “I think instead of calling this the Stackhouse place, I’ll just call it the Body Farm.”
“Like that place in Tennessee?” Jannalynn said, to my surprise.
“Right.”
“Patricia Cornwell wrote a book called that, didn’t she?” Sam said, and I almost smiled. This was a very civilized discussion to be having under
the circumstances. Maybe I was still a little numb from the night before, or maybe I was continuing my process of hardening up to survive the world
around me, but I found I simply didn’t care much about Sandra. The Pelts had had a personal vendetta against me for no very good reason for a
very long time, and now it was over.
I finally understood something about the mayhem of the night before. It wasn’t the individual deaths I found so appalling but the level of violence,
the sheer horror of seeing so much dealt out and received. . . . Just as I found Jannalynn’s execution of Sandra the most disturbing thing about
today’s encounter. Unless I was mistaken, Sam did, too.
We reached the small open space in the trees. I was glad to see the little distortion in the air that betrayed the portal into Faery. I pointed silently,
as if the fae could hear me (and for all I knew, they could). After a second or two, Jannalynn and Sam spotted what I was trying to show them. They
eyed it curiously, and Jannalynn went so far as to stick her finger in it. Her finger vanished from sight, and with a yelp, she pulled her hand back. She
was definitely relieved to see that the finger was still attached.
“Count of three,” I said, and Sam nodded. He moved from the end of Sandra’s body to the side, and as smoothly as if we had practiced it, we fed
the corpse into the magical hole. It wouldn’t have worked if she hadn’t been so small.
Then we waited.
The corpse didn’t get spat back out. No one leaped out with a sword to demand our lives for desecrating the land of the fae. Instead, we heard a
snarling and a yapping, and we all stood frozen, our eyes wide and our arms tense, waiting for something to issue from the portal, something that
we had to fight.
But nothing came out. The noises continued, and they were graphic enough: rending and tearing, more snarling, and then after some sounds so
disturbing I won’t even try to describe them, there was silence. I figured there wasn’t any Sandra left.
We trudged back through the woods to the car. Its doors were standing open, and the first thing Sam did was shut them to stop the dinging. There
were splotches of blood on the ground. I unrolled the garden hose and turned it on. Sam watered down the bloody spots and gave Jannalynn’s car a
nice rinse while he was at it. In a gut-wrenching moment—another gut-wrenching moment—Jannalynn set Sam’s broken nose straight, and though
he yelled and tears sprang to his eyes, I knew that the nose would heal well.
Sandra’s rifle was more of a problem than the body had been. I was not going to use the portal as a garbage disposal, and that was what
throwing the rifle in after the body felt like. After some argument, Jannalynn and Sam decided they’d throw it into the woods on their way back to
Sam’s trailer, and I guess that was what they did.
I was left in my house alone after a truly amazing and horrible two days. Horribly amazing? Amazingly horrible? Both.
I sat in my kitchen, a book open on the table before me. The sun was still lighting up the yard, but the shadows were growing long. I thought of the
cluviel dor, which I hadn’t had a chance to use in the encounter in the backyard. Should I carry it around with me every minute of the day? I wondered
if the gray things after Mr. Cataliades had caught up with him yet, and I wondered if I’d feel sad if they did. I wondered if the vampires had gotten
Fangtasia cleaned up by opening time, and I wondered if I would call the bar to find out. There’d be humans there to answer the phone: Mustapha
Khan, maybe his buddy Warren.
I wondered if Eric had talked to Felipe yet about the disappearance of the Regent of Louisiana. I wondered if Eric had written to the Queen of
Oklahoma.
Maybe the phone would ring when darkness fell. Maybe it wouldn’t. I couldn’t decide which I wanted.
What I did want to do was something completely normal.
I walked barefoot into the living room with a big icy glass of tea. Time to watch some of my recorded episodes of Jeopardy!
Dangerous Creatures for two hundred, anyone?
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