Chapter 5
I didn’t roll out of bed until noon. I had slept very heavily, and I’d had bad
dreams. I woke up groggy, and I didn’t feel refreshed at all. It didn’t occur to
me to check my cell phone until I heard it buzzing in my purse—but that
wasn’t until I’d drunk some coffee, showered and put on the change of
clothes I kept in the closet, and (no matter what Eric had said) gathered up all
the dirty “service items,” as flight attendants call them.
By the time I’d dropped my hairbrush, opened my purse, and groped
inside to extricate the phone, my caller had hung up. Frustrating. I checked
the number, and to my astonishment I found that Mustapha Khan had been
trying to get in touch with me. I called the number back as quickly as I could
press the right buttons, but no one answered.
Crap. Well, if he wasn’t picking up, there wasn’t anything I could do
about it. But I had other messages: one from Dermot, one from Alcide, and
one from Tara.
Dermot’s voice said, “Sookie? Where are you? You didn’t come home
last night. Everything okay?”
Alcide Herveaux said, “Sookie, we need to talk. Call me when you
can.”
Tara said, “Sookie, I think the babies are going to come pretty soon. I’m
effacing and I’m starting to dilate. Get ready to become an aunt!” She
sounded giddy with excitement.
I called her back first, but she didn’t pick up.
Then I called Dermot, who actually answered. I gave him a condensed
version of the night before. He asked me to come home immediately, but he
didn’t offer an explanation. I told him I’d start back within the hour unless
the police arrived to delay me. What if they wanted to come into Eric’s
house? They couldn’t just come in, right? They had to have a warrant. But the
house was a crime scene. I was worried about them trying to get into Eric’s
downstairs bedroom, and I remembered that Bill was in the bedroom across
the hall in a guest pod. What if the cops decided to open it? I needed a set of
those “DO NOT ENTER VAMPIRE AT REST” coffin hangers I’d seen
advertised in Eric’s copy of American Vampire.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I told Dermot. I hung up feeling a bit
worried about Dermot’s insistence that I return. What was happening at my
house?
With great reluctance, I returned Alcide’s call. He’d only try to get in
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touch about something pretty important, since we weren’t exactly buddies
anymore. We weren’t exactly enemies, either. But we could never seem to be
happy with each other at the same time.
“Sookie,” Alcide said in his deep voice. “How you doing?”
“I’m okay. I don’t know if you’ve heard what happened here at Eric’s
last night …”
“Yeah, I heard something about it.”
No surprise there. Who needed the Internet, when you had the supes
around? “Then you know Mustapha is missing.”
“Too bad he’s not pack. We’d find him.”
Pointed, much? “After all, he’s a werewolf,” I said briskly. “And the
police do want him. I know he could explain everything if he’d just come in
to talk to them. So maybe if someone in the pack sees him somewhere, you
could let me know? He called me—or at least someone using his phone did. I
missed the call, and I’m really worried about him.”
“I’ll let you know if I find out anything,” Alcide promised. “I need to
talk to you about something else, though.”
I waited to hear what he had in mind.
“Sookie, you still there?”
“Yes, I’m just waiting.”
“I’m hearing a complete lack of enthusiasm.”
“Well, considering last time.” I didn’t even need to finish the sentence.
Finding Alcide naked in my bed had not endeared him to me. There was a lot
to like about the werewolf, but his timing had never matched mine and he’d
taken some bad advice.
“Okay, I was wrong there. We had a good result from you acting as our
shaman, but I was wrong to ask you to do it, and I freely acknowledge that.”
Alcide said that kind of proudly.
Had he joined Werewolf Manipulators Anonymous? I looked at myself
in the mirror and widened my eyes, to let my reflection know what I thought
about the conversation.
“Good to hear that,” I said. “What’s up?”
Rueful chuckle. Charming rueful chuckle. “Well, you’re right, Sookie, I
do have a favor to ask you.”
I showed myself Amazed in the mirror. “Do tell,” I said politely.
“You know my pack enforcer has been going out with your boss for a
while.”
“I know that.” Cut to the chase.
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“Well, she wants you to help her out with something, and since you
two have had your differences … for whatever reason … she asked me if I’d
call you.”
Sneaky Jannalynn. This was like a double … fake something. It was true
I liked Jannalynn much less than I did Alcide. It was also true (though
perhaps Alcide didn’t know this) that Jannalynn suspected my relationship
with Sam was far more than it should be between an employee and her boss.
If this were the fifties, she’d be checking Sam’s collars for lipstick stains. (Did
people do that anymore? Why did women kiss collars, anyway? Besides, Sam
almost always wore T-shirts.)
“What does she want me to help her with?” I asked, hoping my voice
was suitably neutral.
“She’s going to propose to Sam, and she wants you to help her set the
stage.”
I sat down on the end of the bed. I didn’t want to make faces in the
mirror anymore. “She wants me to help her ask Sam to marry her?” I said
slowly. I’d helped Andy Bellefleur propose to Halleigh, but I couldn’t
imagine Jannalynn wanting me to hide an engagement ring in a basket of
French fries.
“She wants you to get Sam to drive down to Mimosa Lake,” Alcide
said. “She’s borrowed a cottage down there, and she wants to surprise Sam
with a dinner, kind of romantic, you know. I guess she’d spring the question
there.” Alcide sounded oddly unenthusiastic or perhaps unconvinced that he
should be relaying this request.
“No,” I said immediately. “I won’t do it. She’ll have to get Sam there on
her own.” I could just envision Sam imagining that I wanted him to go out to
the lake with me, only to be confronted by Jannalynn and whatever she
thought of as a romantic dinner—live rabbits they could chase together,
maybe. The whole scenario made me acutely uncomfortable. I could feel a
flush of anger creeping up my neck.
Alcide said, “Sookie, that’s not …”
“Not helpful or obliging? I don’t want to be, Alcide. There’s just too
much room for disaster in that plan. Plus, I don’t think you understand
Jannalynn too well.” What I wanted to say was, “I think she’s trying to get
me somewhere alone to kill me, or to stage some scene to make me look
guilty.” But I didn’t.
There was a long silence.
“I guess Jannalynn was right,” he said, letting his dismay into his voice.
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“You do have it in for her. What, you don’t think she’s good enough for
Sam?”
“No. As a matter of fact, I don’t. Tell her I …” I automatically started to
say I was sorry I couldn’t oblige her, and then I realized that would be a big
fat lie. “I’m just … unable to be of assistance. She can do her own proposing.
Good-bye, Alcide.” Without waiting to hear his response, I hung up.
Had his enforcer wrapped Alcide around her little finger, or what?
“Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me,” I said. I
wasn’t sure if I meant Alcide or Jannalynn or both of them.
I fumed as I gathered my few things together. Help that bitch propose
to Sam? When Hell froze over. When pigs flew! Plus, as I’d told Alcide, if I’d
been fool enough to go out to Mimosa Lake, she’d have staged some drama,
for sure.
As I locked Eric’s kitchen door behind me and stomped out to my car in
my now-painful high heels, I said words that had seldom crossed my lips
before. I slammed my car door shut behind me, earning a sharp look from a
sleek, well-groomed neighbor of Eric’s who was weeding the flower bed
around her mailbox.
“Next people will be asking me to be a surrogate mom for their babies,
cause it would be inconvenient for them to carry their own,” I said, sneering in
an unattractive way into my rearview mirror. That reminded me of Tara, and
I tried her number again, but with no better result.
I pulled in behind my house about two o’clock. Dermot’s car was still
there. When I saw home, it was like I gave myself permission to run into a
wall of weariness. It felt good that my great-uncle would be waiting for me. I
grabbed my little bag of dirty clothes and my purse and trudged to the back
door.
Tossing the clothes bag on the top of the washer on the back porch, I
put my hand on the knob of the kitchen door, registering as I did so that two
people were waiting inside.
Maybe Claude was back? Maybe all the problems in Faery had been
solved, and everyone at Hooligans would be returning to the wonderful
world of the fae. How many problems would that leave me with? Maybe
only three or four big ones.
I was feeling honestly optimistic when I pushed the door open and
registered the identity of the two men seated at the table.
Definitely an OSM. One man was Dermot, whom I’d expected. The
other was Mustapha, whom I hadn’t.
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“Geez Louise, where have you been?” I thought I was going to yell, but
it came out as a startled wheeze.
“Sookie,” he said, in his deep voice.
“We thought you were dead! We were scared sick about you! What
happened?”
“Take a deep breath,” Mustapha said. “Sit down and just … take a
breath. I got some things to tell you. I can’t give you a full answer. It’s not
that I don’t want to. It’s really a life or a death.”
His statement cut off the next seven questions poised to pour off my
tongue. Tossing my purse on the counter, I pulled out a chair, sat, and took a
deep breath as he’d advised me. I gave him all my attention. For the first
time, I absorbed his ragged appearance. Mustapha’s grooming had always
been meticulous. It was a shock to see him rumpled, his precise haircut
uneven, his boots scuffed. “Did you see who killed that girl?” I asked. I had
to.
He looked at me, looked hard. He didn’t answer.
“Did you kill that girl?” I tried again.
“I did not.”
“And because of this situation you referred to, you can’t tell me who
did.”
Silence.
I was sickeningly afraid that Mustapha was trying to tell me, without
spelling it out, that Eric had killed her—had ducked out of the house after I’d
shut myself in the bathroom. Eric could have lost his temper, projected his
anger with himself onto Kym Rowe, and tried to make things right between
him and me by snapping her neck. No matter how many times during the
previous night I’d told myself such a premise was ridiculous—Eric had great
control and was very intelligent, he was simply too aware of his neighbors
and the police to do such a lawless thing, and such an act would simply be
irrational—I’d never been able to tell myself that Eric wouldn’t have killed
her simply because doing so was wrong.
This afternoon, all those bad thoughts I had entertained came crashing
back as I stared at Mustapha.
If Mustapha had not been a Were, I would have sat on his chest until I
read the answer in his brain. As it was, I could only get an impression of the
turmoil in his head, and his grim resolution that he would survive no matter
what. And he was consumed with worry for someone else. A name crossed
his mind.
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“Where’s Warren, Mustapha?” I asked. I leaned forward, trying to get a
clearer read. I even reached toward him, but he flinched back.
Mustapha shook his head angrily. “Don’t even try, Sookie Stackhouse.
That’s one of the things I can’t talk about. I didn’t have to come here at all.
But I think you’re getting a raw deal, and you’re caught up in the middle of
stuff you don’t know about.”
Like that was a new situation for me.
Dermot was looking back and forth between us. He couldn’t decide
how to act or what I wanted him to do.
Join the club, Dermot.
“You tell me what’s going on, and then I’d know what to be careful of,”
I suggested.
“This was a mistake,” he said, looking down and shaking his head. “I’m
going to find somewhere to hide while I look for Warren.”
I thought of calling Eric, leaving a message telling him his day man was
here. I’d keep Mustapha a prisoner until Eric could come fetch him. Or I
could phone the police and tell them a material witness to a murder was
sitting in my kitchen.
These plans passed through my head with great rapidity, and I
considered each of them for a second. Then I thought, Who am I kidding? I’m
not going to do any of those things. “You should go to Alcide,” I said. “He’ll
keep you safe if you pledge to the pack.”
“But I’d have to face …”
“Jannalynn. I know. But that’ll be later. Alcide’ll keep you safe for now.
I can call him.” I held up my little phone.
“You got his cell number?”
“I do.”
“You call him, Sookie. You tell him I’m trying to meet with him. You
give him my cell number, and you tell him to call me when he’s by himself.
And that’s a big thing. He has to be by himself.”
“Why can’t you call him?”
“It’d be better if it came from you,” he said, and that was all I could get
him to say. “You got my cell number, right?”
“Sure.”
“I’m leaving now.”
“Tell me who killed that girl!” If I could have yanked the answer out of
him with tweezers, I would have.
“You’d just be in more danger than you are now,” he said, and then he
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was out of the room and onto his bike, and then he was gone.
This had all occurred with such speed that I felt as though the room
were shivering after he left. Dermot and I stared at each other.
“I have no idea why he was here instead of in Shreveport where he
belongs. I could have held him,” Dermot said. “I was just waiting for a signal
from you, Great-Niece.”
“I appreciate that, Great-Uncle. I guess I felt like that just wasn’t the
right thing to do,” I muttered.
We sat there in silence for a moment. But I had to explain to Dermot
about the night before.
“You want to know why Mustapha showed up here?” I asked, and he
nodded, looking much more cheerful now that he was going to get some
background. I launched into my narrative.
“No one knew her, and she hadn’t come with anyone?” He looked
thoughtful.
“That’s what they all said.”
“Then someone sent her, someone who knew there would be a party at
Eric’s. Someone ensured she could walk in and not be challenged because
there were strangers at the house. How did she get past the guard at the
gate?”
These were all pertinent questions, and I added another one. “How
could anyone know in advance that Eric wouldn’t be able to resist taking
blood from her?” I sounded forlorn, and I could only hope I didn’t come
across as self-pitying. Unhappiness will do that to you.
“Obviously she was selected because she had two-natured blood of
some variety, and then she enhanced that with the smell of fairy. We know
too well it’s enticing to the deaders. Since Mustapha’s phone call made you
late and, therefore, Eric was more willing to yield to temptation,” Dermot
said, “Mustapha must have had some hand in what happened.”
“Yeah. I figured that out.” I wasn’t happy about this conclusion, but it
fit the evidence.
“He may not have known what would happen as a result, but he must
have gotten instructions from someone to make you late.”
“But who? He’s a lone wolf. He doesn’t answer to Alcide.”
“Someone has power over him,” Dermot said reasonably. “Only
someone with power over him could make a man like Mustapha betray Eric’s
trust. He’s looking for his friend Warren. Would Warren have some reason to
want Eric behind bars?”
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Dermot was really operating on fully charged batteries today. I was
having a hard time flogging my tired brain into keeping up with him.
“That’s the key, of course,” I said. “His friend Warren. Warren himself
would have no reason I can think of to want to harm Eric, who, after all,
provides Mustapha’s livelihood. But I think Warren’s being used as a lever.
Someone’s taken Warren, I think. They’re holding him to ensure they have
Mustapha’s cooperation. I need to think about all this,” I said, yawning with
a jaw-cracking noise. “But right now I just have to sleep some more. You
going over to Hooligans?”
“Later,” he said.
I looked at him, thinking of all the questions he’d never answered about
the strange accumulation of the fae at a remote strip club in Louisiana.
Claude had always told me it was because they’d all been left out when Niall
closed the portals. But how had they known where to come, and what was
their purpose in remaining in Monroe? Now was not the time to ask, since I
was too exhausted to process his answers—if he would give me any. “Okay
then, I’m taking a nap,” I said. It was Sunday, and Merlotte’s was closed.
“Just let the answering machine take the calls, if you don’t mind.” I switched
the ringer volume down even further on the kitchen phone and would do the
same in the bedroom.
I took my cell phone into my bedroom and called Alcide. He didn’t
answer, but I left him a message. Then I plugged in my cell phone to charge. I
dragged my weary body into my bedroom. I didn’t even take off my clothes.
I fell over the bed and fell asleep.
I woke two hours later feeling like something a cat spit up. I rolled onto
my side to look out the window. The light had changed. The air conditioner
was fighting the afternoon’s worst heat, which shimmered in the air outside. I
sat up to look out the window at the dry grass. We needed rain.
More random thoughts floated through my muzzy head. I wondered
how Tara was doing. I didn’t know what “effaced” meant. I wondered what
had happened to Mr. Cataliades. He was my “sponsor,” apparently the
otherworldly equivalent of a godparent. I’d last seen the (mostly) demon
lawyer running through my yard being chased by gray streaks from Hell.
Had Amelia gotten back from France yet? What were Claude and Niall
up to in Faery? What did it look like there? Maybe the trees looked like
peacock feathers and everyone wore sequins.
I checked my phone. I hadn’t heard from Alcide. I called again, but it
went right to voice mail. I left a message on Bill’s cell to tell him that
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Mustapha had made an appearance. After all, he was the Area Five
investigator.
Though I’d showered at Eric’s that morning, that seemed like a week
ago, so I got under the water again. Then I pulled on old denim shorts and a
white T-shirt and flip-flops and went out in the yard with my wet hair
hanging down my back. I positioned the chaise perfectly to keep my body in
the shadow of the house while my hair was trailing over the end in the light
because I liked the way it smelled when I let it dry in the sun. Dermot’s car
was gone. The yard and house were empty. The only background noises
were the ever-present sounds of nature going about its business: birds, bugs,
and an occasional breeze fluttering the leaves in a lazy way.
It was peaceful.
I tried to think of mundane things: a possible date for Jason and
Michele’s wedding, what I needed to do at Merlotte’s tomorrow, how low on
propane my tank might be. Things I could actually solve with a phone call or
a pad and pencil. Since my car was in my line of sight, I noticed that one of
my tires looked a little soft. I should get Wardell at the tire place to check my
pressure. It had been wonderful to shower without worrying about having
enough hot water; that was the upside to Claude’s absence.
It was good to think about things that weren’t supernatural.
In fact, it was blissful.
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Chapter 6
When it was dark, my phone rang. Of course, that wasn’t until after eight,
this far into the summer. I’d had a very pleasant few hours all by myself.
“Pleasant” didn’t mean a positive good to me anymore: It meant an absence
of bad. I had done a little straightening in the kitchen, read a little, turned on
the television just to have voices in the background. Nice. Not exciting. I’d
had enough exciting.
I hadn’t checked my e-mail all day, and I’d considered giving it a pass
for a couple more days. I found I didn’t really want to answer the phone,
either. But I’d left messages for both Alcide and Bill. On the third ring, I
yielded to habit and picked it up. “Yes?” I said.
“Sookie, I’m on my way over to see you,” Eric said.
See, I knew there’d been a good reason for not answering. “No,” I said.
“I don’t think so.” There was a little silence. Eric was as surprised as I was.
“Is this a punishment for last night?” he asked.
“For drinking from another woman when I was present? No, I think I
have that issue squared away.”
“Then … what? You really don’t want to see me?”
“Not tonight. I do want to say a couple of things to you, though.”
“By all means.” He sounded stiff and offended, which wasn’t any
surprise. He could deal with it.
“If Bill is still the Area Five investigator …”
“He is.” Cautious.
“Then he needs to get to work, don’t you think? He could take Heidi
with him, since she’s supposed to be such a great tracker. How did Kym
Rowe get past the guard? Unless someone bribed the guard—and it was a
guy I didn’t know—it’s possible Kym came up from the gate at the back of
your yard, right? Maybe Bill and Heidi could discover how she got there.
Plus, I need to talk to Bill about something.”
“That’s a good idea.” He was thawing out. Or at least he wasn’t
dwelling on the offense he’d taken.
“I’m full of ’em,” I said, feeling anything but clever. “Also. How did
Felipe know all about the death of Victor?”
“None of my vampires would say a word,” Eric said with absolute
certainty. “Colton is still in the area, but Immanuel has gone to the West
Coast. You would not tell anyone. Mustapha’s friend Warren, who acted as
our cleanup man …”
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“None of them would speak. Warren wouldn’t say boo to a goose if
Mustapha didn’t tell him to.” I thought so, anyway. I didn’t really know
much about Warren, who wasn’t big on talking. I was just about to tell Eric
that Mustapha had appeared in my kitchen when he continued, “We should
have taken care of Colton and Immanuel.”
Did Eric mean the vampires should have killed the human survivors of
that vicious brawl, even if they’d fought on Eric’s side? Or was he simply
implying he should have done a preemptive glamour, erasing their
memories? I closed my eyes. I thought of my own humanity and
vulnerability, though glamouring had never worked on me.
Time to move on to another subject before I lost my temper. “Do you
know why Felipe is really here? Cause you know it’s not because of Victor, or
at least only partly because of Victor.”
“Don’t discount his need to discipline me for Victor’s death,” Eric said.
“But you’re right, he’s got another agenda. I realized that last night.” Eric
grew more guarded. “Or at least, I became surer of it.”
“So you already know this secret agenda, and you’re not telling me.”
“We’ll talk about it later.”
Of course I should have told him about Mustapha’s visit, but I lost my
remaining patience. “Uh-huh. Right.” I hung up. I looked down at my hand,
a bit stunned at my own action.
I spotted the little bundle of mail and the newspaper on the counter.
Earlier in the day, I had walked down the driveway in the bright sunshine to
retrieve the previous day’s mail and the daily Shreveport newspaper from
their respective boxes on Hummingbird Road. Now I sat down to read the
paper. On the front page I discovered that Kym Rowe had been twenty-four,
she had been from Minden, and (after looking at the picture of her
accompanying the main article) I wasn’t surprised to read she’d recently been
fired from her job as an exotic dancer for assaulting a customer.
That must have been a hell of a night at that strip club.
The cause of Kym’s death, according to the paper, had been a broken
neck. Quick, quiet, requiring only strength and the element of surprise. That
was why, even in that quiet neighborhood, no one had heard her scream …
not even Bill, with his vampire hearing. Or so he said. Kym Rowe, I
discovered, had good reason to have a short temper.
“Rowe was desperate for money. ‘She was behind on her car payments,
and her landlord was about to evict her,’ Oscar Rowe, the victim’s father,
said. ‘She was doing crazy things to earn money.’” That was the short and
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sad story of the life of Kym Rowe. One thing stood out: She’d had nothing to
lose.
Of course, much was made of the fact that she’d been found on the
lawn of a “prominent vampire businessman and his party guests.” Eric and
his uninvited company were in for a hard time with the publicity machine.
There was at least one picture of T-Rex in his wrestling costume. The words
“bulging” and “manic” came to mind. I turned to the inside page where the
article continued. Kym’s grieving parents were posed clutching a Bible and a
bouquet of daisies, which they said had been Kym’s favorite flower. Though I
chided myself for my snobbishness, they didn’t look like much.
Before I could finish the article, the phone rang. I jumped about a foot.
I’d been wondering if Eric would call back after he’d had enough time to get
really angry with me, but the caller ID let me know my caller was Sam.
“Hey,” I said.
“What happened last night?” he asked. “I just watched the Shreveport
news.”
“I went over to Eric’s because of the out-of-town vamp visitors,” I said,
condensing. “This Kym Rowe left the house right after I got there. Eric had
taken blood from her.” I had to pause to collect myself. “Then Bill found her
dead on the lawn. They might have hushed it up…. Oh, hell, of course they’d
have hushed it up. Moved her body, or something. But the police had gotten
an anonymous call that there was a body at Eric’s, so the police were there
before he even knew her body was on the lawn.”
“Do you know who did it?”
“No,” I said. “If I knew who’d killed her, I’d have told the cops last
night.”
“Even if the killer was Eric?”
That stopped me dead. “It would depend on the circumstances. Would
you turn in Jannalynn?”
There was a long silence. “It would depend on the circumstances,” he
said.
“Sam, sometimes I think we’re just dumb,” I said, and then I heard
myself. “Wait, not speaking for you! Just for me!”
“But I agree,” he said. “Jannalynn … she’s great, but I feel like I’ve
bitten off more than I can chew some days.”
“Do you tell her everything, Sam?” How much did other couples share?
I needed some feedback. I’d had so few relationships.
He hesitated. “No,” he said, finally. “I don’t. We haven’t gotten to the ‘I
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love you’ stage yet, but even if we had … no.”
My mental focus took a U-turn. Wait a minute. According to Alcide,
Jannalynn had told him she was going to propose. Sure didn’t sound like
Sam was ready for that, if they hadn’t even told each other they loved each
other. That couldn’t be right. Someone was lying or deluded. Then Sam said,
“Sookie?” and I knew I’d been letting silence fill the air while I thought all
this.
“So it’s not just me and Eric,” I said hastily. “Between us, Sam, I feel like
Eric’s not telling me some pretty important stuff.”
“What about the things you aren’t telling him? Are those things
important?”
“Yeah, they are. Important, but not … personal.” I hadn’t told Eric
about Hunter, my little second cousin, being telepathic like me. I hadn’t told
Eric how worried I was about the concentration of the fae in Monroe. I’d tried
filling Eric in on the fae situation, but it had been easy to tell that the politics
of his own kind were at the top of his list these days. I couldn’t blame him for
that.
“Sookie, you’re okay, right? I don’t know what you mean by ‘not
personal.’ Everything that happens to you is personal.”
“By personal stuff … things that are only about me and him. Like if I
wasn’t happy with the way he treated me, or if I thought he needed to be
around more, or if he’d go with me to Jason and Michele’s wedding. If I
needed to talk about any of those things, I would. But I know pieces of
information that affect other people, and I don’t always tell him those things,
because he has such a different perspective.”
“You know you can tell me, if you need to talk about something. You
know I’ll listen and I won’t tell anyone.”
“I know that, Sam. You’re the best friend I’ve got. And I hope you
know I’m always ready to listen to anything you need to talk about. I’m sure
Eric and I will get back to normal when Felipe leaves … when the boat stops
rocking.”
“Maybe you will,” he said. “But you know that if you get nervous out
there, I got an extra bedroom here.”
“Jannalynn would kill me,” I said. I’d spoken the first thought that
went through my head, and I could have slapped myself. I’d spoken the truth
—but I was talking about Sam’s girlfriend. “Sorry, Sam! I’m afraid Jannalynn
believes you and I have a—a lurid past. I guess she’s not there tonight?”
“She’s working tonight, at Hair of the Dog. She’s watching the phones
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and the bar traffic while Alcide’s having meetings in the back room. You’re
right, she’s a little possessive,” he admitted. “It was kind of flattering at first,
you know? But then I began to wonder if that means she doesn’t have any
faith in my integrity.”
“Sam, if she has a grain of sense she can’t possibly doubt you.” (I was
pretty sure Jannalynn blamed it all on me.) “You’re an honest guy.”
“Thanks,” he said gruffly. “Well … I’ve kept you talking long enough.
Call me if you need me. By the way, as long as we’re talking about
relationship stuff, do you know why Kennedy’s mad at Danny? She’s been
snapping at everyone.”
“Danny’s keeping some kind of secret from her, and she’s afraid it’s
about another woman.”
“It’s not?” Sam knew all about my telepathic ability.
“No, it isn’t. I don’t know what it is. At least he isn’t stripping at
Hooligans.” One of us had talked, which was inevitable, and the story of JB’s
second job had gotten a lot of comment in Bon Temps.
“She didn’t think about just asking Danny what he was doing?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Children, children,” Sam said, as if he were in his sixties instead of in
his thirties.
I laughed. I was in a better mood when we hung up.
Dermot came in about half an hour later. Normally, my great-uncle was
at least content in a low-keyed way. Tonight he wasn’t even approaching
happiness; he was actively worried.
“What’s up?”
“Claude’s absence is making them restless.”
“Because he has such charisma that he keeps them all in line.” Claude
had as much personality as a turnip.
“Yes,” Dermot said simply. “I know you don’t feel Claude’s charm. But
when he’s among his own people, they can see his strength and purpose.”
“We’re talking about the guy who chose to stay among humans rather
than go into Faery when it was closing.” I just didn’t get it.
“Claude’s told me two things about that,” Dermot said, going to the
refrigerator and pouring a glass of milk. “He said he knew the portals were
closing, but he felt he couldn’t leave without tying up his business affairs
here, and he never imagined that Niall would really stick to his decision. On
the whole, the gamble of staying here appealed to him more. But he told the
others, all the assortment of fae at Hooligans, that Niall denied him entry.”
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I noticed that Dermot was admitting, though not explicitly, that he
didn’t have the high opinion of Claude that the other fae did. “Why’d he tell
two stories? Which do you believe?”
Dermot shrugged. “Maybe both are true, more or less,” he said. “I think
Claude was reluctant to leave this human world. He’s amassing money that
could be working for him here while he’s in Faery. He’s been talking with
lawyers about setting up a trust, or something like that. It would continue to
earn him money even if he vanishes. That way if he wants to return to this
world, he will be a rich man and able to live as he wants. And there are
advantages, even when you live in Faery, to having financial assets here.”
“Like what?”
Dermot looked surprised. “Like having the ability to buy things that
aren’t available in Faery,” he said. “Like having the wherewithal to make
trips out here occasionally, to indulge in things that aren’t … acceptable in
our own world.”
“Like what?” I asked again.
“Some of us like human drugs and sex,” Dermot said. “And some of us
like human music very much. And human scientists have thought of some
wonderful products that are very useful in our world.”
I was tempted to say “Like what?” a third time, but I didn’t want to
sound like a parrot. The more I heard, the more curious it seemed.
“Why do you think Claude went with Niall?” I asked instead.
“I think he wants to become secure in Niall’s affection,” Dermot said
promptly. “And I think he wants to remind the rest of the fae world what an
enticing option they have cut off, since Niall closed the portals and guards
them so rigorously. But I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’m his kinsman, so he
has to shelter me and defend me. But he doesn’t have to confide in me.”
“So he’s still trying to have it both ways,” I said.
“Yes,” Dermot said simply. “That’s Claude.”
Just then there was a knock at the back door. Dermot raised his head
and sniffed. “There’s one of the troubles,” he said, and went to answer it. Our
caller was Bellenos the elf, whose needlelike inch-long teeth were terrifying
when he smiled. I remember how he’d grinned when he’d presented me with
the head of my enemy.
Our new visitor had bloody hands. “What you been doing, Bellenos?” I
asked, proud that my voice was so even.
“I’ve been hunting, my fair one,” he said, and gave me that scary grin.
“I was complaining of being restless, and Dermot gave me leave to hunt in
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your woods. I had a wonderful time.”
“What did you catch?”
“A deer,” he said. “A full-grown doe.”
It wasn’t hunting season, but I didn’t think anyone from the
Department of Wildlife and Fisheries was going to fine Bellenos. One look at
his true face, and they’d run screaming. “Then I’m glad you took the
opportunity,” I said, but I resolved to have a private word with Dermot about
granting hunting privileges on my land without consulting me.
“Some of the rest of us would like to hunt here, too,” the elf suggested.
“I’ll think about it,” I said, none too pleased at the idea. “Long as that
hunting was restricted to deer, and you stayed on my land … I’ll let you
know soon.”
“My kindred are getting restless,” Bellenos said, in what was not quite a
warning. “We would all like to get out of the club. We would all like to visit
your woods, experience the peacefulness of your house.”
I shoved my deep uneasiness down into a little pocket inside me. I
could fish it out later and have a good look at it after Bellenos left. “I
understand,” I said, and offered him water. When he nodded, I poured a
glass full of cold water from the pitcher in the refrigerator. He gulped it all
down. Hunting deer in the dark with your bare hands was apparently thirsty
work. After the water was gone, Bellenos asked if he could clean up, and I
pointed out the hall bathroom and put out a towel.
When the door was safely shut, I gave Dermot a look.
“I know you have reason to be angry, Sookie,” he said. He came closer
and dropped his voice. “Bellenos is the most dangerous. If he gets tense and
bored, bad things will happen. It seemed wisest to give him a safety valve. I
hope you’ll forgive me for granting him permission, since we’re family.”
Dermot’s big blue eyes, so like my brother’s, looked at me imploringly.
I wasn’t too pleased, but Dermot’s reasoning made all kinds of sense.
The image of a repressed elf finally cutting loose on the people of Monroe
was a picture I didn’t want in my head. “I get what you’re saying,” I told
him. “But if you ever want to let someone run free on my land again, check
with me first.” And I gave him a very level look to let him know I meant it.
“I will,” he said. I wasn’t convinced. Dermot was a lot of good things,
but I couldn’t see him as a strong or decisive leader. “They’re tired of
waiting,” he said hopelessly. “I guess I am, too.”
“Would you leave for Faery?” I asked. I tried a smile. “Can you live
without your HGTV and your Cheetos?” I wanted to ask my great-uncle if he
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could live without me, but that would be too pitiful. We’d gotten along
without each other just fine for most of our lives—but there was no denying I
was fond of him.
“I love you,” he said unexpectedly. “The happiest I’ve been in years is
the time I’ve spent here with you, in this house. It’s so peaceful.”
This was the second time in a few minutes that a fae had said my house
was peaceful. My conscience stirred inside me. I suspected very strongly that
it was not me or the house that attracted creatures with fae blood; it was the
hidden presence of the cluviel dor.
Bellenos came out wrapped in a towel, holding out his bloody clothes.
His pallor—and his freckles—extended all over. “Sister, can you wash these
in your machine? I had only planned to scrub my face and arms, but I
thought how good it would feel to be completely clean.”
As I took the stained clothes to the washer on the back porch, I was glad
I’d taken Mr. Cataliades’s warning to heart. If the cluviel dor had such
influence when they couldn’t even see it, didn’t even know it was present,
how much more would they want to touch it if they could? What would they
do if I wouldn’t give it up?
After I’d started Bellenos’s clothes on the cold cycle, I remained on the
back porch looking out through the screen door at the night. The bugs were
in full symphony. It was almost noisy enough to be annoying. I was glad all
over again for the blessed invention of air-conditioning, even if the house was
cooled by window units instead of central heat and air. I could close and lock
my windows at night and keep the drone of the insects at bay … and feel safe
against the appearance of other things. One of those other things was
strolling out of the trees right now.
“Hey, Bill,” I said quietly.
“Sookie.” He moved closer. Even when I knew he was there, I couldn’t
hear him. Vampires can be so quiet.
“I guess you heard my visitor?” I said.
“Yes. Found what was left of the deer. Elf?”
“Bellenos. You’ve met him.”
“The guy who took the heads? Yeah. Dermot is home?”
“He’s here.”
“You really shouldn’t be alone with Bellenos.” Bill, a serious guy,
sounded very grim indeed when he said this.
“I don’t intend to be. Dermot will take him back to Monroe, either
tonight or tomorrow morning. Eric call you tonight?”
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“Yeah. I’m going to Shreveport in an hour. I’m meeting Heidi there.”
He hesitated for a moment. “I understand she still has a living relative.”
“Her son in Nevada. He’s a drug addict, I believe.”
“To have living flesh of your flesh. It must be a very strange feeling to
be able to talk to your immediate kin. This age of vampires is so much
different from that when I was turned. I can hardly believe that I now know
my great-great-great-grandchildren.”
Bill’s maker had ordered him out of Bon Temps and even out of the
state for a long time, so he wouldn’t be recognized by his wife and children
or his local acquaintances. That was the old way.
I noted the wistfulness in his voice. “I don’t think it’s been very healthy
for Heidi to keep in touch with her son,” I said. “She’s younger than he is,
now, and …” Then I shut up. The rest of the sad story was Heidi’s to tell.
“Several days ago, Danny Prideaux came to me to ask if he can be my
daytime man,” Bill said suddenly, and after a moment I understood that Bill
was thinking of human connections.
So that was Danny’s big secret. “Huh. He already has a part-time job at
the lumberyard.”
“With two jobs, he thinks he can ask his young woman to marry him.”
“Oh, wow! Danny’s gonna ask Kennedy to marry him? That’s
wonderful. You know who he’s dating? Kennedy, who works behind the bar
at Merlotte’s?”
“The one who killed her boyfriend.” Bill seemed displeased by this bit
of information.
“Bill, the guy was beating her. And she served her jail time. Not that
you have any room to talk. You hired him?”
Bill looked a little abashed. “I agreed to a trial period. I don’t have
enough work for a full-time person, but it would be very pleasant to have a
part-time helper. I wouldn’t have to ask you for help all the time, which I’m
sure is inconvenient for you.”
“I haven’t minded making the occasional phone call,” I said. “But I
know you’d like to have someone you don’t have to keep thanking. I wish
Danny’d tell Kennedy what he’s up to. Not knowing is making her have all
kinds of bad thoughts about him.”
“If they’re going to have a real relationship, she has to learn to trust
him.” Bill gave me an enigmatic look and melted back into the trees.
“I trust people when they’ve proved they’re trustworthy,” I muttered,
and went back in the house. The kitchen was empty. Sounded like Bellenos
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and Dermot had gone upstairs to watch television; I caught the faint sound of
a laugh track. I climbed halfway up the stairs, intending to suggest that
Bellenos move his own clothes from the washer to the dryer, but I paused
when I heard them talking during a commercial break.
“It’s called Two and a Half Men,” Dermot was telling his guest.
“I understand,” Bellenos said. “Because the two brothers are grown,
and the son isn’t.”
“I think so,” Dermot said. “Don’t you think the son is useless?”
“The half? Yes. At home, we’d eat him,” Bellenos said.
I turned right around, sure I could put the clothes into the dryer myself.
“Sookie, did you need us?” Dermot called. I might have known he’d hear me.
“Just tell Bellenos that I’m putting his clothes in the dryer, but he’s
responsible for getting them out. I think they’ll be dry in …” I made some
hasty calculations. “Probably forty-five minutes. I’m going to bed now.”
Though I’d had the nap, I was beginning to drag.
I barely waited to hear Dermot say, “He’ll get them,” before I hurried to
the back porch to toss the wet clothes into the dryer. Then I went into my
bedroom, shut the door, and locked it.
If the rest of the fae were as casual about cannibalism as the elf, Claude
couldn’t come back soon enough to suit me.
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Chapter 7
Cara Ambroselli called me first thing Monday morning, which was not a
great way to start the week.
“I need you to come to the station so I can ask a few more questions,”
she said, and she sounded so brisk and awake that I could easily dislike her.
“I’ve told you everything I know,” I said, trying to sound alert.
“We’re going over everything again,” she said. “I know you’re as
anxious as we all are to find out who caused this poor woman’s death.”
There was only one possible response. “I’ll be there in a couple of
hours,” I said, trying not to sound sullen. “I’ll have to ask my boss if I can be
late to work.”
That really wasn’t going to be an issue since I was scheduled to work
the later shift, but I was grumpy enough to drag my heels. I did call Jason to
tell him where I was going, because I think someone always needs to know
where you are if you’re going into a police station.
“That’s no good, Sis,” he said. “You need a lawyer?”
“No, but I’m taking a number with me just in case,” I said. I looked at
the front of the refrigerator until I spotted the “Osiecki and Hilburn” business
card. I made sure my cell phone was charged. Just to cover all kinds of crises,
I put the cluviel dor into my purse.
I drove to Shreveport without noticing the blue skies, the shimmering
heat, the big mowers, the eighteen-wheelers. I was in a grim mood, and I
wondered how career criminals managed. I was not cut out for a life of crime,
I decided, though the past few years had held enough mayhem to last me till
I was using a walker. I hadn’t had anything to do with the death of Kym
Rowe, but I’d been involved in sufficient bad stuff to make me nervous when
I came under official scrutiny.
Police stations are not happy places at the best of times. If you’re a
telepath with a guilty conscience, this unhappiness is just about doubled.
The heavy woman on the bench in the waiting room was thinking
about her son, who was in a cell in the building. He’d been arrested for rape.
It wasn’t the first time. The man ahead of me was picking up a police report
about an accident he’d been in; his arm was in a sling, and he was in a fair
amount of pain. Two men sat silently side by side, their elbows on their
knees, their heads hung. Their sons had been arrested for beating another boy
to death.
It was a positive treat to see T-Rex come out of a door, apparently
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leaving the building. He glanced my way, kept moving, but did a double
take.
“Sookie, right?” Under the harsh light, his dyed platinum hair looked
garish but also cheerful, simply because he was such a vital person.
“Yeah,” I said, shaking his hand. Pretty, vamp’s girl, from Bon Temps? He
was having his own little stream of consciousness about me. “They call you
in, too?”
“Yeah, I’m doing my civic duty,” he said with a very small smile.
“Cherie and Viv already came in.”
I tried to smile in a carefree way. I didn’t think I was very successful. “I
guess we all got to help them find out who killed that girl,” I offered.
“We don’t have to enjoy it.”
I was able to give him a genuine smile. “That’s very true. Did they
wring a confession out of you?”
“I can’t keep secrets,” he said. “That’s my biggest confession. Seriously,
I’d’ve told them anything after we were here a couple hours the night it
happened. T-Rex is not one for secrets.”
T-Rex was one for talking about himself in the third person, apparently.
But he was so vivid, so full of life, that to my surprise I found I liked him.
“I have to go tell them I’m here,” I said apologetically, and took a step
toward the window.
“Sure,” he said. “Listen, give me a call if you ever want to come to a
wrestling match. I get the feeling you ain’t been to many, if at all, and you
might have a good time. I can get you a ringside seat!”
“That’s real nice of you,” I said. “I don’t know how much time I’ll have,
between my job and my boyfriend, but I do appreciate the offer.”
“I never hung around with vampires before. That Felipe, he’s pretty
damn funny, and Horst is okay.” T-Rex hesitated. “On the other hand, your
boyfriend is pretty damn scary.”
“He is,” I agreed. “But he didn’t murder Kym Rowe.”
Our conversation ended when Detective Ambroselli called me to her
desk.
Cara Ambroselli was a little dynamo. She asked me the same questions
she’d asked me Saturday night, and I answered them the same way. She
asked me a few new questions. “How long have you been dating Eric?” (He
was no longer Mr. Northman, I noticed.) “Did you ever work in a strip club?”
(That was an easy one.) “What about the men you live with?”
“What about them?”
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“Doesn’t Claude Crane own a strip club?”
“Yeah,” I said warily. “He does.”
“Did Kym Rowe ever work there?”
I was taken aback. “I don’t know,” I said. “I never thought about that. I
guess she might have.”
“You call Crane your cousin.”
“Yeah, he is.”
“We got no record of him being related to you.”
It would be interesting to know what records they could possibly have
about Claude, since he wasn’t human. “He comes from an illegitimate birth,”
I said. “It’s private family business.”
No matter how many times she asked questions about Claude, I stuck
to my guns. She eventually gave in to my determination, since there was
really no way she could link Kym to Claude to me. At least, I hoped that was
the case. This was something else I needed to talk to Claude about, when I
had the chance.
I’d nodded to Mike Coughlin, who was sitting a few desks away. He’d
been doing some paperwork, but now he was talking to a young man who
sat with his back to me. It was the guy who’d watched the gate to Eric’s
community on Saturday night.
Ambroselli had been called away by another police officer, one in
uniform, so I felt free to listen. And there was nothing wrong with my
hearing.
Evidently, Coughlin had asked—and I had a hard time remembering
the name he’d had on his shirt—Vince, that was it. Coughlin had asked Vince
why he’d been substituting for Dan Shelley the night of Eric’s party.
“Dan was sick,” Vince said instantly. I could tell his mind was full of
agitation, and I wondered what was so scary. “He asked me to sit in for him.
Said it was easy work. I needed the money, so I said sure.”
“Did Dan tell you what was wrong with him?” Mike Coughlin was
persistent and thorough, if not brilliant.
“Sure, he said he’d had too much to drink. I’d keep that to myself,
normally, but we’re talking about murder here, and I don’t want to get into
trouble.”
Coughlin gave Vince a level stare. “I’m betting it was you called us to
the scene,” he said. “Why didn’t you own up to it?”
“We’re not supposed to call the cops,” Vince said. “Dan said the vamp
tips him big to keep his mouth shut about his doings. The vamp, that is.”
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“He’s seen other girls in trouble?” There was an ominous undertone to
Coughlin’s voice.
“No, no! Dan woulda called that in. No, the extra money was just to
keep Dan quiet about the goings and the comings from the house. There are
reporters and just plain snoopy people who’d pay to know who visits a
vampire. This vampire, Eric whatever, he didn’t want his girlfriend to catch
grief about staying over at his place.”
I hadn’t known that.
“But when I stood up to stretch, I could see the front of his yard, and I
saw the body lying there. I didn’t know who it was, but she wasn’t moving.
That’s definitely the kind of thing I need to report to the police.” Vince was
practically glowing with virtue by the time he finished his account.
The detective was regarding Vince with open skepticism, and Vince’s
glow of civic virtue diminished with every second of Coughlin’s stare. “Yeah,
buddy,” Coughlin said finally, “I find that real interesting, since you couldn’t
possibly see the girl’s body from the guard shack. Unless you did that big
stretch while you were hovering over the ground.”
I tried to remember the lay of the land in the little gated community,
while Vince goggled at the detective. Coughlin was right: Eric’s house was
higher than the guard shack, and furthermore, the row of crepe myrtles by
the walkway would prevent an easy sight line.
I sure wanted to hold Vince’s hand. It would make it so much easier to
find out what was going on in his head. I sighed. There was simply no casual
way to touch flesh with a virtual stranger. Cara Ambroselli returned, looking
impatient.
The interview staggered on for thirty more minutes. I gradually
understood that Ambroselli had assembled a lot of facts about each of the
people present at the scene, but that all these facts might not add up to
anything. She appeared to be homing in on the stripper part of Kym Rowe’s
life, rather than the desperate-and-reckless part … or the part-Were part.
I had no idea how to make that add up to clues about why Kym Rowe
had shown up at Eric’s house, or who’d paid her to do so. But to me, it
seemed obvious that the girl had been bribed to do her best to seduce Eric.
Who’d paid for this and what they hoped to gain … I was as far from
discovering the guilty party as Ambroselli.
While I worked that night, I went over and over the events of Saturday
at Eric’s house. I served beers on autopilot. By the time I fell into bed, I found
I couldn’t remember any of the conversations I’d had with customers and co-
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workers.
Tuesday was another black hole. Dermot came in and out without
saying much. He didn’t look happy; in fact, he looked anxious. When I asked
him a question or two, he said, “The fae at the club, they’re worried. They
wonder why Claude left, when he’ll return, what will happen to them when
he does. They wish they had seen Niall.”
“I’m sorry about Niall’s attitude,” I said hesitantly. I didn’t know if I
should broach the subject or not. It had to be a painful one for Dermot, Niall’s
son, to be so pushed aside and disregarded.
Dermot looked at me, his eyes as pathetic as a puppy’s.
“What’s Faery like?” I asked, in a clumsy attempt to change the subject.
“It’s beautiful,” he said immediately. “The forests are green, and they
stretch for miles and miles. Not as far as they used to … but still they’re green
and deep and full of life. The shoreline is stony; no white sand beaches! But
the ocean is green and clear….” He stood, lost in dreaming of his homeland. I
wanted to ask a thousand questions: How did the fae pass their time? Did
creatures like Bellenos mix with the fairies? Did they get married? What was
childbirth like? Were there rich and poor?
But when I saw the grief in my great-uncle’s face, I kept my curiosity to
myself. He shook himself, gave me a bleak look. Then he turned to go
upstairs, probably to seek consolation in House Hunters International.
That night was notable only for what didn’t happen. Eric didn’t call me.
I understood that his out-of-town company had the biggest claim on his time,
but I felt almost as shoved aside and disregarded as Dermot. As far as I was
concerned, the vampires of Shreveport weren’t speaking to me, consulting
me, or visiting me. Even Bill was conspicuously absent. Mustapha was
presumably still searching for Warren. Ambroselli was presumably searching
for the killer of Kym Rowe.
Normally, I was a pretty cheerful person. But I wasn’t seeing an end to
this complicated situation, and I began to think there might never be one.
I made a creditable effort to leap out of bed with enthusiasm the next
morning. I was rested, and I had to go to work, no matter what was
happening in the supernatural world.
Not a creature was stirring, not even an elf. I ate some yogurt and
granola and strawberries, drank some coffee, and put on some extra makeup
since I was still feeling unhappy in general. I took a few minutes to paint my
fingernails. A girl’s gotta have a little color in her life.
At the bustling post office, I used my key to empty the Merlotte’s
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mailbox, which served Sam for both business and personal use. Sam had
gotten three envelopes from his duplex tenants. I riffled through the flyers
that had been stuffed in the box and saw that the only bill worth worrying
about was the electric bill. It soared in the summer, of course, since we had to
keep the bar cool. I was almost scared to open it. I bit the bullet and slit the
envelope. The total was bad, but not more than I expected.
Terry Bellefleur pushed open the glass door while I was tossing
unwanted mail into the trash. He looked good: more alert, not as skinny,
maybe. There was a woman with him. When Terry stopped to speak to me,
she smiled. She needed some dental work, but it was a good smile.
“Sook, this here’s Jimmie Kearney from Clarice,” Terry said. “She raises
Catahoulas, too.” Terry loved his dogs, and he seemed to have overcome his
bad luck with them. His latest bitch, Annie, had had her second litter of
puppies. This time they’d been purebred. I’d heard Terry talk about Jimmie
when he’d found a match for Annie, but I’d assumed Jimmie was a guy. She
very much wasn’t.
“I’m pleased to meet you,” I said. Jimmie was younger than Terry. I put
her at about forty. There were streaks of gray in her long brown hair, which
hung nearly down to her waist. She wore baggy khaki shorts with a ruffled
white peasant blouse and huaraches.
“I heard a lot about you,” Jimmie said shyly. “You should come by
Terry’s and see the puppies. My Tombo is the daddy. They’re just as cute as
they can be. And we’ve got them all sold! We had to check out the homes
they would go to, of course.”
“Good job,” I said. I was getting the information from Jimmie’s head
that she was over at Terry’s a lot of the time. A lot. Just in my little peek,
Jimmie seemed like an okay person. Terry deserved someone really nice; he
needed someone really, really stable. I hoped she was both. “Well, maybe I’ll
get a chance to see those puppies before they go to their new homes. I’m glad
I got to meet you, Jimmie. Terry, talk to you later.”
Before I headed to the bar, I needed to check on Tara, who hadn’t
returned my calls. Maybe she’d gone to work today, too? Sure enough, her
car was parked beside Tara’s Togs.
Inside, she was sitting at the wedding table, the one where brides sat to
order their invitations and their napkins and anything else a bride could
want.
“Tara?” I said, because the expression on her face was very peculiar.
“How come you didn’t call me back? What’s ‘effaced’ mean? Does that mean
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you’re gonna have the babies soon?”
“Um-hum,” she said, but it was clear her attention was on something
else entirely.
“Where’s McKenna?” Tara’s assistant had been working more and
more hours as Tara grew more and more great with child. Well, great with
children.
“She’s at home. She’s been run off her feet. I told her to stay home
today, that I’d work. Today’s my last day.”
“You don’t look like you can work a whole eight hours,” I said
cautiously. Tara had gotten pretty snappish during her pregnancy, and the
bigger she got, the more likely she’d become to give you her unvarnished
opinion on almost anything—but especially if you said something about her
stamina or appearance.
“I can’t,” she said, and my mouth fell open.
“How come?” I said.
“I’m having the babies today.”
I felt a thread of panic rise up out of my stomach. “Does … who all
knows this, Tara?”
“You.”
“You haven’t called anyone else?”
“No. I’m just trying to deal. Having a little moment, here.” She tried to
smile. “But I guess you better call McKenna and tell her to come in to work,
and you better call JB and tell him to get to the hospital in Clarice, and you
could call his mama. Oh, and maybe the ambulance.”
“Oh my God! You’re hurting?” Oh, Shepherd of Judea!
She glared at me, but I don’t think she knew she was looking at me like
she hoped I’d turn green. “It’s not too bad yet,” she said with an air of great
restraint. “But my water broke just now, and since it’s twins …”
I was already punching in 911. I described the situation to the
dispatcher, and she said, “Sookie, we’ll be right over to get Tara. You tell her
not to worry. Oh, and she can’t eat or drink anything, you hear?”
“Yes,” I said. I hung up. “Tara, they’re coming. Nothing to eat or
drink!”
“You see any food around here?” she said. “Not a damn thing. I’ve
been trying to keep my weight gain to a minimum, so Mr. Bare-Naked Booty
will have something to keep him home when I get over having his children.”
“He loves you! And I’m calling him right now!” Which I did.
After a frozen moment, JB said, “I’m coming! Wait, if you called the
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ambulance, I’ll meet it at the hospital! Have you called the doctor?”
“She didn’t put him on my list.” I was waving my hands in agitation.
I’d made a mistake.
“I’ll do it,” JB said, and I hung up.
Since there didn’t seem to be anything I could do to help Tara (she was
sitting absolutely still with an expression of great concentration on her face), I
called Mrs. du Rone. Who said very calmly, “All right, if you’re going to stay
there with Tara, I’ll drive straight to the hospital. Thank you, Sookie.” Then,
without hanging up, she shrieked, “Donnell! Go start the car! It’s time!”
I hung up. I called McKenna, who said, “Oh my God! I just got out of
bed! Lock up and I’ll get there within an hour. Tell her I said good luck!”
Not knowing what else to do, I went to stand by Tara, who said, “Give
me your hand.” I took her hand, and she got a death grip on mine. She began
to pant in a rhythm, and her face turned red. Her whole body tensed. This
close to her, I could smell something unusual. It wasn’t exactly a bad smell,
but it was certainly one I’d never associated with Tara.
Amniotic fluid, I guessed.
I thought all the bones in my hand would snap before Tara finished
puffing. We rested a moment, Tara and I, and her eyes remained fixed on
some far-distant shore. After a short time, she said, “Okay,” as if I’d know
what that signaled. I figured it out when we started again with the huffing
and puffing. This time Tara turned white. I was incredibly relieved to hear
the ambulance approaching, though Tara didn’t seem to notice.
I recognized the two EMTs, though I couldn’t recall their names. They’d
graduated with Jason, or maybe a year ahead of him. As far as I was
concerned, they had haloes.
“Hey, lady,” the taller woman said to Tara. “You ready to take a ride
with us?”
Tara nodded without losing her focus on that invisible spot.
“How close are the contractions, darlin’?” asked the second, a small,
stocky woman with wire-rimmed glasses. She was asking me, but I just
gaped at her.
“Three or four minutes,” Tara said in a monotone, as if she thought
she’d pop if she spoke emphatically.
“Well, I guess we better hustle, then,” the taller woman said calmly.
While she took Tara’s blood pressure, Wire Rims set up the gurney, and then
they helped Tara up from the chair (which was soaking wet), and they got
Tara onto the gurney and into the ambulance very quickly, without seeming
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to hurry in the least.
I was left standing in the middle of the store. I stared at the wet chair.
Finally I wrote a note to McKenna. “You will need to clean the chair,” it said.
I stuck it to the back door, where McKenna would enter. I locked up and
departed.
It was one of those days I regretted having a job. I could have gone to
Clarice and waited for the birth of the babies, sitting in the waiting room with
the other people Tara cared for.
I went into Merlotte’s feeling ridiculously happy. I just had time to put
the mail on Sam’s desk when Kennedy came in the employee door, and India
was hard on her heels. Both of them looked pretty down in the mouth, but I
wasn’t having any of that. “Ladies,” I said. “We are gonna have us a good
day here.”
“Sookie, I’d like to oblige, but my heart is breaking,” Kennedy said
pathetically.
“Oh, bullshit, Kennedy! It is not. You just ask Danny to share with you,
you tell him what a man he is and how you love his hot body, and he’ll tell
his heap big secret. You got no reason to be insecure. He thinks you’re
fabulous. He likes you more than his LeBaron.”
Kennedy looked stunned, but after a moment a small smile flickered
across her face.
“India, you’ll meet a woman who’s worthy of you any day now, I just
know it,” I told India, who said, “Sookie, you are as full of bullshit as a cow is
of milk.”
“Speaking of milk,” I said, “we’re going to hold hands and say a prayer
for Tara, cause she’s having her babies right now.”
And that was what we did.
It wasn’t until I was halfway through my shift that I realized how much
more enjoyable work was when you had a light heart. How long had it been
since I’d let go of my worries and simply allowed myself to enjoy the
happiness of another person?
It had been way too long.
Today, everything seemed easy. Kennedy was pouring beers and tea
and water with lemon, and all the food was ready on time. Antoine was
singing in the kitchen. He had a fine voice, so we all enjoyed that. The
customers tipped well, and everyone had a good word for me. Danny
Prideaux came in to moon longingly at Kennedy, and his face when she gave
him a smile—well, it was all lit up.
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Just when I was thinking I might glide through this day with happiness
all around, Alcide came in. He’d clearly been working; there was a hard hat
impression in his thick black hair, and he was sweaty and dirty like most of
the men who came in at midday in the summer. Another Were was with him,
a man who was just as glad to be in the air-conditioning. They breathed
simultaneous sighs of relief when they sank into the chairs at a table in my
section.
Truthfully, I was surprised to see Alcide in Merlotte’s. There were
plenty of places to eat in the area besides our bar. Our last conversation
hadn’t been exactly pleasant, and he’d never responded to the message I’d
left on his cell phone.
Maybe his presence constituted an olive branch. I went over with
menus and a tentative smile. “You must have a job close to here,” I said, by
way of greeting. Alcide had been a partner in his dad’s surveying company,
and now he owned the whole thing. He was running it well, I heard. I’d also
heard there’d been big personnel changes.
“We’re getting ready for the new high school gym in Clarice,” Alcide
said. “We just finished. Sookie, this is Roy Hornby.”
I nodded politely. “Roy, nice to meet you. What can I get for you-all to
drink?”
“Could we have a whole pitcher of sweet tea?” Roy asked. He gave off
the strong mental signature of a werewolf.
I said, “Sure, I’ll just go get that.” While I carried a cold pitcher and two
glasses filled with ice over to the table, I wondered if the new people at AAA
Accurate Surveys were all two-natured. I poured the first round of tea. It was
gone in a few seconds. I refilled.
“Damn, it’s hot out there,” Roy said. “You saved my life.” Roy was
medium: hair a medium brown, eyes a medium blue, height a moderate five
foot ten, slim build. He did have great teeth and a winning smile, which he
flashed at me now. “I think you know my girlfriend, Ms. Stackhouse.”
“Who would that be? Call me Sookie, by the way.”
“I date Palomino.”
I was so startled that I couldn’t think of what to say. Then I had to
scramble to get some words out. “She’s sure a pretty young woman. I haven’t
gotten to know her real well, but I see her around.”
“Yeah, she works for your boyfriend, and she moonlights at the
Trifecta.”
For a vampire and a Were to date was very unusual, practically a
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Romeo and Juliet situation. Roy must be a tolerant kind of guy. Funny, that
wasn’t the vibe he was giving off. Roy seemed like a conventional Were to
me: tough, macho, strong-willed.
There weren’t many “granola” Weres. But Alcide, though not exactly
beaming at Roy, wasn’t scowling, either.
I wondered what Roy thought of Palomino’s nestmates, Rubio and
Parker. I wondered if Roy knew Palomino had been part of the massacre at
Fangtasia. Since Roy was a bit clearer to read than some Weres, I could tell he
was thinking of Palomino going to a bar with him. Something clicked inside
me, and I knew I’d gotten an idea, but I wasn’t sure what it was. There was a
connection I should be drawing, but I’d have to wait for it to pop to the top of
my brain. Isn’t that the most irritating feeling in the world?
The next time I passed Alcide’s table, Roy had gone to the men’s room.
Alcide reached out to ask me to pause. “Sookie,” he said quietly, “I got your
message. Nobody’s seen Mustapha yet, and nobody’s heard from him. Or his
buddy Warren. What did he say to you?”
“He gave me a message for you,” I said. “You want to come outside for
a second?”
“Well, all right.” Alcide rose and walked to the door, and I trailed after
him. There was no one lingering in the parking lot on a day this hot.
“I know you won’t want to hear this, but he said Jannalynn was out to
get me, and not to trust her,” I said.
Alcide’s green eyes widened. “Jannalynn. He says she’s
untrustworthy.”
I raised my shoulders, let them drop.
“I don’t know how to take that, Sookie. Though she hasn’t been herself
for a few weeks, she’s more than proved herself as my enforcer.” Alcide
looked both bewildered and irritated. “I’ll think on what you’ve told me. In
the meantime, I’m keeping my eyes and ears open, and you’ll hear soon’s I
know something.”
“He wants you to call him,” I said. “When you’re alone. He put a lot of
weight on that.”
“Thanks for passing along the message.”
Though that wasn’t the same thing as telling me he’d place the call, I
made myself smile at him as we went back inside. He resumed his seat as
Roy returned to the table. “And now, what can I get you hungry guys for
lunch?”
Alcide and Roy ordered a basket of fried pickles and two hamburgers
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apiece. I turned in their order and made the rounds of my other tables. I had
my cell phone in my pocket, and I checked it from time to time. I was very
anxious to hear about Tara, but I wasn’t going to bug JB. I figured he was
nervous enough as it was, and there was a good chance he’d have turned off
his cell phone since he was in the hospital.
I was more worried about JB than I was Tara. For the past two weeks,
he’d been coming in to parade his worries to me. He hadn’t been sure he
could handle being in the delivery room, especially if Tara had to have a Csection.
He hadn’t been sure he could remember his coaching lessons. I
figured it was good he was presenting a strong face to his wife and saving the
worries for a friend, but maybe he should have been sharing his qualms with
Tara or her doctor.
Maybe he was passed out on the hospital floor. Tara … she was made
of stronger stuff.
Alcide and Roy ate with the hearty appetites of men who’ve been
working outside all morning—men who also happen to be werewolves—and
they drank the whole pitcher of tea. They both looked happier when they
were full, and Alcide made a big effort to catch my eye. I dodged it as long as
I could, but he nailed me fair and square, so I went over, smiling. “Can I get
you-all anything else? Some dessert today?” I said.
“I’m tight as a tick,” Roy said. “Those were great hamburgers.”
“I’ll tell Antoine you said so,” I assured him.
“Sam not here today?” Alcide said.
I almost asked him if he saw Sam anywhere in the room, but I realized
that would just be rude. It was not a real question. He was trying to segue
into another topic.
“No, Kennedy is on the bar today.”
“I bet Sam’s with Jannalynn,” Roy said, grinning significantly at me.
I shrugged, tried to look politely indifferent.
Alcide was looking off into the distance as if he were thinking about
something else, but I knew he was thinking about me. Alcide was feeling
kind of lucky that he’d never managed to clinch our relationship, because he
figured there was something fishy going on between Jannalynn and me.
Alcide didn’t consider that he himself could be the bone of contention, since
Jannalynn had told him she was going to propose to Sam, and I was Eric’s
girlfriend. But we two women clearly had issues, and he had to wonder how
that would affect the pack, which had become the most important thing in
the world to Alcide.
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He was thinking this all so clearly that I wondered if he was trying to
let me know his concerns, projecting them on purpose.
“Apparently we do have issues,” I told him. “At least, she does.” Alcide
looked startled, and half turned. Before Roy could begin asking questions I
said, “How’s the bar doing?” Hair of the Dog, the only Were bar in
Shreveport, wasn’t a tourist bar like Fangtasia. It was not exclusively for
Weres, but for all the twoeys in the Shreveport area. “We seem to be pulling
out of our slump, here.”
“It’s doing good. Jannalynn is doing a great job of managing it,” Alcide
said. He hesitated for a moment. “I heard that those new bars were falling off
some, the ones the new guy opened.”
“Yeah, I heard that, too,” I said, trying not to sound too smug.
“Whatever happened to that new guy?” Alcide said, keeping his words
guarded. “That Victor?” Though the world knew about the existence of
vampires and the two-natured, their infrastructure was not common
knowledge. It would remain a secret if the supes had their way. Alcide took
an elaborately casual sip of the remaining tea. “I haven’t seen him around.”
“Me, either, for weeks,” I said. I gave Alcide a very direct look. “Maybe
he went back to Nevada.” Roy’s mind was empty of Victor-thoughts, and I
was glad that Palomino had kept her mouth shut. Palomino … who hung out
in a Were bar. Now I made the connection. That was why the distributor was
leaving TrueBlood at Hair of the Dog … it was for Palomino. Just Palomino?
Was another vamp visiting the Were bar, too?
“Your boyfriend doing well?” Alcide asked.
I came back to the here and now. “Eric’s always well.”
“Find out how that girl got into the house? The gal that got killed?”
“You-all don’t want any dessert? Let me get your check.” Of course I
had it ready, but I needed to create a little bustle in the air, get them moving.
Sure enough, Alcide had pulled his wallet out of his pocket by the time I got
back. Roy had gone to the bar to talk to one of the men who worked at the
lumber mill. Apparently they’d gone to high school together.
When I bent over to put the check by Alcide, I inhaled his scent. It was a
little sad to remember how attractive I’d found him when I first met him,
how I’d allowed myself to daydream that this handsome and hardworking
man might be my soul mate.
But it hadn’t worked out then, and now it never would. Too much
water had passed under that particular bridge. Alcide was getting deeper and
deeper into his Were culture, and further and further away from the fairly
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normal human life he’d managed to live until his father’s disastrous attempt
to become packmaster.
He was scenting me, too. Our eyes met. We both looked a little sad.
I wanted to say something to him, something sincere and meaningful,
but under the circumstances I really couldn’t imagine what to say.
And the moment slid by. He handed me some bills and told me he
didn’t need any change, and Roy slapped his buddy on the back and
returned to the table, and they prepared to go back out into the heat of the
day to drive to another job in Minden on their way back to the home office in
Shreveport.
After they left, I began to bus their table because I didn’t have anything
else to do. There were hardly any customers, and I figured D’Eriq was taking
the opportunity to slip out back to have a smoke or listen to his iPod.
My cell phone vibrated in my apron pocket, and I whipped it out,
hoping that it was news about Tara. But it was Sam, calling from his cell.
“What’s up, boss?” I asked. “Everything’s fine, here.”
“Good to know, but not why I called,” he said. “Sookie, this morning
Jannalynn and I went down to Splendide to make a payment on a table she’s
buying.” Sam had been the one who’d recommended Splendide to me when
I’d cleaned out the attic. It still seemed strange to me that the young
Jannalynn was an antiques fan.
“Okay,” I said when Sam paused. “So, what’s going on at Splendide?”
That I need to know?
“It got broken into last night,” he said, sounding oddly hesitant.
“Sorry to hear that,” I said, still not getting the importance to me of this
situation. “Ah … her table okay?”
“The things you sold to Brenda and Donald … those things were
dismantled on the spot, or taken.”
I pulled out a chair and sat down in it abruptly.
It was lucky no one was waiting for service for the next few minutes
while Sam told me everything he knew about the break-in. Nothing he told
me was illuminating. A few little items that had been in the display cases had
been grabbed, too. “I don’t know if you sold them anything small or not,”
Sam said.
“Was other stuff taken? Or just mine?”
“I think enough else was gone to kind of camouflage that the targeted
stuff had come from your attic,” he said, very quietly. I knew other people
were around him. “I just noticed because Brenda and Donald pointed out
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your pieces to show me how they’d cleaned them.”
“Thanks for letting me know,” I said, strictly on autopilot. “I’ll talk to
you later, Sam.” I shut my phone and kept to my seat for a moment, thinking
furiously.
Danny was talking so earnestly to Kennedy that I could tell he’d finally
told her why he’d been out of her sight lately. She leaned across the bar and
kissed him. I made myself get up to carry the bin of dirty dishes back to the
kitchen. Behind me, the door swung open. I looked over my shoulder to
check on the size of the party and got yet another unpleasant surprise.
Bellenos was standing in the doorway. I glanced around quickly, but no
one—not that there were more than five people in the big room—seemed to
be paying the elf any attention. They were not seeing the same creature I was
seeing.
Bellenos, who looked very strange in regular human clothes (when he
was being himself, I’d seen him in a sort of kilt and a one-shouldered T-shirt),
looked around Merlotte’s, slowly and warily. When he didn’t spot anything
threatening, he glided over to me, his slanting dark eyes full of mischief.
“Sister,” he said. “How are you today?” He showed his needle teeth in a big
smile.
“I’m good,” I said. I had to be very wary. “How’re you?”
“Happy to be out of that building in Monroe,” he said. “I see you are
not busy. Can we sit and talk?”
“Yes,” I said. “Let me clear this table.” I was sorry that didn’t take
longer to do. By the time I sat down with the elf warrior, I was no closer to
having a good idea about how to handle this visit than I had been the
moment Bellenos walked in. I pulled out a chair to his right. I wanted to talk
in a low voice, because I certainly didn’t want anyone to overhear our
conversation, but I also wanted to keep an eye on the few people in the room.
In the fae way, Bellenos took my hand. I wanted to snatch it back, but
there wasn’t any point in offending him. The bones stood out so much that
his hand hardly looked human—which, of course, it wasn’t. It was pale,
freckled, and very strong.
Past his shoulder, I saw Kennedy glance our way. She shook a playful
finger at me. She thought I was flirting with someone besides Eric. I gave her
a stiff smile. Ha. Ha.
“There are too many of us crowded under one roof at Hooligans,”
Bellenos said.
I nodded.
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“Claude is a leader. Dermot is not.”
I nodded again, just to show I was following his conversation. He
wasn’t voicing any new ideas, so far.
“If you have any means of reaching Niall, now is the time to make use
of it.”
“I would if I could. I don’t have any such secret.” His slanting eyes
were a bit disturbing close up.
“Is that the truth?” An auburn eyebrow rose.
“The truthful answer is that I really don’t have any certain means of
contacting Niall,” I said flatly. “I’m not completely sure I would get in touch
with him, if I had the ability.”
Bellenos nodded thoughtfully. “The fairy prince is capricious,” he said.
“That’s for damn sure.” Finally, we were in agreement.
“I’m sorry that you can’t help,” Bellenos said. “I hope nothing worse
happens.”
“Like what?” Did I really want to know?
“Like more fights breaking out.” He shrugged. “Like one of us leaving
the bar to have some fun amongst the humans.”
That sounded like a threat.
I suddenly remembered that Claude had brought me a letter from Niall,
one he said he’d received through the portal in the woods. That was what
he’d told me when he’d delivered the letter, if I was remembering correctly.
“I could write a letter,” I offered. “I don’t know if it would reach him, but I
can try.”
I was sure Bellenos would press me for details, but to my relief he said,
“You had better try anything you can think of. You don’t know me well, but
I’m telling the truth in this matter.”
“I don’t doubt you,” I said. “I’ll do my best. And I have a question to
ask you.”
He looked politely attentive.
“A young woman, a woman at least part Were, came to my boyfriend’s
home a few nights ago,” I said. “She was irresistible to him.”
“Did he kill her?”
“No, but he drank from her, though normally he has very good selfcontrol.
I think this young woman was carrying a vial of fairy blood. She
opened it when she got close to Eric to make herself attractive to him. She
may even have drunk it herself so the blood would permeate her. Do you
have any ideas about where the blood might have come from?” I regarded
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him steadily.
“You want to know if she got the blood from one of us?”
“I do.”
Bellenos said, “It’s possible a fairy sold blood without knowing what it
would be used for.”
I thought that was bullshit, but in the interests of getting an answer, I
said, “Certainly.”
“I’ll inquire,” he said. “And you send the letter.”
Without further ado, he rose and glided out of the bar, receiving only a
casual glance or two. I went back to the calendar to check, the one posted
behind the bar. Danny had finally left to return to work, and Kennedy was
actually singing to herself as she aimlessly shifted bottles and glasses around.
She grinned at me as she “worked.”
I was just bending closer to look at the June page when my cell rang. I
whipped it out of my pocket. JB!
“What happened?” I asked.
“We got a boy and a girl!” he yelled. “They’re fine! Tara’s fine! They got
all their fingers and toes! They’re big enough! They’re perfect!”
“Oh, I’m so happy! You give Tara a hug for me. I’ll try to get over to the
hospital to see those little ones. The minute you’re home I’ll bring supper
over, you hear?”
“I’ll tell her,” he said, but he was in such a daze I knew he’d forget the
minute he hung up. That was okay.
Grinning like a baboon, I told Kennedy the good news. I called Jason,
because I wanted to share the happiness.
“That’s good,” he said absently. “I’m real glad for ’em. Listen, Sook, we
may be closing in on a wedding date. There any day you just couldn’t be
there?”
“Probably not. If you pick a weekday, I might have to change my work
schedule, but I can usually swing that.” Especially now that I owned a piece
of the bar, though I’d kept that to myself. As far as I knew, Jannalynn was the
only person Sam had told, and even that had surprised me a little.
“Great! We’re going to pin it down tonight. We’re thinking in a couple
of weeks.”
“Wow, that’s quick. Sure, just let me know.”
There were so many happy events going on. After Bellenos’s
unexpected visit, it was impossible to forget that I had worries … but it was
fairly easy to put them on the back burner and revel in the good things.
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The hot afternoon drew to an end. In the summer, fewer people came in
to drink after work. They headed home to mow their yards, hop in the
aboveground pool, and take their kids to sports events.
One of our alcoholics, Jane Bodehouse, showed up around five o’clock.
When she’d gotten cut from flying glass during the firebombing a few weeks
before, Jane had gotten sewed up and had returned to the bar within twentyfour
hours. For a few days, she got to enjoy painkillers and alcohol. I’d
wondered if Jane’s son might be angry that his mom had gotten hurt at
Merlotte’s, but as far as I could tell, the poor guy had only a mild regret that
she’d survived. After the bombing, Jane had abandoned her barstool in favor
of the table by the window where she’d been sitting when the bottle came
through the window. It was like she’d enjoyed the excitement and was ready
for another Molotov cocktail. When I went over to give her a bowl of snack
mix or replenish her drink, she always had a plaintive murmur about the
heat or the boredom.
Since the bar was still almost empty, I sat down to have a conversation
with Jane when I served her the first drink of the day. Maybe. Kennedy
joined us after she’d made sure the two guys at the bar had full glasses. To
make them even happier, she turned the TV to ESPN.
Any conversation with Jane was rambling and tended to bounce back
and forth between decades with no warning. When Kennedy mentioned her
own pageant days, Jane said, “I was Miss Red River Valley and Miss
Razorback and Miss Renard Parish when I was in my teens.”
So we had a pleasant reminiscence about those days, and it was good to
see Jane perk up and share some common ground with Kennedy. On the
other hand, Kennedy was a little freaked out at the idea someone who’d
started out like her had ended up a barfly. She was thinking some anxious
thoughts.
After a few minutes, Kennedy had to get back behind the bar, and I rose
to greet my replacement, Holly. I’d opened my mouth to tell Jane good-bye
when she said, “Do you think it’ll happen again?”
She was looking out the smoky glass of the big front window.
I started to ask her what she meant, but then from her addled brain, I
got it. “I hope not, Jane,” I said. “I hope no one ever decides to attack the bar
again.”
“I did pretty good that day,” she told me. “I moved real fast, and Sam
got me going down that hall at a pretty good clip. Those EMTs were real nice
to me.” She was smiling.
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“Yes, Jane, you did real good. We all thought so,” I told her. I patted her
shoulder and walked away.
The firebombing of Merlotte’s, which was a terrible night in my
memory, had turned into a pleasurable reminiscence for Jane. I shook my
head as I collected my purse and left the bar. My gran had always told me it
was an ill wind that blew nobody good. Once again, she was proved right.
Even the break-in at Splendide had served a purpose. Now I knew for
sure that someone, almost certainly one of the fae, knew my grandmother
had had possession of the cluviel dor.
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Chapter 8
An hour later, having come home to a blessedly cool and empty house, I was
sitting at my kitchen table with my best stationery and a black pen. I was
trying to decide how to begin the letter, the one I’d promised Bellenos I’d
attempt to send to Faery. I had doubts about how well this was going to go.
The last time I’d fed something into the portal, it had been eaten.
Granted, it had been a human body.
My first attempt had run on for five handwritten pages. It was now in
the kitchen trash can. I had to condense what I needed to convey. Urgency!
That was the message.
Dear Great-Grandfather, I began. I hesitated. And Claude, I added. Bellenos
and Dermot are worried that the fae at Hooligans are getting too restless to stay
confined to the building. They miss Claude and his leadership. We are all afraid
something bad will happen if this situation doesn’t change soon. Please let us know
what’s going on. Can you send a return letter through this portal? Or send Claude
back? Love, Sookie
I read it over, decided it was as close as I was going to get to what I
wanted to say (Claude, get your butt back here now!). I wrote both Niall’s and
Claude’s names on the envelope, which was real pretty—cream with pink
and red roses on the border. I almost put a stamp on the upper right corner
before I realized it would be a ridiculous waste.
Between the heat, the bugs, and the burgeoning undergrowth, my jaunt
into the woods to “mail” my letter was not as pleasant as my previous
rambles had been. Sweat poured down my face, and my hair was sticking to
my neck. A devil’s walking stick scratched me deeply enough to make me
bleed. I paused by a big clump of the plumy bushes that only seem to grow
big out in the sun—Gran would have had a name for them, but I didn’t—and
I heard a deer moving around inside the dense growth. At least Bellenos left
me one, I thought, and told myself I was being ridiculous. We had plenty of
deer. Plenty.
To my relief, the portal was still in the little clearing where I’d last seen
it, but it looked smaller. Not that it’s easy to define the size of a patch of
shimmery air—but last time it had been large enough to admit a very small
human body. Now, that wouldn’t be possible without taking a chainsaw to
the body beforehand.
Either the portal was shrinking naturally, or Niall had decided a size
reduction would prevent me from popping anything else unauthorized into
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Faery. I knelt before the patch of wavery air, which hovered about knee-high
just above the blackberry vines and the grasses. I popped the letter into the
quavering patch, and it vanished.
Though I held my breath in anticipation, nothing happened. I didn’t
hear the snarling of last time, but I found the silence kind of depressing. I
don’t know what I’d expected, but I’d half hoped I’d get some signal. Maybe
a chime? Or the sound of a gong? A recording saying, We’ve received your
message and will attempt to deliver it? That would have been nice.
I relaxed and smiled, amused at my own silliness. Hoisting myself up, I
made my difficult way back through the woods. I could hardly wait to strip
off my sweaty, dirty clothes and get into my shower. As I emerged from the
shadow of the trees and into the waning afternoon, I saw that would have to
be a pleasure delayed.
In my absence I’d acquired some visitors. Three people I didn’t know,
all looking to be in their midforties, were standing by a car as if they’d been
on the point of getting into it to drive away. If only I’d stayed by the portal a
few more minutes! The little group was oddly assorted. The man standing by
the driver’s door had coppery brown hair and a short beard, and he was
wearing gold-rimmed glasses. He wore khakis and a pale blue oxford cloth
shirt with the sleeves rolled up, practically a summertime white-collar work
uniform. The other man was a real contrast. His jeans were stained, and his Tshirt
said he liked pussies, with an oh-so-clever drawing of a Persian cat.
Subtle, huh? I caught a whiff of otherness coming from him; he wasn’t really
human, but I didn’t want to get any closer to investigate what his true nature
might be.
His female companion was wearing a low-cut T shirt, dark green with
gold studs as a decoration, and white shorts. Her bare legs were heavily
tattooed.
“Afternoon,” I said, not even trying to sound welcoming. I could hear
trouble coming from their brains. Wait. Didn’t the sleazy couple look just a
little familiar?
“Hello,” said the woman, an olive-skinned brunette with raccoon eye
makeup. She took a drag on her cigarette. “You Sookie Stackhouse?”
“I am. And you are?”
“We’re the Rowes. I’m Georgene and this is Oscar. This man,” and she
pointed at the driver, “is Harp Powell.”
“I’m sorry?” I said. “Do I know you?”
“Kym’s parents,” the woman said.
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I was even sorrier I’d come back to the house.
Call me ungracious, but I wasn’t going to ask them in. They hadn’t
called ahead, they had no reason to talk to me, and above all else— I had
been down this road before with the Pelts.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said. “But I’m not sure why you’ve come
here.”
“You talked to our girl before she died,” Oscar Rowe said. “We just
wanted to know what was on her mind.”
Though they didn’t realize it, they’d come to the right place to find out.
Knowing what was on people’s minds was my specialty. But I wasn’t getting
good brain readings from either of them. Instead of grief and regret, I was
getting avid curiosity … an emotion more suited to people who slow down to
goggle at road accidents than to grieving parents.
I turned slightly to look at their companion. “And you, Mr. Powell?
What’s your role here?” I’d been aware of his intense observation.
“I’m thinking of doing a book about Kym’s life,” Harp Powell said.
“And her death.”
I could add that up in my head: lurid past, pretty girl, died outside a
vampire’s house during a party with interesting guests. It wouldn’t be a
biography of the desperate, emotionally disturbed Kym I’d met so briefly.
Harp Powell was thinking of writing a true-crime novel with pictures in the
middle: Kym as a cute youngster, Kym in high school, Kym as a stripper, and
maybe Kym as a corpse. Bringing the Rowes with him was a smart move.
Who could turn down distraught parents? But I knew Georgene and Oscar
weren’t anywhere close to devastated. The Rowes were more curious than
bereaved.
“How long had it been since you saw her?” I asked Kym’s mother.
“Well, she was a grown-up girl. She left home after she graduated from
high school,” Georgene said reasonably. She had stepped toward the house
as if she were waiting for me to open the back door. She dropped her
cigarette on the gravel and ground it out with her platform sandal.
“So, five years? Six?” I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at
each of them in turn.
“It had been a while,” conceded Oscar Rowe. “Kym had her own living
to make; we couldn’t support her. She had to get out and hustle like the rest
of us.” He gave me a look that was supposed to say he knew I’d had to get
out and hustle, too—we were all working people, here. All in the same boat.
“I don’t have anything to say about your daughter. I didn’t even talk to
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her directly. I saw her for maybe five minutes.”
“Is it true your boyfriend was taking blood from her?” Harp Powell
asked.
“You can ask him that. But you’ll have to go after dark, and he may not
be too glad to see you.” I smiled.
“Is it true that you live here with two male strippers?” Powell persisted.
“Kym was a stripper,” he added, as if that would somehow soften me up.
“Who I live with is none of your business. You can leave now,” I said,
still smiling, I hoped very unpleasantly. “Or I’ll call the sheriff, and he’ll be
here pretty quick.” With that, I went inside and shut and locked the door. No
point in standing out there listening to questions I wouldn’t answer.
The light on my phone was blinking. I turned the sound very low and
pressed the button to play it. “Sister,” said Bellenos, “no one here will admit
to giving any blood to the girl who was killed, or giving blood to anyone at
all. Either there’s another fairy somewhere, or someone here is lying. I don’t
like either prospect.” I hit the Delete button.
I heard knocking at the back door, and I moved to where I couldn’t be
seen.
Harp Powell knocked a few more times and slid his card under the
porch door, but I didn’t answer.
They drove off after a couple of minutes. Though I was relieved to
watch them go, the encounter left me depressed and shaken. Seen from the
outside, did my life truly seem so tawdry?
I lived with one male stripper. I did date a vampire. He had taken blood
from Kym Rowe, right in front of me.
Maybe Harp Powell had just wanted answers to his sensational
questions. Maybe he would have reported my answers in a fair and balanced
way. Maybe he had just been trying to get a rise out of me. And maybe I was
feeling extra fragile. But his strategy worked, though not until too late to
directly benefit him. I felt bad about myself. I felt like talking to someone
about how my life looked—as opposed to how it felt to be inside it, living it. I
wanted to justify my decisions.
But Tara had just had her babies, Amelia and I had some big issues to
settle, and Pam knew more about what I faced than I myself knew. Jason
loved me, but I had to admit my brother was not too swift mentally. Sam was
probably preoccupied with his romance with Jannalynn. I didn’t think I knew
anyone else well enough to spill my inner fears.
I felt too restless to settle down to any pastime: too fidgety to read or
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watch TV, too impatient to do housework. After a quick shower, I climbed in
the car and drove to Clarice. Though the day was ending, the hospital
parking lot was unshaded. I knew the car would be an oven when I emerged.
I stopped at the little gift shop and bought some pink-and-blue
carnations to give to the new mother. After I got off the elevator at the second
floor (there were only two) I paused at the glass-fronted nursery to peer in at
the newborns. There were seven infants rolled up to the window. Two of the
clear plastic bins, side by side, were labeled with cards reading “Baby du
Rone.”
My heart skipped a beat. One of Tara’s babies wore a pink cap, the
other a blue. They were so little: scrunch-faced, red, their faces beginning to
stretch as they yawned. Tears started in my eyes. I had not ever imagined
being so bowled over by the sight of them. As I patted my cheeks with a
tissue, I was happy that I chanced to be the only visitor looking at the new
arrivals. I looked and looked, amazed that my friends had created life
between them.
After a few minutes, I ducked in to see an exhausted Tara. JB was
sitting by the bed, dazed with happiness. “My mom and dad just left,” JB
said. “They’re going to open a savings account for the kids tomorrow.” He
shook his head, obviously considering that a bizarre reaction, but I gave the
du Rone grandparents high marks. Tara had a new look to her, a gravity and
thoughtfulness she’d been lacking. She was a mother now.
I gave them both a hug and told them how beautiful the babies were,
listened to Tara’s childbirth story, and then the nurses wheeled in the babies
to breastfeed, so I scooted out.
Not only was night closing in, thunder was rolling through the sky as I
stepped out the hospital doors. I hurried over to my car, opening the door to
flush out the worst of the heat. When I could bear to, I got inside and buckled
up. I went through the drive-through at Taco Bell to order a quesadilla. I
hadn’t known how hungry I was until the smell filled the car. I couldn’t wait
until I got home. I ate most of it during the drive.
Maybe if I turned on the TV and simply vegetated the rest of the
evening, I might feel like a worthy human being by morning.
I didn’t get to carry out my program.
Bubba was waiting at my back door when I pulled up. The muchneeded
rain had begun to descend on my way home, but he didn’t seem to
mind getting wet. I hadn’t seen the vampire since he’d sung at Fangtasia the
night we’d killed Victor; I was startled to see him now. I gathered my food
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trash, got my keys ready, and sprinted over to the screen door, my key ready.
“Come on in!” I called. He was right behind me as I unlocked the kitchen
door and stepped inside.
“I come to tell you something,” he said without a preamble.
He sounded so serious that I tossed my empty food bag and my purse
onto the table and whirled around to face him.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, trying not to sound as anxious as I felt. If I
lost control, it would only agitate the vampire, who had not had a very
successful transition from human life to living death.
“She is coming to visit you,” he said, taking my hand. His was cold and
wet from the rain. The sensation was unpleasant, but I couldn’t pull away.
Bless his heart.
As gently as I could, I said, “Who’s coming, Bubba?”
“Me,” said a slightly accented voice from the darkness. The back door
was still open, and I could see through the screen porch door. Since she was
backlit by the security light, I could just perceive the outline of a woman
standing in the pounding rain. The noise of it almost drowned out her voice.
“I have come to talk. I’m Freyda.”
I was so completely off guard that I simply couldn’t make myself speak.
Bubba stood facing out into the darkness, standing right under the light
in my bright kitchen, his dark hair drenched, his jowly face determined. I was
touched to my core, and I was terrified for him.
“I don’t mean you harm, upon my word,” she called. She turned her
head slightly, and I could see her in profile. Straight nose, tight chin, high
forehead.
“Why would I believe you?” I asked.
“Because Eric would hate me if I harmed you.” She stepped up to the
screen door. I could see her in the light, now. I thought, simply, Damn.
Freyda was at least five foot ten. Even soaking wet, she was beautiful. I
thought her hair would be a light brown when it was dry, and she had broad
shoulders, lean hips, and cheekbones that could slice bread. She was wearing
a tank top with nothing underneath, and a pair of shorts, which I found just
weird. Legs that pale shouldn’t be sticking out of shorts.
“I need a promise that you won’t harm Bubba, either,” I said slowly,
still not sure what I should do.
“I so promise.” She nodded. I wouldn’t necessarily believe her, but she
was close enough to the house that the magical wards Bellenos had laid
would have flared if she’d meant me harm. At least, Bellenos had told me so.
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To my amazement—if I could be any more amazed—Bubba pulled a
cell phone out of his pocket and hit a number on speed dial. I could hear a
voice answer. Bubba described our situation, and I heard Pam’s voice say,
“All right. Whatever happens, we know who’s responsible. Be smart.”
“So we got a safety net,” Bubba told me, and I patted his arm.
“Good thinking,” I said. “All right, Miss Freyda. Come on in.”
She stepped out of the downpour and dripped on my back porch. There
were folded towels in the laundry basket on top of the dryer. She pulled one
off the stack to dry her face and rub her dripping hair. I moved aside to let
her enter the kitchen, and she took another towel and brought it with her. I
didn’t want our wet selves dripping all over my living room, so I gestured to
the chairs around the table. “Please have a seat,” I said, not letting my eyes
leave her for a moment. “Do you want a drink?”
“You mean synthetic blood,” she said after a slight hesitation. “Yes, that
would be nice. A sociable gesture.”
“I’m all about the gestures. Bubba, you, too?”
“Yes, ma’am, I reckon so,” he said.
So I heated two bottles, got two matching glasses from the cabinet in
case they were particular, and set these items before the vampires, who had
settled at the table: Bubba with his back to the door, Freyda with her back to
the sink. I took the end opposite Bubba, so I was sitting to the queen’s left. I
waited in silence while the vampires took polite sips of their drinks. Neither
one used a glass.
“You understand the situation,” Freyda said.
I was relieved she wasn’t going to pussyfoot around. And she didn’t
sound angry or jealous. She sounded matter-of-fact. I felt something cold
creep into my heart. “I believe so,” I said, wanting to be crystal clear. “I’m not
sure why you want to talk to me about it.”
She didn’t comment. She seemed to be waiting for me to spell it out.
“Eric’s maker was in negotiations with you when he died, and those
negotiations involved you taking Eric as a husband,” I said.
“Since I’m a queen and he’s not a king, he’d be my consort,” she said.
I’d read a biography of Queen Victoria (and rented the movie), so I
understood the term. I tried to think very hard before I said anything.
“Okay,” I said, and paused, getting all my conversational ducks in a row.
“You know that Eric loves me, that he married me according to you-all’s
rules, and that I love him.” Just getting the groundwork laid.
She nodded, looking at me thoughtfully. Her eyes were large, tilted up
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a little, and dark brown. “I’ve heard that you have many hidden attributes.
And of course, I see some that are not so hidden.” She smiled slightly. “I’m
not trying to insult you. It’s a fact that you are a pretty human.”
Okeydokey. There was obviously another shoe to drop … and Freyda
tossed it right at me. “But you must see that I am beautiful, too,” she told me.
“And I am also rich. And though I’ve been a vampire only a hundred and
fifty years, I’ve already become a queen. So I’m powerful. Unless I misread
Eric … and I’ve known many men, many … he likes all those—attributes—
very much.”
I nodded to show I was giving due weight to her words. “I know I’m
not rich and powerful,” I said. Impossible to deny. “But he does love me.”
“I am sure he thinks so,” she said, still with that eerie calm. “And
perhaps it’s even true. But he won’t forgo what I have to offer, regardless of
what he may feel.”
I made myself think before I responded. Inhale. Exhale. “You seem
certain the prospect of power will trump the love.” I said the words with my
own calm, but inside I was trying not to panic.
“Yes, I’m certain.” She let the edge of her surprise show. How could I
ever doubt that she was right? I glanced at our silent companion. Sadness
was weighing down Bubba’s pale face as he looked at me. Bubba, too,
thought she was right.
“Then why did you bother to come here to meet me, Freyda?” I said,
struggling to maintain my control. In my lap, below the table, my hands were
clenched together painfully.
“I wanted to know what he loved,” she said. She examined me so
closely that it was like getting an MRI. “I am pleased that he likes looks and
intelligence. I am fairly sure that you are what you seem on the surface. You
aren’t arrogant or conniving.”
“Are you?” I was beginning to lose control.
“As a queen, I can seem arrogant,” she said. “And as a queen,
occasionally I have to be conniving. I came up from nothing. The strongest
vampires do, I have observed. I intend to hold on to my kingdom, Sookie
Stackhouse. A strong consort would double my chances.” Freyda picked up
her glass of TrueBlood and took a swallow. She put it down with such
delicacy that I didn’t hear it touch the table. “I have seen Eric at this or that
event for years. He’s bold. He’s intelligent. He’s adapted to the modern
world. And I hear he’s amazing in bed. Is that true?”
When it became apparent that Hell would freeze over before I would
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talk about Eric in bed, Freyda smiled faintly and continued. “When Appius
Livius Ocella came through Oklahoma with his bumboy, I took the
opportunity to open a discussion with him. Despite Eric’s fine points, I
observed that he also likes to give the appearance of being independent.”
“He is independent.”
“He’s been content to be sheriff for a long time. Therefore, he enjoys
being a big fish in a small pond. It’s an illusion of independence, but one he
seems to hold dear. I decided it would be well to have some hold over him to
induce him to consider my offer seriously. So I made a bargain with Appius
Livius Ocella. He didn’t live to enjoy his half.”
Ocella’s death didn’t distress Freyda one little bit. At least we had one
thing in common besides an Eric appreciation club.
She had certainly studied Eric. She had him pegged.
I wanted—desperately—to know if she’d already talked to Eric tonight.
Eric had told me before that Freyda had been calling him weekly, but he’d
given the impression that he’d been aloof in those conversations. Had they
actually been negotiating one on one, long distance? Had they been meeting
secretly? If I asked Freyda about this, she would know that Eric hadn’t
confided in me. I would expose the weakness in our relationship, and she
would certainly pounce on it and hammer in a wedge to widen it. Damn Eric
for being so reluctant to discuss the whole thing with me. Now I was at a real
disadvantage.
“Is there anything else you want to tell me? You’ve accomplished what
you came for, I guess. You’ve seen me and gotten my measure.” I regarded
her steadily. “I’m not sure what you want from me tonight.”
“Pam is fond of you,” she said, not answering me directly. “This one,
too.” She jerked her head at Bubba. “I don’t know why, and I want to know.”
“She’s kind,” Bubba said immediately. “She smells good. She has good
manners. And she’s a good fighter, too.”
I smiled at the addled vampire. “Thank you, Bubba. You’re a good
friend to me.”
Freyda eyed the famous face as if she were mining secrets from it. She
turned her gaze back to me. “Bill Compton still likes you despite the fact that
you’ve rejected him,” Freyda said quietly. “Even Thalia says you’re tolerable.
Bill and Eric have both been your lovers. There must be something to you
besides the fairy blood. Frankly, I can barely detect your fairy heritage.”
“Most vamps don’t get that until someone points it out to them,” I
agreed.
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She rose, taking me by surprise. I got up, too. The Queen of Oklahoma
went to the back door. Just as I was sure this excruciating interview was at an
end and she was on her way out, Freyda turned. “Is it true you killed Lorena
Ball?” she asked, her voice cool and indifferent.
“Yeah.” My eyes didn’t leave her. Now we were on very, very delicate
ground. “Did you have anything to do with the death of Kym Rowe?”
“I don’t even know who that is,” Freyda said. “But I’ll find out. Did you
also kill Bruno, Victor’s second?”
I didn’t say anything. I returned her look.
She shook her head, as if she could hardly believe it. “And a
shapeshifter or two?” she asked.
In Debbie Pelt’s case, I’d used a shotgun. Not the same thing as handto-
hand combat. I lifted one shoulder slightly, which she could take as she
chose.
“What about fairies?” she said, smiling slightly, apparently at how
ridiculous a question she was asking me.
“Yeah,” I said without elaborating. “Right outside this house, as a
matter of fact.”
Her rich brown eyes narrowed. Clearly, Freyda was having second
thoughts about something. I hoped those thoughts weren’t about whether to
let me live, but I was pretty sure she was considering how much of a threat I
represented. If she did me in right now, she would have the luxury of
apologizing to Eric after the fact. Warning bells were clanging too loudly for
me to ignore.
I’m about to ruin my reputation for good manners, I thought. “Freyda, I
rescind your invitation,” I said. Then Freyda was gone, the screen door
slamming shut behind her. She vanished into the pelting rain and darkness as
quickly as she’d arrived. I might have seen a shadow crossing the beam of the
security light; that was all.
Freyda might not have intended to harm me when she arrived, but I
was pretty sure my wards would clang if she tried to cross them now.
I started shivering and couldn’t stop. Though the rain had lowered the
temperature a bit, it was still a June night in Louisiana; but I shivered and
shook until I had to sit down again. Bubba was as spooked as I was. He sat
down at the table, but he fidgeted and kept looking out the windows until I
thought I would snap at him. He speed-dialed Pam again and said, “Freyda’s
gone. Miss Sookie is okay.”
Eventually, Bubba gulped down the rest of the synthetic blood. He put
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his bottle by the sink and washed Freyda’s out, as if he could remove her visit
that way. Still standing, he turned to me with sad eyes. “Is Eric going to leave
here with that woman? Would Mr. Bill have to go with him?” Bill was a great
favorite of Bubba’s.
I looked up at the deficient vampire. The vacancy of his face detracted a
bit from his looks, but he had a genuine sweetness that never failed to touch
me. I put my arms around him, and we hugged.
“I don’t think Bill is part of the deal,” I said. “I’m pretty sure he’ll stay
right where he is. She just wants Eric.”
I’d loved two vampires. Bill had broken my heart. Maybe Eric was on
the way to doing that same thing.
“Will Eric go with her to Oklahoma? Who would be sheriff? Whose
girlfriend would you be then?”
“I don’t know if he’ll go or not,” I said. “I’m not going to worry about
who would take his place. I don’t have to be anyone’s girlfriend. I do okay by
myself.”
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