"I won't sleep," Colton answered. "Audrina's dead."
"We'll get through the night," Immanuel told him.
The two human men left Fangtasia, their shoulders slumped with exhaustion and grief. I wondered how they felt about their vengeance now that it had been accomplished, but I knew I'd never ask them. I might never see them again.
Bill put his arm around me as I stumbled a little, and I found myself glad he was there to help me. I knew I couldn't have driven myself. I found my purse, still with a couple of stakes inside, and I pulled my keys out of an inside pocket.
"Where did Bubba go?" I asked.
"He likes to go hang around the old Civic Auditorium," Bill said. "He used to perform there. He'll dig a hole, sleep in the ground."
I nodded. I was too tired to say anything.
Bill didn't speak again the whole way home, which was a blessing. I stared through the windshield into the black night, wondering how I'd feel tomorrow. That had been a lot of killing, and it had been so fast and bloody-like watching one of those violence-porn movies. I'd seen a few seconds of one of the Saw Saw movies when I was at Jason's house. That had been enough for me. movies when I was at Jason's house. That had been enough for me.
I fully believed that Victor had set this in motion with his own intransigence. If Felipe had put someone else in charge of Louisiana, the whole catastrophe wouldn't have occurred. Maybe I could blame Felipe? No, the buck had to stop here.
"What are you thinking of?" Bill said as we were going down my driveway.
"I'm thinking about blame and guilt and assassination," I said.
He simply nodded. "Me, too. Sookie, you know that Victor did his best to provoke Eric."
We'd parked behind the house, and I turned to him questioningly, my hand on the car door handle.
"Yes," Bill said. "He was doing his best to provoke Eric to act, so that he could kill Eric without having to justify it. It's only because of superior planning that Eric has survived and Victor has not. I know that you love Eric." His voice remained calm and cool as he said this, and only the lines around his eyes told me how much it cost him. "You have to be glad, and maybe tomorrow you will be glad, that this situation has ended the way it has."
I pinched my mouth together for a second while I formed my response. "I'd rather Eric be alive than Victor," I said. "True enough."
"And you know violence was the only way to achieve that result."
I could even see that. I nodded.
"So why the second-guessing?" Bill said. He was calling me on my reaction.
I let go of the door handle and turned to face him. "It was bloody and ghastly, and people suffered," I said, surprised by the anger in my voice.
"Did you think Victor would die without bleeding? Did you think Victor's people wouldn't do their best to prevent his death? Did you think that no one would die?"
His voice was so calm and nonjudgmental that I didn't get angry. "Bill, I never believed any of those things. I'm not naive. But seeing is always different from planning."
Abruptly, I was tired of this topic. It had happened, it was done, I had to find a way to get over it. "Have you met the Queen of Oklahoma?" I asked him.
"Yes," he said, a definite note of caution in his voice. "Why do you ask?"
"Before he died, Appius sort of gave Eric to her."
This did shock Bill. "You're sure?"
"Yes. He finally told me after Pam did everything but stick her hand up his ass and wiggle her fingers to make him talk."
Bill turned away, but not before I saw the smile he was trying to suppress. "Pam's very determined when she wants Eric to take a particular course of action. Did Eric tell you what he intends to do about this situation?"
"He's trying to get out of it, but evidently Appius signed something. When Appius told me before he died that I'd never keep Eric, I didn't know that was what he meant. I thought he meant Eric wouldn't want to fool with me when I got old and wrinkled, or that we'd quarrel and break up, or that . . . Oh, I don't know. Something would happen to separate us."
"And now something has."
"Well . . . yes."
"You know that he'll have to put you aside if he marries the queen? Eric can certainly feed off humans if he's married to a royal, and he can even have a pet human, but he can't have a wife."
"That's what he gave me to understand."
"Sookie . . . don't do anything rash."
"I already broke the bond."
After a long pause, Bill said, "That's a good thing, because the bond was risky for both of you." Not exactly news.
"I sort of miss having the connection," I confessed, "but at the same time it's a relief."
Bill didn't say anything. Very carefully.
"Have you ever . . . ?" I asked.
"Once, long ago," he said. He didn't want to talk about it.
"Did it end well?"
"No," he said. His voice was flat and didn't invite me to continue that line of conversation. "Let it go, Sookie. I'm telling you this not as a former lover, but as a friend. Let Eric make up his own mind about this. Don't ask him questions. Though we can't stand each other, I know Eric will try his best to get out of this situation simply because he loves his freedom. Oklahoma is very beautiful, and Eric loves beauty, but he already has that in you."
I must be feeling better if I could appreciate a compliment. I wondered what the queen's real name was. Often the ruler was called by the name of the land she ruled; Bill hadn't meant that the state was beautiful, but that the woman who ruled its night creatures was.
When I didn't respond, Bill continued, "She also has a lot of power. That is, she has territory, minions, real estate, oil money." And we both knew Eric loved power. Not complete power-he'd never wanted to be a king-but he loved being able to call the shots in his own bailiwick.
"I get what power is," I said. "And I get that I don't have it. You want to take the car to your house, or leave it here and go through the woods?"
He handed the keys to me and said, "I'll go through the woods."
There was nothing more to be said.
"Thanks," I told him. I opened the porch door, stepped in, locked it behind me. I unlocked the back door and went in, switching on the kitchen light. There was a quiet emptiness to the house, which I found immediately soothing, and the air conditioners were doing their best to make everything cool.
Though I'd come out of the fight at Fangtasia better than anyone, at least physically, I felt battered and bruised. I'd be sore the next day. I unbuckled the big belt and returned the cluviel dor to my makeup drawer. I pulled off the stained dress, went to the back porch to toss it in the washing machine on cold soak, and got in the shower, turning the water as hot as I could bear it. When I'd scrubbed myself all over, I changed the temperature to cool. I was delightfully clean and fresh when I got out to dry myself.
I wondered if I would start crying or praying or sitting in a corner with my eyes wide open the rest of the night. But none of those reactions set in. I got into bed feeling relieved, as if I'd had a successful surgery or as if a biopsy had turned out well.
I thought, as I curled into a ball and composed myself for sleep, that the fact that I could sleep tonight was almost more frightening than anything else.
Chapter 17.
All the women in my living room were happy. Some of them were happier than others, true, but none of them were miserable. They were there to give gifts to someone who deserved them, and they were happy that Tara was expecting twins. All the yellow and green and blue and pink tissue paper mounded up in an almost overwhelming way, but Tara was getting a lot of things she needed and wanted. than others, true, but none of them were miserable. They were there to give gifts to someone who deserved them, and they were happy that Tara was expecting twins. All the yellow and green and blue and pink tissue paper mounded up in an almost overwhelming way, but Tara was getting a lot of things she needed and wanted.
Dermot was unobtrusively helping with the refreshments and bagging up the torn gift paper to keep the floor clear. Some of my older guests were definitely at the tottering stage, so we didn't need anything on the floor that might cause them to slip. JB's mom and grandmother were here, and his grandmother was seventy-five if she was a day.
When Dermot had come to the back door earlier, I'd let him in and gone back to my coffee without a word. As soon as he was in the door, I felt measurably better. Maybe I hadn't noticed the contrast these past few weeks because I'd been so wrapped up in the blood bond? I'd been under the influence of a lot of supernatural things. I couldn't say it felt better to be just myself, but it certainly made me feel more in touch with reality.
Once my guests had gotten a good look at Dermot and realized how much he looked like Jason, there'd been a lot of raised eyebrows. I'd told them he was a distant cousin from Florida, and I'd heard from a lot of brains that ladies were going to be consulting their family trees to find a Florida connection for my family.
I felt like myself today. I felt like I was doing what I was supposed to be doing, in the community where I lived. I might not even be that same person who'd participated in a slaughter the night before.
I took a sip from my glass cup. Maxine's punch had turned out well, the cake I'd picked up from the bakery was delicious, my cheese straws were crispy and just a little spicy, and the salted pecans were toasted just enough. We played Baby Bingo as Tara opened her gifts, and she glowed and said "Thank you" about a million times.
I felt more and more like the old Sookie Stackhouse as the event progressed. I was around people I understood, doing a good thing.
As a kind of bonus, JB's grandmother told me a lovely story about my grandmother. Taken altogether, it was a good afternoon.
When I went in the kitchen with a tray full of dirty dishes, I thought, This is happiness. Last night wasn't the real me. This is happiness. Last night wasn't the real me.
But it had been. I knew-even as I thought this-that I wasn't going to be able to fool myself. I'd changed in order to survive, and I was paying the price of survival. I had to be willing to change myself forever, or everything I'd made myself do was for nothing.
"Are you all right, Sookie?" Dermot asked, as he brought in more glasses.
"Yes, thanks." I tried to smile at him but felt it was a weak effort.
There was a knock at the back door. I supposed it was a late guest, trying to sneak in unobtrusively.
Mr. Cataliades stood there. He was wearing a suit, as always, but for the first time it seemed somewhat the worse for wear. He seemed not quite as circular as he had been, but he was smiling politely. I was astonished at his presence and not completely sure I wanted to talk to him, but if he was the guy who could answer big questions about my life, I really didn't have a lot of choice. "Come in," I told him, standing back and holding open the door.
"Miss Stackhouse," he said formally. "Thank you for your welcome."
He stared at Dermot, who was washing dishes very carefully, proud to be trusted with Gran's good china. "Young man," he said in acknowledgment.
Dermot turned and froze. "Demon," he said. Then he turned back to the sink, but I could tell he was thinking furiously.
"You're having a social occasion?" Mr. Cataliades asked me. "I can tell there are many women in the house."
I hadn't even noticed the cacophony of feminine voices floating down the hall, but it sounded like there might be sixty women in the living room instead of twenty-five. "Yes," I agreed. "There are. It's a baby shower for a friend of mine."
"Perhaps I could sit at your kitchen table until it's over?" he suggested. "Perhaps a bite to eat?"
Reminded of my manners, I said, "Of course, you can have as much as you like!" I quickly made a ham sandwich and put some chips and pickles out, and prepared a separate plate with party goodies. I even poured him a cup of punch.
Mr. Cataliades's dark eyes glowed at the sight of the food in front of him. It might not be as fancy as he was used to (though for all I knew he ate raw mice), but he dug in with a will. Dermot seemed all right, if not exactly relaxed, at being in the same room with the lawyer, so I left them to make the best of it and returned to the living room. The hostess couldn't be away for long; it wasn't polite.
Tara had opened all the presents. Her shop assistant, McKenna, had written down all the gifts and the givers, and taped the card in with each offering. Everyone was talking about her own labor and delivery-oh, joy-and Tara was fielding questions about her ob-gyn, the hospital where she'd deliver, what names they'd thought of for the babies, whether they knew the sexes of the twins, how far away her due date was, and on and on.
Gradually, the guests began to depart, and when they were all gone I had to fend off sincere offers from Tara and her mother-in-law and Jason's girlfriend, Michele, to help with the dishes. I told them, "No sirree, you just leave them there, that's my job," and I could hear my grandmother's words flowing right out of my mouth. It almost made me laugh. If I hadn't had a demon and a fairy in my kitchen, I might have. We got all the gifts loaded into Tara's and her mother-in-law's cars, and Michele told me she and Jason were having a catfish fry the next weekend and they wanted me to come. I said I'd see, that sounded wonderful.
It was a huge relief when all the humans were gone.
I would have thrown myself in the chair and read for thirty minutes or watched an episode of Jeopardy! Jeopardy! before starting to clean up if I hadn't had the two men waiting in my kitchen. Instead, I had to march back laden with still more plates and cups. before starting to clean up if I hadn't had the two men waiting in my kitchen. Instead, I had to march back laden with still more plates and cups.
To my surprise, Dermot was gone. I hadn't noticed his car go down the driveway, but I assumed he'd blended in with all the other departing guests. Mr. Cataliades was sitting in the same chair, drinking a cup of coffee. He had put his plate over by the sink. Hadn't washed it, but he'd carried it over.
"So," I said, "they've left. You didn't eat Dermot, did you?"
He beamed at me. "No, dear Miss Stackhouse, I did not. Though I'm sure he would be tasty. The ham sandwich was delicious."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," I responded automatically. "Listen, Mr. Cataliades, I found a letter from my grandmother. I'm not sure I understand our relationship correctly, or maybe I just don't understand what it means that you are my sponsor."
His beam intensified. "Though I'm in a slight hurry, I'll do everything I can to dispel your confusion."
"Okay." I wondered why he was in a hurry, if he was still being pursued, but I wasn't going to be sidetracked. "Let me sort of repeat this back to you and you can tell me if I got it straight."
He nodded his round head.
"You were good friends with my birth grandfather, Fintan. Dermot's brother."
"Yes, Dermot's twin."
"But you don't seem that fond of Dermot."
He shrugged. "I'm not."
I almost got off on a tangent there, but I stuck to my train of thought. "So, Fintan was still alive when Jason and I were born."
Desmond Cataliades nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, he was."
"My gran said in her letter that you visited my dad and his sister, Fintan's actual children."
"I was here."
"So, did you give them-us-a gift?"
"I tried, but you couldn't all accept it. Not all of you had the essential spark."
That was a phrase Niall had used. "What is the essential spark?"
"What a clever question!" Mr. Cataliades said, regarding me as if I were a monkey who'd opened a hatch to retrieve a banana. "The gift I gave to my dear friend Fintan was that any of his human descendants who possessed the essential spark would be able to read the minds of their fellow humans, as I can."
"So, when it turned out that my dad and aunt Linda didn't have it, you returned when Jason and I were born."