Dead Reckoning

 

Sam called me as I was putting on my makeup.

"Hi, I said. "You got the check to the bank, yes?"

"Yes," he said. "Since you told me like a million times. No problem there. I'm calling to tell you I just got a very weird phone call from your friend Amelia. She said she was calling me because you wouldn't want to talk to her. She said it was about that thing you found. She looked it up. The cluviel dor?" He sounded it out very carefully.

"Yeah?"

"She didn't want to talk over the phone to me about it, but she said to tell you urgently to check your e-mail. She said you were pretty bad about forgetting to do that. She didn't seem to think you'd answer your phone if you knew from your caller ID that it was her on the phone."

"I'll go look at my e-mail right now."

"Sookie?"

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

Almost certainly not. "Sure, Sam. Thanks for standing in place of the answering machine."

"No problem."

Amelia had certainly figured out how to get my attention. I took the cluviel dor out of the drawer and took it with me to the little desk in the living room where I'd put the computer. Yes, I had a lot of mail.

Most of it was junk, but there was one from Amelia, sure enough, and one from Mr. Cataliades that had come two days before. Color me surprised.

I was so curious I opened his message first. Though he wasn't brief, he was to the point.

Miss Stackhouse,

I got your message on my answering machine. I have been traveling so certain individuals cannot find me. I have many friends, but also

many enemies. I am watching you closely, but I hope not intrusively. You're the only person

I know who has as many enemies as I. I've done the best I can to keep you a step ahead of that hellspawn Sandra Pelt. She's not dead

yet, though. Beware.

I don't believe you knew that I was a great friend of your grandfather, Fintan. I knew your grandmother, though not well. In fact, I met your

father and his sister, and your brother Jason, though he will never remember it since he was quite small. So were you when I first saw you.

They were all disappointments except you.

I think you must have found the cluviel dor, since I plucked the term out of Miss Amelia's head when I saw her at the shop. I don't know

where your grandmother hid it, I only know she was given one, because I gave it to her. If you have discovered it, I advise you to be very

careful about its use. Think once, and twice, and three times before you expend its energy. You can change the world, you know Any .

series of events you alter by magic can have unexpected repercussions in history. I'll contact you again when I can, and perhaps stop by

to explain more fully. Best wishes for your survival.

Desmond Cataliades, attorney-at-law, your sponsor

As Pam might say, "Fuck a zombie." Mr. Cataliades was indeed my sponsor, the dark stranger who'd visited Gran. What did that mean? And he said he had read Amelia's mind. Was he a telepath, too? Wasn't that quite a coincidence? I had a feeling there was a lot to know about this, and though he'd only warned me about Sandra Pelt and using the cluviel dor, I got the distinct impression he was paving the way for a Big Bad Talk. I read over the message two more times hoping to extract some solid piece of information about the cluviel dor from it, but I had to conclude I got zilch.

I opened Amelia's e-mail, not without a deep feeling of misgiving and a residue of indignation. Her brain was open for the picking, apparently. Amelia had a lot of information in her head about me and my doings. Though this wasn't exactly her fault, I resolved not to tell her any more secrets.

Sookie,

I'm sorry for everything. You know I don't think before I act, and I didn't this time. I just wanted you to be as happy as I am with Bob, I guess,

and I didn't think about how you'd feel. I was trying to manage your life. Again, sorry.

After we got back home, I did some more research and found the cluviel dor. I guess one of your fairy kin must have been talking about

this? There hadn't been one on the earth for hundreds of years. They're fairy love tokens, and they take a year to make, at least. The

cluviel dor gives the beloved one wish. That's why it's so romantic, I guess. The wish has to be personal. It can't be for world peace, or an

end to hunger, or something global like that. But on an individual level, apparently this magic is so potent it can really change a life in a

drastic way. If someone gives a loved one a cluviel dor, it's really a serious gesture. It's not like flowers or candy. It's more on the level of a

diamond necklace or a yacht, if the jewelry or the boat had magical powers. I don't know why you need to know about fairy love tokens, but

if you've seen one, you've seen something amazing. I don't think the fae can even make them anymore.

I hope some day you can forgive me, and maybe then I'll hear the story.

Amelia

I ran a finger over the smoothness of this very dangerous object I had, and I shivered.

Warning, warning, and some more warning.

I sat at the desk for a few more minutes, lost in thought. The more I knew about fairy nature, the less I trusted fairies. Period. Including Claude and Dermot. (And especially Niall, my great-grandfather; it seemed I was always on the verge of remembering something about him, something really tricky.) I shook my head impatiently. Not the time to worry about that.

Though I'd put off admitting it as long as I could, I had to face unpleasant facts. Mr. Cataliades, through his friendship with my birth grandfather, had had more to do with my life than I'd ever guessed, and he was only revealing that to me now for reasons I couldn't fathom. When I'd met the demon lawyer, he hadn't quivered an eyelash in recognition.

It was all tied together somehow, and it all added up to a deep misgiving about my fairy kin. I believed that Claude, Dermot, Fintan, and Niall loved me as much as they could (for Claude, this would be quite a small amount, because he loved himself most of all). But I didn't feel that it was a wholesome love. Though that adjective made me wince and think of Wonder Bread, it was the only one that fit.

As a sort of corollary to my increased understanding of fairy nature, I no longer doubted Gran's word. Instead, I believed that Fintan had loved my grandmother Adele more than she'd ever realized, and in fact he'd adored her beyond the bounds of human imagination. He'd been with her much more often than she knew, sometimes taking on the guise of her husband to be in her presence. He'd taken family photos with her; he'd watched her go about her daily business; he'd probably (wince!) had sex with her while disguised as Mitchell. Where had my real grandfather been while all of this was going on? Had he still been present in his body, but unconscious? I hoped not, but I'd never know. I wasn't sure I truly wanted to.

Because of Fintan's devotion, he'd given my grandmother a cluviel dor. Perhaps it could have saved her life, but I didn't believe she'd ever thought of using it. Perhaps her faith had precluded sincere belief in the power of a magical object.

Gran had stowed her letter of confession and the cluviel dor in the concealed drawer years ago to keep them safe from the prying eyes of the two grandchildren she was raising. I was sure that after she'd hidden the items that made her feel so guilty, she'd almost forgotten about them. I figured the relief of unburdening herself was so great, she'd quit worrying about the memory altogether. It must have seemed outlandish, contrasted with the daily difficulties of being a widow raising two grandchildren.

Maybe (I conjectured) from time to time she'd thought, I really should tell Sookie where those things are. But of course, she'd always supposed she'd have more time. We always do.

I looked down at the smooth object in my hand. I tried to imagine the things I could do with it. It was supposed to grant one wish, a wish for someone you loved. Since I loved Eric, presumably I could wish Victor would die, which would definitely benefit my loved one. It seemed awful to me, using a love token to kill someone, whether or not it benefited Eric. An idea came to me that made my eyes widen. I could take away Hunter's telepathy! He could grow up normal! I could counteract Hadley's unintentional burdensome gift to her abandoned son.

That seemed like such a fabulous idea. I was delighted for all of thirty seconds. Then, of course, doubt set in. Was it right to change someone's life that much simply because I could? On the other hand, was it right to let Hunter suffer his way through a difficult childhood?

I could change myself.

That was so shocking an idea that it almost made me black out. I simply couldn't think about it just now. I had to prepare for Operation Victor.

After thirty minutes, I was ready to go.

I drove to Fangtasia, trying to keep my mind empty and my spirit fierce. (Emptying my mind was maybe too easy. I'd learned so much in the past few days that I hardly knew who I was anymore. And that made me pretty angry, so fierce was easy, too.) I sang along with every song on the radio, and because I have an awful voice I was glad I was alone. Pam can't sing, either. I was thinking about her a lot as I drove, wondering if her Miriam was alive or dead, feeling sorry for my best vampire friend. Pam was so tough and so strong and so ruthless that I hadn't ever considered her more delicate emotions until the past few days. Maybe that was why Eric had chosen Pam when he'd wanted a child; he'd sensed they were kindred spirits.

I didn't doubt Eric loved me, just as I knew Pam loved her ailing Miriam. But I didn't know if Eric loved me enough to defy all his maker's arrangements, enough to forgo the leap in power and status and income he'd gain as consort of the Queen of Oklahoma. Would Eric enjoy being a Sooner? As I navigated through Shreveport, I wondered if Oklahoma vampires wore cowboy boots and knew all the songs from the musical. I wondered why I was thinking such idiotic thoughts when I should be preparing for a very grim evening, an evening I might not survive.

Judging from the parking lot, Fangtasia was jam-packed. I went to the employee entrance and knocked, using a special pattern. Maxwell opened the door, looking positively suave in a beautiful summer-weight tan suit. Dark-skinned vampires undergo an interesting change a few decades after they're turned. If they were a very dark shade in life, they become a light brown, sort of a milk chocolate. Those who were lighter skinned become a sort of creamy ecru. Maxwell Lee hadn't been dead long enough for that, though. He was still one of the darkest men I had ever seen, the color of ebony, and his mustache was as precise as if he'd shaved with a ruler at hand. We'd never been especially fond of each other, but this evening his smile was almost manic in its cheerfulness.

"Miss Stackhouse, we're so glad you stopped by tonight," he said loudly. "Eric will be pleased to see you looking so--so tasty."

I take my compliments where I can get them, and "tasty" wasn't bad. I was wearing a strapless dress in sky blue with a broad white belt and white sandals. (I know white shoes are supposed to make your feet look big, but mine aren't, so I didn't care.) My hair was down. I felt pretty damn good. I held out a foot so Maxwell could admire my self-administered pedicure. Spicy Pink Carnation.

"Fresh as a daisy," Maxwell said. He pulled aside his jacket to show me that he was carrying a gun. I gave him big eyes of admiration. Carrying a firearm was not a vampire norm, and it might be a bit unexpected. Colton and Audrina came in on my heels. Audrina had put up her hair with what looked like chopsticks, and she was carrying a large purse, almost as large as mine. Colton was armed, too, because he was wearing a jacket, and on a sultry evening like this one, humans just didn't wear jackets if they could help it. I introduced them to Maxwell, and after a polite exchange they sauntered down the hall to go out into the club.

I found Eric in his office sitting behind the desk. Pam was sitting on it, and Thalia was on the couch. Oh, boy! I felt more confident when I saw the tiny ancient Greek vampire. Thalia had been turned so long ago that no trace of humanity remained. She was simply a cold killing machine. She'd reluctantly joined the vampires that came out, but she despised humans with a thoroughness and ferocity that had made her a sort of cult figure. One website had offered five thousand dollars to the man or woman who could get a picture of Thalia smiling. No one had ever collected, but they could have tonight. She was smiling now. It was creepy as hell.

"He accepted the invitation," Eric said without preamble. "He was uneasy, but he couldn't resist. I told him he was welcome to bring as many of his own people as he wished so that they could share the experience."

"That was the only way to do it," I said.

"I think you're right," Pam said. "I think he'll bring only a few, because he'll want to show us how confident he is."

Mustapha Khan knocked on the door frame. Eric beckoned him in.

"Bill and Bubba are making a stop in the alley two blocks over," he said, barely glancing at the rest of us.

"What for?" Eric was surprised.

"Ah . . . something about cats."

We all looked away, embarrassed. Bubba's perversion was not anything vampires wanted to talk about.

"But he's cheerful? In a good mood?"

"Yes, Eric. He's happy as a minister on Easter Sunday. Bill took him for a drive in an antique car, then horseback riding, and then to the alley. They should be here right on time. I told Bill I'd call him when Victor arrived."

By then, Fangtasia would be closed to the public. Though the happy and free-spending crowd out on the floor didn't know it, tonight the king of rock 'n' roll would sing again for the Regent of Louisiana. Who could turn down an invitation to such an event?

Not fanboy Victor, that was for sure. The cardboard cutout at Vampire's Kiss had been a big clue. Of course Victor had tried to get Bubba to come to his own club, but I'd known Bubba wouldn't want to go to Vampire's Kiss. He'd want to stay with Bill, and if Bill said Fangtasia was the place to be, that was what Bubba would insist on.

We sat in silence, though Fangtasia is never really silent. We could hear the music from the bar area, and the hum of voices. It was almost as if the customers could sense that tonight was a special night, that they all had cause to celebrate . . . or to have a last hurrah before they perished.

Though I felt it put me one step closer to catastrophe, I'd brought the cluviel dor. It was tucked into my belt behind the huge buckle. It pressed into my flesh insistently.

Mustapha Khan had taken up a stance against the wall. He was deep into his Blade fantasy that night, with dark glasses, a leather jacket, and a great haircut. I wondered where his buddy Warren was. Finally, out of sheer desperation for some conversation, I asked.

"Warren, he's outside the club on the roof of the Bed Bath & Beyond." Mustapha Khan didn't turn his face to me when he spoke.

"What for?"

"He's a shooter."

"We refined your idea a bit," Eric said. "Anyone gets out the door, Warren will take care of them." He'd been slumped back in his chair with his feet on the desk. Pam hadn't looked at me since I'd come in. Suddenly, I wondered why.

"Pam?" I said. I got up and took a step toward her.

She shook her head, her face averted.

I can't read vampire minds, but I didn't have to. Miriam had died today. Looking at the set of Pam's shoulders I knew better than to say anything. It went against my nature to resume my seat on the couch without offering her comfort, a Kleenex, a few words of solace. But it would be Pam's nature to strike out if I offered those things.

I touched my belt, where the cluviel dor made a hard impression on my stomach. Could I wish Miriam back alive? I wondered if that would satisfy the requirement that the wish be for someone I loved. I was very fond of Pam, but wouldn't that be too indirect?

I felt like I had a bomb strapped to me.

I heard the shimmery sound of the gong. Eric had installed one in the bar, and the bartender rang it fifteen minutes before closing. I didn't even know who'd taken over the bartending duties since Felicia had been killed by Alexei. Maybe I hadn't been interested enough in Eric's business lately. On the other hand, he himself had been abstracted from his normal absorption in his little kingdom by Victor's predations. I realized that lack of conversation about ordinary things was one of our problems. I hoped we'd get to correct it.

I got up and went down the hall to the main area of the bar. I couldn't stand sitting in Eric's office anymore, not with Pam suffering the way she was.

I spotted Colton and Audrina dancing on the tiny floor, arms around each other. Immanuel was sitting at the bar, and I climbed onto the stool next to him. The bartender came to stand across from me. He was a brawny fellow with ringlets cascading down his back, total eye candy. A vampire, of course.

"What can I get you, wife of my sheriff?" he asked ceremoniously.

"You can get me a tonic and lime, please. Sorry I haven't had a chance to meet you before. What's your name?"

"Jock," he said, as if daring me to make a joke. I wouldn't dream of it.

"When did you start work, Jock?"

"I came from Reno when the last bartender died," he said. "I worked for Victor there."

I wondered which way Jock would jump tonight. Interesting to see.

I didn't know Immanuel well--in fact, I barely knew him. But I patted his shoulder and asked him if I could buy him a drink.

He turned and gave my hair a long look, finally nodding his approval. "Sure," he said. "I'd like another beer."

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, after I'd asked Jock to bring Immanuel a beer. I wondered where Miriam's body was now; at the undertaker's, I assumed.

"Appreciated," he replied. After a moment, he said, "Pam was going to do it tonight, without permission. Turn Miriam, that is. But Mir just . . . breathed out one last time, and then she was gone."

"Your mom and dad . . . ?"

He shook his head. "It was just us."

There was really nothing else to say about that.

"Maybe you should go home?" I suggested. He didn't look like much of a fighter to me.

"I don't think so," he said.

I couldn't make him leave, so I drank my tonic and lime while all the human customers left. The bar grew quiet and relatively empty. Indira, one of Eric's vamps, came in, wearing a full sari. I'd never seen her in traditional clothing before, and the pink and green of the pattern was really fetching. Jock gave her an admiring look. Thalia and Maxwell came out of the back and moved around the club along with the human staff, busy cleaning the place up for the after-party. I helped, too. This was work I was used to. The tables circling the little dance floor and stage were moved away, and two lines of chairs were arranged instead. Maxwell brought in an elaborate sort of boom box. Bubba's music. After I swept the dance floor and stage, I got out of the way by resuming my stool at the bar.

Heidi, whose specialty was tracking, came in, her hair in narrow braids. Lean and plain, Heidi always carried an air of grief around with her like a cloud. I had no idea what she'd do tonight when the shit hit the fan.

While Jock was cleaning up the supplies on his side of the counter, Colton and Audrina came over. Jock looked surprised to see humans he didn't know. Their presence had to be explained; I didn't want Jock becoming suspicious. I said, "Colton, Audrina, meet Jock. Jock, these two lovely people have agreed to donate in case Victor wants local hospitality. Of course, we're hoping that won't happen on the premises, but Eric doesn't want to fail in his welcome."

"Good idea," Jock said, eyeing Audrina appreciatively. "We can't give the regent less than he expects."

"No." Or less than he deserves.

After forty-five minutes, the place looked pretty good again, and the last of the human employees went out the back door. The only breathers remaining were Colton, Audrina, Immanuel, Mustapha Khan, and me. (I definitely had that conspicuous feeling.) The Shreveport vamps I'd known since I'd started dating Bill had assembled: Pam, Maxwell Lee, Thalia, Indira. I knew all of them to some extent. Victor would be instantly alert if all Eric's vampires were there, or if they were all Eric's heavy hitters. So Eric had called in the little Minden nest: Palomino, Rubio Hermosa, and Parker Coburn, the Katrina exiles. They trailed in looking unhappy but resigned. They stood against the wall, holding hands. It was kind of sweet, but sad, too. The jukebox cut off. The near silence was instantly oppressive.

Though Fangtasia sits in a busy shopping and dining area of Shreveport, at this hour--even on a weekend--there was not much city sound outside. None of us felt like talking. I didn't know what thoughts occupied other heads, but I was considering the fact that I might die that very night. I was sorry about the baby shower, but I'd gotten things as ready as I could get them. I was sorry I hadn't gotten to have a conference with Mr. Cataliades to get everything straight in my head, all this new information I'd hardly had time to assimilate. I was glad I'd given the money to Sam, and sorry I couldn't have been frank with him about why it needed to be done this very day. I hoped if I died, Jason would move back into the old house, that he would marry Michele, that they would raise kids there. My mother, Michelle-with-two- ls, had been completely different from Jason's Michele-withone- l, at least judging by my childhood memory of her, but they were alike in loving Jason. I was sorry I hadn't told him I loved him the last time we'd spoken.

I was sorry about a lot of things. My mistakes and offenses crowded around me.

Eric drifted over and turned me on the stool so he could put his arms around me. "I wish you didn't have to be here," he said. That was all the conversation we could have with Jock in earshot. I leaned against Eric's cool body, my head resting on his silent chest. I might not ever get to do this again.

Pam came to sit by Immanuel. Thalia scowled, which was her fallback expression, and turned her back on all of us. Indira sat with her eyes shut, the graceful folds of her sari making her look like a statue at Pier 1. Heidi looked from one to the other of us very seriously, and her mouth became set in a grim line. If she was worrying about Victor, I figured she'd go to stand by Jock, but I never saw her speak to him.

Maxwell apparently heard a knock at the back door, inaudible to my human ears. He jetted away and returned to tell Eric that Bill and Bubba had arrived. They were staying in the office until the moment came.

Very soon after that, I heard cars pull in front of the club.

"Showtime," Pam said, and for the first time that evening she smiled.