Dead Reckoning: A Sookie Stackhouse Novel Read online

  Nella Jean was dark and round, and her bitter-chocolate eyes were almost a match for Bellenos’s, though her teeth were reassuringly normal. Her little cubbyhole was right next door to Claude’s office; in fact, I conjectured that it had been converted from a storage closet. After a disparaging look at Sam and me, Nella Jean seemed more than ready to retreat to her own space. She shut her office door with an air of finality, as if she knew we were going to do something unsavory and she wanted nothing to do with us.

  Bellenos shut Claude’s office door, too, closing us in a room that would have been crowded with two of us, much less five. I could hear music coming from the club proper (or rather, the club improper), and I wondered what was happening out there. Did strippers rehearse? What did they make of Bellenos?

  “Why the surprise visit?” Claude asked. “Not that I’m not delighted to see you.”

  He wasn’t delighted to see me at all, though he’d invited me to drop by Hooligans more than once. It was clear from his sulky mouth that he’d never believed I’d come to see him at the club unless he was onstage stripping. Of course, Claude’s sure everyone in the world wants to see him take off his clothes, I thought. Did he just not enjoy visitors, or was there something he didn’t want me to know?

  “You need to tell us why Sookie’s feeling more and more fae,” Sam said abruptly.

  The three fae males turned to look at Sam simultaneously.

  Claude said, “Why do we need to tell her that? And why are you concerning yourself with our family affairs?”

  “Because Sookie wants to know why, and she’s my friend,” Sam said. His face was hard, his voice very level. “You should be educating her about her mixed blood instead of living in her house and leeching off her.”

  I didn’t know where to look. I hadn’t known Sam was so opposed to my cousin and my great-uncle staying with me, and he really didn’t need to give his opinion. And Claude and Dermot weren’t leeching off me; they bought groceries, too, and they cleaned up after themselves very carefully. Sometimes. It was true that my water bill had jumped (and I had said something to Claude about that), but nothing else had cost me money.

  “In fact,” Sam said, when they continued to glare at him in silence, “you’re staying with her to make sure she’ll be more fae, right? You’re encouraging that part of her to strengthen. I don’t know how you’re doing that, but I know you are. My question is: Are you doing this just for the warmth of it, the companionship, or do you have a plan in mind for Sookie? Some kind of secret fairy plot?”

  The last words were more like an ominous rumble than Sam’s normal voice.

  “Claude’s my cousin and Dermot’s my great-uncle,” I said automatically. “They wouldn’t try to . . .” And I let the thought trail off dismally. If I’d learned anything over the past few years, it was not to make stupid assumptions. The idea that family would not harm you was a stupid assumption of the first order.

  “Come see the rest of the club,” Claude said suddenly. Before we could think about it, he’d hustled us out of the office and down the hall. He swung open the door to the club proper, and Sam and I went into it.

  I guess all clubs and bars look basically the same—tables and chairs, some attempt at decor or theme, an actual bar, a stage with stripper poles, and some kind of booth for sound. In those respects, Hooligans was no different.

  But all the creatures that turned to the door when we entered . . . all of them were fae. It came to me slowly and inevitably as I looked from face to face. No matter how human they looked (and most of them could “pass”), each one had a trace of fae blood of one kind or another. A beautiful female with flame red hair was part elf. She’d had her teeth filed down. A long, slim male was something I’d never encountered before.

  “Welcome, Sister,” said a short blond . . . something. I couldn’t even be sure of the gender. “Have you come to join us here?”

  I struggled to answer. “I hadn’t planned on it,” I said. I stepped back into the hall and let the door shut after me. I gripped Claude’s arm. “What the hell is going on here?” When he didn’t answer, I turned to my great-uncle. “Dermot?”

  “Sookie, our dearest,” Dermot said, after a moment’s silence. “Tonight when we come home we’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

  “What about him?” I said, nodding at Bellenos.

  “He won’t be with us,” Claude said. “Bellenos sleeps here, as our night watchman.”

  You only needed a night watchman if you were afraid of an attack.

  More trouble.

  I could hardly stand the prospect of it.

  Chapter 3

  Okay, I’ve been stupid in the past. Not consistently stupid, but occasionally stupid. And I’ve made mistakes. You bet, I’ve made mistakes.

  But during the ride back to Bon Temps, with my best guy friend driving and giving me the silence I needed, I thought hard. I felt a tear trickle from each eye. I looked away and blotted my face with a tissue from my purse, not wanting Sam to offer sympathy.

  When I’d composed myself, I said, “I’ve been a fool.”

  To his credit, Sam looked startled. “What are you thinking of?” he said, so he wouldn’t say, “Which time?”

  “Do you think people really change, Sam?”

  He took a moment to line up his thoughts. “That’s a pretty big question, Sookie. People can turn themselves around to some extent, sure. Addicts can be strong enough to stop using whatever they’re addicted to. People can go to therapy and learn how to manage behavior that’s been out of control. But that’s an external . . . system. A learned management technique imposed on the natural order of things, on what the person really is—an addict. Does that make sense?”

  I nodded.

  “So, on the whole,” he continued, “I’d have to say no, people don’t change, but they can learn to behave differently. I want to believe otherwise. If you have an argument that says I’m wrong, I’d be glad to hear it.” We turned down my driveway and began to go through the woods.

  “Children change as they grow up and adapt to society and their own circumstances,” I said. “Sometimes in good ways, sometimes in bad. And I think if you love someone, you make an effort to suppress habits of yours that displease them, right? But those habits or inclinations are still there. Sam, you’re right. Those are other cases of people imposing a learned reaction over the original.”

  He gave me worried eyes as we pulled up behind the house. “Sookie, what’s wrong?”

  I shook my head. “I’m such an idiot,” I told him. I couldn’t look him square in the face. I scrambled out of the truck. “Are you taking the whole day off, or will I see you at the bar later?”

  “I’m taking the whole day off. Listen, do you need me to stick around? I’m not real sure what you’re worried about, but you know we can talk about it. I have no idea what is going on at Hooligans, but until the fairies feel like telling us . . . I’m here if you need me.”

  He was sincere in his offer, but I also knew he wanted to get home, call Jannalynn, make plans for the night so he could give her the gift he’d gone to such trouble to select. “No, I’m good,” I said reassuringly, smiling up at him. “I’ve got a million things to do before I come to work, and a lot to think about.” To put it mildly.

  “Thanks for going to Shreveport with me, Sookie,” Sam said. “But I guess I was wrong about getting your kinfolk to talk to you. Let me know if they don’t come through tonight.” I waved good-bye as he backed up to drive back to Hummingbird Road to return to his double-wide, situated right behind Merlotte’s. Sam never completely got away from work—but on the other hand, it was a real short commute.

  As I unlocked the back door, I was already making plans.

  I felt like having a shower—no, a bath. It was actually delightful to be alone, to have Claude and Dermot out of the house. I was full of new suspicion, but that was a sadly familiar feeling. I thought about calling Amelia, my witch friend who had returned to New Or
leans to her rebuilt home and her reestablished job, to ask her advice about several things. In the end I didn’t pick up the phone. I would have to explain so much. The prospect made my brain feel tired, and that was no way to start a conversation. An e-mail might be better. I could set everything down that way.

  I filled the tub with bath oils, and I climbed into the hot water in a gingerly way, baring my teeth as I sank down. The front of my thighs still stung a bit. I shaved my legs and underarms. Grooming always makes you feel better. After I’d climbed out, the bath oil making me as slippery as a wrestler, I painted my toenails and brushed out my hair, startled all over again by how short it seemed. It was still past my shoulder blades, I reassured myself.

  All buffed and polished, I put on my Merlotte’s outfit, sorry to cover up my toenails with socks and sneakers. I was trying not to think, and I was doing a pretty good job of it.

  I had about thirty minutes to spare, so I turned on the TV and clicked on my DVR button to view yesterday’s Jeopardy! We’d started turning the bar TV to it every day, because the bar patrons got some enjoyment out of guessing the answers. Jane Bodehouse, our longestlasting alcoholic, turned out to be an expert on old movies, and Terry Bellefleur surely knew his sports trivia. I could answer most of the questions about writers, since I read a lot, and Sam was pretty reliable on American history after 1900. I wasn’t always at the bar when it was on, so I’d started recording it every day. I liked the happy world of Jeopardy! I liked getting the Daily Double, which I did today. When the show was finished, it was time to leave.

  I enjoyed driving to work for the evening shift when it was still light outside. I turned up the radio and sang “Crazy” right along with Gnarls Barkley. I could identify.

  Jason passed me driving in the opposite direction, maybe on his way to his girlfriend’s house. Michele Schubert was still hanging in the relationship. Since Jason was finally growing up, she might make something permanent with him . . . if she wanted to. Michele’s strongest suit was that she wasn’t enthralled by Jason’s (apparently) powerful bedroom mojo. If she was mooning over him and jealous of his attention, she was keeping it perfectly concealed. My hat was off to her. I waved at my brother, and he smiled back. He looked happy and unconflicted. I envied that from the bottom of my heart. There were big plusses to the way Jason approached life.

  The crowd at Merlotte’s was thin again. No surprise there; a firebombing is pretty bad publicity. What if Merlotte’s couldn’t survive? What if Vic’s Redneck Roadhouse kept stealing customers? People liked Merlotte’s because it was relatively quiet, because it was relaxed, because the food was good (if limited) and the drinks were generous. Sam had always been a popular guy until the wereanimals had made their own announcement. People who had handled the vampires with cautious acceptance seemed to regard twoeys as the straws that had broken the camel’s back, so to speak.

  I went into the storeroom to grab a clean apron and then into Sam’s office to stuff my purse into the deep drawer of his desk. It sure would be nice to have a little locker. I could keep my purse in it and a change of clothes for nights when minor disasters struck, like spilled beer or a squirt of mustard.

  I was taking over from Holly, who would marry Jason’s best friend Hoyt in October. This would be Holly’s second wedding, Hoyt’s first. They’d decided to go all out and have a church ceremony and a reception in the church hall afterward. I knew more about it than I wanted to know. Though the wedding wasn’t for months, Holly had already begun obsessing about details. Since her first wedding had been a justice-of-the-peace visit, this was (theoretically) her last chance to live the dream. I could imagine my grandmother’s opinion about Holly’s white wedding dress, since Holly had a little boy in school—but hey, whatever made the bride happy. White used to symbolize the virgin purity of the wearer. Now it just meant the bride had acquired an expensive and unusable dress to hang in her closet after the big day.

  I waved at Holly to attract her attention. She was talking to the new Calgary Baptist preacher, Brother Carson. He came in from time to time but never ordered alcohol. Holly ended her conversation and strode over to tell me what was happening at our tables, which wasn’t much. I shuddered when I looked at the scorched mark in the middle of the floor. One less table to serve.

  “Hey, Sookie,” Holly said, pausing on her way to the back to fetch her purse. “You’ll be at the wedding, right?”

  “Sure, wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Would you mind serving the punch?”

  This was an honor—not as big an honor as being a bridesmaid, but still significant. I’d never expected such a thing. “I’d be glad to,” I said, smiling. “Let’s talk again closer to time.”

  Holly looked pleased. “Okay, good. Well, let’s hope business picks up here so we still have a job come September.”

  “Oh, you know we’ll be okay,” I said, but I was far from convinced that was so.

  I stayed up waiting for Dermot and Claude for half an hour after I got home that night, but they didn’t show, and I didn’t feel like calling them. Their promised talk with me, the talk that was supposed to fill me in on my fairy heritage, would not take place tonight. Though I’d wanted to hear some answers, I found I was just as glad. The day had been too full. I told myself I was pissed off, and I tried to listen for the fairies to come in, but I didn’t lie awake more than five minutes.

  When I emerged the next morning a little after nine, I didn’t see any of the usual signs that indicated my houseguests had returned. The hall bathroom looked exactly as it had the day before, there weren’t any dishes by the kitchen sink, and none of the lights had been left on. I went out on the enclosed back porch. Nope, no car.

  Maybe they’d been too tired to make the drive back to Bon Temps, or maybe they’d both gotten lucky. When Claude had come to live with me, he’d told me that if he made a conquest, he’d spend the night at his house in Monroe with the lucky guy. I’d assumed Dermot would do the same—though come to think of it, I’d never seen Dermot with anyone, man or woman. I’d also assumed that Dermot would choose women over men, simply because he looked like Jason, who was all about the ladies. Assumptions. Dumb.

  I fixed myself some eggs and toast and fruit, and read a library copy of one of Nora Roberts’s books while I ate. I felt more like my former self than I had in weeks. Except for the visit to Hooligans, I’d had a nice time the day before, and the guys weren’t trailing in and out of the kitchen, complaining about me being low on whole-wheat bread or hot water (Claude) or offering me flowery pleasantries when all I wanted to do was read (Dermot). Nice to discover that I could still enjoy being alone.

  Singing to myself, I showered and made myself up . . . and by that time I had to leave for work again for the early shift. I glanced into the living room, tired of it looking like a junk store. I reminded myself that tomorrow the antiques dealers were supposed to come.

  The bar was a little busier than it had been the night before, which made me even more cheerful. A little to my surprise, Kennedy was behind the bar. She looked as polished and perfect as the beauty queen she’d been, though she was wearing tight jeans and a white-and-gray-striped tank. We were quite the well-groomed women today.

  “Where’s Sam?” I asked. “I thought he would be working.”

  “He called me this morning, said he was still over in Shreveport,” Kennedy said, giving me a sideways look. “I guess Jannalynn’s birthday went real well. I need as many hours as I can get, so I was glad to roll out of bed and get my hiney over here.”

  “How’s your mamma and your daddy?” I asked. “Have they visited lately?”

  Kennedy smiled bitterly. “They’re just rolling along, Sookie. They still wish I was Little Miss Beauty Pageant and taught Sunday school, but they did send me a good check when I got out of prison. I’m lucky to have ’em.”

  Her hands stilled in the middle of drying a glass. “I been wondering,” she said, and paused. I waited. I knew what was coming. “I was wonderin
g if it was a member of Casey’s family who bombed the bar,” she said, very quietly. “When I shot Casey, I was just saving my own life. I didn’t think about his family, or my family, or anything but living.”

  Kennedy had never talked about it before, which I could understand completely. “Who would be thinking about anything else but surviving, Kennedy?” I said, quietly but with intensity. I wanted her to feel my absolute sincerity. “No one in her right mind would have done any different. I don’t think God would ever want you to let yourself be beaten to death.” Though I was not at all sure what God would want. I probably meant, I think it would have been dumb as hell to let yourself be killed.

  “I wouldn’t have gotten off so light if those other women hadn’t come forward,” Kennedy said. “His family, I guess they know he really did hit women . . . but I wonder if they still blame me. If maybe they knew I’d be in the bar, and they decided to kill me here.”

  “Are any of his family two-natured?” I asked.

  Kennedy looked shocked. “Oh my gosh, no! They’re Baptists!”

  I tried not to smile, but I couldn’t help it. After a second, Kennedy started laughing at herself. “Seriously,” she said, “I don’t think so. You think whoever threw that bomb was a Were?”

  “Or some other kind of two-natured. Yeah, I think so, but don’t tell this around anywhere. Sam’s already feeling the backlash enough as it is.”

  Kennedy nodded in complete agreement, a customer called me to bring him a bottle of hot sauce, and I had new food for thought.

  The server replacing me called in to say her car had a flat tire, and I stayed at Merlotte’s two extra hours. Kennedy, who’d be there until closing, gave me a hard time about being indispensible, until I swatted her with a towel. Kennedy perked up quite a bit when Danny came in. He’d obviously gone home after work to shower and shave again, and he looked at Kennedy as if his world were now complete when he climbed onto the barstool. What he said was, “Give me a beer and be quick about it, woman.”