"Yeah, the full moons were a bitch. There was an herbal drink his Irish grandmother used to make. He learned how to make it himself. It was foul beyond belief, but he drank it on full moons when he had to be on duty and had to be seen all night, and that helped him maintain. . . . But you didn't want to be around him the next day. Dad passed away about six years ago, left me a chunk of money. I'd always liked this area, and this bar was up for sale. It seemed like a good way to invest the money."
"And your mom?"
"She's still in Wright. She married again about two years after Dad died. He's a good enough guy. He's regular." Not a shifter or any kind of supernatural. "So there's a limit to how close I can get to him," Sam said.
"Your mom's a full-blood. Surely he suspects."
"He's willfully blind, I think. She has to go out for her evening run, she says, or she's spending the night with her sister in Waco, or she's driving over to visit me, or some other excuse."
"Must be hard to maintain."
"I would never try to do that. I almost married a regular girl once, while I was in the service. But I just couldn't marry someone and keep that big a secret. It saves my sanity, having someone to talk to about it, Sookie." He smiled at me, and I appreciated the trust he was showing. "If the Weres announce, then we'll all go public. It'll be a great burden off me."
We both knew there would be new problems to face, but there wasn't any need to talk about future trouble. Trouble always came at its own pace.
"You got any sisters or brothers?" I asked.
"One of each. My sister is married with two kids, and my brother is still single. He's a great guy." Sam was smiling and his face looked more relaxed than I'd ever seen. "Craig's getting married in the spring, he says," Sam went on. "Maybe you can go to the wedding with me."
I was so astonished I didn't know what to say, and I was very flattered and pleased. "That sounds like fun. Tell me when you know the date," I said. Sam and I had gone out, once, and it had been very pleasant; but it was in the midst of my problems with Bill and the evening had never been repeated.
Sam nodded casually, and the little jolt of tension that had run through me evaporated. After all, this wasSam, my boss, and come to think of it, also one of my best friends. He'd clicked into that slot during the past year. I got up. I had my purse, and I pulled on my jacket.
"Did you get an invitation for the Fangtasia Halloween party this year?" he asked.
"No. After the last party they invited me to, they might not want me to come back," I said. "Besides, with all the recent losses, I don't know if Eric'll feel like celebrating."
"You think we ought to have a Halloween party at Merlotte's?" he asked.
"Maybe not with candy and stuff like that," I said, thinking hard. "Maybe a goodie bag for each customer, with dry roasted peanuts? Or a bowl of orange popcorn on each table? And some decorations?"
Sam looked in the direction of the bar as if he could see through the walls. "That sounds good. Make a thing of it." Ordinarily we only decorated for Christmas, and that only after Thanksgiving, at Sam's insistence.
I waved good night and left the bar, leaving Sam to check that everything was locked tight.
The night had a cold bite to it. This would be one of the Halloweens that really felt like the Halloweens I'd seen in children's books.
In the center of the parking lot, his face turned up to the sliver of moon, his eyes closed, stood my great-grandfather. His pale hair hung down his back like a thick curtain. His myriad of fine creases were invisible in the moonlight, or else he'd divested himself of them. He was carrying his cane, and once again he was wearing a suit, a black suit. There was a heavy ring on his right hand, the hand gripping the cane.
He was the most beautiful being I'd ever seen.
He didn't look remotely like a human grandfather. Human grandfathers wore gimme caps from the John Deere place and overalls. They took you fishing. They let you ride on their tractors. They groused at you for being too pampered and then they bought you candy. As for human great-grandfathers, most of us hardly got to know ours.
I became aware of Sam standing by my side.
"Who is that?" he breathed.
"That's my, ah, my great-granddad," I said. He was right there in front of me. I had to explain.
"Oh," he said, his voice was full of amazement.
"I just found out," I said apologetically.
Niall stopped soaking up the moonlight and his eyes opened. "My great-granddaughter," he said, as if my presence in the Merlotte's parking lot was a pleasant surprise. "Who is your friend?"
"Niall, this is Sam Merlotte, who owns this bar," I said.
Sam extended his hand cautiously, and after a good look at it, Niall touched it with his own. I could feel Sam give a slight jerk, as if my great-grandfather had had a buzzer in his hand.
"Great-granddaughter," Niall said, "I hear you were in danger in the fracas between the werewolves."
"Yes, but Sam was with me, and then Claudine came," I said, feeling oddly defensive. "I didn't know there was going to be a fracas, as you put it, when I went. I was trying to be a peacemaker. We were ambushed."
"Yes, that's what Claudine reported," he said. "I understand the bitch is dead?"
By which he meant Priscilla. "Yes, sir," I said. "The bitch is dead."
"And then you were in danger again one night later?"
I was beginning to feel definitely guilty of something. "Well, that's not actually my norm," I said. "It just happened that the vampires of Louisiana got overrun by the vampires of Nevada."
Niall seemed only mildly interested. "But you went as far as dialing the number I left you."
"Ah, yes, sir, I was pretty scared. But then Eric knocked the phone out of my hand because he thought if you came into the equation, there'd be an out-and-out war. As it turned out, I guess that was for the best, because he surrendered to Victor Madden." I was still a little angry about it, though, even after Eric's gift of the replacement phone.
"Ahhh."
I couldn't make head nor tail of that noncommittal sound. This might be the downside of having a great-grandfather on site. I'd been called on the carpet. It was a feeling I hadn't had since I was a young teen and Gran had found out I'd skipped taking out the trash and folding the laundry. I didn't like the feeling now any more than I'd liked it then.
"I love your courage," Niall said unexpectedly. "But you are very frail—mortal, breakable, and short-lived. I don't want to lose you just when I finally became able to speak to you."
"I don't know what to say," I muttered.
"You don't want me to stop you from doing anything. You won't change. How can I protect you?"
"I don't think you can, not a hundred percent."
"Then what use am I to you?"
"You don't have to be of use to me," I said, surprised. He didn't seem to have the emotional set I had. I didn't know how to explain it to him. "It's enough for me—it's wonderful—just knowing you exist. That you care about me. That I have living family, no matter how distant and different. And you don't think I'm weird or crazy or embarrassing."
"Embarrassing?" He looked puzzled. "You're far more interesting than most humans."
"Thank you for not thinking I'm defective," I said.
"Other humans think you'redefective?" Niall sounded genuinely outraged.
"They can't be comfortable sometimes," Sam said unexpectedly. "Knowing she can read their minds."
"But you, shapeshifter?"
"I think she's great," Sam said. And I could tell he was absolutely sincere.
My back straightened. I felt a flush of pride. In the emotional warmth of the moment, I almost told my great-grandfather about the big problem I'd uncovered today, to prove I could share. But I had a pretty good feeling that his solution to the Sandra Pelt-Tanya Grissom Axis of Evil would be to cause their deaths in a macabre way. My sort-of cousin Claudine might be trying to become an angel, a being I associated with Christianity, but Niall
Brigant was definitely from another ethos entirely. I suspected his outlook was, "I'll take your eye ahead of time, just in case you want mine." Well, maybe not that preemptive, but close.
"There is nothing I can do for you?" He sounded almost plaintive.
"I'd really like it if you'd just come spend some time with me at the house, when you have some to spare. I'd like to cook you supper. If you want to do that?" It made me feel shy, offering him something I wasn't sure he'd value.
He looked at me with glowing eyes. I could not read his face, and though his body was shaped like a human body, he was not. He was a complete puzzle to me. Maybe he was exasperated or bored or repulsed by my suggestion.
Finally Niall said, "Yes. I'll do that. I'll tell you ahead of time, of course. In the meantime, if you need anything of me, call the number. Don't let anyone dissuade you if you think I can be of help. I will have words with Eric. He's been useful to me in the past, but he can't second-guess me with you."
"Has he known I was your kin for very long?" I held my breath, waiting for the answer.
Niall had turned to go. Now he turned back a little, so I saw his face in profile. "No," he said. "I had to know him better, first. I told him only before he brought you to meet me. He wouldn't help me until I told him why I wanted you."
And then he was gone. It was like he'd walked through a door we couldn't see, and for all I knew, that was exactly what he'd done.
"Okay," Sam said after a long moment. "Okay, that was really . . . different."
"Are you all right with all this?" I waved a hand toward the spot where Niall had been standing. Probably. Unless what we'd seen had been some astral projection or something.
"It's not my place to be okay with it. It's your thing," Sam said.
"I want to love him," I said. "He's so beautiful and he seems to care so much, but he's really, really..."
"Scary," Sam finished.
"Yeah."
"And he approached you through Eric?"
Since apparently my great-grandfather thought it was okay if Sam knew about him, I told Sam about my first meeting with Niall.
"Hmmm. Well, I don't know what to make of that. Vampires and fairies don't interact, because of the vampire tendency to eat fairies."
"Niall can mask his scent," I explained proudly.
Sam looked overloaded with information. "That's another thing I've never heard of. I hope Jason doesn't know about this?"
"Oh, God, no."
"You know he'd be jealous and that would make him mad at you."
"Since I know Niall and he doesn't?"
"Yep. Envy would just eat Jason up."
"I know Jason's not the world's most generous person," I began, to be cut off when Sam snorted. "Okay," I said, "he's selfish. But he's still my brother anyway, and I have to stick by him. But maybe it's better if I never tell him. Still, Niall didn't have any problem showing himself toyou, after telling me to keep him a secret."
"I'm guessing he did some checking up," Sam said mildly. He hugged me, which was a welcome surprise. I felt like I needed a hug after Niall's drop-in. I hugged Sam back. He felt warm, and comforting, and human.
But neither of us was 100 percent human.
In the next instant, I thought,We are, too. We had more in common with humans than with the other part of us. We lived like humans; we would die like humans. Since I knew Sam pretty well, I knew he wanted a family and someone to love and a future that contained all the things plain humans want: prosperity, good health, descendants, laughter. Sam didn't want to be a leader of any pack, and I didn't want to be princess of anybody—not that any pureblood fairy would ever think I was anything other than a lowly by-product of their own wonder-fulness. That was one of the big differences between Jason and me. Jason would spend his life wishing he was more supernatural than he was; I had spent mine wishing I was less, if my telepathy was indeed supernatural.
Sam kissed me on the cheek, and then after a moment's hesitation, he turned to go into his trailer, walking through the gate in the carefully trimmed hedge and up the steps to the little deck he'd built outside his door. When he'd inserted the key, he turned to smile at me.
"Some night, huh?"
"Yeah," I said. "Some night."
Sam watched while I got in my car, made a pressing gesture to remind me to lock my car doors, waited while I complied, and then went into his trailer. I drove home preoccupied with deep questions and shallow ones, and it was lucky there wasn't any traffic on the road.
Chapter 17
Amelia and Octavia were sitting at the kitchen table the next day when I shambled out. Amelia had used up all the coffee, but at least she'd washed the pot and it took only a few minutes to make myself a much-needed cup. Amelia and her mentor kept a tactful conversation going while I bumbled around getting some cereal, adding some sweetener, pouring milk over it. I hunched over the bowl because I didn't want to dribble milk down my tank top. And by the way, it was getting too cold to wear a tank top around the house. I pulled on a cheap jacket made of sweats material and was able to finish my coffee and cereal in comfort.
"What's up, you two?" I asked, signaling I was ready to interact with the rest of the world.
"Amelia told me about your problem," Octavia said. "And about your very kind offer."
Ah-oh. What offer?
I nodded wisely, as if I had a clue.
"I'll be so glad to be out of my niece's house, you have no idea," the older woman said earnestly. "Janesha has three little ones, including one toddler, and a boyfriend that comes and goes. I'm sleeping on the living room couch, and when the kids get up in the morning, they come in and turn on the cartoons. Whether or not I'm up. It's their house, of course, and I've been there for weeks, so they've lost the sense that I'm company."
I gathered that Octavia was going to be sleeping in the bedroom opposite me or in the extra one upstairs. I was voting for the one upstairs.
"And you know, now that I'm older, I need quicker access to a bathroom." She looked at me with that humorous deprecation people show when they're admitting to a passage-of-time condition. "So downstairs would be wonderful, especially since my knees are arthritic. Did I tell you Janesha's apartment is upstairs?"
"No," I said through numb lips. Geez, this had happened so fast.
"Now, about your problem. I'm not a black witch at all, but you need to get these young women out of your life, both Ms. Pelt's agent and Ms. Pelt herself."
I nodded vigorously.
"So," Amelia said, unable to keep quiet any longer, "we've come up with a plan."
"I'm all ears," I said, and poured myself a second cup of coffee. I needed it.
"The simplest way to get rid of Tanya, of course, is to tell your friend Calvin Norris what she's doing," Octavia said.
I gaped at her. "Ah, that seems likely to result in some pretty bad things happening to Tanya," I said.
"Isn't that what you want?" Octavia looked innocent in a real sly way.
"Well, yeah, but I don't want her to die. I mean, I don't want anything she can't get over to happen to her. I just want her away and not coming back."
Amelia said, " ‘Away and not coming back' sounds pretty final to me."
It sounded that way to me, too. "I'll rephrase. I want her to be off somewhere living her life but far away from me," I said. "Is that clear enough?" I wasn't trying to sound sharp; I just wanted to express myself.
"Yes, young lady, I think we can understand that," said Octavia with frost in her voice.
"I don't want there to be any misunderstanding here," I said. "There's a lot at stake. I think Calvin kind of likes Tanya. On the other hand, I bet he could scare her pretty effectively."
"Enough to get her to leave forever?"
"You'd have to demonstrate that you were telling the truth," Amelia said. "About her sabotaging you."
"What do you have in mind?" I asked.
"Okay, here's what we think," Amelia said, and just like that, Phase One was in place.
It turned out to be something I could have thought of myself, but the witches' help made the planning run much more smoothly.
I called Calvin at home, and asked him to stop by when he had a minute to spare around lunchtime. He sounded surprised to hear from me, but he agreed to come.
He got a further surprise when he came into the kitchen and found Amelia and Octavia there. Calvin, the leader of the werepanthers who lived in the little community of Hotshot, had met Amelia several times before, but Octavia was new to him. He respected her immediately because he was able to sense her power. That was a big help.
Calvin was probably in his midforties, strong and solid, sure of himself. His hair was graying, but he was straight as an arrow in posture, and he possessed a huge calm that couldn't fail to impress. He'd been interested in me for a while, and I'd only been sorry I couldn't feel the same way. He was a good man.
"What's up, Sookie?" he said after he'd turned down the offer of cookies or tea or Coke.
I took a deep breath. "I don't like to be a tale-teller, Calvin, but we have a problem," I said.
"Tanya," he said immediately.
"Yeah," I said, not bothering to hide my relief.
"She's a sly one," he said, and I was sorry to hear an element of admiration in his voice.
"She's a spy," Amelia said. Amelia could cut right to the chase.
"Who for?" Calvin tilted his head to one side, unsurprised and curious.
I told him an edited version of the story, a story I was extremely sick of repeating. Calvin needed to know that the Pelts had a big beef with me, that Sandra would hound me to my grave, that Tanya had been planted as a gadfly.
Calvin stretched out his legs while he listened, his arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing brand-new jeans and a plaid shirt. He smelled like fresh-cut trees.
"You want to put a spell on her?" he asked Amelia when I'd finished.
"We do," she said. "But we need you to get her here."
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