Sookie Stackhouse 8-copy Boxed Set

by Charlaine Harris

  This was the first time Amelia had mentioned her family to me, in more than a very general way. I’d learned more from her thoughts than I’d learned from her conversation, and I had to be careful not to mix the two sources when we talked. I could see her dad’s presence in her head, love and resentment mixing in her thoughts to form a confused mishmash.

  “Your dad is going to repair your house?” Quinn asked casually. He was excavating in my Tupperware box in which I stored any cookies that happened to cross my threshold—not a frequent occurrence, since I have a tendency to put on weight when sweets are in the house. Amelia had no such problem, and she’d stocked the box with a couple of kinds of Keebler cookies and told Quinn he was welcome to help himself.

  Amelia nodded, much more fascinated by Bob’s fur than she had been a moment before. “Yeah, he’s got a crew on it,” she said.

  This was news to me.

  “So who is your dad?” Quinn was keeping up the directness. So far it had worked for him.

  Amelia squirmed on the kitchen chair, making Bob raise his head in protest.

  “Copley Carmichael,” she muttered.

  We were both silent with shock. After a minute, she looked up at us. “What?” she said. “Okay, so he’s famous. Okay, so he’s rich. So?”

  “Different last name?” I said.

  “I use my mom’s. I got tired of people being weird around me,” Amelia said pointedly.

  Quinn and I exchanged glances. Copley Carmichael was a big name in the state of Louisiana. He had fingers in all kinds of financial pies, and all those fingers were pretty dirty. But he was an old-fashioned human wheeler-dealer: no whiff of the supernatural around Copley Carmichael.

  “Does he know you’re a witch?” I asked.

  “He doesn’t believe it for a minute,” Amelia said, sounding frustrated and forlorn. “He thinks I’m a deluded little wannabe, that I’m hanging with weird little people and doing weird little jobs to stick my tongue out at him. He wouldn’t believe in vampires if he hadn’t seen them over and over.”

  “What about your mom?” Quinn asked. I got myself a refill on my tea. I knew the answer to this one.

  “Dead,” Amelia told him. “Three years ago. That’s when I moved out of my dad’s house and into the bottom floor of the house on Chloe. He’d given it to me when I graduated from high school so I’d have my own income, but he made me manage it myself so I’d have the experience.”

  That seemed like a pretty good deal to me. Hesitantly I said, “Wasn’t that the right thing to do? Get you to learn by doing?”

  “Well, yeah,” she admitted. “But when I moved out, he wanted to give me an allowance . . . at my age! I knew I had to make it on my own. Between the rent, and the money I picked up doing fortunes, and magic jobs I got on my own, I’ve been making a living.” She threw up her head proudly.

  Amelia didn’t seem to realize the rent was income from a gift of her father’s, not something she’d actually earned. Amelia was truly pleased as punch with her own self-sufficiency. My new friend, whom I’d acquired almost by accident, was a bundle of contradictions. Since she was a very clear broadcaster, I got her thoughts loud and clear. When I was alone with Amelia, I had to shield like crazy. I’d relaxed with Quinn around, but I shouldn’t have. I was getting a whole mess from Amelia’s head.

  “So, could your dad help you find your mentor?” Quinn asked.

  Amelia looked blank for a moment, as if she was considering that. “I don’t see how,” she said slowly. “He’s a powerful guy; you know that. But he’s having as much trouble in New Orleans since Katrina as the rest of the people are.”

  Except he had a lot more money and he could go somewhere else, returning when he pleased, which most of the inhabitants of the city could not. I closed my mouth to keep this observation to myself. Time to change the topic.

  “Amelia,” I said. “How well did you know Bob, anyway? Who’s looking for him?”

  She looked a little frightened, not Amelia’s normal thing. “I’m wondering, too,” she said. “I just knew Bob to speak to, before that night. But I do know that Bob had—has—great friends in the magic community. I don’t think any of them know we got together. That night, the night before the queen’s ball when the shit hit the fan between the Arkansas vamps and our vamps, Bob and I went back to my place after we’d left Terry and Patsy at the pizza place. Bob called in sick to work the next day, since we had celebrated so hard, and then he spent that day with me.”

  “So it’s possible Bob’s family has been looking for him for months? Wondering if he’s dead or alive?”

  “Hey, chill. I’m not that awful. Bob was raised by his aunt, but they don’t get along at all. He hasn’t had much contact with her for years. I’m sure he does have friends that are worrying, and I’m really, really sorry about that. But even if they knew what had happened, that wouldn’t help Bob, right? And since Katrina, everyone in New Orleans has a lot to worry about.”

  At this interesting point in the discussion, the phone rang. I was closest, so I picked it up. My brother’s voice was almost electric with excitement.

  “Sookie, you need to come out to Hotshot in about an hour.”

  “Why?”

  “Me and Crystal are getting married. Surprise!”

  While this was not a total shock (Jason had been “dating” Crystal Norris for several months), the suddenness of the ceremony made me anxious.

  “Is Crystal pregnant again?” I asked suspiciously. She’d miscarried a baby of Jason’s not long ago.

  “Yes!” Jason said, like that was the best news he could possibly impart. “And this time, we’ll be married when the baby comes.”

  Jason was ignoring reality, as he was increasingly willing to do. The reality was that Crystal had been pregnant at least once before she was pregnant by Jason, and she had lost that child, too. The community at Hotshot was a victim of its own inbreeding.

  “Okay, I’ll be there,” I said. “Can Amelia and Quinn come, too?”

  “Sure,” Jason said. “Crystal and me’ll be proud to have them.”

  “Is there anything I can bring?”

  “No, Calvin and them are getting ready to cook. It’s all going to be outside. We got lights strung up. I think they’ll have a big pot of jambalaya, some dirty rice, and coleslaw, and me and my buddies are bringing the alcohol. Just come looking pretty! See you at Hotshot in an hour. Don’t be late.”

  I hung up and sat there for a minute, my hand still clutching the cordless phone. That was just like Jason: come in an hour to a ceremony planned at the last minute for the worst possible reason, and don’t be late! At least he hadn’t asked me to bring a cake.

  “Sookie, you okay?” Quinn asked.

  “My brother Jason’s getting married tonight,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “We’re invited to the wedding, and we need to be there in an hour.” I’d always figured Jason wouldn’t marry a woman I truly adored; he’d always shown a partiality to tough sluts. And that was Crystal, sure enough. Crystal was also a werepanther, a member of a community that guarded its own secrets jealously. In fact, my brother was now a werepanther himself because he’d been bitten over and over by a rival for Crystal’s attentions.

  Jason was older than I, and God knows, he’d had his share of women. I had to assume he knew when one suited him.

  I emerged from my thoughts to find that Amelia was looking startled and excited. She loved to go out and party, and the chances for that around Bon Temps were limited. Quinn, who’d met Jason when he was visiting me, looked at me with a skeptical raised eyebrow.

  “Yeah, I know,” I said. “It’s crazy and dumb. But Crystal’s pregnant again, and there’s no stopping him. Do you two want to come along with me? You don’t have to. I’m afraid I’ve got to get ready right now.”

  Amelia said, “Oh, goody, I can wear my new outfit,” and sped upstairs to tear the tags off.

  Quinn said, “Babe, do you want me to come?”

&nbs
p; “Yes, please,” I said. He came over to me and wrapped his heavy arms around me. I felt comforted, even though I knew Quinn was thinking what a fool Jason was.

  I pretty much agreed with him.

  4

  IT WAS STILL WARM AT NIGHT, BUT NOT OPPRESSIVELY so, not this late in September. I wore a sleeveless white dress with red flowers on it, one I’d worn before when I had a date with Bill (whom I wouldn’t think about). Out of sheer vanity, I put on my high-heeled red sandals, though they were hardly practical footwear for a wedding on a roughly paved road. I put on some makeup while Quinn was showering, and I wasn’t displeased with my reflection. There’s nothing like great sex to give you a glow. I came out of my room and glanced at the clock. We needed to leave pretty quickly.

  Amelia was wearing a short-sleeved dress, beige with a tiny navy pattern. Amelia loved to buy clothes and considered herself a snappy dresser, but her taste was strictly suburban young matron. She wore little navy sandals with flowers on the straps, much more appropriate than my heels.

  Just when I was beginning to worry, Quinn came out of my room wearing a brown silk dress shirt and khakis.

  “What about a tie?” he asked. “I’ve got some in my bag.”

  I thought of the rural setting and vast lack of sophistication in the little community of Hotshot. “I don’t think a tie will be necessary,” I said, and Quinn looked relieved.

  We piled into my car and drove west and then south. On the drive, I had a chance to explain to my out-of-town guests about the isolated band of werepanthers and their small cluster of houses grouped together in rural Renard Parish. I was driving, since that was just simplest. Once out of sight of the old railroad tracks, the country became increasingly unpopulated until for two or three miles we saw no lights of any kind. Then we saw cars and lights at a crossroads ahead. We were there.

  Hotshot was out in the middle of nowhere, set in a long depression in the middle of gently rolling land, swells that were too ill-defined to be called hills. Formed around an ancient crossroads, the lonely community had a powerful vibration of magic. I could tell that Amelia was feeling that power. Her face became sharper and wiser as we got closer. Even Quinn inhaled deeply. As for me, I could detect the presence of magic, but it didn’t affect non-supernatural me.

  I pulled over to the side of the road behind Hoyt Fortenberry’s truck. Hoyt was Jason’s best friend and lifelong shadow. I spied him right ahead of us, trudging down the road to a well-lit area. I’d handed Amelia and Quinn a flashlight, and I kept one aimed at my feet.

  “Hoyt,” I called. I hurried to catch up with him, at least as much as was practical in the red heels. “Hey, are you okay?” I asked when I saw his downcast face. Hoyt was not a very good-looking guy, or very bright, but he was steady and tended to see past the moment to its consequences, something my brother had never mastered.

  “Sook,” Hoyt said. “I can’t believe he’s getting hitched. I guess I thought me and Jason would be bachelors forever.” He attempted to smile.

  I gave him a pat on the shoulder. Life would’ve been neat ’n’ tidy if I could have fallen in love with Hoyt, thus attaching him to my brother forever, but Hoyt and I had never had the slightest interest in each other.

  Hoyt’s mind was radiating a dull misery. He was certain that his life was changing forever this night. He expected Jason to mend his ways completely, to stay in with his wife like a husband should, and to forsake all others.

  I sure hoped Hoyt’s expectations were right on the money.

  On the edges of the crowd, Hoyt met up with Catfish Hennessy, and they began making loud jokes about Jason’s breaking down and marrying.

  I hoped the male bonding would help Hoyt get through the ceremony. I didn’t know if Crystal truly loved my brother—but Hoyt did.

  Quinn took my hand, and with Amelia in our wake we forged through the little crowd until we reached the center.

  Jason was wearing a new suit, and the blue of it was only a bit darker than the blue of his eyes. He looked great, and he was smiling to beat the band. Crystal was wearing a leopard-print dress cut as low in the front as you could get and still term the garment a dress. I didn’t know if the leopard motif was an ironic statement on her part or a simple expression of her fashion sense. I suspected the latter.

  The happy couple was standing in the middle of an empty space, accompanied by Calvin Norris, leader of the Hotshot community. The crowd kept respectfully back, forming an uneven circle.

  Calvin, who happened to be Crystal’s uncle, was holding Crystal’s arm. He smiled at me. Calvin had trimmed his beard and dug out a suit for the occasion, but he and Jason were the only men wearing ties. Quinn noticed that and thought relieved thoughts.

  Jason spotted me right after Calvin did, and he beckoned to me. I stepped forward, suddenly realizing that I was going to have a part in the ceremony. I hugged my brother, smelling his musky cologne . . . but no alcohol. I relaxed a fraction. I had suspected Jason had fortified himself with a drink or two, but he was quite sober.

  I let go of Jason and glanced behind me to see what had become of my companions, so I knew the moment when the werepanthers realized Quinn was there. There was a sudden hush among the two-natured, and I heard his name ripple through them like a little wind.

  Calvin whispered, “You brought Quinn?” as if I’d arrived with Santa Claus or some other mythical creature.

  “Is that okay?” I said, since I’d had no clue it would create such a stir.

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “He’s your man now?” Calvin’s face held such a mixture of startled reevaluation and speculation that I immediately began wondering what I didn’t know about my new lover.

  “Um, well, sorta,” I said with sudden caution.

  “We’re honored to have him here,” Calvin assured me.

  “Quinn,” Crystal breathed. Her pupils were dilating, and I felt her brain focus on my date with a sort of groupie longing. I wanted to kick her. Here to marry my brother, remember?

  Jason looked as puzzled as I was. Since he’d been a panther only a few months, there was a lot about the hidden world of the two-natured he hadn’t picked up on yet.

  Me, too.

  Crystal made an effort to quell herself and get back into the moment. She was naturally enjoying being the center of attention, but she spared a moment to reassess her prospective sister-in-law. Her respect for me (pretty much nonexistent, heretofore) had just shot off the charts.

  “What’s the procedure?” I asked briskly, trying to get us all back on track.

  Calvin reverted to his practical self. “Since we have human guests, we’ve adapted the ceremony,” he explained in a very low voice. “Here’s how it goes . . . you vouch for Jason as his closest living relative, because he ain’t got no one older than you to do it. I’m Crystal’s oldest living relative, so I vouch for her. We offer to take the penalty if either of them does wrong.”

  Ah-oh. I didn’t like the sound of that. I darted a quick look at my brother, who (naturally) didn’t seem to think twice about the commitment I was making. I shouldn’t have expected anything else.

  “Then the minister comes forward and the service proceeds just like any other wedding,” Calvin said. “If there weren’t outsiders here, it would be different.”

  I was curious about that, but this wasn’t the time to ask lots of questions. However, there were a few that had to be answered. “What penalty am I promising to pay? What constitutes ‘doing wrong’?”

  Jason huffed a sigh, exasperated that I wanted to find out what I was promising. Calvin’s calm yellow eyes met mine, and they were full of understanding.

  “Here’s what you’re vowing,” Calvin said in a voice that was quiet but intense. We huddled around him. “Jason, you listen hard. We went over this, but I don’t think you were giving me your full attention.” Jason was listening now, but I could feel his impatience.

  “Being married here”—and Calvin waved a hand to indicate the little Hotshot community
—“means being faithful to your mate, unless the mate has to breed to keep the group up. Since Crystal’s pretty much out of the running on that, Jason, that means she has to be faithful to you, and you to her. You don’t have mating obligations like the purebloods do.” Jason flushed at this reminder that his status was lesser since he was only a shifter because he’d been bitten by one, not because he’d been born with the gene. “So if Crystal runs around on you and a member of the community can attest to it, and if she can’t pay the price for some reason—pregnancy, or illness, or a kid to raise—I have to do it. We’re not talking money here, you understand?”

  Jason nodded. “You’re talking physical punishment,” he said.

  “Yes,” Calvin said. “Not only are you promising to be faithful, you’re also swearing to keep our secret.”

  Jason nodded again.

  “And to help out other members of the community if they’re in need.”

  Jason scowled.

  “Example?” I said.

  “If Maryelizabeth’s roof needs replacing, we might all chip in a bit to buy the material and we’d all make time to do the work. If a kid needs a place to stay, your home is open to that kid. We take care of each other.”

  Jason nodded again. “I understand,” he said. “I’m willing.” He would have to give up some of his buddy time, and I felt sad for Hoyt; and I confess I felt a little sad for myself. I wasn’t gaining a sister; I was losing my brother, at least to some degree.

  “Mean this from the heart or call it off now,” I said, keeping my voice very low. “You’re committing my life to this, too. Can you keep the promises you’re making to this woman and her community, or not?”

  Jason looked at Crystal for a long moment, and I had no right to be in his head, so I pulled out and instead cast through the crowd for random thoughts. They were mostly what you’d expect: a bit of excitement at being at a wedding, a bit of pleasure at seeing the parish’s most notorious bachelor shackled to a wild young woman, a bit of curiosity about the odd Hotshot ritual. Hotshot was a byword in the parish—“as weird as a guy from Hotshot” had been a saying for years, and Hotshot kids who attended the Bon Temps school often had a hard time of it until after the first few playground fights.