From Dead to Worse

Chapter 19

Amelia and Octavia hovered around for two days before they decided leaving me alone was the best policy. Reading their anxious thoughts just made me surlier, because I didn't want to accept comfort. I should suffer for what I'd done, and that meant I couldn't accept any easing of my misery. So I gloomed and sulked and brooded and rained my grim mood all over my house.
My brother came into the bar once, and I turned my back on him. Dove Beck didn't choose to drink at Merlotte's, which was a good thing, though he was the least guilty of the bunch as far as I was concerned - though that didn't make him any clean Gene. When Alcee Beck came in, it was clear his brother had confided in him, because Alcee looked even angrier than usual, and he met my eyes every chance he got, just to let me know he was my equal.
Thank God, Calvin didn't show. I couldn't have stood it. I heard enough talk around the bar from his coworkers at Nor-cross about the accident he'd had while he was working on his truck at home.
Most unexpectedly, on the third night Eric walked into Merlotte's. I took one look at him and suddenly my throat seemed to ease and I felt tears well up in my eyes. But Eric walked through as though he owned the place, and he went into the hall to Sam's office. Moments later Sam stuck his head out and beckoned to me.
After I walked in, I didn't expect Sam to shut the office door.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked me. He'd been trying to find out for days, and I'd been fending off his well-meant queries.
Eric was standing to one side, his arms crossed over his chest. He made a gesture with one hand that said, "Tell us; we're waiting." Despite his brusqueness, his presence relaxed the big knot inside me, the one that had kept the words locked in my stomach.
"I broke Calvin Norris's hand into bits," I said. "With a brick."
"Then he was... He stood up for your sister-in-law at the wedding," Sam said, figuring it out quickly. Eric looked blank. The vampires know something about the wereanimals - they have to - but the vamps think they are far superior, so they don't make an effort to learn specifics about the rituals and rhythms of being a were.
"She had to break his hand, which represents his claws in panther form," Sam explained impatiently. "She stood up for Jason." And then Sam and Eric exchanged a look that scared me in its complete agreement. Neither of them liked Jason one little bit.
Sam looked from me to Eric as if he expected Eric to do something to make me feel better. "I don't belong to him," I said sharply, since all this was making me feel handled in a major way. "Did you think Eric coming would make me all happy and carefree?"
"No," Sam said, sounding a little angry himself. "But I hoped it would help you talk about whatever was wrong."
"What's wrong," I said very quietly. "Okay, what's wrong is that my brother arranged for Calvin and me to check on Crystal, who's about four months pregnant, and he fixed it so we'd get there at about the same time. And when we checked, we found Crystal in bed with Dove Beck. As Jason knew we would."
Eric said, "And for this, you had to break the werepanther's fingers." He might have been asking if I'd had to wear chicken bones and turn around three times, it was so obvious he was inquiring into the quaint customs of a primitive tribe.
"Yes, Eric, that's what I had to do," I said grimly. "I had to break my friend's fingers with a brick in front of a crowd."
For the first time Eric seemed to realize that he'd taken the wrong approach. Sam was looking at him in total exasperation. "And I thought you'd be such a big help," he said.
"I have a few things going in Shreveport," Eric answered with a shade of defensiveness. "Including hosting the new king."
Sam muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Fucking vampires."
This was totally unfair. I'd expected tons of sympathy when I finally confessed the reason for my bad mood. But now Sam and Eric were so wrapped up in being irritated with each other that neither one of them was giving me a moment's thought. "Well, thanks, guys," I said. "This has been a lot of fun. Eric, big help there - I appreciate the kind words." And I left in what my grandmother called high dudgeon. I stomped back out into the bar and waited on tables so grimly that some people were scared to call me over to order more drinks.
I decided to clean the surfaces behind the bar, because Sam was still in his office with Eric... though possibly Eric had left out the back door. I scrubbed and polished and pulled some beers for Holly, and I straightened everything so meticulously that Sam might have a wee problem finding things. Just for a week or two.
Then Sam came out to take his place, looked at the counter in mute displeasure, and jerked his head to indicate I should get the hell out from behind the bar. My bad mood was catching.
You know how it is sometimes, when someone really tries to cheer you up? When you just decide that by golly, nothing in the world is going to make you feel better? Sam had thrown Eric at me like he was throwing a happy pill, yet he was aggravated that I hadn't swallowed it. Instead of being grateful that Sam was fond enough of me to call Eric, I was mad at him for his assumption.
I was in a totally black mood.
Quinn was gone. I'd banished him. Stupid mistake or wise decision? Verdict still out.
Lots of Weres were dead in Shreveport because of Priscilla, and I'd watched some of them die. Believe me, that sticks with you.
More than a few vampires were dead, too, including some I'd known fairly well.
My brother was a devious manipulative bastard.
My great-grandfather wasn't ever going to take me fishing.
Okay, now I was getting silly. Suddenly, I smiled, because I was picturing the prince of the fairies in old denim overalls and a Bon Temps Hawks baseball cap, carrying a can of worms and a couple of fishing poles.
I caught Sam's eye as I cleared a table of plates. I winked at him.
He turned away, shaking his head, but I caught a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.
And just like that, my bad mood was officially over. My common sense kicked in. There was no point in lashing myself over the Hotshot incident any longer. I'd had to do what I'd had to do. Calvin understood that better than I did. My brother was an asshole, and Crystal was a whore. These were facts I had to deal with. Granted, they were both unhappy people who were acting out because they were married to the wrong spouse, but they were also both chronologically adults, and I couldn't fix their marriage any more than I'd been able to prevent it.
The Weres had dealt with their own problems in their own way, and I'd done my best to help them. Vampires, ditto... sort of.
Okay. Not all better, but enough better.
When I got off work, I wasn't completely annoyed to find Eric waiting by my car. He seemed to be enjoying the night, standing all by himself in the cold. I was shivering myself because I hadn't brought a heavy jacket. My Windbreaker wasn't enough.
"It's been nice to be by myself for a while," Eric said unexpectedly.
"I guess at Fangtasia you're always surrounded," I said.
"Always surrounded by people wanting things," he said.
"But you enjoy that, right? Being the big kahuna?"
Eric looked like he was mulling that over. "Yes, I like that. I like being the boss. I don't like being... overseen. Is that a word? I'll be glad when Felipe de Castro and his minion Sandy take their departure. Victor will stay to take over New Orleans."
Eric was sharing. This was almost unprecedented. This was like a normal give-and-take between equals.
"What's the new king like?" Cold as I was, I couldn't resist keeping the conversation going.
"He's handsome, ruthless, and clever," Eric said.
"Like you." I could have slapped myself.
Eric nodded after a moment. "But more so," Eric said grimly. "I'll have to keep very alert to stay ahead of him."
"How gratifying to hear you say so," said an accented voice.
This was definitely an Oh, shit! moment. (An OSM, as I called them to myself .) A gorgeous man stepped out from the trees, and I blinked as I took him in. As Eric bowed, I scanned Felipe de Castro from his gleaming shoes to his bold face. As I bowed, too, belatedly, I realized that Eric hadn't been exaggerating when he said the new king was handsome. Felipe de Castro was a Latin male who threw Jimmy Smits into the shade, and I am a big admirer of Mr. Smits. Though perhaps five foot ten or so, Castro carried himself with such importance and straight posture that you couldn't think of him as short - rather, he made other men look too tall. His dark thick hair was clipped close to his head, and he had a mustache and chin strip. He had caramel skin and dark eyes, strong arched eyebrows, a bold nose. The king wore a cape - no kidding, a real full-length black cape. I'll tell you how impressive he was; I didn't even think of giggling. Other than the cape, he seemed dressed for a night that might include flamenco dancing, with a white shirt, black vest, and black dress slacks. One of Castro's ears was pierced, and there was a dark stone in it. The overhead security light didn't let me get a better idea of what it might be. Ruby? Emerald?
I'd straightened up and I was staring again. But when I glanced at Eric, I saw he was still bowing. Ah-oh. Well, I wasn't one of his subjects and I wasn't going to do that again. It had gone against my Americanness to do it once.
"Hi, I'm Sookie Stackhouse," I said, since the silence was getting awkward. I automatically held out my hand, remembered vamps didn't shake, and snatched it back. "Excuse me," I said.
The king inclined his head. "Miss Stackhouse," he said, his accent strumming my name delightfully. ("Meees Stekhuss.")
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry to meet you and run, but it's really cold out here and I need to get home." I beamed at him, my lunatic beam I give when I'm really nervous. "Good-bye, Eric," I babbled, and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. "Give me a call when you have a minute. Unless you need me to stay, for some crazy reason?"
"No, lover, you need to go home and get into the warmth," Eric said, clasping both my hands in his. "I'll call you when my work permits."
When he let go of me, I did an awkward sort of dip in the king's direction (American! Not used to bowing!) and hopped into my car before either vampire could change his mind about my departure. I felt like a coward - a very relieved coward - as I backed out of my space and drove out of the parking lot. But I was already debating the wisdom of my departure as I turned onto Hummingbird Road.
I was worried about Eric. This was a fairly new phenomenon, one that made me very uneasy, and it had started the night of the coup. Worrying about Eric was like worrying about the well-being of a rock or a tornado. When had I ever had to worry about him before? He was one of the most powerful vampires I'd ever met. But Sophie-Anne had been even more powerful and protected by the huge warrior Sigebert, and look what had happened to her. I felt abruptly, acutely miserable. What was wrong with me?
I had a terrible idea. Maybe I was worried simply because Eric was worried? Miserable because Eric was miserable? Could I receive his emotions this strongly and from this great a distance? Should I turn around and find out what was happening? If the king was being cruel to Eric, I couldn't possibly be of any assistance. I had to pull over to the side of the road. I couldn't drive anymore.
I'd never had a panic attack, but I thought I was having one now. I was paralyzed with indecision; again, not one of my usual characteristics. Struggling with myself, trying to think clearly, I realized I had to turn back whether I wanted to or not. It was an obligation I couldn't ignore, not because I was bonded to Eric, but because I liked him.
I turned the wheel and did a U-turn in the middle of Hummingbird Road. Since I'd seen only two cars since I'd left the bar, the maneuver was no big traffic violation. I drove back a lot faster than I'd left, and when I got to Merlotte's, I found that the customer parking lot was completely empty. I parked in front and pulled my old softball bat out from under the seat. My grandmother had given it to me for my sixteenth birthday. It was a very good bat, though it had seen better days. I crept around the building, taking advantage of the bushes that grew at the foundation for cover. Nandinas. I hate nandinas. They're straggly and ugly and leggy, and I'm allergic to them. Though I was covered with a Windbreaker, pants, and socks, the minute I began threading my way among the plants, my nose began to run.
I peeked around the corner very cautiously.
I was so shocked I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
Sigebert, the queen's bodyguard, had not been killed in the coup. No, sirree, he was still among the undead. And he was here in the Merlotte's parking lot, and he was having a lot of fun with the new king, Felipe de Castro, and with Eric, and with Sam, who had been swept up in the net probably by simply leaving his bar to walk to his trailer.
I took a deep breath - a deep but silent breath - and made myself analyze what I was seeing. Sigebert was a mountain of a man, and he'd been the queen's muscle for centuries. His brother, Wybert, had died in the queen's service, and I was sure Sigebert had been a target of the Nevada vamps; they'd left their mark on him. Vampires heal fast, but Sigebert had been wounded badly enough that even days after he'd fought, he was still visibly damaged. There was a huge cut across his forehead and a horrible-looking mark just above where I thought his heart would be. His clothes were ripped and stained and filthy. Maybe the Nevada vamps thought he'd disintegrated when in fact he'd managed to get away and hide. Not important, I told myself.
The important part was that he'd succeeded in binding both Eric and Felipe de Castro with silver chains. How? Not important, I told myself again. Maybe this tendency to mentally wander was coming from Eric, who was looking much more battered than the king. Of course, Sigebert would see Eric as a traitor.
Eric was bleeding from the head and his arm was clearly broken. Castro was bleeding sluggishly from the mouth, so Sigebert had maybe stomped on him. Eric and Castro were both lying on the ground, and in the harsh security light they both looked whiter than snow. Sam had been tied to the bumper of his own truck somehow, and he wasn't damaged at all, at least so far. Thank God.
I tried to figure out how I could conquer Sigebert with my aluminum softball bat, but I didn't come up with any good ideas. If I rushed him, he'd just laugh. Even as grievously wounded as he was, he was still a vampire and I was no match for him unless I had a great idea. So I watched, and I waited, but in the end I couldn't stand to see him hurting Eric anymore; believe me, when a vampire kicks you, you get plenty hurt. Plus, Sigebert was having a great time with the big knife he had brought.
The biggest weapon at my disposal? Okay, that would be my car. I felt a little pang of regret, because it was the best car I'd ever had, and Tara had sold it to me for a dollar when she'd gotten a newer one. But it was the only thing I could think of that would make a dent in Sigebert.
So back I crept, praying that Sigebert would be so absorbed in his torture that he wouldn't notice the sound of the car door. I laid my head on the steering wheel and thought as hard as I've ever thought. I considered the parking lot and its topography, and I thought about the location of the bound vampires, and I took a deep breath and turned the key. I started around the building, wishing my car could creep through the damn nandina bushes like I had, and I swung wide to allow room to charge, and my lights caught Sigebert, and I hit the accelerator and went straight at him. He tried to get out of the way, but he was none too bright and I'd caught him with his pants down (literally - I really didn't like to think about his next torture plan) and I hit him very hard, and up he bounced, to land on the roof of the car with a huge thud.
I screamed and braked, because this was as far as my plan had gone. He slid down the back of the car, leaving a horrible sheet of dark blood, and disappeared from view. Scared he'd pop up in the rearview mirror, I threw the car into reverse and hit the pedal again. Bump. Bump. I yanked the gear stick into park and leaped out, bat in hand, to find Sigebert's legs and most of his torso were wedged under the car. I dashed over to Eric and began fumbling with the silver chain, while he stared at me with his eyes wide. Castro was cursing in Spanish, fluently and fluidly, and Sam was saying, "Hurry, Sookie, hurry!" which really didn't help my powers of concentration.
I gave up on the damn chains and got the big knife and cut Sam free so he could help. The knife came close enough to his skin to make him yelp a time or two, but I was really doing the best I could, and he didn't bleed. To give him credit, he made it over to Castro in record time and began freeing him while I ran back to Eric, laying the knife on the ground beside us as I worked. Now that I had at least one ally who had the use of his hands and legs, I was able to concentrate, and I got Eric's legs unbound (at least now he could run away - I guess that was my thinking) and then, more slowly, his arms and hands. The silver had been wound around him many times, and Sigebert had made sure it touched Eric's hands. They looked ghastly. Castro had suffered even more from the chains because Sigebert had divested him of his beautiful cape and most of his shirt.
I was unwinding the last strand when Eric shoved me as hard as he could, grabbed the knife, and leaped to his feet so swiftly I saw only a blur. Then he was on Sigebert, who had actually lifted the car to release his own trapped legs. He'd begun dragging himself out from under, and in another minute he would have been ambulatory.
Did I mention it was a big knife? And it must have been sharp, too, because Eric landed by Sigebert, said, "Go to your maker," and cut off the warrior vampire's head.
"Oh," I said shakily, and sat down abruptly on the cold parking lot gravel. "Oh, wow." We all remained where we were, panting, for a good five minutes. Then Sam straightened up from the side of Felipe de Castro and offered him a hand. The vampire took it, and when he was upright, he introduced himself to Sam, who automatically introduced himself right back.
"Miss Stackhouse," the king said, "I am in your debt."
Damn straight.
"It's okay," I said in a voice that wasn't nearly as level as it should be.
"Thank you," he said. "If your car is too damaged to repair, I will be very glad to buy you another one."
"Oh, thanks," I said with absolute sincerity, as I stood up. "I'll try to drive it home tonight. I don't know how I can explain the damage. Do you think the body shop would believe I ran over an alligator?" That did happen occasionally. Was it weird that I was worried about the car insurance?
"Dawson would look at it for you," Sam said. His voice was as odd as mine. He, too, had thought he was going to die. "I know he's a motorcycle repairman, but I bet he could fix your car. He works on his own all the time."
"Do what is necessary," said Castro grandly. "I will pay. Eric, would you care to explain what just happened?" His voice was considerably more acerbic.
"You should ask your crew to explain," Eric retorted, with some justification. "Didn't they tell you Sigebert, the queen's bodyguard, was dead? Yet here he is."
"An excellent point." Castro looked down at the crumbling body. "So that was the legendary Sigebert. He's gone to join his brother, Wybert." He sounded quite pleased.
I hadn't known the brothers were famous among the vampires, but they'd certainly been unique. Their mountainous physiques, their broken and primitive English, their utter devotion to the woman who'd turned them centuries before - sure, any right-minded vampire would love that story. I sagged where I stood, and Eric, moving faster than I could see, picked me up. It was a very Scarlett and Rhett moment, spoiled only by the fact that there were two other guys there, we were in a humdrum parking lot, and I was unhappy about the damage to my car. Plus not a little shocked.
"How'd he get the jump on three strong guys like you-all?" I asked. I didn't worry about Eric holding me. It made me feel tiny, not a feeling I got to enjoy all that often.
There was a moment of general embarrassment.
"I was standing with my back to the woods," Castro explained. "He had the chains arranged for throwing... Your word is almost the same. Lazo."
"Lasso," Sam said.
"Ah, lasso. The first one, he threw around me, and of course, the shock was great. Before Eric could land on him, he had Eric as well. The pain from the silver... very quickly we were bound. When this one" - he nodded toward Sam - "came to our aid, Sigebert knocked him unconscious and got rope from the back of Sam's truck and tied him up."
"We were too involved in our discussion to be wary," Eric said. He sounded pretty grim, and I didn't blame him. But I decided to keep my mouth shut.
"Ironic, eh, that we needed a human girl to rescue us," the king said blithely, the very idea that I'd decided not to voice.
"Yes, very amusing," Eric said in a dreadfully unamused voice. "Why did you return, Sookie?"
"I felt your, ah, anger at being attacked." For "anger" read "despair."
The new king looked very interested. "A blood bond. How interesting."
"No, not really," I said. "Sam, I wonder if you'd mind driving me home. I don't know where you gentlemen left your cars, or if you flew. I do wonder how Sigebert knew where to find you."
Felipe de Castro and Eric shared almost identical expressions of deep thought.
"We'll find out," Eric said, and set me down. "And then heads are going to roll." Eric was good at setting heads to rolling. It was one of his favorite things. I was willing to put my money on Castro sharing that predilection, because the king was looking positively gleeful in anticipation.
Sam fished his keys out of his pocket without a word, and I climbed into the truck with him. We left the two vampires involved in a deep conversation. Sigebert's corpse, still partially under my poor car, was almost gone, leaving a dark greasy residue on the gravel of the parking lot. The good thing about vampires - no corpse disposal.
"I'll call Dawson tonight," Sam said unexpectedly.
"Oh, Sam, thank you," I said. "I'm so glad you were there."
"It's the parking lot of my bar," he said, and it might have been my own guilty reaction, but I thought I detected some reproach. I suddenly came to the full realization that Sam had walked into a situation in his own backyard, a situation he had no stake or interest in, and that he'd almost died as a result. And why had Eric been in the parking lot back of Merlotte's? To talk to me. And then Felipe de Castro had followed to talk to Eric... though I wasn't sure why. But the point was, them being there at all was my fault.
"Oh, Sam," I said, almost in tears, "I'm so sorry. I didn't know Eric would wait for me, and I sure didn't know the king would follow him. I still don't know why he was there. I'm so sorry," I said again. I would say it a hundred times if it would take that tone out of Sam's voice.
"It's not your fault," he said. "I asked Eric to come here in the first place. It's their fault. I don't know how we can pry you loose from them."
"This was bad, but somehow you're not taking it like I thought you would."
"I just want to be left in peace," he said unexpectedly. "I don't want to get involved in supernatural politics. I don't want to have to take sides in Were shit. I'm not a Were. I'm a shapeshifter, and shifters don't organize. We're too different. I hate vampire politics even more than Were politics."
"You're mad at me."
"No!" He seemed to be struggling with what he wanted to say. "I don't want that for you, either! Weren't you happier before?"
"You mean before I knew any vampires; before I knew about the rest of the world that lies outside the boundaries?"
Sam nodded.
"In some ways. It was nice to have a clear path before me," I said. "I do get really sick of the politics and the battles. But my life wasn't any prize, Sam. Every day was a struggle just to act like I was a regular human, like I didn't know all the things I know about other humans. The cheating and infidelity, the little acts of dishonesty, the unkindness. The really severe judgments people pass on each other. Their lack of charity. When you know all that, it's hard to keep going sometimes. Knowing about the supernatural world puts all that in a different perspective. I don't know why. People aren't any better or worse than the supernaturals, but they're not all there is, either."
"I guess I understand," Sam said, though he sounded a little doubtful.
"Plus," I said very quietly, "it's nice to be valued for the very thing that makes regular people think I'm just a crazy girl."
"Definitely understand that," Sam said. "But there's a price."
"Oh, no doubt about it."
"You willing to pay?"
"So far."
We chugged up my driveway. No lights on. The witchy duo had gone to bed, or else they were out partying or casting spells.
"In the morning, I'll call Dawson," Sam said. "He'll check out your car, make sure you can drive it, or he'll get it towed to his place. Think you can get a ride to work?"
"I'm sure I can," I said. "Amelia can bring me in."
Sam walked me to the back door like he was bringing me home from a date. The porch light was on, which was thoughtful of Amelia. Sam put his arms around me, which was a surprise, and then he just snugged his head in close to mine, and we stood there enjoying each other's warmth for a long moment.
"We survived the Were war," he said. "You made it through the vampire coup. Now we lived through the attack of the berserk bodyguard. I hope we keep up our record."
"Now you're scaring me," I said as I remembered all the other things I'd survived. I should be dead, no doubt about it.
His warm lips brushed my cheek. "Maybe that's a good thing," he said, and turned to go back to his truck.
I watched him climb in and reverse, and then I unlocked the back door and went to my room. After all the adrenaline and the fear and the accelerated pace of life (and death) in the parking lot of Merlotte's, my own room seemed very quiet and clean and secure. I'd done my best to kill someone tonight. It was only by chance Sigebert had survived my attempt at vehicular homicide. Twice. I couldn't help but notice that I wasn't feeling remorseful. This was surely a flaw, but at the moment I just didn't care. There were definitely parts of my character I didn't approve of, and maybe from time to time I had moments when I didn't like myself much. But I got through each day as it came to me, and so far I'd survived everything life had thrown at me. I could only hope that the survival was worth the price I'd paid.