Sookie 08 From Dead To Worse (27 page)

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.

To my relief, I woke up in an empty house. Neither Amelia's
nor Octavia's throbbing heads were under my roof. I lay in bed and reveled in the knowledge. Maybe the next time I had a whole day off, I could spend it completely alone. That didn't seem a likely occurrence, but a girl can dream. After I planned my day (call Sam to find out about my car, pay some bills, go to work), I got into the shower and really scrubbed. I used as much hot water as I wanted. I painted my toenails and my fingernails, and I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt and went in to make some coffee. The kitchen was spanking clean; God bless Amelia.

The coffee was great, the toast delicious spread with blueberry jam. Even my taste buds were happy. After I cleaned up from breakfast, I was practically singing with the pleasure of solitude. I went back to my room to make my bed and put on my makeup.

Of course, that was when the knock came at the back door, nearly making me jump out of my skin. I stepped into some shoes and went to answer it.

Tray Dawson was there, and he was smiling. "Sookie, your car is doing fine," he said. "I had to do a little replacing here and there, and it's the first time I ever had to scrape vampire ash off an undercarriage, but you're good to go."

"Oh, thanks! Can you come in?"

"Just for a minute," he said. "You got a Coke in the refrigerator?"

"I sure do." I brought him a Coke, asked if he wanted some cookies or a peanut butter sandwich to go with it, and when he'd turned that down, I excused myself to finish my makeup. I'd figured Dawson would run me to the car, but he'd driven it over to my place, as it turned out, so I'd need to give him a ride instead.

I had my checkbook out and my pen in hand when I sat at the table opposite the big man and asked him how much I owed him.

"Not a dime," Dawson said. "The new guy paid for it."

"The new king?"

"Yeah, he called me in the middle of the night last night. Told me the story, more or less, and asked me if I could look at the car first thing in the morning. I was awake when he called, so it didn't make me no nevermind. I got over to Merlotte's this morning, told Sam he wasted a phone call since I already knew all about it. I followed him while he drove the car out to my place, and we put it up on the rack and had a good look."

This was a long speech for Dawson. I put my checkbook back in my purse and listened, silently asking him if he wanted more Coke by pointing at his glass. He shook his head, letting me know he was satisfied. "We had to tighten up a few things, replace your windshield fluid reservoir. I knew just where another car like yours was at Rusty's Salvage, and it didn't take no time to do the job."

I could only thank him again. I drove Dawson out to his repair shop. Since the last time I'd driven by, he'd trimmed up the front yard of his home, a modest but tidy frame house that stood next door to the big shop. Dawson had also put all the bits and pieces of motorcycles under cover somewhere, instead of having them strewn around in a handy but unattractive spread. And his pickup was clean.

As Dawson slid out of the car, I said, "I'm so grateful. I know cars aren't your specialty and I do appreciate your working on mine." Repairman to the underworld, that was Tray Dawson.

"Well, I did it because I wanted to," Dawson said, and then he paused. "But if you could see your way to it, I'd sure like it if you'd put in a word for me with your friend Amelia."

"I don't have much influence over Amelia," I said. "But I'll be glad to tell her what a sterling character you are."

He smiled very broadly: no suppression there. I didn't think I'd ever seen Dawson crack such a grin. "She sure looks healthy," he said, and since I had no idea what Dawson's criteria for admiration were, that was a big clue.

"You call her up, I'll give a reference," I said.

"It's a deal."

We parted happy, and he loped across the newly neat yard to his shop. I didn't know if Dawson would be to Amelia's taste or not, but I'd do my best to persuade her to give him a chance.

As I drove home, I listened to the car for any strange noise. It purred away.

Amelia and Octavia came in as I was leaving for work.

"How are you feeling?" Amelia said with a knowing air.

"Fine," I said automatically. Then I understood she thought I hadn't come home the night before. She thought I'd been having a good time with someone. "Hey, you remember Tray Dawson, right? You met him at Maria-Star's apartment."

"Sure."

"He's going to call you. Be sweet."

I left her grinning after me as I got into my car.

For once, work was boring and normal. Terry was substituting since Sam hated to work on Sunday afternoons. Merlotte's was having a calm day. We opened late on Sunday and we closed early, so I was ready to start home by seven. No one showed up in the parking lot, and I was able to walk directly to my car without being accosted for a long, weird conversation or being attacked.

The next morning I had errands to run in town. I was short on cash, so I drove to the ATM, waving at Tara Thornton du Rone. Tara smiled and waved back. Marriage was suiting her, and I hoped she and JB were having a happier time of it than my brother and his wife. As I drove away from the bank, to my astonishment I spotted Alcide Herveaux coming out of the offices of Sid Matt Lancaster, an ancient and renowned lawyer. I pulled into Sid Matt's parking lot, and Alcide came over to talk to me.

I should have driven on, hoping he hadn't noticed me.

The conversation was awkward. Alcide had had a lot to deal with, in all fairness. His girlfriend was dead, brutally murdered. Several other members of his pack were also dead. He'd had a huge cover-up to arrange. But he was now the leader of the pack, and he had gotten to celebrate his victory in the traditional way. In hindsight, I suspect he was fairly embarrassed at having sex with a young woman in public, especially so soon after his girlfriend's death. This was quite a bundle of emotions I was reading in his head, and he was flushed when he came to my car window.

"Sookie, I haven't had a chance to thank you for all your help that night. It's lucky for us your boss decided to come with you."

Yeah, since you wouldn't have saved my life and he did, I'm glad, too.
"No problem, Alcide," I said, my voice wonderfully even and calm. I was going to have a good day, dammit. "Have things settled down in Shreveport?"

"The police don't seem to have a clue," he said, glancing around to make sure no one else was within hearing distance. "They haven't found the site yet, and there's been a lot of rain. We're hoping sooner rather than later they'll cut back on their investigation."

"You-all still planning the big announcement?"

"It'll have to be soon. The heads of other packs in the area have been in contact with me. We don't have a meeting of all the leaders like the vampires do, mostly because they have one leader for each state and we have a hell of a lot of packleaders. Looks like we'll all elect a representative from the packleaders, one from each state, and those representatives will go to a national meeting."

"That sounds like a step in the right direction."

"Also, we might ask other wereanimals if they want to come in with us. Like, Sam could belong to my pack in an auxiliary way, though he's not a Were. And it would be good if the lone wolves, like Dawson, came to some of the pack parties ... came out howling with us or something."

"Dawson seems to like his life the way it is," I said. "And you'll have to talk to Sam, not me, about whether he wants to associate with you-all formally."

"Sure. You seem to have a lot of influence with him. Just thought I'd mention it."

I didn't see it that way. Sam had a lot of influence over me, but whether I had any over him ... I was dubious. Alcide began making the little shifts in stance that told me as clearly as his brain had that he was about to go his way on whatever business had brought him to Bon Temps.

"Alcide," I said, seized by an impulse, "I do have a question."

He said, "Sure."

"Who's taking care of the Furnan children?"

He looked at me, then away. "Libby's sister. She's got three of her own, but she said she was glad to take them in. There's enough money for their upbringing. When it comes time for them to go to college, we'll see what we can do for the boy."

"For the boy?"

"He's pack."

If I'd had a brick in my hand, I wouldn't have minded using it on Alcide. Good God almighty. I took a deep breath. To give him credit, the sex of the child wasn't the issue at all. It was his pure blood.

"There may be enough insurance money for the girl to go, too," Alcide said, since he was no fool. "The aunt wasn't too clear about that, but she knows we'll help."

"And she knows who ‘we' is?"

He shook his head. "We told her it was a secret society, like the Masons, that Furnan belonged to."

There didn't seem to be anything left to say.

"Good luck," I said. He'd already had a fair share of that, no matter what you thought about the two dead women that had been his girlfriends. After all, he himself had survived to achieve his father's goal.

"Thank you, and thanks again for your part in that luck. You're still a friend of the pack," he said very seriously. His beautiful green eyes lingered on my face. "And you're one of my favorite women in the world," he added unexpectedly.

"That's a real nice compliment, Alcide," I said, and drove away. I was glad I'd talked to him. Alcide had grown up a lot in the past few weeks. All in all, he was changing into a man I admired much more than I had the old one.

I'd never forget the blood and the screaming of the horrific night in the abandoned office park in Shreveport, but I began to feel that some good had come out of it.

When I returned home, I found that Octavia and Amelia were in the front yard, raking. This was a delightful discovery. I hated raking worse than anything in the world, but if I didn't go over the yard once or twice during the fall, the pine needle buildup was dreadful.

I had been thanking people all day long. I parked in the back and came out the front.

"Do you bag these up or burn them?" Amelia called.

"Oh, I burn 'em when there's not a burn ban on," I said. "It's so nice of you both to think of doing this." I wasn't aiming to gush—but having your very least favorite chore done for you was really quite a treat.

"I need the exercise," Octavia said. "We went to the mall in Monroe yesterday, so I did get some walking in."

I thought Amelia treated Octavia more like a grandmother than a teacher.

"Did Tray call?" I asked.

"He sure did." Amelia smiled broadly.

"He thought you were fine-looking."

Octavia laughed. "Amelia, you're a femme fatale."

She looked happy and said, "I think he's an interesting guy."

"A bit older than you," I said, just so she'd know.

Amelia shrugged. "I don't care. I'm ready to date. I think Pam and I are more buddies than honeys. And since I found that litter of kittens, I'm open for guy business."

"You really think Bob made a choice? Wouldn't that have been, like, instinct?" I said.

Just then, the cat in question wandered across the yard, curious to see why we were all standing out in the open when there was a perfectly good couch and a few beds in the house.

Octavia gave a gusty sigh. "Oh, hell," she muttered. She straightened and held her hands out.
"Potestas mea te in formam veram tuam commutabit natura ips reaffirmet Incantationes praeviae deletae sunt,"
she said.

The cat blinked up at Octavia. Then it made a peculiar noise, a kind of cry I'd never heard come out of a cat's throat before. Suddenly the air around him was thick and dense and cloudy and full of sparks. The cat shrieked again. Amelia was staring at the animal with her mouth wide open. Octavia looked resigned and a little sad.

The cat writhed on the fading grass, and suddenly it had a human leg.

"God almighty!" I said, and clapped a hand over my mouth.

Now it had two legs, two hairy legs, and then it had a penis, and then it began to be a man all over, shrieking all the while. After a horrible two minutes, the witch Bob Jessup lay on the lawn, shaking all over but entirely human again. After another minute, he stopped shrieking and just twitched. Not an improvement, really, but easier on the eardrums.

Then he lunged to his feet, leaped onto Amelia, and made a determined effort to choke her to death.

I grabbed his shoulders to pull him off of her, and Octavia said, "You don't want me to use magic on you again, right?"

That proved a very effective threat. Bob let go of Amelia and stood panting in the cold air. "I can't believe you did that to me!" he said. "I can't believe I spent the last few months as a cat!"

"How do you feel?" I asked. "Are you weak? Do you need help into the house? Would you like some clothes?"

He looked down at himself vaguely. He hadn't worn clothes in a while, but suddenly he turned red, very nearly all over. "Yes," he said stiffly. "Yes, I would like some clothes."

"Come with me," I said. The dusk was coming on as I led Bob into the house. Bob was a smallish guy, and I thought a pair of my sweats might fit him. No, Amelia was a little taller, and a clothes donation from her would be only fair. I spotted the basket full of folded clothes on the stairs where Amelia had left it to carry up the next time she went to her room. Lo and behold, there was an old blue sweatshirt and a pair of black sweat pants. I handed the clothes to Bob wordlessly, and he pulled them on with trembling fingers. I flipped through the stack and found a pair of socks that were plain white. He sat down on the couch to pull them on. That was as far as I could go toward clothing him. His feet were larger than mine or Amelia's, so shoes were out.

Bob wrapped his arms around himself like he feared he was going to disappear. His dark hair was clinging to his skull. He blinked, and I wondered what had happened to his glasses. I hoped Amelia had stored them somewhere.

"Bob, can I get you a drink?" I asked.