Dead Ever After

chapter 12

It took a surprisingly long time to relate everything I knew about Arlene and her activities, including my concerns about Alcee Beck. Bob, Amelia, Barry, Diantha, and Mr. Cataliades offered a lot of opinions and ideas, and asked a lot of questions.

Amelia focused on the two men Arlene had mentioned, presumably the same two men Jane had witnessed her meeting behind Tray Dawson’s empty house. Amelia proposed to lay a truth spell on them to find out what Arlene had handed them. She was a little hazy about how she intended to track them down, but she told us that she had a few ideas. She made an effort to sound nonchalant, but she was quivering with eagerness.

Bob wanted to call a touch psychic he knew in New Orleans, and he wondered if we could persuade the police to let the psychic hold the scarf to get a reading. I said that was a definite no.

Barry thought we should talk to Arlene’s kids and Brock and Chessie Johnson, to see if Arlene had said anything about her plans to them.

Diantha thought we should steal the scarf, and then they’d have no evidence on me at all. I have to admit, that option really resonated with me. I knew I hadn’t done it. I knew the police weren’t looking in the right direction. And, frankly, even more than I wanted Arlene’s murderer to be found, I knew I didn’t want to go to jail. At all. Ever again.

Diantha also wanted to search Alcee Beck’s car. “I’ll know a magic object when I see it,” she said, and that was a truth no one could argue. The problem was, a skinny, strangely dressed white girl was going to look a little conspicuous searching anyone’s car, much less the car of an African-American police detective.

Desmond Cataliades told us that in his opinion, the case against me was weak, especially since I had a witness who could place me in bed at my home at the probable time of the murder. “It’s a pity your witness is a vampire—not only a vampire, but one new to the area and bound to your ex-lover,” he said in his ponderous way. “However, Karin is certainly better than no witness at all. I must talk to her soon.”

“She’ll be out in the woods tonight,” I said, “if she follows her pattern.”

“You truly believe that Detective Beck was spelled with something?”

“I do,” I said. “Though I didn’t understand what I was seeing at the time. I tried to get Andy Bellefleur to tell Alcee to search his car. I hoped Alcee would find the hex, or whatever you call it, and understand that he’d been supernaturally influenced against me. Obviously, that’s not going to work. So if we can think of a way to get the magic object out of Alcee’s vehicle, we need to move on that plan. When it’s removed, I hope things will get a lot better for me.” And God knew, I wanted things to get better. I glanced at the clock. It was one p.m.

“Amelia, we have some things we need to talk about,” Mr. Cataliades said, and Amelia looked apprehensive. “But first, let’s go into town and get lunch. Even passive deliberations call for energy.”

We packed into Mr. Cataliades’s rental van for the short drive into town. As we were seated at Lucky Bar-B-Q, we garnered more attention than I wanted. Of course, people recognized me, and there were a few glances and a few mutters—but I was pretty much prepared for that. The real eye-catcher was Diantha, who’d never dressed like an average human being because she wasn’t. Diantha’s clothes were bright and random. Green yoga tights, a cerise tutu, an orange leotard, cowboy boots . . . well, it was a bold ensemble.

At least she smiled a lot; that was something.

Even aside from Diantha’s exceptional wardrobe choices (and that was a big “even aside”), we simply didn’t look like we belonged together.

Luckily, our waiter was a high school kid named Joshua Bee, a distant cousin of Calvin Norris’s. Joshua wasn’t a werepanther, but as a connection of the Norris clan, he knew a lot about the world most humans didn’t see. He was polite and quick, and he wasn’t a bit frightened. That was a relief.

After we’d ordered, Desmond Cataliades was telling us about the progress of post-Katrina reconstruction in New Orleans. “Amelia’s father has played a large part,” he said. “Copley Carmichael’s name is on a lot of rebuilding contracts. Especially in the last few months.”

“He had some difficulties,” Bob said quietly. “There was an article in the paper. We don’t see Copley a lot, since he and Amelia have issues. But we were kind of worried about him. Since the New Year came in . . . well, everything’s turned around for him.”

“Yes, we’ll talk about that when we’re in a more private place,” Mr. Cataliades said.

Amelia looked worried, but she accepted that well.

I knew she didn’t really want to know that her father was up to no good. She suspected it already, and she was frightened. Amelia and her father had an adversarial relationship on many fronts, but she loved him . . . most of the time.

Diantha was making cat’s cradles with a piece of string she’d pulled from her pocket, Barry and Mr. Cataliades were having an awkward conversation about the true meaning of the word “barbecue,” and I was trying to think of another conversational topic when an old friend of mine walked into Lucky’s.

There was a moment’s silence. You couldn’t ignore John Quinn. Sure, Quinn was a weretiger. But even when people didn’t know that (and most didn’t), Quinn stood out. He was a big bald man, with olive skin and purple eyes. He looked spectacular in a purple tank top and khaki shorts. He was a man people noticed, and he was my only lover who looked his true age.

I jumped up to give him a hug and urged him to sit down. He pulled up a chair between me and Mr. Cataliades.

“I think I remember who’s met Quinn and who hasn’t,” I addressed the table in general. “Barry, you met Quinn in Rhodes, I think, and Amelia, you and Bob know him from New Orleans. Quinn, you’ve met Desmond Cataliades and his niece, Diantha, I think.”

Quinn nodded all around. Diantha abandoned her piece of string to look at Quinn full-time. Mr. Cataliades, who also knew Quinn was a large predator, was cordial but very much on the alert. “I went to your house first,” Quinn told me. “I’ve never seen flowers bloom in the middle of the summer like that. And those tomatoes! Damn, those things are huge.” It was like we’d seen each other yesterday, and I felt that warm and comfortable feeling I got around Quinn.

“My great-grandfather soaked the ground around my house with magic before he left,” I said. “I think it was probably some kind of spell to make the land flourish. Whatever it was, it’s working. How’s Tij doing, Quinn?”

“Everything’s going great,” he said. He grinned, and it was like seeing a whole different person. “The baby’s growing like crazy. You want to see a picture?”

“Sure,” I said, and Quinn extracted his wallet and drew out one of those shadowy ultrasounds. There were two markers on the picture, showing where the baby began and ended, Quinn explained.

I’d seen a lot of Tara’s ultrasounds—this baby seemed pretty big for a couple of months. “So, will Tijgerin have a baby sooner than a regular human?” I asked.

“Yeah. Weretigers are unique in that. And it’s another reason traditional tiger moms spend their pregnancy and birth times away from people. Including the dad,” Quinn said grimly. “At least she e-mails me every few days.”

Time to change the subject. “I’m glad to see you, Quinn,” I said, looking pointedly at Mr. Cataliades, who hadn’t yet relaxed. And Diantha’s wide-eyed stare didn’t mean she was thinking of jumping Quinn’s bones, but exposing them with her knife if the occasion arose. Diantha didn’t like predators. “What brings you to Bon Temps?” I asked. I put my hand on his arm. This man is my friend, I said silently, and Mr. Cataliades nodded slightly but didn’t look away.

“I came to help,” Quinn said. “Sam put it on the board that someone had it in for you. You’re a friend to the Shreveport wolf pack, you’re a friend of Sam’s, and you’re a friend of mine. Plus, the scarf used to kill the lady was a Were gift to you.”

Sam had definitely put a good spin on the scarf’s history. The Weres had “gifted” it to me by using it as a blindfold so I wouldn’t know where they’d taken me . . . the night I’d first met a werewolf. That night seemed so long ago! I had a fleeting second of incredulity that there’d ever been a time I hadn’t known the extent of the supernatural world. And here I sat in Lucky Bar-B-Q with two witches, two part-demons, a telepath, and a weretiger.

“Sam has always been a good friend to me,” I said, wondering again what the hell was going on with my good friend. (He’d put forth all this effort on my behalf, trying to drum up help for me in my time of need, but he could barely manage to look me in the face. Something was definitely rotten in the state of Bon Temps.) “That two-natured board must be hopping with news.”

Quinn nodded. “Alcide had posted, too, so I stopped in at his office on my way here. He wants to know if one of his pack can scent in your house. I told him I was capable of any tracking that needed to be done, but he insisted the Weres help you out. You assume that the scarf was stolen from your house?”

Everyone at the table was listening intently, even Mr. C and Diantha. They’d finally accepted Quinn as a friend of mine. “Yes, that’s what I believe. Sam remembers me wearing it to church, and that must have been to a funeral months ago. And I’m pretty confident I saw it when I cleaned out my scarf drawer last week. I think maybe I would have noticed if it hadn’t been there.”

Amelia said, “I can help there. I know a spell that might help you remember, especially if we have a picture of the scarf.”

“I don’t think I’ve got one, but I can draw a picture,” I said. “It’s got a feather pattern.” The first couple of times I’d worn it, I hadn’t realized that the subtle sweeps of color represented feathers. With the bright peacock colors, you’d think I’d have noticed earlier, but hell, it was just a scarf. A free scarf. And now it might cost me my life or my freedom.

“That might work,” Amelia said.

“Then I’m willing to try it,” I told Amelia. I turned to Quinn. “And the Weres can come sniff my house anytime they like. I keep it pretty clean, so I’m not sure what they’ll pick up.”

“I’m going to search your woods,” Quinn said. He wasn’t asking.

“It’s awful hot, Quinn,” I said. “And snakes . . .” But my voice died away when I met his eyes. Quinn wasn’t afraid of heat or snakes or much of anything.


We had a good time eating together, and Quinn ordered a sandwich because our food smelled so good. I couldn’t even begin to tell everyone how grateful I was that they’d come, that they were helping me. When I’d thought three days before that I had only Jason on my side, how wrong I’d been. I was immensely, deeply grateful.

After lunch, we went by Wal-Mart to get some groceries for supper. To my relief, Mr. Cataliades and Diantha went to fill up their van at the gas station while the rest of us shopped. I simply couldn’t imagine those two in Wal-Mart. I divided the list and handed it out, so we were done in no time.

As we filled up our cart, Quinn, a supernatural event planner, was telling me about a werewolf coming-of-age party that had turned into a free-for-all. I was laughing when we turned a corner and met Sam.

After his weirdness yesterday at the bar and on the phone today, I hardly knew what to say to Sam, but I was glad to see him. Sam looked pretty grim, and he looked even grimmer when I reintroduced him to Quinn.

“Yeah, man, I remember you,” Sam said, trying to smile. “You come to give Sookie moral support?”

“Any kind of support she needs,” Quinn said, not the happiest choice of words.

“Sam, I’ve talked about Mr. Cataliades, I know. He’s brought Diantha and Barry and Amelia and Bob,” I said hastily. “You remember Amelia and Bob, though maybe Bob was a cat last time you saw him. Come visit!”

“I remember them,” Sam said between clenched teeth. “But I can’t come by.”

“What’s stopping you? I guess Kennedy is working the bar.”

“Yeah, she’s got this afternoon.”

“Then come on out.”

He closed his eyes, and I could sense the words beating at his head, wanting to come out. “I can’t,” he repeated, and he rolled his cart away and left the store.

“What’s up with him?” Quinn asked. “I don’t know Sam well, but he’s always been standing right behind you, Sookie, always in your corner. There’s something compelling him to step aside.”

I was so confused I couldn’t speak. While we checked out and loaded the groceries into the back of the van, I chewed at the problem of Sam and what was happening with him. He wanted to come out to the house, but he wouldn’t come out to the house. Because? Well, why would you not do something you wanted to do? Because you were being prevented.

“He’s promised someone he won’t,” I muttered. “That’s gotta be it.” Could it be Bernie? I thought she liked me, but maybe I was reading her wrong. Maybe she thought all I was was trouble for her son. Well, if Sam had made her—or someone else—such a promise, there didn’t seem to be anything I could do about it, but I would put the situation on the back burner of things that worried me. When there was room on the front burner, I’d move it forward. Because it sure made me hurt inside.

When the groceries were put away, we assembled again in the living room. I wasn’t used to sitting around all day, and I felt a little restless as we all took the chairs we’d been in earlier. Quinn took the only one left, a kind of dumpy armchair I’d always planned on exchanging for something better . . . but I’d never gotten around to it. I tossed him a cushion, and he gamely tried stuffing it in the small of his back to make the chair a bit more comfortable.

“I have some things to tell all of you,” Mr. Cataliades said. “And later, some things to tell Sookie individually . . . but now I have to tell you what I’ve witnessed and suspected.”

This sounded so ominous that we all turned our attention to the part-demon.

“I’d heard that there was a devil in New Orleans,” he said.

“The Devil? Or a devil?” Amelia asked.

“What an excellent question,” Mr. Cataliades said. “In fact, a devil. The Devil himself seldom makes a personal appearance. You can imagine the crowds.”

None of us knew quite what to say, so perhaps we couldn’t.

Diantha laughed as if she were remembering something very funny. I, for one, didn’t want to know what it was.

“Here’s the most interesting fact,” he said precisely. “The devil was dining with your father, Miss Amelia.”

“Not dining on my dad, but dining with him?” She laughed for a second, but suddenly Mr. Cataliades’s meaning sank in. Amelia’s face drained of color. “Are you shitting me?” she asked quietly.

“I assure you I’d never do such a thing,” he replied, with some distaste. He gave her a moment to absorb the bad news before continuing, “Though I know you aren’t close to your father, I must tell you that he and his bodyguard have struck a deal with the devil.”

Again, I kept my mouth closed. This was Amelia’s thing to react to, I figured. Her dad.

“I wish I could say that I was sure he wouldn’t do anything so dumb,” she said. “But I don’t even feel the impulse to say, ‘He’d never do anything like that.’ He would if he felt he was losing his business and his power . . . oh. So the reports in the papers were true a few months ago. His business didn’t make a miraculous recovery. Not miraculous. Miracles are something holy. What’s a miracle a devil would do?”

Bob took her hand, but he didn’t speak.

“At least he didn’t know I was pregnant, so he couldn’t promise the devil our child,” she said to Bob, and there was something feral about Amelia as she said that. She’d known she was pregnant for a few hours and already she’d switched into mom mode. “You were so right, Mr. Cataliades, to tell me not to telephone or text anyone to let them know about the baby.”

Mr. Cataliades nodded gravely. “I am giving you this distressing news because you need to know it before you see him. Once you make a bargain with a devil, any devil, you begin to change, because your soul is forfeit. There’s no redemption, so there’s no incentive to try to be better. Even if you don’t believe in an afterlife, the downward path is permanent.”

Though I was sure the part-demon knew more than I did about the subject, I didn’t believe redemption was ever beyond the power of God. But I knew this was not the moment to air my religious beliefs. This was the time to gather information.

I said, “So . . . I’m not trying to make this all about me, because obviously it’s not, but . . . are you saying Mr. Carmichael is the one trying to get me put in jail?”

“No,” said the lawyer. I breathed a sigh of relief. “I think someone else is doing that,” he continued, and my relief vanished. How many enemies could I have? “However, I know for a fact that Copley Carmichael asked the devil for a cluviel dor.”

I gasped. “But how would he even know about such a thing?” I asked. And then I glared at Amelia. I literally bit the inside of my mouth to keep from ripping into her. She looked stricken, and I forced myself to remember that Amelia was having a very rough day.

“I told him . . . Sookie had asked me to look it up . . . and we never have anything to talk about, seems like . . . He’s never believed I was a real witch, never given any sign he thought I was anything but ridiculous. I didn’t imagine. How could I? That he would . . .” She faltered to a stop.

Bob put his arm around her. “Of course you didn’t imagine that, Amelia,” he said. “How could you? That this one time he’d decide to take you seriously?”

There was another uncomfortable pause. I was still exercising all my self-control, and everyone in the room realized it and gave me some slack.

Gradually, as Amelia wept, I let go of the arms of my chair (I was surprised not to see any dents). I wasn’t going to rush over to hug her, because I wasn’t that comfortable with Amelia’s loose lips yet, but I could understand. Amelia had never been what you’d call discreet, and she’d always had a love/hate relationship with her father. If they were having one of their rare tête-a-têtes, she’d try to keep him interested in her conversation. And what was more interesting than a cluviel dor?

I knew one thing for sure: If my friendship with Amelia continued, I’d never, never tell her anything more important than a recipe or a prediction about the weather. She’d stepped over the line again.

“So, he knew I had a cluviel dor and he wanted it,” I said, impatient with Amelia’s tearful repentance. “What happened then?”

“I don’t know why the devil owed Copley a debt,” said Mr. Cataliades. “But apparently, the cluviel dor was the payment Copley requested, and he steered the devil to you, Sookie. But you used the cluviel dor before the devil could wrest it from you . . . very fortunately for all of us. Now Copley is feeling thwarted, and he’s not used to that, at least he’s not since the New Year. He feels you owe him, somehow.”

“But you don’t think he’d kill Arlene and try to pin it on me?”

“He would have if he’d thought of it,” Mr. Cataliades said. “But I think that’s too devious, even for him. That is the work of a more subtle mind, a mind that wants you to suffer in jail for many years. Copley Carmichael is enraged and intends to harm you in the more direct way.”

“Sookie, I’m sorry,” Amelia said. She was composed now, and she held her head up with some dignity despite the tears on her cheeks. “I just mentioned the cluviel dor that once in a conversation I had with my dad. I don’t know where he got all his other information. I don’t seem to be a very good friend to you, no matter how much I love you and how hard I try.”

I couldn’t think of any response that wouldn’t sound lame. Bob glared at me over Amelia’s head. He wanted me to say something to make this all right. There simply wasn’t any way to do that.

“I’m going to do everything I can to help you out,” Amelia said. “That’s why I came up here in the first place. But I’ll try even harder now.”

I took a deep breath. “I know you will, Amelia,” I said. “You’re truly a great witch, and I’m sure we’re going to get through this.” And that was the best I could do, just at this moment.

Amelia gave me a watery smile, and Quinn gave her a pat on the arm, and Diantha looked totally bored. (Not big with the emotional dialogue, Diantha.) Mr. Cataliades may have felt the same way, because he said, “We seem to have gotten over that bump in the road, so let me move on to something else of interest.”

We all tried to look attentive.

“There’s much more to talk about, but as I look around me, I see people who are tired and need recovery time,” he said unexpectedly. “Let’s resume tomorrow. A couple of us have little tasks to perform this evening or tonight.”

Amelia and Bob went into their bedroom and shut the door, which was a relief to everyone. Barry asked if he could use my computer since he’d come away without his laptop, and I said yes, providing he didn’t give anyone his location. I was feeling double paranoid, and I thought I had good reason. Mr. Cataliades and Diantha retreated upstairs to make phone calls about Mr. Cataliades’s law practice.

Quinn and I took a walk, just so we could have some time by ourselves. He said he’d thought of resuming his dating life, after Tijgerin had given him the word that she wouldn’t see him for a long time, but he just couldn’t do it. He was going to have a child with Tij, and that gave him the feeling he was bound to her, even if she told him to stay away. It was galling that she wouldn’t let him share in the upbringing of the baby, that she clung to the old ways with such determination and ferocity.

“You heard from your sister, Frannie?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t bringing up another doleful subject. My heart lightened when he smiled.

“She’s married,” he said. “Can you believe it? I thought I’d lost her forever when she ran off. I thought she’d take drugs and whore around. But once she got away from us, from me and Mom, she got a job as a waitress in a café in New Mexico. She met a guy at the café who does something in the tourist industry. Next thing you know, they went to a wedding chapel. So far, so good. How’s your brother?”

“He’s getting married to a woman who’s not a supe,” I said. “But she seems to love him for what he is, and she doesn’t expect more than he can give.” My brother’s emotional and intellectual ranges were limited, though they were expanding bit by bit. Like Frannie, Jason had grown up a lot recently. After being bitten and becoming a werepanther, Jason’s life had gotten chaotic, but now he was getting it together.

Besides our families, Quinn and I didn’t really talk about anything in particular. It was a relaxing walk, even in the steamy heat that had followed the end of the rain.

He didn’t ask me any questions about my situation with Eric, and that was a relief.

“After I do a tour through your woods, what else can I do for you, Sookie?” Quinn asked. “I want to do something besides sit around and hear stuff that’s just embarrassing.”

“Yeah, that was pretty awful. No matter how hard Amelia and I try to be friends, something always happens.”

“It happens because she can’t keep her mouth shut,” Quinn said, and I shrugged. That was the way Amelia was. To my surprise, Quinn put his arm around me and pulled me close, and I wondered if I’d sent out the wrong signal.

“Listen, Sookie,” he murmured, smiling down at me in a fond way, “I don’t want to scare you or anything, but someone’s in the woods and they’re walking along the driveway parallel to us. You got any ideas who it might be? If they’re armed?” His voice was not agitated, and I did my best to match his ease. It was incredibly hard not to turn to stare into the woods.

I made myself smile up at Quinn. “I sure don’t. Not a human, or I’d get the brain signature. Can’t be a vamp, it’s daylight.”

Quinn expelled all the breath in his lungs and drew in a chestful of air. “Ask me, it might be a fairy,” he whispered. “I’m just getting a touch of fae. There are so many scents in the air after the rain.”

“But the fae are all gone,” I said, reminding myself to let my expression change. After all, I wouldn’t be beaming at Quinn for five minutes while we strolled down the road. “That’s what my great-grandfather told me.”

“I think he was wrong,” Quinn said. “Let’s casually turn to head back to the house.”

I took Quinn’s hand and swung it enthusiastically. I felt like an idiot, but I needed something physical to do while I sent out my other sense. I finally found the brain signature of whatever creature lurked in the woods, which provided easy concealment due to the natural effects of summer (rain and light) and the benefits of Niall’s blessing on the land. The closer to my house we got, the thicker the vegetation became. The area right at the edge of the yard might almost be a jungle.

“You think he’s going to shoot?” I said with a smile. I swung Quinn’s hand like I was a child walking with her grandpa.

“I don’t smell a gun,” he said. “Enough with the hand swinging. I need to be able to move quick.”

I let go, somewhat embarrassed. “Let’s try to get into the house. Without getting killed.”

But whoever was stalking us didn’t make a move. It was almost an anticlimax to walk across the enclosed back porch, wondering every second if something terrible would happen, and then to make it in the door and shut it behind us . . . and nothing happened. Nothing at all.

Barry had decided to make hamburgers to cook on the grill in the backyard. He was putting chopped onion and seasoned salt and green peppers in the meat and forming the patties, and he was mighty startled when we bolted into the kitchen and ducked.

“What the hell?” he said.

“Someone was out there,” I said.

He crouched, too. He closed his eyes and concentrated. “I have no idea,” he said, after a moment. “Whoever it was, he’s left, Sookie.”

“Smelled like a fairy,” Quinn told Barry.

“They’re all gone,” Barry said. “That’s what the Texas vampires told me. Said they’d cleaned out lock, stock, and barrel.”

“They are all gone,” I said. “I know that for a fact. So either Quinn’s nose is wrong or we have a rogue.”

“Or a reject,” Barry said quietly.

“Or an escapee. Whatever he is, why is he skulking in the woods?” Quinn asked.

But I didn’t have any answer. And when nothing else happened, we three began to think nothing would. Quinn decided to delay his search of the woods until the evening. There wasn’t any point going out there now.

Though it felt anticlimactic, I began slicing tomatoes for the hamburgers, and then I cut up a watermelon. Quinn volunteered to make some home fries. Since he’d put a ten-pound bag of potatoes in the cart today, I was glad he had a plan to use them up.

With all three of us working in the kitchen, supper came together. I pretended not to see when Quinn ate one burger before it was cooked, and Barry hastily volunteered to take the others out to the grill. I put together a baked bean casserole, and Quinn began frying the potatoes. I set the table and washed the preparation dishes.

It was almost like running a boardinghouse, I thought, when I called everyone down for dinner.