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.”