Outside the small door stood six more vampires, three in fancy but unmatching clothes—surely Louisiana bloodsuckers—and three more from Arkansas, in their glaringly garish outfits.
“That’s just butt-ugly,” I said.
“But easy to see, even in the dark,” Quinn said, looking as if he were thinking deep, significant thoughts.
“Duh,” I said. “Isn’t that the point? So they’ll instantly . . . oh.” I mulled it over. “Yeah,” I said. “No one would wear anything close to that, on purpose or by accident. Under any circumstances. Unless it was really important to be instantly identifiable.”
Quinn said, “It’s possible that Peter Threadgill is not devoted to Sophie-Anne.”
I gave a squawk of laughter just as two Louisiana vampires opened our car doors in a move so coordinated it must have been rehearsed. Melanie, the guard vampire I’d met at the queen’s downtown headquarters, took my hand to help me from the car, and she smiled at me. She looked a lot better out of the overwhelming SWAT gear. She was wearing a pretty yellow dress with low heels. Now that she wasn’t wearing a helmet, I could see her hair was short, intensely curly, and light brown.
She took a deep, dramatic breath as I passed, and then made an ecstatic face. “Oh, the odor of the fairy!” she exclaimed. “It makes my heart sing!”
I swatted at her playfully. To say I was surprised would be an understatement. Vampires, as a whole, are not noted for their sense of humor.
“Cute dress,” Rasul said. “Kind of on the daring side, huh?”
Chester said, “Can’t be too daring for me. You look really tasty.”
I thought it couldn’t be a coincidence that the three vampires I’d met at the queen’s headquarters were the three vampires on door duty tonight. I couldn’t figure out what that could mean, though. The three Arkansas vampires were silent, regarding the to-and-fro between us with cold eyes. They were not in the same relaxed and smiling mood as their fellows.
Something definitely off-kilter here. But with the acute vampire hearing all around, there wasn’t anything to say about it.
Quinn took my arm. We walked into a long hall that seemed to run nearly the length of the building. A Threadgill vampire was standing at the door of a room that seemed to serve as a reception area.
“Would you like to check your bag?” she asked, obviously put out at being relegated to a hat-check girl.
“No, thanks,” I said, and thought she was going to pull it out from under my arm.
“May I search it?” she asked. “We screen for weapons.”
I stared at her, always a risky thing to do to a vampire. “Of course not. I have no weapons.”
“Sookie,” Quinn said, trying not to sound alarmed. “You have to let her look in your purse. It’s procedure.”
I glared at him. “You could have told me,” I said sharply.
The door guard, who was a svelte young vamp with a figure that challenged the cut of the white pants, seized my purse with an air of triumph. She turned it out over a tray, and its few contents clattered to the metal surface: a compact, a lipstick, a tiny tube of glue, a handkerchief, a ten-dollar bill, and a tampon in a rigid plastic applicator, completely covered in plastic wrap.
Quinn was not unsophisticated enough to turn red, but he did glance discreetly away. The vampire, who had died long before women carried such items in their purses, asked me its purpose and nodded when I explained. She repacked my little evening bag and handed it to me, indicating with a hand gesture that we should proceed down the hall. She’d turned to the people who’d come in behind us, a Were couple in their sixties, before we’d even exited the room.
“What are you up to?” Quinn asked, in the quietest possible voice, as we moved along the corridor.
“Do we have to pass through any more security?” I asked, in a voice just as hushed.
“I don’t know. I don’t see any up ahead.”
“I have to do something,” I said. “Excuse me, while I find the nearest ladies’ room.” I tried to tell him, with my eyes, and with the pressure of my hand on his arm, that in a few minutes everything would be all right, and I sincerely hoped that was the truth. Quinn was clearly not happy with me, but he waited outside the ladies’ room (God knows what that had been when the building was a monastery) while I ducked into one of the stalls and made a few adjustments. When I came out, I’d tossed the tampon container into the little bin in the stall, and one of my wrists had been rebandaged. My purse was a little heavier.
The door at the end of the corridor led into the very large room that had been the monks’ refectory. Though the room was still walled with stone and large pillars supported the roof, three on the left and three on the right, the rest of the decor was considerably different now. The middle of the room was cleared for dancing, and the floor was wooden. There was a dais for musicians close to the refreshments table, and another dais at the opposite end of the room for the royalty.
Around the sides of the room were chairs in conversational groupings. The whole room was decorated in white and blue, the colors of Louisiana. One of the walls had murals depicting scenes from around the state: a swamp scene, which made me shudder; a Bourbon Street montage; a field being plowed and lumber being cut; and a fisherman hoisting up a net in the Gulf Coast. These were all scenes featuring humans, I thought, and wondered what the thinking was behind that. Then I turned to look at the wall surrounding the doorway I’d just entered, and I saw the vampire side of Louisiana life: a group of happy vampires with fiddles under their chins, playing away; a vampire police officer patrolling the French Quarter; a vampire guide leading tourists through one of the Cities of the Dead. No vamps snacking on humans, no vamps drinking anything, I noticed. This was a statement in public relations. I wondered if it really fooled anyone. All you had to do was sit down at a supper table with vampires, and you’d be reminded how different they were, all right.
Well, this wasn’t what I’d come to do. I looked around for the queen, and I finally saw her standing by her husband. She was wearing a long-sleeved orange silk dress, and she looked fabulous. Long sleeves maybe seemed a little strange in the warm evening, but vampires didn’t notice such things. Peter Threadgill was wearing a tux, and he looked equally impressive. Jade Flower was standing behind him, sword strapped to her back even though she was wearing a red sequined dress (in which, by the way, she looked awful). Andre, also fully armed, was at his station behind the queen. Sigebert and Wybert couldn’t be far off. I spotted them on either side of a door that I assumed led to the queen’s private apartments. The two vampires looked acutely uncomfortable in their tuxes; it was like watching bears who’d been made to wear shoes.
Bill was in the room. I caught a glimpse of him in the far corner, in the opposite direction from the queen, and I shivered with loathing.
“You have too many secrets,” Quinn complained, following the direction of my gaze.
“I’ll be glad to tell you a few of ’em, real soon,” I promised, and we joined the tail end of the reception line. “When we reach the royals, you go ahead of me. While I’m talking to the queen, you distract the king, okay? Then I will tell you everything.”
We reached to Mr. Cataliades first. I guess he was sort of the queen’s secretary of state. Or maybe attorney general would be more appropriate?
“Good to see you again, Mr. Cataliades,” I said, in my most correct social tone. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” I added.
“You may have to save it,” he said with a kind of stiff cordiality. “The queen is about to have the first dance with her new king. And we’re all so looking forward to seeing the present the king gave her.”
I glanced around but I didn’t see Diantha. “How’s your niece?” I asked.
“My surviving niece,” he said grimly, “is at home with her mother.”
“That’s too bad,” I said. “She should be here this evening.”
He stared at me. Then he looked interested.
“Indeed,” he said.
“I heard that someone from here stopped to get gas a week ago Wednesday, on her way to Bon Temps,” I said. “Someone with a long sword. Here, let me tuck this in your pocket. I don’t need it any more.” When I stepped away from him and faced the queen, I had one hand over my injured wrist. The bandage had vanished.
I held out my right hand, and the queen was forced to take it in her own. I had counted on obliging the queen to follow the human custom of shaking hands, and I was mighty relieved when she did. Quinn had passed from the queen to the king, and he said, “Your Majesty, I’m sure you remember me. I was the event coordinator at your wedding. Did the flowers turn out like you wanted?”
Somewhat startled, Peter Threadgill turned his large eyes on Quinn, and Jade Flower kept her eyes on what her king did.
Trying very hard to keep my movements swift but not jerky, I pressed my left hand and what was in it onto the queen’s wrist. She didn’t flinch, but I think she thought about it. She glanced down at her wrist to see what I’d put on it, and her eyes closed in relief.
“Yes, my dear, our visit was lovely,” she said, at random. “Andre enjoyed it very much, as did I.” She glanced back over her shoulder, and Andre picked up his cue, and inclined his head to me, in tribute to my supposed talents in the sack. I was so glad to get the ordeal over with that I smiled at him radiantly, and he looked a shade amused. The queen raised her arm slightly to beckon him closer, and her sleeve rode up. Suddenly Andre was smiling as broadly as I was.
Jade Flower was distracted by Andre’s movement forward, and her eyes followed his. They widened, and she was very much not smiling. In fact, she was enraged. Mr. Cataliades was looking at the sword on Jade Flower’s back with a completely blank face.
Then Quinn was dismissed by the king and it was my turn to pay homage to Peter Threadgill, King of Arkansas.
“I hear that you had an adventure in the swamps yesterday,” he said, his voice cool and indifferent.
“Yes, sir. But it all worked out okay, I think,” I said.
“Good of you to come,” he said. “Now that you have wrapped up your cousin’s estate, I am sure you will be returning to your home?”
“Oh, yes, quick as can be,” I said. It was the absolute truth. I would go home providing I could just survive this evening, though at the moment the chances weren’t looking too good. I had counted, as well as I was able in a throng like this. There were at least twenty vampires in the room wearing the bright Arkansas outfit, and perhaps the same number of the queen’s homies.
I moved away, and the Were couple that had entered after Quinn and me took my place. I thought he was the lieutenant governor of Louisiana, and I hoped he had good life insurance.
“What?” Quinn demanded.
I led him over to a place against the wall, and gently maneuvered him until his back was against it. I had to face away from any lip-readers in the room.
“Did you know the queen’s bracelet was missing?” I asked.
He shook his head. “One of the diamond bracelets the king gave her as a wedding present?” he asked, his head ducked to baffle any watchers.
“Yes, missing,” I said. “Since Hadley died.”
“If the king knew the bracelet was missing, and if he could force the queen to acknowledge that she’d given it to a lover, then he would have grounds for divorce.”
“What would he get then?”
“What
wouldn’t
he get! It was a vampire hierarchal marriage, and you don’t get any more binding than that. I think the wedding contract was thirty pages.”
I understood much better now.
A beautifully dressed vampire woman wearing a gray-green gown strewn with gleaming silver flowers raised her arm to get the attention of the crowd. Gradually the assembled people fell silent.
“Sophie-Anne and Peter welcome you to their first joint entertainment,” the vamp said, and her voice was so musical and mellow that you wanted to listen to her for hours. They should get her to do the Oscars. Or the Miss America pageant. “Sophie-Anne and Peter invite all of you to have a wonderful evening of dancing, eating, and drinking. To open the dancing, our host and hostess will waltz.”
Despite his glitzy surface, I thought Peter might be more comfortable doing a square dance, but with a wife like Sophie-Anne, it was waltz or nothing. He advanced on his wife, his arms at the ready to receive her, and in his carrying vampire voice he said, “Darling, show them the bracelets.”
Sophie-Anne swept the crowd with a smile and raised her own arms to make the sleeves slide back, and a matching bracelet on each wrist shone at the guests, the two huge diamonds winking and blinking in the chandelier lights.
For a moment Peter Threadgill was absolutely still, as if someone had zapped him with a freeze gun. He altered his stance as he moved forward, after that, and took one of her hands in both of his. He stared down at one bracelet, then released her hand to take the other. That bracelet, too, passed his silent test.
“Wonderful,” he said, and if it was through his fangs you’d only think they’d extended because he was horny for his beautiful wife. “You’re wearing both of them.”
“Of course,” Sophie-Anne said. “My darling.” Her smile was just as sincere as his.
And away they danced, though something about the way he swung her let me know the king was letting his temper get the better of him. He’d had a big plan, and now I’d spoiled it . . . but thankfully, he didn’t know my part. He just knew that somehow Sophie-Anne had managed to retrieve her bracelet and save her face, and he had nothing to justify whatever he’d plotted to do. He would have to back down. After this, he’d probably think of another way to subvert his queen, but at least I’d be out of the fray.
Quinn and I retreated to the refreshments table, located to the south side of the large room, beside one of the thick pillars. Servers were there with carving knives to shave off ham or roast beef. There were yeasty rolls to pile the meat on. It smelled wonderful, but I was too nervous to think of eating. Quinn got me a cup of ginger ale from the bar. I stared at the dancing couple and waited for the ceiling to fall in.