Dead and Gone (Sookie Stackhouse #9)(17)
Author: Charlaine Harris

I told her about the morning I’d had, about the circumstances of Crystal’s death. Octavia had seen some bad stuff in her time, so she didn’t freak out. She made the appropriate answers and expressed the shock almost anyone would feel, but she hadn’t really known Crystal. I could tell there was something on her mind.

Octavia put down the iron and moved to face me directly. "Sookie," she said, "I need to get a job. I know I’m a burden to you and Amelia. I used to borrow my niece’s car during the day when she was working the night shift, but since I’ve moved out here, I’ve been having to ask you-all for rides. I know that gets old. I cleaned my niece’s house and cooked and helped to watch the kids to pay her for my room and board, but you and Amelia are such cleaners that my two cents wouldn’t really be a help."

"I’m glad to have you, Octavia," I said, not entirely truthfully. "You’ve helped me in a lot of ways. Remember that you got Tanya off my back? And now she seems to be in love with Calvin. So she won’t be pestering me anymore. I know you’d feel better if you could get a job, and maybe something will come up. In the meantime, you’re fine here. We’ll think of something."

"I called my brother in New Orleans," she said to my astonishment. I hadn’t even known she had a living brother. "He says the insurance company has decided to give me a payment. It’s not much, considering I lost almost everything, but it’ll be enough to buy a good secondhand car. There won’t be anything there for me to go back to, though. I’m not going to rebuild, and there aren’t too many places I could afford on my own."

"I’m sorry," I said. "I wish there was something I could do about it, Octavia. Make things better for you."

"You’ve already made things better for me," she said. "I’m grateful."

"Oh, please," I said miserably. "Don’t. Thank Amelia."

"All I know how to do is magic," Octavia said. "I was so glad to help you out with Tanya. Does she seem to remember?"

"No," I said. "I don’t think she remembers anything about Calvin bringing her over here, or the spell casting. I’ll never be her favorite person, but at least she’s not trying to make my life miserable anymore."

Tanya had been sent to sabotage me by a woman named Sandra Pelt, who bore me a grudge. Since Calvin had clearly taken a shine to Tanya, Amelia and Octavia had worked a little magic on her to cut her free from Sandra’s influence. Tanya still seemed abrasive, but that was just her nature, I figured.

"Do you think we should do a reconstruction to find out who Crystal’s killer was?" Octavia offered.

I thought it over. I tried to imagine staging an ectoplasmic reconstruction in the parking lot of Merlotte’s. We’d have to find at least one more witch, I thought, because that was a large area, and I wasn’t sure Octavia and Amelia could handle it by themselves. They’d probably think they could, though.

"I’m afraid we’d be seen," I said finally. "And that would be bad for you and Amelia. Besides, we don’t know where the actual death took place. And you have to have that, right? The death site?"

Octavia said, "Yes. If she didn’t die there in the parking lot, it wouldn’t do a bit of good." She sounded a bit relieved.

"I guess we won’t know until the autopsy if she died there or before they put up the cross." I didn’t think I could stand to witness another ectoplasmic reconstruction, anyway. I’d seen two. Watching the dead – in a watery but recognizable form – reenact the last minutes of their lives was an indescribably eerie and depressing experience.

Octavia went back to her ironing, and I wandered into the kitchen and heated up some soup. I had to eat something, and opening a can was about as much effort as I could expend.

The dragging hours were absolutely negative. I didn’t hear from Sam. I didn’t hear from the police about opening Merlotte’s. The FBI agents didn’t return to ask me more questions. Finally I decided to drive to Shreveport. Amelia had returned from work, and she and Octavia were cooking supper together when I left the house. It was a homey scene; I was simply too restless to join in.

For the second time in as many days, I found myself on the way to Fangtasia. I didn’t let myself think. I listened to a black gospel station all the way over, and the preaching helped me feel better about the awful events of the day.

By the time I arrived, it was full night, though it was too early for the bar to be crowded. Eric was sitting at one of the tables in the main room, his back to me. He was drinking some TrueBlood and talking to Clancy, who ranked under Pam, I thought. Clancy was facing me, and he sneered when he saw me walking toward the table. Clancy was no Sookie Stackhouse fan. Since he was a vampire, I couldn’t discover why, but I thought he simply didn’t like me.

Eric turned to see me approaching, and his eyebrows rose. He said something to Clancy, who got up and stalked back to the office. Eric waited for me to sit down at his table. "Hello, Sookie," he said. "Are you here to tell me how angry you are at me about our pledging? Or are you ready to have that long talk we must have sooner or later?"

"No," I said. We sat for a while in silence. I felt exhausted but oddly peaceful. I should be giving Eric hell about his high-handed handling of Quinn’s request and the knife presentation. I should be asking him all kinds of questions … but I couldn’t summon up the necessary fire.

I just wanted to sit beside him.

There was music playing; someone had turned on the all-vampire radio station, KDED. The Animals were singing "The Night." After he finished his drink and there was only a red residue staining the sides of the bottle, Eric lay his cold white hand on top of mine. "What happened today?" he asked, his voice calm.

I began to tell him, starting with the FBI visit. He didn’t interrupt to exclaim or to ask questions. Even when I ended my tale with the removal of Crystal’s body, he didn’t speak for a while. "Even for you, that’s a busy day, Sookie," he said finally. "As for Crystal, I don’t think I ever met her, but she sounds worthless."

Eric never waffled around to be polite. Though I actually enjoyed that, I was also glad it wasn’t a widely held trait. "I don’t know that anyone is worthless," I said. "Though I have to admit, if I had to pick one person to get in a lifeboat with me, she wouldn’t have made even my long list."

Eric’s mouth quirked up in a smile.

"But," I added, "she was pregnant, that’s the thing, and the baby was my brother’s."

"Pregnant women were worth twice as much if they were killed in my time," Eric said.

He’d never volunteered much information about his life before he’d been turned. "What do you mean, worth?" I asked.