Dead and Gone (Sookie Stackhouse #9)(26)
Author: Charlaine Harris

"Sookie," she said very gently, "you’ve been so kind, letting me stay with you. But I want to be with Louis, and I need to be back in New Orleans. There’ll be something I can do to help rebuild the city. It’s home to me."

Octavia obviously felt she was delivering a heavy blow. I tried to look chagrined. "You have to do what’s best for you, Octavia. I’ve loved having you in my house." I was so grateful Octavia wasn’t telepathic. "Is Amelia here?"

"Yes, she’s upstairs getting something for me. Bless her heart, she got me a good-bye present somehow."

"Awww," I said, trying not to overdo it. I got a sharp look from Louis, but Octavia beamed at me. I’d never seen Octavia beam before, and I liked the look on her.

"I’m just glad I was able to be a help to you," she said, nodding wisely.

It was a little trouble to maintain my slightly-sad-but-brave smile, but I managed. Thank goodness Amelia clattered down the stairs at that moment with a wrapped package in her hands, a thin, flimsy red scarf tied around it and secured with a big bow. Without looking at me, Amelia said, "Here’s a little something from Sookie and me. I hope you enjoy it."

"Oh, you’re so sweet. I’m sorry I ever doubted your skill, Amelia. You’re one heck of a witch."

"Octavia, it means so much to me to hear you say that!" Amelia was genuinely touched and tearful.

Thank goodness Louis and Octavia got up then. Though I liked and respected the older witch, she had provided a series of speed bumps in the smooth running of the household Amelia and I had formed.

I actually found myself breathing a profound sigh of relief when the front door shut on her and her partner. We’d all said good-bye to one another over and over, and Octavia had thanked both of us for various things repeatedly, and she’d also found ways to remind us of all sorts of mysterious things she’d done for us that we were having a hard time recalling.

"Heavens be praised," said Amelia, collapsing on the stairs. Amelia was not a religious woman, or at least she wasn’t a conventional Christian religious woman, so this was a quite a demonstration from her.

I sat on the edge of the couch. "I hope they’re very happy," I said.

"You don’t think we should have checked up on him somehow?"

"A witch as strong as Octavia can’t take care of herself?"

"Good point. But did you see those tattoos?"

"They were something, weren’t they? I guess he’s some kind of sorcerer."

Amelia nodded. "Yeah, I’m sure he practices some form of African magic," she said. "I don’t think we need to worry about the high crime rate in New Orleans affecting Octavia and Louis. I don’t think anyone’s going to be mugging them."

"What was the present we gave her?"

"I called my dad, and he faxed me a gift certificate to his home supplies store."

"Hey, good idea. What do I owe you?"

"Not a dime. He insisted it be on him."

At least this happy incident took the edge off my generalized anger. I felt more companionable with Amelia, too, now that I no longer harbored a vague resentment for her bringing Octavia into my house. We sat in the kitchen and chatted for about an hour before I turned in, though I was too exhausted to try to explain the saga of what had been happening lately. We went to bed better friends than we’d been in weeks.

As I was getting ready for bed, I was thinking about our practical gift to Octavia, and that reminded me of the card Bobby Burnham had handed me. I got it out of my purse and slit the envelope with my nail file. I pulled out the card inside. Enclosed in it was a picture I’d never seen, clearly taken during Eric’s photo shoot for the calendar you could buy in the gift shop at Fangtasia. In the calendar shot, Eric (Mr. January) stood by a huge bed made up all in white. The background was gray, with glittering snowflakes hanging down all around. Eric had one foot on the floor, the other knee bent and resting on the bed. He was holding a white fur robe in a strategic position. In the picture Eric had given me today, he was in somewhat the same pose, but he was holding a hand out to the camera as if he was inviting the viewer to come join him on the bed. And the white fur wasn’t covering quite everything. "I wait for the night you join me," he’d written on the otherwise blank card in his crabbed handwriting.

Faintly cheesy? Yes. Gulp inducing? Oh, you betcha. I could practically feel my blood heat up. I was sorry I’d opened it right before I climbed in the bed. It definitely took me a long time to drift off to sleep.

It felt funny not to hear Octavia buzzing around the house when I woke up the next morning. She’d vanished from my life as quickly as she’d entered it. I hoped that in some of their time together, Octavia and Amelia had discussed Amelia’s status with what remained of her New Orleans coven. It was hard to believe Amelia could turn a young man into a cat (during the course of some very adventurous sex), I thought, as I watched my roommate hurry out the back door to get to the insurance office. Amelia, dressed in navy pants and a tan and navy sweater, looked like she was ready to sell Girl Scout cookies. When the door slammed behind her, I drew a long breath. I was alone in the house for the first morning in ages.

The solitude didn’t last long. I was drinking a second cup of coffee and eating a toasted biscuit when Andy Bellefleur and Special Agent Lattesta came to the front door. I hastily pulled on some jeans and a T-shirt to answer the door.

"Andy, Special Agent Lattesta," I said. "Come on in." I led the way back to the kitchen. I wasn’t going to let them keep me away from my coffeepot. "Do you want a cup?" I asked them, but they both shook their heads.

"Sookie," Andy said, his face serious, "we’re here about Crystal."

"Sure." I bit off some biscuit, chewed, and swallowed. I wondered if Lattesta was on a diet or something. He followed my every move. I dipped into his brain. He wasn’t happy that I wasn’t wearing a bra, because my boobs distracted him. He was thinking I was a bit too curvy for his taste. He was thinking he’d better not think about me that way anymore. He was missing his wife. "I figured that would take priority over the other thing," I said, forcing my attention back to Andy.

I couldn’t tell how much Andy knew – how much Lattesta had shared – about what had happened in Rhodes, but Andy nodded. "We think," he said, after glancing from me to Lattesta, "that Crystal died three nights ago, sometime between one a.m. and three or four a.m."

"Sure," I said again.

"You knew that?" Lattesta went practically on point, like a bird dog.