Dead to the World

14

I guess Pam worked on Hallow right up until dawn was peeking over the horizon. I myself was so heavily asleep, so in need of both physical and mental healing, I didn't wake until four in the afternoon. It was a gloomy winter day, the kind that makes you switch on the radio to see if an ice storm is coming. I checked to make sure I had three or four days' worth of firewood moved up onto the back porch.

Eric would be up early today.

I dressed and ate at the speed of a snail, trying to get a handle on my state of being.

Physically, I was fine. A bruise here or there, a little muscle soreness - that was nothing. It was the second week of January and I was sticking to my New Year's resolution just great.

On the other hand - and there's always another hand - mentally, or maybe emotionally, I was less than rock-steady. No matter how practical you are, no matter how strong-stomached you are, you can't do something like I'd done without suffering some consequences.

That's the way it should be.

When I thought of Eric getting up, I thought of maybe doing some snuggling before I had to go to work. And I thought of the pleasure of being with someone who thought I was so important.

I hadn't anticipated that the spell would have been broken.

Eric got up at five-thirty. When I heard movement in the guest bedroom, I tapped on the door and opened it. He whirled, his fangs running out and his hands clawing in front of him.

I'd almost said, "Hi, honey," but caution kept me mute.

"Sookie," he said slowly. "Am I in your house?"

I was glad I'd gotten dressed. "Yes," I said, regrouping like crazy. "You've been here for safekeeping. Do you know what happened?"

"I went to a meeting with some new people," he said, doubt in his voice. "Didn't I?" He looked down at his WalMart clothes with some surprise. "When did I buy these?"

"I had to get those for you," I said.

"Did you dress me, too?" he asked, running his hands down his chest and lower. He gave me a very Eric smile.

He didn't remember. Anything.

"No," I said. I flashed on Eric in the shower with me. The kitchen table. The bed.

"Where is Pam?" he asked.

"You should call her," I said. "Do you recall anything about yesterday?"

"Yesterday I had the meeting with the witches," he said, as if that was indisputable.

I shook my head. "That was days ago," I told him, unable to add the number of them up in my head. My heart sank even lower.

"You don't remember last night, after we came back from Shreveport," I pressed him, suddenly seeing a gleam of light in all this.

"Did we make love?" he asked hopefully. "Did you finally yield to me, Sookie? It's only a matter of time, of course." He grinned at me.

No, last night we cleaned up a body, I thought.

I was the only one who knew. And even I didn't know where Debbie's remains were buried, or what had happened to her car.

I sat down on the edge of my old narrow bed. Eric looked at me closely. "Something's wrong, Sookie? What happened while I was - Why don't I remember what happened?"

Least said, soonest mended.

All's well that ends well.

Out of sight, out of mind. (Oh, I wished that were true.)

"I bet Pam will be here any minute," I said. "I think I'll let her tell you all about it."

"And Chow?"

"No, he won't be here. He died last night. Fangtasia seems to have a bad effect on bartenders."

"Who killed him? I'll have vengeance."

"You've already had."

"Something more is wrong with you," Eric said. He'd always been astute.

"Yes, lots of stuff is wrong with me." I would've enjoyed hugging him right then, but it would just complicate everything. "And I think it's going to snow."

"Snow, here?" Eric was as delighted as a child. "I love snow!"

Why was I not surprised?

"Maybe we will get snowed in together," he said suggestively, waggling his blond eyebrows.

I laughed. I just couldn't help it. And it was a hell of a lot better than crying, which I'd done quite enough of lately. "As if you'd ever let the weather stop you from doing what you wanted to do," I said, and stood. "Come on, I'll heat you up some blood."

Even a few nights of intimacy had softened me enough that I had to watch my actions. Once I almost stroked his hair as I passed him; and once I bent to give him a kiss, and had to pretend I'd dropped something on the floor.

When Pam knocked on my front door thirty minutes later, I was ready for work, and Eric was antsy as hell.

Pam was no sooner seated opposite him than he began bombarding her with questions. I told them quietly that I was leaving, and I don't think they even noticed when I went out the kitchen door.

Merlotte's wasn't too busy that night, after we dealt with a rather large supper crowd. A few flakes of snow had convinced most of the regulars that going home sober might be a very good idea. There were enough customers left to keep Arlene and me moderately busy. Sam caught me as I was loading my tray with seven mugs of beer and wanted to be filled in on the night before.

"I'll tell you later," I promised, thinking I'd have to edit my narrative pretty carefully.

"Any trace of Jason?" he asked.

"No," I said, and felt sadder than ever. The dispatcher at the law enforcement complex had sounded almost snappish when I'd called to ask if there was any news.

Kevin and Kenya came in that night after they'd gotten off duty. When I took their drinks to the table (a bourbon and Coke and a gin and tonic), Kenya said, "We've been looking for your brother, Sookie. I'm sorry."

"I know you all have been trying," I said. "I appreciate you all organizing the search party so much! I just wish..." And then I couldn't think of anything else to say. Thanks to my disability, I knew something about each of them that the other didn't know. They loved each other. But Kevin knew his mother would stick her head in the oven before she'd see him married to a black woman, and Kenya knew her brothers would rather ram Kevin through a wall than see him walk down the aisle with her.

And I knew this, despite the fact that neither of them did; and I hated having this personal knowledge, this intimate knowledge, that I just couldn't help knowing.

Worse than knowing, even, was the temptation to interfere. I told myself very sternly that I had enough problems of my own without causing problems for other people. Luckily, I was busy enough the rest of the night to erase the temptation from my mind. Though I couldn't reveal those kinds of secrets, I reminded myself that I owed the two officers, big-time. If I heard of something I could let them know, I would.

When the bar closed, I helped Sam put the chairs up on the tables so Terry Bellefleur could come in and mop and clean the toilets early in the morning. Arlene and Tack had left, singing "Let It Snow" while they went out the back door. Sure enough, the flakes were drifting down outside, though I didn't think they'd stick past morning. I thought of the creatures out in the woods tonight, trying to keep warm and dry. I knew that in some spot in the forest, Debbie Pelt lay in a hole, cold forever.

I wondered how long I'd think of her like that, and I hoped very much I could remember just as clearly what an awful person she'd been, how vindictive and murderous.

In fact, I'd stood staring out the window for a couple of minutes when Sam came up behind me.

"What's on your mind?" he asked. He gripped my elbow, and I could feel the strength in his fingers.

I sighed, not for the first time. "Just wondering about Jason," I said. That was close enough to the truth.

He patted me in a consoling way. "Tell me about last night," he said, and for one second I thought he was asking me about Debbie. Then, of course, I knew he referred to the battle with the witches, and I was able to give him an account.

"So Pam showed up tonight at your place." Sam sounded pleased about that. "She must have cracked Hallow, made her undo the spell. Eric was himself again?"

"As far as I could tell."

"What did he have to say about the experience?"

"He didn't remember anything about it," I said slowly. "He didn't seem to have a clue."

Sam looked away from me when he said, "How are you, with that?"

"I think it's for the best," I told him. "Definitely." But I would be going home to an empty house again. The knowledge skittered at the edges of my awareness, but I wouldn't look at it directly.

"Too bad you weren't working the afternoon shift," he said, somehow following a similar train of thought. "Calvin Norris was in here."

"And?"

"I think he came in hopes of seeing you."

I looked at Sam skeptically. "Right."

"I think he's serious, Sookie."

"Sam," I said, feeling unaccountably wounded, "I'm on my own, and sometimes that's no fun, but I don't have to take up with a werewolf just because he offers."

Sam looked mildly puzzled. "You wouldn't have to. The people in Hotshot aren't Weres."

"He said they were."

"No, not Weres with a capital W. They're too proud to call themselves shifters, but that's what they are. They're were-panthers."

"What?" I swear I saw dots floating in the air around my eyes.

"Sookie? What's wrong?"

"Panthers? Didn't you know that the print on Jason's dock was the print of a panther?"

"No, no one told me about any print! Are you sure?"

I gave him an exasperated look. "Of course, I'm sure. And he vanished the night Crystal Norris was waiting for him in his house. You're the only bartender in the world who doesn't know all the town gossip."

"Crystal - she's the Hotshot girl he was with New Year's Eve? The skinny black-headed girl at the search?"

I nodded.

"The one Felton loves so much?"

"He what?"

"Felton, you know, the one who came along on the search. She's been his big love his whole life."

"And you know this how?" Since I, the mind reader, didn't, I was distinctly piqued.

"He told me one night when he'd had too much to drink. These guys from Hotshot, they don't come in much, but when they do, they drink serious."

"So why would he join in the search?"

"I think maybe we'd better go ask a few questions."

"This late?"

"You got something better to do?"

He had a point, and I sure wanted to know if they had my brother or could tell me what had happened to him. But in a way, I was scared of finding out.

"That jacket's too light for this weather, Sookie," Sam said, as we bundled up.

"My coat is at the cleaner's," I said. Actually, I hadn't had a chance to put it in the dryer, or even to check to make sure all the blood had come out. And it had holes in it.

"Hmmm" was all Sam said, before he loaned me a green pullover sweater to wear under my jacket. We got in Sam's pickup because the snow was really coming down, and like all men, Sam was convinced he could drive in the snow, though he'd almost never done so.

The drive out to Hotshot seemed even longer in the dark night, with the snow swirling down in the headlights.

"I thank you for taking me out here, but I'm beginning to think we're crazy," I said, when we were halfway there.

"Is your seat belt on?" Sam asked.

"Sure."

"Good," he said, and we kept on our way.

Finally we reached the little community. There weren't any streetlights out here, of course, but a couple of the residents had paid to have security lights put up on the electric poles. Windows were glowing in some of the houses.

"Where do you think we should go?"

"Calvin's. He's the one with the power," Sam said, sounding certain.

I remembered how proud Calvin had been of his house, and I was a little curious to see the inside. His lights were on, and his pickup was parked in front of the house. Stepping out of the warm truck into the snowy night was like walking through a chilly wet curtain to reach the front door. I knocked, and after a long pause, the door came open. Calvin looked pleased until he saw Sam behind me.

"Come in," he said, not too warmly, and stood aside. We stamped our feet politely before we entered.

The house was plain and clean, decorated with inexpensive but carefully arranged furniture and pictures. None of the pictures had people in them, which I thought interesting. Landscapes. Wildlife.

"This is a bad night to be out driving around," Calvin observed.

I knew I'd have to tread carefully, as much as I wanted to grab the front of his flannel shirt and scream in his face. This man was a ruler. The size of the kingdom didn't really matter.

"Calvin," I said, as calmly as I could, "did you know that the police found a panther print on the dock, by Jason's bootprint?"

"No," he said, after a long moment. I could see the anger building behind his eyes. "We don't hear a lot of town gossip out here. I wondered why the search party had men with guns, but we make other people kind of nervous, and no one was talking to us much. Panther print. Huh."

"I didn't know that was your, um, other identity, until tonight."

He looked at me steadily. "You think that one of us made off with your brother."

I stood silent, not shifting my eyes from his. Sam was equally still beside me.

"You think Crystal got mad at your brother and did him harm?"

"No," I said. His golden eyes were getting wider and rounder as I spoke to him.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked suddenly.

"No," I said. "I'm not."

"Felton," he said.

I nodded.

"Let's go see," he said.

Back out into the snow and darkness. I could feel the sting of the flakes on my cheeks, and I was glad my jacket had a hood. Sam's gloved hand took mine as I stumbled over some discarded tool or toy in the yard of the house next to Felton's. As we trailed up to the concrete slab that formed Felton's front porch, Calvin was already knocking at the door.

"Who is it?" Felton demanded.

"Open," said Calvin.

Recognizing his voice, Felton opened the door immediately. He didn't have the same cleanliness bug as Calvin, and his furniture was not so much arranged as shoved up against whatever wall was handiest. The way he moved was not human, and tonight that seemed even more pronounced than it had at the search. Felton, I thought, was closer to reverting to his animal nature. Inbreeding had definitely left its mark on him.

"Where is the man?" Calvin asked without preamble.

Felton's eyes flared wide, and he twitched, as if he was thinking about running. He didn't speak.

"Where?" Calvin demanded again, and then his hand changed into a paw and he swiped it across Felton's face. "Does he live?"

I clapped my hands across my mouth so I wouldn't scream. Felton sank to his knees, his face crossed with parallel slashes filling with blood.

"In the shed in back," he said indistinctly.

I went back out the front door so quickly that Sam barely caught up with me. Around the corner of the house I flew, and I fell full-length over a woodpile. Though I knew it would hurt later, I jumped up and found myself supported by Calvin Norris, who, as he had in the woods, lifted me over the pile before I knew what he intended. He vaulted it himself with easy grace, and then we were at the door of the shed, which was one of those you order from Sears or Penney's. You have your neighbors come help put it up, when the concrete truck comes to pour your slab.

The door was padlocked, but these sheds aren't meant to repel determined intruders, and Calvin was very strong. He broke the lock, and pushed back the door, and turned on the light. It was amazing to me that there was electricity out here, because that's certainly not the norm.

At first I wasn't sure I was looking at my brother, because this creature looked nothing like Jason. He was blond, sure, but he was so filthy and smelly that I flinched, even in the freezing air. And he was blue with the cold, since he had only pants on. He was lying on a single blanket on the concrete floor.

I was on my knees beside him, gathering him up as best I could in my arms, and his eyelids fluttered open. "Sookie?" he said, and I could hear the disbelief in his voice. "Sookie? Am I saved?"

"Yes," I said, though I was by no means so sure. I remember what had happened to the sheriff who'd come out here and found something amiss. "We're going to take you home."

He'd been bitten.

He'd been bitten a lot.

"Oh, no," I said softly, the significance of the bites sinking in.

"I didn't kill him," Felton said defensively, from outside.

"You bit him," I said, and my voice sounded like another person's. "You wanted him to be like you."

"So Crystal wouldn't like him better. She knows we need to breed outside, but she really likes me best," Felton said.

"So you grabbed him, and you kept him, and you bit him."

Jason was too weak to stand.

"Please carry him to the truck," I said stiffly, unable to meet the eyes of anyone around me. I could feel the fury rising in me like black wave, and I knew I had to restrain it until we were out of here. I had just enough control to do this. I knew I did.

Jason cried out when Calvin and Sam lifted him. They got the blanket, too, and sort of tucked it around him. I stumbled after them as they made their way back to Calvin's and the truck.

I had my brother back. There was a chance he was going to turn into a panther from time to time, but I had him back. I didn't know if the rules for all shifters were the same, but Alcide had told me that Weres who were bitten, not born - created Weres, rather than genetic Weres - changed into the half-man, half-beast creatures who populated horror movies. I forced myself to get off that track, to think of the joy of having my brother back, alive.

Calvin got Jason into the truck and slid him over, and Sam climbed into the driver's seat. Jason would be between us after I climbed into the truck. But Calvin had to tell me something first.

"Felton will be punished," he said. "Right now."

Punishing Felton hadn't been at the top of my list of things to think about, but I nodded, because I wanted to get the hell out of there.

"If we're taking care of Felton, are you going to go to the police?" he asked. He was standing stiffly, as if he was trying to be casual about the question. But this was a dangerous moment. I knew what happened to people who drew attention to the Hotshot community.

"No," I said. "It was just Felton." Though, of course, Crystal had to have known, at least on some level. She'd told me she'd smelled an animal that night at Jason's. How could she have mistaken the smell of panther, when she was one? And she had probably known all along that that panther had been Felton. His smell would be familiar to her. But it just wasn't the time to go into that; Calvin would know that as well as I, when he'd had a moment to think. "And my brother may be one of you now. He'll need you," I added, in the most even voice I could manage. It wasn't very even, at that.

"I'll come get Jason, next full moon."

I nodded again. "Thank you," I told him, because I knew we would never have found Jason if he'd stonewalled us. "I have to get my brother home now." I knew Calvin wanted me to touch him, wanted me to connect with him somehow, but I just couldn't do it.

"Sure," he said, after a long moment. The shape-shifter stepped back while I scrambled up into the cab. He seemed to know I wouldn't want any help from him right now.

I'd thought I'd gotten unusual brain patterns from the Hotshot people because they were inbred. It had never occurred to me they were something other than wolves. I'd assumed. I know what my high school volleyball coach always said about "assume." Of course, he'd also told us that we had to leave everything out on the court so it would be there when we came back, which I had yet to figure out.

But he'd been right about assumptions.

Sam had already gotten the heater in the truck going, but not at full blast. Too much heat too soon would be bad for Jason, I was sure. As it was, the second Jason began to warm up, his smell was pretty evident, and I nearly apologized to Sam, but sparing Jason any further humiliation was more important.

"Aside from the bites, and being so cold, are you okay?" I asked, when I thought Jason had stopped shivering and could speak.

"Yes," he said. "Yes. Every night, every damn night, he'd come in the shed, and he'd change in front of me, and I'd think, Tonight he's going to kill me and eat me. And every night, he'd bite me. And then he'd just change back and leave. I could tell it was hard for him, after he'd smelled the blood... but he never did more than bite."

"They'll kill him tonight," I said. "In return for us not going to the police."

"Good deal," said Jason, and he meant it.