Dead to the World (Sookie Stackhouse #4)(26)
Author: Charlaine Harris

"The first time?"

"That a witch has ever tried to take control of a city, tried to take away the assets of the city’s supernatural community," he said.

"How do witches stand in the supernatural pecking order?"

"Well, they’re humans who stay human." He shrugged. "Usually, the Supes feel like witches are just wanna-bes. The kind you have to keep an eye on, since they practice magic and we’re magical creatures, but still…"

"Not a big threat?"

"Right. Looks like we might have to rethink that. Their leader takes vampire blood. Does she drain them herself?" He punched in a number and held the phone to his ear.

"I don’t know."

"And what does she shift into?" Shape-shifters had a choice, but there was one animal each shifter had an affinity for, her habitual animal. A shape-shifter could call herself a "were-lynx" or a "were-bat," if she was out of hearing range of a werewolf. Werewolves objected very strenuously to any other two-natured creatures who termed themselves "Were."

"Well, she’s… like you," I said. The Weres considered themselves the kings of the two-natured community. They only changed into one animal, and it was the best. The rest of the two-natured community responded by calling the wolves thugs.

"Oh, no." Alcide was appalled. At that moment, his packmaster answered the phone.

"Hello, this is Alcide." A silence. "I’m sorry to bother you when you were busy in the yard. Something important’s come up. I need to see you as soon as possible." Another silence. "Yes, sir. With your permission, I’ll bring someone with me." After a second or two, Alcide pressed a button to end the conversation. "Surely Bill knows where Pam and Chow live?" he asked me.

"I’m sure he does, but he’s not here to tell me about it." If he would.

"And where is he?" Alcide’s voice was deceptively calm.

"He’s in Peru."

I’d been looking down at my napkin, which I’d pleated into a fan. I glanced up at the man next to me to see him staring down at me with an expression of incredulity.

"He’s gone? He left you there alone?"

"Well, he didn’t know anything was going to happen," I said, trying not to sound defensive, and then I thought, What am I saying? "Alcide, I haven’t seen Bill since I came back from Jackson, except when he came over to tell me he was leaving the country."

"But she told me you were back with Bill," Alcide said in a very strange voice.

"Who told you that?"

"Debbie. Who else?"

I’m afraid my reaction was not very flattering. "And you believed Debbie?"

"She said she’d stopped by Merlotte’s on her way over to see me, and she’d seen you and Bill acting very, ah, friendly while she was there."

"And you believed her?" Maybe if I kept shifting the emphasis, he’d tell me he was just joking.

Alcide was looking sheepish now, or as sheepish as a werewolf can look.

"Okay, that was dumb," he admitted. "I’ll deal with her."

"Right." Pardon me if I didn’t sound very convinced. I’d heard that before.

"Bill’s really in Peru?"

"As far as I know."

"And you’re alone in the house with Eric?"

"Eric doesn’t know he’s Eric."

"He doesn’t remember his identity?"

"Nope. He doesn’t remember his character, either, apparently."

"That’s a good thing," Alcide said darkly. He had never viewed Eric with any sense of humor, as I did. I’d always been leery of Eric, but I’d appreciated his mischief, his single-mindedness, and his flair. If you could say a vampire had joie de vivre, Eric had it in spades.

"Let’s go see the packmaster now," Alcide said, obviously in a much grimmer mood. We slid out of the booth after he’d paid for the coffee, and without phoning in to work ("No point being the boss if I can’t vanish from time to time"), he helped me up into his truck and we took off back into Shreveport. I was sure Ms. Crispy would assume we’d checked into a motel or gone to Alcide’s apartment, but that was better than Ms. Crispy finding out her boss was a werewolf.

As we drove, Alcide told me that the packmaster was a retired Air Force colonel, formerly stationed at Barksdale Air Force Base in Bossier City, which flowed into Shreveport. Colonel Flood’s only child, a daughter, had married a local, and Colonel Flood had settled in the city to be close to his grandchildren.

"His wife is a Were, too?" I asked. If Mrs. Flood was also a Were, their daughter would be, too. If Weres can get through the first few months, they live a good long while, barring accidents.

"She was; she passed away a few months ago."

Alcide’s packmaster lived in a modest neighborhood of ranch-style homes on smallish lots. Colonel Flood was picking up pine cones in his front yard. It seemed a very domestic and peaceable thing for a prominent werewolf to be doing. I’d pictured him in my head in an Air Force uniform, but of course he was wearing regular civilian outdoor clothes. His thick hair was white and cut very short, and he had a mustache that must have been trimmed with a ruler, it was so exact.

The colonel must have been curious after Alcide’s phone call, but he asked us to come inside in a calm sort of way. He patted Alcide on the back a lot; he was very polite to me.

The house was as neat as his mustache. It could have passed inspection.

"Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Hot chocolate? Soda?" The colonel gestured toward his kitchen as if there were a servant standing there alert for our orders.

"No, thank you," I said, since I was awash with Applebee’s coffee. Colonel Flood insisted we sit in the company living room, which was an awkwardly narrow rectangle with a formal dining area at one end. Mrs. Flood had liked porcelain birds. She had liked them a lot. I wondered how the grandchildren fared in this room, and I kept my hands tucked in my lap for fear I’d jostle something.

"So, what can I do for you?" Colonel Flood asked Alcide. "Are you seeking permission to marry?"

"Not today," Alcide said with a smile. I looked down at the floor to keep my expression to myself. "My friend Sookie has some information that she shared with me. It’s very important." His smile died on the vine. "She needs to relate what she knows to you."

"And why do I need to listen?"

I understood that he was asking Alcide who I was – that if he was obliged to listen to me, he needed to know my bona fides. But Alcide was offended on my behalf.

"I wouldn’t have brought her if it wasn’t important. I wouldn’t have introduced her to you if I wouldn’t give my blood for her."