Deadlocked (Sookie Stackhouse #12)(42)
Author: Charlaine Harris

Freyda was at least five foot ten. Even soaking wet, she was beautiful. I thought her hair would be a light brown when it was dry, and she had broad shoulders, lean hips, and cheekbones that could slice bread. She was wearing a tank top with nothing underneath, and a pair of shorts, which I found just weird. Legs that pale shouldn’t be sticking out of shorts.

"I need a promise that you won’t harm Bubba, either," I said slowly, still not sure what I should do.

"I so promise." She nodded. I wouldn’t necessarily believe her, but she was close enough to the house that the magical wards Bellenos had laid would have flared if she’d meant me harm. At least, Bellenos had told me so.

To my amazement-if I could be any more amazed-Bubba pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and hit a number on speed dial. I could hear a voice answer. Bubba described our situation, and I heard Pam’s voice say, "All right. Whatever happens, we know who’s responsible. Be smart."

"So we got a safety net," Bubba told me, and I patted his arm.

"Good thinking," I said. "All right, Miss Freyda. Come on in."

She stepped out of the downpour and dripped on my back porch. There were folded towels in the laundry basket on top of the dryer. She pulled one off the stack to dry her face and rub her dripping hair. I moved aside to let her enter the kitchen, and she took another towel and brought it with her. I didn’t want our wet selves dripping all over my living room, so I gestured to the chairs around the table. "Please have a seat," I said, not letting my eyes leave her for a moment. "Do you want a drink?"

"You mean synthetic blood," she said after a slight hesitation. "Yes, that would be nice. A sociable gesture."

"I’m all about the gestures. Bubba, you, too?"

"Yes, ma’am, I reckon so," he said.

So I heated two bottles, got two matching glasses from the cabinet in case they were particular, and set these items before the vampires, who had settled at the table: Bubba with his back to the door, Freyda with her back to the sink. I took the end opposite Bubba, so I was sitting to the queen’s left. I waited in silence while the vampires took polite sips of their drinks. Neither one used a glass.

"You understand the situation," Freyda said.

I was relieved she wasn’t going to pu**yfoot around. And she didn’t sound angry or jealous. She sounded matter-of-fact. I felt something cold creep into my heart. "I believe so," I said, wanting to be crystal clear. "I’m not sure why you want to talk to me about it."

She didn’t comment. She seemed to be waiting for me to spell it out.

"Eric’s maker was in negotiations with you when he died, and those negotiations involved you taking Eric as a husband," I said.

"Since I’m a queen and he’s not a king, he’d be my consort," she said.

I’d read a biography of Queen Victoria (and rented the movie), so I understood the term. I tried to think very hard before I said anything. "Okay," I said, and paused, getting all my conversational ducks in a row. "You know that Eric loves me, that he married me according to you-all’s rules, and that I love him." Just getting the groundwork laid.

She nodded, looking at me thoughtfully. Her eyes were large, tilted up a little, and dark brown. "I’ve heard that you have many hidden attributes. And of course, I see some that are not so hidden." She smiled slightly. "I’m not trying to insult you. It’s a fact that you are a pretty human."

Okeydokey. There was obviously another shoe to drop … and Freyda tossed it right at me. "But you must see that I am beautiful, too," she told me. "And I am also rich. And though I’ve been a vampire only a hundred and fifty years, I’ve already become a queen. So I’m powerful. Unless I misread Eric … and I’ve known many men, many … he likes all those-attributes-very much."

I nodded to show I was giving due weight to her words. "I know I’m not rich and powerful," I said. Impossible to deny. "But he does love me."

"I am sure he thinks so," she said, still with that eerie calm. "And perhaps it’s even true. But he won’t forgo what I have to offer, regardless of what he may feel."

I made myself think before I responded. Inhale. Exhale. "You seem certain the prospect of power will trump the love." I said the words with my own calm, but inside I was trying not to panic.

"Yes, I’m certain." She let the edge of her surprise show. How could I ever doubt that she was right? I glanced at our silent companion. Sadness was weighing down Bubba’s pale face as he looked at me. Bubba, too, thought she was right.

"Then why did you bother to come here to meet me, Freyda?" I said, struggling to maintain my control. In my lap, below the table, my hands were clenched together painfully.

"I wanted to know what he loved," she said. She examined me so closely that it was like getting an MRI. "I am pleased that he likes looks and intelligence. I am fairly sure that you are what you seem on the surface. You aren’t arrogant or conniving."

"Are you?" I was beginning to lose control.

"As a queen, I can seem arrogant," she said. "And as a queen, occasionally I have to be conniving. I came up from nothing. The strongest vampires do, I have observed. I intend to hold on to my kingdom, Sookie Stackhouse. A strong consort would double my chances." Freyda picked up her glass of TrueBlood and took a swallow. She put it down with such delicacy that I didn’t hear it touch the table. "I have seen Eric at this or that event for years. He’s bold. He’s intelligent. He’s adapted to the modern world. And I hear he’s amazing in bed. Is that true?"

When it became apparent that Hell would freeze over before I would talk about Eric in bed, Freyda smiled faintly and continued. "When Appius Livius Ocella came through Oklahoma with his bumboy, I took the opportunity to open a discussion with him. Despite Eric’s fine points, I observed that he also likes to give the appearance of being independent."

"He is independent."

"He’s been content to be sheriff for a long time. Therefore, he enjoys being a big fish in a small pond. It’s an illusion of independence, but one he seems to hold dear. I decided it would be well to have some hold over him to induce him to consider my offer seriously. So I made a bargain with Appius Livius Ocella. He didn’t live to enjoy his half."

Ocella’s death didn’t distress Freyda one little bit. At least we had one thing in common besides an Eric appreciation club.

She had certainly studied Eric. She had him pegged.

I wanted-desperately-to know if she’d already talked to Eric tonight. Eric had told me before that Freyda had been calling him weekly, but he’d given the impression that he’d been aloof in those conversations. Had they actually been negotiating one on one, long distance? Had they been meeting secretly? If I asked Freyda about this, she would know that Eric hadn’t confided in me. I would expose the weakness in our relationship, and she would certainly pounce on it and hammer in a wedge to widen it. Damn Eric for being so reluctant to discuss the whole thing with me. Now I was at a real disadvantage.