From Dead to Worse (Sookie Stackhouse #8)(17)
Author: Charlaine Harris

While I talked, I had a chance to regroup my emotions. "You know what?" I said when there was a natural pause. "Don’t look for Quinn. He knows where I am, and he’s got my number." In more ways than one, I thought sourly. "He’ll show up when he feels like he can, I guess. Or not."

"But that leaves me with nothing to do as a gift for you," my great-grandfather said.

"Just give me a raincheck," I said, smiling, and then had to explain the term to him. "Something’ll come up. Am I… Can I talk about you? To my friends?" I asked. "No, I guess not." I couldn’t imagine telling my friend Tara that I had a new great-grandfather who was a fairy. Amelia might be more understanding.

"I want to keep our relationship a secret," he said. "I am so glad to know you finally, and I want to know you better." He laid his hand against my cheek. "But I have powerful enemies, and I wouldn’t want them to think of harming you to get at me."

I nodded. I understood. But it was kind of deflating to have a brand-new relative and be forbidden to talk about him. Niall’s hand left my cheek to drift down to my own hand.

"What about Jason?" I asked. "Are you gonna talk to him, too?"

"Jason," he said, his face showing distaste. "Somehow the essential spark passed Jason by. I know he is made of the same material as you, but in him the blood has only shown itself in his ability to attract lovers, which after all is not much recommendation. He wouldn’t understand or appreciate our connection."

Great-grandfather sounded pretty snotty when he said that. I started to say something in Jason’s defense, but then I closed my mouth. I had to admit to my most secret self that Niall was almost certainly right. Jason would be full of demands, and he would talk.

"How often are you going to be around?" I said instead, striving hard to sound nonchalant. I knew I was expressing myself clumsily, but I didn’t know how else to establish some framework for this new and awkward relationship.

"I’ll try to visit you like any other relative would," he said.

I tried hard to picture that. Niall and I eating at the Hamburger Palace? Sharing a pew at church on a Sunday? I didn’t think so.

"I feel like there’s a lot you’re not telling me," I said bluntly.

"Then we’ll have something to talk about next time," he said, and one sea green eye winked at me. Okay, that was unexpected. He handed me a business card, another thing I didn’t anticipate. It said simply, "Niall Brigant," with a telephone number centered beneath. "You can reach me at that number any time. Someone will answer."

"Thanks," I said. "I guess you know my phone number?" He nodded. I’d thought he was ready to leave, but he lingered. He seemed as reluctant to part as I was. "So," I began, clearing my throat. "What do you do all day?" I can’t tell you how strange and neat it felt to be with a family member. I only had Jason, and he wasn’t exactly a close brother, the kind you told everything to. I could count on him in a pinch, but hanging out together? Not going to happen.

My great-grandfather answered my question, but when I tried to recall it afterward, I couldn’t come up with anything specific. I guess he did secret fairy-prince stuff. He did tell me he had part ownership in a bank or two, a company that made lawn furniture, and – and this seemed odd to me – a company that created and tested experimental medicine.

I looked at him doubtfully. "Medicine for humans," I said, to be sure I understood.

"Yes. For the most part," he responded. "But a few of the chemists make special things for us."

"For the fae."

He nodded, fine corn-silk hair falling around his face as his head moved. "There is so much iron now," he said. "I don’t know if you realize that we are very sensitive to iron? And yet if we wear gloves every moment, we’re too conspicuous in today’s world." I looked at his right hand as it lay over mine on the white tablecloth. I extracted my fingers, stroked his skin. It felt oddly smooth.

"It’s like an invisible glove," I said.

"Exactly." He nodded. "One of their formulas. But enough about me."

Just when it was getting interesting, I thought. But I could see that my great-grandfather had no real reason to trust me with all his secrets yet.

Niall asked me about my job, and my boss, and my routine, like a real great-grandfather would. Though he clearly didn’t like the idea of his great-granddaughter working, the bar part of it didn’t seem to disturb him. As I’ve said, Niall wasn’t easy to read. His thoughts were his own as far as I was concerned; but I did notice that every now and then he stopped himself from speaking.

Eventually, dinner got eaten, and I glanced at my watch, astounded at how many hours had passed. I needed to go. I had to work the next day. I excused myself, thanking my great-grandfather (it still made me shiver, thinking of him that way) for the meal and very hesitantly leaning forward to kiss his cheek as he’d kissed mine. He seemed to hold his breath while I did so, and his skin felt soft and lustrous as a silky plum under my lips. Even though he could look like a human, he didn’t feel like one.

He stood when I left, but he remained at the table – to take care of the bill, I assumed. I went outside without registering anything my eyes saw along the way. Eric was waiting for me in the parking lot. He’d had some TrueBlood while he was waiting, and he’d been reading in the car, which was parked under a light.

I was exhausted.

I didn’t realize how nerve-wracking my dinner with Niall had been until I was out of his presence. Though I’d been sitting in a comfortable chair the whole meal, I was as tired as if we’d been talking while we were running.

Niall had been able to mask the fairy odor from Eric in the restaurant, but I saw from the flare of Eric’s nostrils that the intoxicating scent clung to me. Eric’s eyes closed in ecstasy, and he actually licked his lips. I felt like a T-bone just out of reach of a hungry dog.

"Snap out of it," I said. I wasn’t in the mood.

With a huge effort, Eric reined himself in. "When you smell like that," he said, "I just want to f**k you and bite you and rub myself all over you."

That was pretty comprehensive, and I won’t say I didn’t have a second (split evenly between lust and fear) of picturing such activity. But I had larger issues to think about.

"Hold your horses," I said. "What do you know about fairies? Aside from how they taste?"

Eric looked at me with clearer eyes. "They’re lovely, male and female both. Incredibly tough and ferocious. They aren’t immortal, but they live a very long time unless something happens to them. You can kill them with iron, for example. There are other ways to kill them, but it’s hard work. They like to keep to themselves for the most part. They like moderate climates. I don’t know what they eat or drink when they’re by themselves. They sample the food of other cultures; I’ve even seen a fairy try blood. They have a higher opinion of themselves than they have any right to. When they give their word, they keep it." He thought for a moment. "They have different magics. They can’t all do the same things. And they are very magical. It’s their essence. They have no gods but their own race, for they’ve often been mistaken for gods. In fact, some of them have taken on the attributes of a deity."