From Dead to Worse (Sookie Stackhouse #8)(52)
Author: Charlaine Harris

I started up my car and began cruising around Bon Temps, waving at familiar faces in almost every vehicle I passed. I had no idea what to do. I stopped at the little town park and got out of my car. I began to stroll, my hands jammed in my pockets. My head was all in a snarl.

I remembered the night I’d confessed to my first lover, Bill, that my great-uncle had molested me when I’d been a child. Bill had taken my story so to heart that he had arranged for a visitor to drop by my great-uncle’s house. Lo and behold, my uncle had died from a fall down the stairs. I’d been furious at Bill for taking over my own past. But I couldn’t deny that having my great-uncle dead had felt good. That profound relief had made me feel complicit in the assassination.

When I’d been trying to find survivors in the twisted debris of the Pyramid of Gizeh, I’d found someone still living, a vampire who wanted to keep me firmly under his control for the queen’s benefit. Andre had been terribly wounded, but he would have lived if an injured Quinn hadn’t crawled over and snuffed Andre out. I’d walked away without stopping Quinn or saving Andre, and that had made me several degrees more guilty of Andre’s death than of my great-uncle’s.

I strode through the empty park, kicking at the stray leaves that came my way. I was struggling with a sick temptation. I had only to say the word to any of many members of the supernatural community, and Tanya would be dead. Or I could set my sights on the source and have Sandra taken out. And again – what a relief her departure from the world would be.

I just couldn’t do it.

But I couldn’t live with Tanya nipping at my heels, either. She’d done her best to ruin my brother’s already shaky relationship with his wife. That was just wrong.

I finally thought of the right person to consult. And she lived with me, so that was convenient.

When I got back to my house, Amelia’s dad and his obliging chauffeur had departed. Amelia was in the kitchen, washing dishes.

"Amelia," I said, and she jumped. "Sorry," I apologized. "I should’ve walked heavier."

"I was hoping that my dad and I understood each other a little better," she confessed. "But I don’t think that’s really true. He just needs me to do something for him now and then."

"Well, at least we got the firewood split."

She laughed a little and dried off her hands. "You look like you have something big to say."

"I want to clear the decks before I tell you this long story. I’m doing your dad a favor, but I’m really doing it for you," I said. "I’ll call Fangtasia for your father no matter what, because you’re my roommate and that’ll make you happy. So that’s a done deal. Now I’m going to tell you about a terrible thing I did."

Amelia sat at the table and I sat opposite her, just like Marley and I had done earlier. "This sounds interesting," she said. "I’m ready. Bring it on."

I told Amelia all about it: Debbie Pelt, Alcide, Sandra Pelt and her parents, their vow that Sandra would never bother me again while they lived. What they had on me and how I felt about it. Tanya Grissom, spy and sneak and saboteur of my brother’s marriage.

"Whoa," she said when I’d finished. She thought for a minute. "Okay, first off, let’s check on Mr. and Mrs. Pelt." We used the computer I’d brought back from Hadley’s apartment in New Orleans. It took all of five minutes to discover that Gordon and Barbara Pelt had died two weeks before when they’d attempted to make a left turn into a gas station only to be hit broadside by a tractor trailer.

We looked at each other, our noses wrinkled. "Ewww," Amelia said. "Bad way to go."

"I wonder if she even waited till they were in the ground before she activated the Aggravate Sookie to Death plan," I said.

"This bitch isn’t going to let up. You sure Debbie Pelt was adopted? Because this totally vindictive attitude seems to run in that family."

"They must have really bonded," I said. "In fact, I got the impression that Debbie was more of a sister to Sandra than she was a daughter to her parents."

Amelia nodded thoughtfully. "A little pathology going on there," she said. "Well, let me think about what I can do. I don’t do death magic. And you’ve said you don’t want Tanya and Sandra to die, so I’m taking you at your word."

"Good," I said briefly. "And, uh, I’m willing to pay for this, of course."

"Poo," Amelia said. "You were willing to take me in when I needed to get out of town. You’ve put up with me all this time."

"Well, you do pay rent," I pointed out.

"Yeah, enough to cover my part of the utilities. And you put up with me, and you don’t seem to be all up in arms about the Bob situation. So believe me, I’m really glad to do this for you. I’ve just got to figure out what I’m actually going to do. Do you mind if I consult with Octavia?"

"No, not at all," I said, trying not to show that I was relieved at the idea of the older witch offering her expertise. "You got it, right? Got that she was at loose ends? Out of money?"

"Yeah," Amelia said. "And I don’t know how to give her some without offering offense. This is a good way to do it. I understand that she’s stuck in a random corner of the living room in the house of the niece she’s staying with. She told me that – more or less – but I don’t know what I can do about it."

"I’ll think about it," I promised. "If she really, really needs to move out of her niece’s, she could stay in my extra bedroom for a little while." That wasn’t an offer that delighted me, but the old witch had seemed pretty miserable. She’d been entertained by going on the little jaunt to poor Maria-Star’s apartment, which had been a ghastly sight.

"We’ll try to come up with something long-term," Amelia said. "I’m going to go give her a call."

"Okay. Let me know what you-all come up with. I got to get ready for work."

There weren’t too many houses between mine and Merlotte’s, but all of them had ghosts hanging from trees, inflated plastic pumpkins in the yard, and a real pumpkin or two sitting on the front porch. The Prescotts had a sheaf of corn, a bale of hay, and some ornamental squash and pumpkins arranged artfully on the front lawn. I made a mental memo to tell Lorinda Prescott how attractive it was when next I saw her at Wal-Mart or the post office.

By the time I got to work, it was dark. I got out my cell phone to call Fangtasia before I went inside.

"Fangtasia, the bar with a bite. Come into Shreveport’s premier vampire bar, where the undead do their drinking every single night," said a recording. "For bar hours, press one. To schedule a private party, press two. To speak to a live human or a dead vampire, press three. And know this: prank calls are not tolerated. We will find you."