From Dead to Worse (Sookie Stackhouse #8)(69)
Author: Charlaine Harris

"Dawson seems to like his life the way it is," I said. "And you’ll have to talk to Sam, not me, about whether he wants to associate with you-all formally."

"Sure. You seem to have a lot of influence with him. Just thought I’d mention it."

I didn’t see it that way. Sam had a lot of influence over me, but whether I had any over him… I was dubious. Alcide began making the little shifts in stance that told me as clearly as his brain had that he was about to go his way on whatever business had brought him to Bon Temps.

"Alcide," I said, seized by an impulse, "I do have a question."

He said, "Sure."

"Who’s taking care of the Furnan children?"

He looked at me, then away. "Libby’s sister. She’s got three of her own, but she said she was glad to take them in. There’s enough money for their upbringing. When it comes time for them to go to college, we’ll see what we can do for the boy."

"For the boy?"

"He’s pack."

If I’d had a brick in my hand, I wouldn’t have minded using it on Alcide. Good God almighty. I took a deep breath. To give him credit, the sex of the child wasn’t the issue at all. It was his pure blood.

"There may be enough insurance money for the girl to go, too," Alcide said, since he was no fool. "The aunt wasn’t too clear about that, but she knows we’ll help."

"And she knows who ‘we’ is?"

He shook his head. "We told her it was a secret society, like the Masons, that Furnan belonged to."

There didn’t seem to be anything left to say.

"Good luck," I said. He’d already had a fair share of that, no matter what you thought about the two dead women that had been his girlfriends. After all, he himself had survived to achieve his father’s goal.

"Thank you, and thanks again for your part in that luck. You’re still a friend of the pack," he said very seriously. His beautiful green eyes lingered on my face. "And you’re one of my favorite women in the world," he added unexpectedly.

"That’s a real nice compliment, Alcide," I said, and drove away. I was glad I’d talked to him. Alcide had grown up a lot in the past few weeks. All in all, he was changing into a man I admired much more than I had the old one.

I’d never forget the blood and the screaming of the horrific night in the abandoned office park in Shreveport, but I began to feel that some good had come out of it.

When I returned home, I found that Octavia and Amelia were in the front yard, raking. This was a delightful discovery. I hated raking worse than anything in the world, but if I didn’t go over the yard once or twice during the fall, the pine needle buildup was dreadful.

I had been thanking people all day long. I parked in the back and came out the front.

"Do you bag these up or burn them?" Amelia called.

"Oh, I burn ’em when there’s not a burn ban on," I said. "It’s so nice of you both to think of doing this." I wasn’t aiming to gush – but having your very least favorite chore done for you was really quite a treat.

"I need the exercise," Octavia said. "We went to the mall in Monroe yesterday, so I did get some walking in."

I thought Amelia treated Octavia more like a grandmother than a teacher.

"Did Tray call?" I asked.

"He sure did." Amelia smiled broadly.

"He thought you were fine-looking."

Octavia laughed. "Amelia, you’re a femme fatale."

She looked happy and said, "I think he’s an interesting guy."

"A bit older than you," I said, just so she’d know.

Amelia shrugged. "I don’t care. I’m ready to date. I think Pam and I are more buddies than honeys. And since I found that litter of kittens, I’m open for guy business."

"You really think Bob made a choice? Wouldn’t that have been, like, instinct?" I said.

Just then, the cat in question wandered across the yard, curious to see why we were all standing out in the open when there was a perfectly good couch and a few beds in the house.

Octavia gave a gusty sigh. "Oh, hell," she muttered. She straightened and held her hands out. "Potestas mea te in formam veram tuam commutabit natura ips reaffirmet Incantationes praeviae deletae sunt," she said.

The cat blinked up at Octavia. Then it made a peculiar noise, a kind of cry I’d never heard come out of a cat’s throat before. Suddenly the air around him was thick and dense and cloudy and full of sparks. The cat shrieked again. Amelia was staring at the animal with her mouth wide open. Octavia looked resigned and a little sad.

The cat writhed on the fading grass, and suddenly it had a human leg.

"God almighty!" I said, and clapped a hand over my mouth.

Now it had two legs, two hairy legs, and then it had a penis, and then it began to be a man all over, shrieking all the while. After a horrible two minutes, the witch Bob Jessup lay on the lawn, shaking all over but entirely human again. After another minute, he stopped shrieking and just twitched. Not an improvement, really, but easier on the eardrums.

Then he lunged to his feet, leaped onto Amelia, and made a determined effort to choke her to death.

I grabbed his shoulders to pull him off of her, and Octavia said, "You don’t want me to use magic on you again, right?"

That proved a very effective threat. Bob let go of Amelia and stood panting in the cold air. "I can’t believe you did that to me!" he said. "I can’t believe I spent the last few months as a cat!"

"How do you feel?" I asked. "Are you weak? Do you need help into the house? Would you like some clothes?"

He looked down at himself vaguely. He hadn’t worn clothes in a while, but suddenly he turned red, very nearly all over. "Yes," he said stiffly. "Yes, I would like some clothes."

"Come with me," I said. The dusk was coming on as I led Bob into the house. Bob was a smallish guy, and I thought a pair of my sweats might fit him. No, Amelia was a little taller, and a clothes donation from her would be only fair. I spotted the basket full of folded clothes on the stairs where Amelia had left it to carry up the next time she went to her room. Lo and behold, there was an old blue sweatshirt and a pair of black sweat pants. I handed the clothes to Bob wordlessly, and he pulled them on with trembling fingers. I flipped through the stack and found a pair of socks that were plain white. He sat down on the couch to pull them on. That was as far as I could go toward clothing him. His feet were larger than mine or Amelia’s, so shoes were out.

Bob wrapped his arms around himself like he feared he was going to disappear. His dark hair was clinging to his skull. He blinked, and I wondered what had happened to his glasses. I hoped Amelia had stored them somewhere.