Dead Ever After (Sookie Stackhouse #13)(45)
Author: Charlaine Harris

Sam had definitely put a good spin on the scarf’s history. The Weres had "gifted" it to me by using it as a blindfold so I wouldn’t know where they’d taken me . . . the night I’d first met a werewolf. That night seemed so long ago! I had a fleeting second of incredulity that there’d ever been a time I hadn’t known the extent of the supernatural world. And here I sat in Lucky Bar-B-Q with two witches, two part-demons, a telepath, and a weretiger.

"Sam has always been a good friend to me," I said, wondering again what the hell was going on with my good friend. (He’d put forth all this effort on my behalf, trying to drum up help for me in my time of need, but he could barely manage to look me in the face. Something was definitely rotten in the state of Bon Temps.) "That two-natured board must be hopping with news."

Quinn nodded. "Alcide had posted, too, so I stopped in at his office on my way here. He wants to know if one of his pack can scent in your house. I told him I was capable of any tracking that needed to be done, but he insisted the Weres help you out. You assume that the scarf was stolen from your house?"

Everyone at the table was listening intently, even Mr. C and Diantha. They’d finally accepted Quinn as a friend of mine. "Yes, that’s what I believe. Sam remembers me wearing it to church, and that must have been to a funeral months ago. And I’m pretty confident I saw it when I cleaned out my scarf drawer last week. I think maybe I would have noticed if it hadn’t been there."

Amelia said, "I can help there. I know a spell that might help you remember, especially if we have a picture of the scarf."

"I don’t think I’ve got one, but I can draw a picture," I said. "It’s got a feather pattern." The first couple of times I’d worn it, I hadn’t realized that the subtle sweeps of color represented feathers. With the bright peacock colors, you’d think I’d have noticed earlier, but hell, it was just a scarf. A free scarf. And now it might cost me my life or my freedom.

"That might work," Amelia said.

"Then I’m willing to try it," I told Amelia. I turned to Quinn. "And the Weres can come sniff my house anytime they like. I keep it pretty clean, so I’m not sure what they’ll pick up."

"I’m going to search your woods," Quinn said. He wasn’t asking.

"It’s awful hot, Quinn," I said. "And snakes . . ." But my voice died away when I met his eyes. Quinn wasn’t afraid of heat or snakes or much of anything.

We had a good time eating together, and Quinn ordered a sandwich because our food smelled so good. I couldn’t even begin to tell everyone how grateful I was that they’d come, that they were helping me. When I’d thought three days before that I had only Jason on my side, how wrong I’d been. I was immensely, deeply grateful.

After lunch, we went by Wal-Mart to get some groceries for supper. To my relief, Mr. Cataliades and Diantha went to fill up their van at the gas station while the rest of us shopped. I simply couldn’t imagine those two in Wal-Mart. I divided the list and handed it out, so we were done in no time.

As we filled up our cart, Quinn, a supernatural event planner, was telling me about a werewolf coming-of-age party that had turned into a free-for-all. I was laughing when we turned a corner and met Sam.

After his weirdness yesterday at the bar and on the phone today, I hardly knew what to say to Sam, but I was glad to see him. Sam looked pretty grim, and he looked even grimmer when I reintroduced him to Quinn.

"Yeah, man, I remember you," Sam said, trying to smile. "You come to give Sookie moral support?"

"Any kind of support she needs," Quinn said, not the happiest choice of words.

"Sam, I’ve talked about Mr. Cataliades, I know. He’s brought Diantha and Barry and Amelia and Bob," I said hastily. "You remember Amelia and Bob, though maybe Bob was a cat last time you saw him. Come visit!"

"I remember them," Sam said between clenched teeth. "But I can’t come by."

"What’s stopping you? I guess Kennedy is working the bar."

"Yeah, she’s got this afternoon."

"Then come on out."

He closed his eyes, and I could sense the words beating at his head, wanting to come out. "I can’t," he repeated, and he rolled his cart away and left the store.

"What’s up with him?" Quinn asked. "I don’t know Sam well, but he’s always been standing right behind you, Sookie, always in your corner. There’s something compelling him to step aside."

I was so confused I couldn’t speak. While we checked out and loaded the groceries into the back of the van, I chewed at the problem of Sam and what was happening with him. He wanted to come out to the house, but he wouldn’t come out to the house. Because? Well, why would you not do something you wanted to do? Because you were being prevented.

"He’s promised someone he won’t," I muttered. "That’s gotta be it." Could it be Bernie? I thought she liked me, but maybe I was reading her wrong. Maybe she thought all I was was trouble for her son. Well, if Sam had made her – or someone else – such a promise, there didn’t seem to be anything I could do about it, but I would put the situation on the back burner of things that worried me. When there was room on the front burner, I’d move it forward. Because it sure made me hurt inside.

When the groceries were put away, we assembled again in the living room. I wasn’t used to sitting around all day, and I felt a little restless as we all took the chairs we’d been in earlier. Quinn took the only one left, a kind of dumpy armchair I’d always planned on exchanging for something better . . . but I’d never gotten around to it. I tossed him a cushion, and he gamely tried stuffing it in the small of his back to make the chair a bit more comfortable.

"I have some things to tell all of you," Mr. Cataliades said. "And later, some things to tell Sookie individually . . . but now I have to tell you what I’ve witnessed and suspected."

This sounded so ominous that we all turned our attention to the part-demon.

"I’d heard that there was a devil in New Orleans," he said.

"The Devil? Or a devil?" Amelia asked.

"What an excellent question," Mr. Cataliades said. "In fact, a devil. The Devil himself seldom makes a personal appearance. You can imagine the crowds."

None of us knew quite what to say, so perhaps we couldn’t.

Diantha laughed as if she were remembering something very funny. I, for one, didn’t want to know what it was.

"Here’s the most interesting fact," he said precisely. "The devil was dining with your father, Miss Amelia."

"Not dining on my dad, but dining with him?" She laughed for a second, but suddenly Mr. Cataliades’s meaning sank in. Amelia’s face drained of color. "Are you shitting me?" she asked quietly.