Dead Reckoning (Sookie Stackhouse #11)(36)
Author: Charlaine Harris

And Terry went crazy. He crouched, screaming, and dropped the bat as if it had burned him. No matter what anyone said (the most popular thing was "SHUT UP, TERRY!"), he howled.

I never thought I’d end up sitting on the floor cradling Terry Bellefleur in my arms, rocking him and murmuring to him. But that was where I was, since he seemed to get worse if anyone else approached him. Even the ambulance people got nervous when Terry shrieked at them. He was still crouched on the balls of his feet, speckled with blood, after Sandra Pelt had gone to the hospital in Clarice.

I was beholden to Terry, who had always been kind to me even when he was having one of his bad spells. He’d come to clear away the debris when an arsonist had set fire to my kitchen. He’d offered me one of his puppies. Now he’d damaged his fragile mind to save my life. As I rocked him and patted him on the back while he wept, I listened to the steady stream of his words as the few people left in Merlotte’s did their best to stay a decent distance away.

"I done what he told me," Terry said, "the shining man, I kept track of Sookie and I tried to keep her from harm, no one should hurt Sookie, I tried to watch out for her, and then today that bitch come in here and I knew she was going to kill Sook, I knew it, I never wanted to take blood again in my life but I couldn’t let her hurt the gal, I couldn’t do it, and I never wanted to kill another person in my whole existence, I never did."

"She’s not dead, Terry," I said, kissing him on the head. "You didn’t kill anyone."

"Sam passed me the bat," Terry said, sounding a little more alert.

"Sure, because he couldn’t get out from behind the bar in time. Thanks so much, Terry, you’ve been a friend to me always. God bless you for saving my life."

"Sookie? You knew they wanted me to watch out for you? They come to my trailer at night, for months, that big blond one and then the shining one. They always wanted to know about you."

"Sure," I said, thinking, What?

"They wanted to know how you were doing and who was you hanging with and who hated you and who loved you. . . ."

"That’s okay," I said. "It was okay to tell them."

Eric and my great-grandfather, I guessed. Picking the damaged one, the one easiest to persuade. I’d known Eric had had someone watching me while I dated Bill and while I was on my own later. I’d guessed that my great-grandfather had had some source of knowledge, too. Whether he’d gotten the name from Eric or had discovered Terry on his own, it was very like Niall to use the handiest tool, whether or not the tool snapped during use.

"I met Elvis in your woods one night," Terry said. One of the EMTs had given him a shot, and I thought it was beginning to work. "I knew I was nuts then. He was telling me how much he liked cats. I told him I was a dog person, myself."

The vampire formerly known as Elvis had not translated well because his system had been so saturated with drugs when he’d been brought over by an ardent fan in the Memphis morgue. Bubba, as he preferred to be called now, had a preference for feline blood, luckily for Terry’s beloved Catahoula, Annie.

"We got along real well," Terry was saying, and his voice was getting slower and sleepier. "I guess I better go home now."

"We’re gonna take you out back to Sam’s trailer," I said. "That’s where you’ll wake up." Didn’t want Terry waking up in a panic. God, no.

The police had taken my statement, in a sketchy kind of way, and at least three people had heard Sandra say she’d firebombed the bar.

Of course, I’d been at the bar much later than I’d planned, and it was now dark. I knew that Eric was outside waiting for me, and I wanted more than anything to get up and foist the problem of Terry on someone else, but I simply couldn’t. What he’d done for me had damaged Terry even more, and I had no way to pay him back. It didn’t bother me that he’d been keeping track of me–okay, spying on me–for Eric before Eric was my lover, or for my great-grandfather. It hadn’t done me any harm. Since I knew Terry, I knew there had to have been pressure involved, of one kind or another.

Sam and I helped Terry to his feet, and we began to move, going down the hall that led to the back of the bar and across the employee parking lot to Sam’s trailer.

"They promised they wouldn’t let nothing happen to my dog," Terry whispered. "And they promised the dreams would stop."

"Did they keep their promises?" I asked back, my voice just as quiet.

"Yes," he said gratefully. "No more dreams, and I got my dog."

That didn’t seem to be so much to ask. I should be angrier at Terry, but I couldn’t scrape up the emotional energy. I was all worn out.

Eric was standing in the shadow of the trees. He stayed back so his presence wouldn’t agitate Terry. From the sudden stiffness in Sam’s face, I knew he was aware Eric was there, but Sam didn’t say anything.

We got Terry settled on Sam’s couch, and when he drifted away into the stream of sleep, I hugged Sam. "Thanks," I said.

"For what?"

"For passing Terry the bat."

Sam stepped back. "It was all I could think of to do. I couldn’t clear the bar without alerting her. She had to be surprised or it was all over."

"She’s that strong?"

"Yeah," he said. "And she’s convinced her world would be okay if it weren’t for you, sounded like. Fanatics are hard to beat down. They keep coming."

"Are you thinking about the people who are trying to get Merlotte’s closed?"

His smile was bitter. "Maybe I am. I can’t believe this is happening in our country, and me a veteran. Born and bred in the USA."

"I feel guilty, Sam. Some of this has happened because of me. The firebombing . . . Sandra wouldn’t have done that if I hadn’t been there. And the fight. Maybe you should let me go. I can work somewhere else, you know."

"Do you want to?"

I couldn’t read the expression on his face, but at least it wasn’t relief.

"No, of course not."

"Then you have a job. We’re a package deal."

He smiled, and somehow it didn’t light up his blue eyes the way his smiles usually did, but he meant what he said. Shifter or not, snarly brained or not, I could tell that much.

"Thanks, Sam. I better go see what my better half wants."

"Whatever Eric is to you, Sook, he’s not your better half."

I paused, my hand on the doorknob, and couldn’t think of anything to say to that. So I just left.

Eric was waiting, but not patiently. He took my face between his big hands and examined it under the harsh glare of the security lights on the corners of the bar. India came out the back way, gave us a startled look, and got in her car and drove off. Sam stayed in the trailer.