Dead Reckoning (Sookie Stackhouse #11)(52)
Author: Charlaine Harris

When I tried to imagine myself doing that, it felt so wrong and bad that I knew I genuinely wanted them out of the house.

I’d been so happy to see Amelia. I’d been so pleased that she was willing to rush up from New Orleans to do magical repairs on my protection. And I’d been so startled she’d actually found a way to break the bond that I’d let myself be rushed into actually doing it. I should have called Eric first, warned him. No excuse for doing it so brutally, except I’d been sure he’d talk me out of it. That was just as poorly done as letting myself be persuaded to take the shaman’s drugs at Alcide’s pack meeting.

Those two decisions were my fault. They were mistakes I had made.

But this impulse of Amelia’s to try to manipulate my love life had been a bad one. I was an adult woman, and I had earned the right to make my own decisions about who I wanted to be with. I had wanted to remain Amelia’s friend forever, but not if she was going to manipulate events in an attempt to try to turn my life into one she liked better.

And Claude had been playing a Claude sort of joke, a sly and naughty trick. I didn’t like that, either. No, he needed to go.

When the forty-five minutes were up and I emerged from my room, I was a bit surprised to find that they’d actually done what I’d told them to. My houseguests were gone . . . except for Dermot.

My great-uncle was sitting on the back steps, his bulging sports bag beside him. He didn’t try to draw attention to himself in any way, and I guess he’d have sat there until I opened the back door to leave for work if I hadn’t happened to go out on the back porch to move the sheets from the washer to the dryer.

"Why are you here?" I asked in the most neutral voice I could summon.

"I’m sorry," he said, words that had been sorely lacking until now.

Though a knot inside me relaxed when he said those magic words, I wasn’t totally won over. "Why’d you let Claude do that?" I said. I was holding the door open, obliging him to twist around to talk to me. He stood and turned to face me.

"I didn’t think what he was doing was right. I didn’t think you could want Alcide when you seem tied to the vampire, and I didn’t think the outcome would be good for you or either of them. But Claude is willful and headstrong. I didn’t have the necessary energy to argue with him."

"Why not?" It seemed like an obvious question to me, but it surprised Dermot. He looked away, over the flowers and bushes and lawn.

After a thoughtful pause my great-uncle said, "I haven’t cared very much about anything since Niall enchanted me. Well, since you and Claude broke the enchantment, more accurately. I can’t seem to achieve any sense of purpose, of what I want to be doing with the rest of my life. Claude has a purpose. Even if he didn’t, I think he’d be content. Claude is very human in his nature." Then he looked appalled, perhaps realizing that in my clear-the-decks mood I might find his opinion a good reason to tell him to hit the road with the others.

"What’s Claude’s purpose?" I asked, because that seemed like a pretty interesting point. "Not that I don’t want to talk more about you, I do, but I find the idea of Claude with an agenda pretty interesting." Not to say alarming.

"I’ve already betrayed one friend," he said. After a moment, I realized he meant me. "I don’t want to betray another."

Now I was even more worried about Claude’s plans. However, that issue would have to wait. "Why do you think you’re feeling this inertia?" I said, returning to the topic at hand.

"Because I have no allegiance. Since Niall made sure I was put out of Faery . . . since I roamed around crazy for so long . . . I don’t feel part of the sky clan, and the water clan wouldn’t have me even though I allied with them. While I was cursed," he added hastily. "But I’m not a human, and I don’t feel like one. I can’t really pass for a man for more than a few minutes. The other fae at Hooligans, the cluster of them . . . they’re only united by chance." Dermot shook his golden head. Though his hair was longer than Jason’s, shoulder length to cover up his ears, he’d never looked more like my brother. "I don’t feel like a fairy anymore. I feel . . ."

"Like a stranger in a strange land," I said.

He shrugged. "Maybe so."

"You still want to work up in the attic?"

He exhaled a long slow breath. He looked at me sideways. "Yes, very much. Can I . . . just do that?"

I went into the house and got my car keys and my secret stash of money. Gran had been a great believer in keeping a secret stash. Mine had been hidden in the inner zip pocket of my weatherproof winter jacket at the back of my closet. "You can take my car to Home Depot in Clarice," I said. "Here. You can drive, can’t you?"

"Oh, yes," he said, looking from the money to the keys eagerly. "Yes, I even have a driver’s license."

"How’d you get that?" I asked, absolutely taken aback.

"I went to the government office one day while Claude was busy," he said. "I was able to make them think they were seeing the right papers. I had enough magic for that. Answering the questions on the test was easy. I’d watched Claude, so taking the officer for a drive wasn’t too difficult, either."

I wondered if a lot of drivers on the road had done the same thing. It would explain a lot. "Okay. Please be careful, Dermot. Ah, you know about money?"

"Yes, Claude’s secretary taught me. I can count it. I know what the coins are, too."

Aren’t you the big boy, I thought, but it would have been unkind to say. He really had adapted amazingly well for a driven-insane-by-magic fairy. "Okay," I said. "Have a good time, don’t spend all my money, and be back in an hour, ’cause I got to go to work. Sam said I could come in late today, but I don’t want to push it."

Dermot said, "You won’t regret this, Niece." He opened the kitchen door to toss his gym bag into the house, leaped down the steps, and got in my car, looking at the dashboard carefully.

"I hope not," I said to myself as he buckled up and drove away (slowly, thank God). "I sincerely hope not."

My departed guests had not felt obliged to do the dishes. I couldn’t say I was that surprised. I set to work and wiped down the counters afterward. The spotless kitchen made me feel I was making progress.

As I folded the sheets, warm from the dryer, I told myself I was doing okay. I wish I could say I didn’t think about Amelia, feel sorry all over again, decide all over again that I’d done the right thing.

Dermot returned within an hour. He was as happy and animated as I’d ever seen him. I hadn’t realized how depressed Dermot had been until I saw him actually lit up with purpose. He’d rented a sander and bought paint and plastic sheeting, blue tape and scrapers, brushes and rollers and a paint tray. I had to remind him he needed to eat something before he started work, and I also had to remind him that I needed to leave for work in the not-too-distant future.