Dead Reckoning (Sookie Stackhouse #11)(67)
Author: Charlaine Harris

I hope some day you can forgive me, and maybe then I’ll hear the story.

Amelia

I ran a finger over the smoothness of this very dangerous object I had, and I shivered.

Warning, warning, and some more warning.

I sat at the desk for a few more minutes, lost in thought. The more I knew about fairy nature, the less I trusted fairies. Period. Including Claude and Dermot. (And especially Niall, my great-grandfather; it seemed I was always on the verge of remembering something about him, something really tricky.) I shook my head impatiently. Not the time to worry about that.

Though I’d put off admitting it as long as I could, I had to face unpleasant facts. Mr. Cataliades, through his friendship with my birth grandfather, had had more to do with my life than I’d ever guessed, and he was only revealing that to me now for reasons I couldn’t fathom. When I’d met the demon lawyer, he hadn’t quivered an eyelash in recognition.

It was all tied together somehow, and it all added up to a deep misgiving about my fairy kin. I believed that Claude, Dermot, Fintan, and Niall loved me as much as they could (for Claude, this would be quite a small amount, because he loved himself most of all). But I didn’t feel that it was a wholesome love. Though that adjective made me wince and think of Wonder Bread, it was the only one that fit.

As a sort of corollary to my increased understanding of fairy nature, I no longer doubted Gran’s word. Instead, I believed that Fintan had loved my grandmother Adele more than she’d ever realized, and in fact he’d adored her beyond the bounds of human imagination. He’d been with her much more often than she knew, sometimes taking on the guise of her husband to be in her presence. He’d taken family photos with her; he’d watched her go about her daily business; he’d probably (wince!) had sex with her while disguised as Mitchell. Where had my real grandfather been while all of this was going on? Had he still been present in his body, but unconscious? I hoped not, but I’d never know. I wasn’t sure I truly wanted to.

Because of Fintan’s devotion, he’d given my grandmother a cluviel dor. Perhaps it could have saved her life, but I didn’t believe she’d ever thought of using it. Perhaps her faith had precluded sincere belief in the power of a magical object.

Gran had stowed her letter of confession and the cluviel dor in the concealed drawer years ago to keep them safe from the prying eyes of the two grandchildren she was raising. I was sure that after she’d hidden the items that made her feel so guilty, she’d almost forgotten about them. I figured the relief of unburdening herself was so great, she’d quit worrying about the memory altogether. It must have seemed outlandish, contrasted with the daily difficulties of being a widow raising two grandchildren.

Maybe (I conjectured) from time to time she’d thought, I really should tell Sookie where those things are. But of course, she’d always supposed she’d have more time. We always do.

I looked down at the smooth object in my hand. I tried to imagine the things I could do with it. It was supposed to grant one wish, a wish for someone you loved. Since I loved Eric, presumably I could wish Victor would die, which would definitely benefit my loved one. It seemed awful to me, using a love token to kill someone, whether or not it benefited Eric. An idea came to me that made my eyes widen. I could take away Hunter’s telepathy! He could grow up normal! I could counteract Hadley’s unintentional burdensome gift to her abandoned son.

That seemed like such a fabulous idea. I was delighted for all of thirty seconds. Then, of course, doubt set in. Was it right to change someone’s life that much simply because I could? On the other hand, was it right to let Hunter suffer his way through a difficult childhood?

I could change myself.

That was so shocking an idea that it almost made me black out. I simply couldn’t think about it just now. I had to prepare for Operation Victor.

After thirty minutes, I was ready to go.

I drove to Fangtasia, trying to keep my mind empty and my spirit fierce. (Emptying my mind was maybe too easy. I’d learned so much in the past few days that I hardly knew who I was anymore. And that made me pretty angry, so fierce was easy, too.) I sang along with every song on the radio, and because I have an awful voice I was glad I was alone. Pam can’t sing, either. I was thinking about her a lot as I drove, wondering if her Miriam was alive or dead, feeling sorry for my best vampire friend. Pam was so tough and so strong and so ruthless that I hadn’t ever considered her more delicate emotions until the past few days. Maybe that was why Eric had chosen Pam when he’d wanted a child; he’d sensed they were kindred spirits.

I didn’t doubt Eric loved me, just as I knew Pam loved her ailing Miriam. But I didn’t know if Eric loved me enough to defy all his maker’s arrangements, enough to forgo the leap in power and status and income he’d gain as consort of the Queen of Oklahoma. Would Eric enjoy being a Sooner? As I navigated through Shreveport, I wondered if Oklahoma vampires wore cowboy boots and knew all the songs from the musical. I wondered why I was thinking such idiotic thoughts when I should be preparing for a very grim evening, an evening I might not survive.

Judging from the parking lot, Fangtasia was jam-packed. I went to the employee entrance and knocked, using a special pattern. Maxwell opened the door, looking positively suave in a beautiful summer-weight tan suit. Dark-skinned vampires undergo an interesting change a few decades after they’re turned. If they were a very dark shade in life, they become a light brown, sort of a milk chocolate. Those who were lighter skinned become a sort of creamy ecru. Maxwell Lee hadn’t been dead long enough for that, though. He was still one of the darkest men I had ever seen, the color of ebony, and his mustache was as precise as if he’d shaved with a ruler at hand. We’d never been especially fond of each other, but this evening his smile was almost manic in its cheerfulness.

"Miss Stackhouse, we’re so glad you stopped by tonight," he said loudly. "Eric will be pleased to see you looking so–so tasty."

I take my compliments where I can get them, and "tasty" wasn’t bad. I was wearing a strapless dress in sky blue with a broad white belt and white sandals. (I know white shoes are supposed to make your feet look big, but mine aren’t, so I didn’t care.) My hair was down. I felt pretty damn good. I held out a foot so Maxwell could admire my self-administered pedicure. Spicy Pink Carnation.

"Fresh as a daisy," Maxwell said. He pulled aside his jacket to show me that he was carrying a gun. I gave him big eyes of admiration. Carrying a firearm was not a vampire norm, and it might be a bit unexpected. Colton and Audrina came in on my heels. Audrina had put up her hair with what looked like chopsticks, and she was carrying a large purse, almost as large as mine. Colton was armed, too, because he was wearing a jacket, and on a sultry evening like this one, humans just didn’t wear jackets if they could help it. I introduced them to Maxwell, and after a polite exchange they sauntered down the hall to go out into the club.