From Dead to Worse (Sookie Stackhouse #8)(15)
Author: Charlaine Harris

"Fintan the Half Fairy was your paternal grandfather, Sookie," Niall said.

"No. I know who my grandfather was." My voice was shaking a little, I noticed, but it was still very quiet. "My grandfather was Mitchell Stackhouse and he married Adele Hale. My father was Corbett Hale Stackhouse, and he and my mom died in a flash flood when I was a little girl. Then I was raised by my grandmother Adele." Though I remembered the vampire in Mississippi who’d told me he detected a trace of fairy blood in my veins, and I believed this was my great-grandfather, I just couldn’t adjust my inner picture of my family.

"What was your grandmother like?" Niall asked.

"She raised me when she didn’t have to," I said. "She took me and Jason into her home, and she worked hard to raise us right. We learned everything from her. She loved us. She had two children herself and buried them both, and that must have about killed her, but still she was strong for us."

"She was beautiful when she was young," Niall said. His green eyes lingered on my face as if he were trying to find some trace of her beauty in her granddaughter.

"I guess," I said uncertainly. You don’t think about your grandmother in terms of beauty, at least in the normal way of things.

"I saw her after Fintan made her pregnant," Niall said. "She was lovely. Her husband had told her he could not give her children. He’d had mumps at the wrong time. That’s a disease, isn’t it?" I nodded. "She met Fintan one day when she was beating a rug out on the clothesline, in back of the house where you now live. He asked her for a drink of water. He was smitten on the spot. She wanted children so badly, and he promised her he could give them to her."

"You said fairies and people weren’t usually fertile when they crossbreed."

"But Fintan was only half fairy. And he already knew that he was able to give a woman a child." Niall’s mouth quirked. "The first woman he loved died in childbirth, but your grandmother and her son were more fortunate, and then two years later she was able to carry Fintan’s daughter to completion."

"He raped her," I said, almost hoping it was so. My grandmother had been the most true-blue woman I’d ever met. I couldn’t picture her cheating anyone out of anything, particularly since she’d promised in front of God to be faithful to my grandfather.

"No, he did not. She wanted children, though she didn’t want to be unfaithful to her husband. Fintan didn’t care about the feelings of others, and he wanted her desperately," Niall said. "But he was never violent. He would not have raped her. However, my son could talk a woman into anything, even into something against her moral judgment… And if she was very beautiful, so was he."

I tried to see the woman she must have been, in the grandmother I’d known. And I just couldn’t.

"What was your father like, my grandson?" Niall asked.

"He was a handsome guy," I said. "He was a hard worker. He was a good dad."

Niall smiled slightly. "How did your mother feel about him?" That question cut sharply into my warm memories of my father. "She, ah, she was really devoted to him." Maybe at the expense of her children.

"She was obsessed?" Niall’s voice was not judgmental but certain, as if he knew my answer.

"Real possessive," I admitted. "Though I was only seven when they died, even I could see that. I guess I thought it was normal. She really wanted to give him all her attention. Sometimes Jason and I were in the way. And she was really jealous, I remember." I tried to look amused, as if my mother being so jealous of my father was a charming quirk.

"It was the fairy in him that made her hold on so strongly," Niall said. "It takes some humans that way. She saw the supernatural in him, and it enthralled her. Tell me, was she a good mother?"

"She tried hard," I whispered.

She had tried. My mother had known how to be a good mother theoretically. She knew how a good mother acted toward her children. She’d made herself go through all the motions. But all her true love had been saved for my father, who’d been bemused by the intensity of her passion. I could see that now, as an adult. As a child, I’d been confused and hurt.

The red-haired Were brought our salad and set it down in front of us. He wanted to ask us if we needed anything else, but he was too scared. He’d picked up on the atmosphere at the table.

"Why did you decide now to come meet me?" I asked. "How long have you known about me?" I put my napkin in my lap and sat there holding the fork. I should take a bite. Wasting was not part of the way I’d been raised. By my grandmother. Who’d had sex with a half fairy (who’d wandered into the yard like a stray dog). Enough sex over enough time to produce two children.

"I’ve known about your family for the past sixty years, give or take. But my son Fintan forbade me seeing any of you." He carefully put a bit of tomato into his mouth, held it there, thought about it, chewed it. He ate the way I would if I was visiting an Indian or Nicaraguan restaurant.

"What changed?" I said, but I figured it out. "So your son is dead now."

"Yes," he said, and put down the fork. "Fintan is dead. After all, he was half human. And he’d lived for seven hundred years."

Was I supposed to have an opinion about this? I felt so numb, as though Niall had shot Novocain into my emotional center. I probably should ask how my – my grandfather had come to die, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

"So you decided to come tell me about this – why?" I was proud of how calm I sounded.

"I’m old, even for my kind. I would like to know you. I can’t atone for the way your life has been shaped by the heritage Fintan gave you. But I will try to make your life a little easier, if you’ll permit me."

"Can you take the telepathy away?" I asked. A wild hope, not unmixed with fear, flared in me like a sunspot.

"You are asking if I can remove something from the fiber of your being," Niall said. "No, I can’t do that."

I slumped in my chair. "Thought I’d ask," I said, fighting away tears. "Do I get three wishes, or is that with genies?"

Niall regarded me with no humor at all. "You wouldn’t want to meet a genie," he said. "And I’m not a figure of fun. I am a prince."

"Sorry," I said. "I’m having a little trouble coping with all this… Great-grandfather." I didn’t remember my human great-grandfathers. My grandfathers – okay, I guess one of them hadn’t truly been my grandfather – hadn’t looked or acted a thing like this beautiful creature. My grandfather Stackhouse died sixteen years ago, and my mother’s parents had died before I was into my teens. So I’d known my grandmother Adele much better than any of the others, actually much better than I’d known my true parents.