From Dead to Worse (Sookie Stackhouse #8)(56)
Author: Charlaine Harris

"And your mom?"

"She’s still in Wright. She married again about two years after Dad died. He’s a good enough guy. He’s regular." Not a shifter or any kind of supernatural. "So there’s a limit to how close I can get to him," Sam said.

"Your mom’s a full-blood. Surely he suspects."

"He’s willfully blind, I think. She has to go out for her evening run, she says, or she’s spending the night with her sister in Waco, or she’s driving over to visit me, or some other excuse."

"Must be hard to maintain."

"I would never try to do that. I almost married a regular girl once, while I was in the service. But I just couldn’t marry someone and keep that big a secret. It saves my sanity, having someone to talk to about it, Sookie." He smiled at me, and I appreciated the trust he was showing. "If the Weres announce, then we’ll all go public. It’ll be a great burden off me."

We both knew there would be new problems to face, but there wasn’t any need to talk about future trouble. Trouble always came at its own pace.

"You got any sisters or brothers?" I asked.

"One of each. My sister is married with two kids, and my brother is still single. He’s a great guy." Sam was smiling and his face looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen. "Craig’s getting married in the spring, he says," Sam went on. "Maybe you can go to the wedding with me."

I was so astonished I didn’t know what to say, and I was very flattered and pleased. "That sounds like fun. Tell me when you know the date," I said. Sam and I had gone out, once, and it had been very pleasant; but it was in the midst of my problems with Bill and the evening had never been repeated.

Sam nodded casually, and the little jolt of tension that had run through me evaporated. After all, this was Sam, my boss, and come to think of it, also one of my best friends. He’d clicked into that slot during the past year. I got up. I had my purse, and I pulled on my jacket.

"Did you get an invitation for the Fangtasia Halloween party this year?" he asked.

"No. After the last party they invited me to, they might not want me to come back," I said. "Besides, with all the recent losses, I don’t know if Eric’ll feel like celebrating."

"You think we ought to have a Halloween party at Merlotte’s?" he asked.

"Maybe not with candy and stuff like that," I said, thinking hard. "Maybe a goodie bag for each customer, with dry roasted peanuts? Or a bowl of orange popcorn on each table? And some decorations?"

Sam looked in the direction of the bar as if he could see through the walls. "That sounds good. Make a thing of it." Ordinarily we only decorated for Christmas, and that only after Thanksgiving, at Sam’s insistence.

I waved good night and left the bar, leaving Sam to check that everything was locked tight.

The night had a cold bite to it. This would be one of the Halloweens that really felt like the Halloweens I’d seen in children’s books.

In the center of the parking lot, his face turned up to the sliver of moon, his eyes closed, stood my great-grandfather. His pale hair hung down his back like a thick curtain. His myriad of fine creases were invisible in the moonlight, or else he’d divested himself of them. He was carrying his cane, and once again he was wearing a suit, a black suit. There was a heavy ring on his right hand, the hand gripping the cane.

He was the most beautiful being I’d ever seen.

He didn’t look remotely like a human grandfather. Human grandfathers wore gimme caps from the John Deere place and overalls. They took you fishing. They let you ride on their tractors. They groused at you for being too pampered and then they bought you candy. As for human great-grandfathers, most of us hardly got to know ours.

I became aware of Sam standing by my side.

"Who is that?" he breathed.

"That’s my, ah, my great-granddad," I said. He was right there in front of me. I had to explain.

"Oh," he said, his voice was full of amazement.

"I just found out," I said apologetically.

Niall stopped soaking up the moonlight and his eyes opened. "My great-granddaughter," he said, as if my presence in the Merlotte’s parking lot was a pleasant surprise. "Who is your friend?"

"Niall, this is Sam Merlotte, who owns this bar," I said.

Sam extended his hand cautiously, and after a good look at it, Niall touched it with his own. I could feel Sam give a slight jerk, as if my great-grandfather had had a buzzer in his hand.

"Great-granddaughter," Niall said, "I hear you were in danger in the fracas between the werewolves."

"Yes, but Sam was with me, and then Claudine came," I said, feeling oddly defensive. "I didn’t know there was going to be a fracas, as you put it, when I went. I was trying to be a peacemaker. We were ambushed."

"Yes, that’s what Claudine reported," he said. "I understand the bitch is dead?"

By which he meant Priscilla. "Yes, sir," I said. "The bitch is dead."

"And then you were in danger again one night later?"

I was beginning to feel definitely guilty of something. "Well, that’s not actually my norm," I said. "It just happened that the vampires of Louisiana got overrun by the vampires of Nevada."

Niall seemed only mildly interested. "But you went as far as dialing the number I left you."

"Ah, yes, sir, I was pretty scared. But then Eric knocked the phone out of my hand because he thought if you came into the equation, there’d be an out-and-out war. As it turned out, I guess that was for the best, because he surrendered to Victor Madden." I was still a little angry about it, though, even after Eric’s gift of the replacement phone.

"Ahhh."

I couldn’t make head nor tail of that noncommittal sound. This might be the downside of having a great-grandfather on site. I’d been called on the carpet. It was a feeling I hadn’t had since I was a young teen and Gran had found out I’d skipped taking out the trash and folding the laundry. I didn’t like the feeling now any more than I’d liked it then.

"I love your courage," Niall said unexpectedly. "But you are very frail – mortal, breakable, and short-lived. I don’t want to lose you just when I finally became able to speak to you."

"I don’t know what to say," I muttered.

"You don’t want me to stop you from doing anything. You won’t change. How can I protect you?"

"I don’t think you can, not a hundred percent."

"Then what use am I to you?"

"You don’t have to be of use to me," I said, surprised. He didn’t seem to have the emotional set I had. I didn’t know how to explain it to him. "It’s enough for me – it’s wonderful – just knowing you exist. That you care about me. That I have living family, no matter how distant and different. And you don’t think I’m weird or crazy or embarrassing."