Dead and Gone (Sookie Stackhouse #9) - Page 15

I had vampire protection, of a sort, waiting for me after work. Bubba was standing by my car when I left Merlotte's. He grinned when he saw me, and I was glad to give him a hug. Most people wouldn't have been pleased to see a mentally defective vampire with a penchant for cat blood, but I'd become fond of Bubba.

"When did you get back in town?" I asked. Bubba had gotten caught in New Orleans during Katrina, and he'd required a long recovery. The vampires were willing to accommodate him, because he had been one of the most famous people in the world until he'd been brought over in a morgue in Memphis.

"'Bout a week ago. Good to see you, Miss Sookie." Bubba's fangs slid out to show me how glad. Just as quickly, they snicked back into concealment. Bubba still had talent. "I've been traveling. I've been staying with friends. But I was in Fangtasia tonight visiting Mr. Eric, and he asked if I'd like the job of keeping watch over you. I told him, 'Miss Sookie and me, we're real good friends, and that would suit me just fine.' Have you gotten another cat?"

"No, Bubba, I haven't." Thank God.

"Well, I got me some blood in a cooler in the back of my car." He nodded toward a huge old white Cadillac that had been restored with time and trouble and lots of cash.

"Oh, the car's beautiful," I said. I almost added, "Did you own it while you were alive?" But Bubba didn't like references to his former state of existence; they made him upset and confused. (If you put it very carefully, from time to time he'd sing for you. I'd heard him do "Blue Christmas." Unforgettable.)

"Russell give that to me," he said.

"Oh, Russell Edgington? The King of Mississippi?"

"Yeah, wasn't that nice? He said since he was king of my home state, he felt like giving me something special."

"How's he doing?" Russell and his new husband, Bart, had both survived the Rhodes hotel bombing.

"He's feeling real good now. He and Mr. Bart are both healed up."

"I'm so glad to hear it. So, are you supposed to follow me home?"

"Yes'm, that's the plan. If you'll leave your back door unlocked, close to morning I'll get into that hidey-hole in your guest bedroom; that's what Mr. Eric said."

Then it was doubly good that Octavia had moved out. I didn't know how she would have reacted if I'd told her that the Man from Memphis needed to sleep in her closet all day long.

When I got home, Bubba pulled in right behind me in his amazing car. I saw that Dawson's truck was there, too. I wasn't surprised. Dawson worked as a bodyguard from time to time, and he was in the area. Since Alcide had decided he wanted to help, Tray Dawson was an obvious choice, regardless of his relationship with Amelia.

Tray himself was sitting at my kitchen table when Bubba and I came in. For the first time since I'd known him, the big man looked seriously startled. But he was smart enough not to blurt anything out.

"Tray, this is my friend Bubba," I said. "Where's Amelia?"

"She's upstairs. I got some business to talk with you."

"I figured. Bubba's here for the same reason. Bubba, this is Tray Dawson."

"Hey, Tray!" Bubba shook hands, laughing because he'd made a rhyme. He hadn't translated real well. The spark of life had been so faint by the time a morgue attendant of the fanged persuasion had gotten hold of him, and the drugs in his system so pervasive, that Bubba had been lucky to survive the bringing over as well as he had, which wasn't too well.

"Hey," Tray said cautiously. "How are you doing … Bubba?"

I was relieved Tray'd picked up on the name.

"I'm real good, thank you. Got me some blood in the cooler out there, and Miss Sookie keeps some TrueBlood in the refrigerator, or at least she used to."

"Yes, I have some," I said. "You want to sit down, Bubba?"

"No, ma'am. I think I'll just grab me a bottle and settle down out in the woods. Bill still live across the cemetery?"

"Yes, he does."

"Always good to have friends close."

I wasn't sure I could call Bill my friend; our history was too complicated for that. But I was absolutely sure that he'd help me if I was in danger. "Yes," I said, "that's always good."

Bubba rummaged around in the refrigerator and came out with a couple of bottles. He raised them to me and Tray, and took his leave smiling.

"Good God Almighty," Tray said. "That who I think it is?"

I nodded and took a seat opposite him.

"Explains all the sightings," he said. "Well, listen, you got him out there and me in here. That okay with you?"

"Yes. I guess you've talked to Alcide?"

"Yeah. I'm not trying to get in your business, but it would have been better to hear all this from you directly. Especially since you talked to Amelia about this guy Drake, and Amelia's all upset because apparently she's been blabbing to the enemy. If we'd known about your troubles, she would have kept her mouth shut. I would have killed him when he first introduced himself. Saved all of us a lot of trouble. You think about that?"

Bluntness was the way to go with Tray. "I think you are kind of getting in my business, Tray. When you're here as my friend and Amelia's boyfriend, I tell you what I think I can without endangering you or Amelia. It never occurred to me that Niall's enemies would think of getting information through my roommate. And it was news to me that you couldn't tell a fairy from a human." Tray winced. "You may not want to be responsible for guarding me, with the personal complication of having your girlfriend under the same roof as the woman you're supposed to protect. Is this too big a conflict of interest for you?"

Tray regarded me steadily. "No, I want the job," he said, and even though he was a Were, I could tell that his real goal was keeping Amelia safe. Since she lived with me, he could kill two birds with one stone by getting paid for protecting me. "For one thing, I owe that Drake payback. I never knew he was a fairy, and I don't know how he managed that. I got a good nose."

Tray's pride had been bruised. I could understand that. "Drake's dad can mask his smell, even from vampires. Maybe Drake can, too. Also, he's not completely fae. He's half-human, and his real name is Dermot."

Tray absorbed this, nodded. I could tell he felt a little better. I was trying to figure out if I did.

I had misgivings about the arrangement. I thought of calling Alcide and explaining why Tray might be a less than perfect bodyguard, but I decided against it. Tray Dawson was a great fighter and would do his best for me … up to the point where he had to make a choice between Amelia and me.

"So?" he said, and I realized I'd been quiet for too long.

"The vampire can take the nights and you can take the days," I said. "I should be okay while I'm at the bar." I pushed back my chair and left the kitchen without saying anything else. I had to admit that instead of feeling relieved, I was even more worried. I'd thought I'd been so clever asking for an extra layer of protection; instead, now I was going to worry about the safety of the men providing that layer.

I got ready for bed slowly, finally admitting to myself that I was hoping Eric would put in an appearance. I'd love to have his brand of relaxation therapy to help me sleep. I expected to lie awake anticipating the next attack. As it turned out, I was so tired from the night before that I drifted off to sleep very quickly.

Instead of my usual boring dreams (customers calling me constantly while I hurried to catch up, mold growing in my bathroom), that night I dreamed of Eric. In my dream, he was human and we walked together under the sun. Oddly enough, he sold real estate.

When I looked at the clock the next morning, it was very early, at least for me: not quite eight o'clock. I woke up with a feeling of alarm. I wondered if I'd had another dream, one I didn't remember. I wondered if my telepathic sense had caught something even while I slept, something wrong, something askew.

I took a moment to scan my own house, not my favorite way to start the day. Amelia was gone, but Tray was here and in trouble.

I put on a bathrobe and slippers and stepped out into the hall. The moment I opened my door, I could hear him being sick in the hall bathroom.

There are some moments that should be completely private, and the moments when you're throwing up are at the top of that list. But werewolves are normally completely healthy, and this was the guy who'd been sent to guard me, and he was obviously (excuse me) sick as a dog.

I waited until a lull in the sound. I called, "Tray, is there anything I can do for you?"

"I've been poisoned," he said, choking and gagging.

"Should I call the doctor? A human one? Or Dr. Ludwig?"

"No." That sounded definite enough. "I'm trying to get rid of it," he gasped, after another bout of retching. "But it's too late."

"You know who gave it to you?"

"Yeah. That new girlfriend …" He faded out for a few seconds. "Out in the woods. Vampire Bill's new fuck."

I had an instinctive reaction. "He wasn't with her, right?" I called.

"No, she – " More awful noises. "She came from the direction of his house, said she was his …"

I knew, without a doubt, that Bill didn't have a new girlfriend. Though it embarrassed me to admit it to myself, I was so sure because I knew he wanted me back. I knew he wouldn't jeopardize that by taking someone else to his bed or by permitting such a woman to roam in the woods where I might encounter her.

"What was she?" I said, resting my forehead against the cool wood of the door. I was getting tired of yelling.

"She was some fangbanger." I felt Tray's brain shift around through the fog of sickness. "At least, she felt like a human."

"The same way Dermot felt human. And you drank something she handed you." It was kind of mean of me to sound incredulous, but honestly!

"I couldn't help it," he said very slowly. "I was so thirsty. I had to drink it."

He'd been under some kind of compulsion spell. "And what was it? The stuff you drank?"

"It tasted like wine." He groaned. "Goddammit, it must have been vampire blood! I can taste it in my mouth now!"

Vampire blood was still the hot drug on the underground marketplace, and human reactions to it varied so widely that drinking the blood was very much like playing Russian roulette, in more ways than one. Vampires hated the Drainers who collected the blood because the Drainers often left the vampire exposed to the day. So vampires also loathed the users of the blood, since they created the market. Some users became addicted to the ecstatic sensation that the blood could offer, and those users sometimes tried to take the blood right from the source in a kind of suicide attack. But every now and then, the user went berserk and killed other humans. Either way, it was all bad press for the vamps who were trying to mainstream.

"Why would you do that?" I asked, unable to keep the anger out of my voice.

"I couldn't help it," he said, and the bathroom door finally opened. I took a couple of steps back. Tray looked bad and smelled worse. He was wearing pajama pants and nothing else, and a vast expanse of chest hair was right at my eye level. It was covered in goose pimples.

"How come?"

"I couldn't … not drink it." He shook his head. "And then I came back here and got in bed with Amelia, and I tossed and turned all night. I was up when the K – when Bubba came in and went to bed in your closet. He said something about a woman talking to him, but I was feeling really bad by then, and I don't remember what he said. Did Bill send her over here? Does he hate you that bad?"

I looked up then and met his eyes. "Bill Compton loves me," I said. "He would never hurt me."

"Even now that you're screwing the big blond?"

Amelia couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"Even now that I'm screwing the big blond," I said.

"You can't read vampire minds, Amelia says."

"No, I can't. But some things you just know."

"Right." Though Tray didn't have enough energy to look skeptical, he gave it a good shot. "I have to go to bed, Sookie. I can't take care of you today."

I could see that. "Why don't you go back to your own house and try to get some rest in your own bed?" I said. "I'm going to work today, and I'll be around someone."

"No, you gotta be covered."

"I'll call my brother," I said, surprising even myself. "He's not going to work now, and he's a panther. He should be able to watch my back."

"Okay." It was a measure of Tray's wretchedness that he didn't argue, though he wasn't a Jason fan by any means. "Amelia knows I'm not feeling good. If you talk to her before I do, tell her I'll call her tonight."

The werewolf staggered out to his truck. I hoped he was good to drive home, and I called after him to make sure, but he just waved a hand at me and drove down the driveway.

Feeling oddly numb, I watched him go. I'd done the prudent thing for once; I'd called in my markers and gotten protection. And it hadn't done me a bit of good. Someone who couldn't attack me in my home – because of Amelia's good magic, I had to assume – had arranged to attack me in other ways. Murry had turned up outside, and now some fairy had met up with Tray in the woods, compelling him to drink vampire blood. It might have sent him mad; he might have killed all of us. I guess, for the fairies, it was a win-win situation. Though he hadn't gone crazy and killed me or Amelia, he'd gotten so sick that he was effectively out of the bodyguard business for a while.

I walked down the hall to go into my room and pull on some clothes. Today was going to be a hard day, and I always felt better when I was dressed while handling a crisis. Something about putting on my underwear makes me feel more capable.

I got my second shock of the day when I was about to turn into my room. There was a movement in the living room. I stopped dead and took a huge, ragged breath. My great-grandfather was sitting on the couch, but it took me an awful moment to recognize Niall. He got up, regarding me with some astonishment while I stood gasping, my hand over my heart.

"You look rough today," he said.

"Yeah, well, not expecting visitors," I said breathlessly. He wasn't looking so great himself, which was a first. His clothes were stained and torn, and unless I was much mistaken, he was sweating. My fairy prince great-grandfather was actually less than gorgeous for the very first time.

I moved into the living room and looked at him more closely. Though it was early, I had my second stab of anxiety for the day. "What's up?" I asked. "You look like you've been fighting."

He hesitated for a long moment, as if he was trying to pick among several items of news. "Breandan has retaliated for the death of Murry," Niall said.

"What has he done?" I scrubbed my dry hands across my face.

"He caught Enda last night, and now she is dead," he said. I could tell from his voice that her death had not been a quick one. "You didn't meet her; she was very shy of humans." He pushed back a long strand of his pale hair so blond it looked white.

"Breanden killed a fairy woman? There aren't that many fairy women, right? So doing that … isn't that extra awful?"

"It was intended to be," Niall said. His voice was bleak.

For the first time, I noticed that my great-grandfather's slacks were soaked with blood around the knees, which was probably why he hadn't come closer to hug me.

"You need to get out of those clothes," I said. "Please, Niall, go climb in the shower, and I'll put your stuff in the washing machine."

"I have to go," he said, and I could tell my words hadn't registered. "I came here to warn you in person, so you would take the situation very seriously. Powerful magic surrounds this house. I could appear here only because I'd been in here before. Is it true that the vampires and the Weres are looking out for you? You have extra protection; I can feel it."

"I have a bodyguard night and day," I lied, because he didn't need to be worrying about me. He was hip-deep in alligators himself. "And you know that Amelia is a strong witch. Don't worry about me."

He stared at me, but I didn't think he was seeing me at all. "I have to go," he said abruptly. "I wanted to be sure of your well-being."

"Okay … thanks a lot." I was trying to think of an improvement on this limp response when Niall poofed right out of my living room.

I'd told Tray I was going to call Jason. I wasn't sure how sincere I'd been about that, but now I knew I had to. The way I saw it, Alcide's favor to me had expired; he'd asked Tray to help, and now Tray was out of commission in the course of duty. I sure wasn't going to request that Alcide himself come guard me, and I wasn't close to any of his pack members. I took a deep breath and called my brother.

"Jason," I said when he answered the phone.

"Sis. What's up?" He sounded oddly jazzed, as if he'd just experienced something exciting.

"Tray had to leave, and I think I need some protection today," I said. There was a long silence. He didn't rush into questioning me, which was strange. "I was hoping you could go around with me? What I plan on doing today," I began, and then tried to figure out what that was. It was hard to have a good crisis when real life kept asking to be lived. "Well, I need to go to the library. I need to pick up a pair of pants at the dry cleaners." I hadn't checked the label before that particular purchase. "I have to work the day shift at Merlotte's. I guess that's it."

"Okay," Jason said. "Though those errands don't sound exactly urgent." There was a long pause. Suddenly he said, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said cautiously. "Should I not be?"

"The weirdest thing happened this morning. Mel slept at my place last night, since he was the worse for wear after he met me at the Bayou. So early this morning, there was a knock at the door. I answered it, and this guy was there, and he was, I don't know, nuts or something. The strangest part was, this guy looked a lot like me."

"Oh, no." I sat on the stool abruptly.

"He wasn't right, sis," Jason said. "I don't know what was wrong with him, but he wasn't right. He just started talking when Mel answered the door, like we knew who he was. He was saying crazy stuff. Mel tried to get between him and me, and he threw Mel clear across the room and called him a killer. Mel might've broken his neck if he hadn't landed on the couch."

"Mel's okay, then."

"Yeah, he's okay. Pretty mad, but you know …"

"Sure." Mel's feelings were not the most important issue here. "So what did he do next?"

"He said some shit about now that he was face-to-face with me he could see why my great-grandfather didn't want me around, and crossbreeds should all die, but I was clearly blood of his blood, and he'd decided I should know what's going on around me. He said I was ignorant. I didn't understand a lot of it, and I still don't get what he was. He wasn't a vamp, and I know he wasn't a shifter of any kind or I'd've smelled him."

"You're okay – that's the big thing, right?" Had I been wrong all along about keeping Jason out of the fairy loop?

"Yeah," he said, his voice abruptly going all cautious and wary. "You're not going to tell me what this is all about, are you?"

"Come over here, and we'll talk about it. Please, please, don't open the door unless you know who's there. This guy is bad, Jason, and he's not picky about who he hurts. I think you and Mel were real lucky."

"You got someone there with you?"

"Not since Tray left."

"I'm your brother. I'll come over if you need me," Jason said with unexpected dignity.

"I really appreciate that," I said.

I got two for the price of one. Mel came with Jason. This was awkward, because I had some family stuff to tell Jason, and I couldn't with Mel around. With unexpected tact, Mel told Jason that he had to run home and get an ice pack for his shoulder, which was badly bruised. While Mel was gone, I sat Jason down on the other side of the kitchen table, and I said, "I got some things to tell you."

"About Crystal?"

"No, I haven't heard anything about that yet. This is about us. This is about Gran. You're going to have a hard time believing this." I'd given him fair warning. I remembered how upset I'd been when my great-grandfather had told me about how my half-fairy grandfather, Fintan, had met my grandmother, and how she'd ended up having two children with him, our dad and our aunt Linda.

Now Fintan was dead – murdered – and our grandmother was dead, and our father and his sister were dead. But we were living, and just a small part fairy, and that made us a target for our great-grandfather's enemies.

"And one of those enemies," I said after I'd told him our family history, "is our half-human great-uncle, Fintan's brother, Dermot. He told Tray and Amelia that his name was Drake, I guess because it sounded more modern. Dermot looks like you, and he's the one who showed up at your house. I don't know what his deal is. He joined up with Breandan, Niall's big enemy, even though he's half-human himself and, therefore, exactly what Breandan hates. So when you said he was crazy, I guess there's your explanation. He seems to want to connect with you, but he hates you, too."

Jason sat staring at me. His face was completely vacant. His thoughts had gotten caught in a traffic jam. Finally he said, "You tell me he was trying to get Tray and Amelia to introduce you? And neither of them knew what he was?"

I nodded. There was some more silence.

"So why did he want to meet you? Did he want to kill you? Why'd he need to meet you first?"

Good question. "I don't know," I said. "Maybe he just wanted to see what I was like. Maybe he doesn't know what he really wants." I couldn't figure this out, and I wondered if Niall would come back to explain it to me. Probably not. He had a war on his hands, even if it was a war being fought mostly away from human view. "I don't get it," I said out loud. "Murry came right here to attack me, and he was all fairy. Why is Dermot, who's on the same side, being all … indirect?"

"Murry?" Jason asked, and I closed my eyes. Shit.

"He was a fairy," I said. "He tried to kill me. He's not a problem now."

Jason gave me an approving nod. "You go, Sookie," he said. "Okay, let me see if I'm getting this straight. My great-grandfather didn't want to meet me because I look a lot like Dermot, who's my … great-uncle, right?"

"Right."

"But Dermot apparently likes me a little better, because he actually came to my house and tried to talk to me."

Trust Jason to interpret the situation in those terms. "Right," I said.

Jason hopped to his feet and took a turn around the kitchen. "This is all the vampires' fault," he said. He glared at me.

"Why do you think so?" This was unexpected.

"If they hadn't come out, none of this would be happening. Look at what's happened since they went on TV. Look at how the world has changed. Nowwe're out. Next, the fucking fairies. And the fae are bad news, Sookie; Calvin warned me about 'em. You think they're all pretty and sweetness and light, but they're not. He's told me stories about them that would make your hair curl. Calvin's dad knew a fairy or two. From what he's said, it would be a good thing if they died out."

I couldn't decide if I was surprised or angry. "Why are you being so mean, Jason? I don't need you arguing with me or saying bad things about Niall. You don't know him. You don't … Hey, you're part fairy, remember!" I had an awful feeling that some of what he'd said was absolutely true, but it sure wasn't the time to have this discussion.

Jason looked grim, every plane of his face tense. "I'm not claiming kin to any fairy," he said. "He don't want me; I don't want him. And if I see that crazy half-and-half again, I'll kill the son of a bitch."

I don't know what I would have said, but at that moment Mel came in without knocking, and we both turned to look at him.

"I'm sorry!" he said, obviously flustered and disturbed by Jason's anger. He seemed, for a second, to think Jason had been talking about him. When neither of us gave him a guilty reaction, he relaxed. "Excuse me, Sookie. I forgot my manners." He was carrying an ice bag in his hand, and he was moving a little slowly and painfully.

"I'm sorry you got hurt by Jason's surprise visitor," I said. You're always supposed to put your company at ease. I hadn't put a whole lot of thought into Mel, but right at that second I realized I would have been happier if Jason's former BFF, Hoyt, had been here instead of the werepanther. It wasn't that I disliked Mel, I thought. It was just that I didn't know him very well, and I didn't feel an automatic trust in him the way you feel about people from time to time. Mel was different. Even for a werepanther, he was hard to read, but that didn't mean he was impossible.

After offering Mel something to drink, which was only polite, I asked Jason if he was going to stay the day, run around on my errands with me. I had serious doubts he would say yes. Jason was feeling rejected (by a fairy great-grandfather he'd never met and didn't want to acknowledge), and that was a state of affairs Jason didn't handle well.

"I'll go around with you," he said, unsmiling and stiff. "First, let me run over to the house and check out my rifle. I'll need it, and it hasn't been sighted in a coon's age. Mel? You coming with me?" Jason simply wanted to be out of my presence to calm down. I could read it as easily as if he'd written it on the grocery list pad by the telephone.

Mel rose to go with Jason.

"Mel, what did you make of Jason's visitor this morning?" I asked.

"Aside from the fact that he could throw me across the room and looked enough like Jason to make me turn to make sure your brother was coming out of his bedroom? Not much," Mel said. Mel had managed to dress in his usual khakis and polo shirt, but the blue bruises on his arms kind of ruined his neat appearance. He shrugged on a jacket with great care.

"See you in a while, Sookie. Come around to get me," Jason said. Of course, he'd want to ride in my car and burn up my gas, since we were running my errands. "In the meantime, you got my cell number."

"Sure. I'll see you in an hour or so."

Since being alone hadn't been a normal state of affairs for me lately, I would have actually enjoyed the feeling of having the house to myself if I hadn't been worried that a supernatural killer was after me.

Nothing happened. I ate a bowl of cereal. Finally, I decided to risk taking a shower despite myPsycho memories. I made sure all the outside doors were locked, and I locked the bathroom door, too. I took the quickest shower on record.

Nobody had tried to kill me yet. I dried off, put on some makeup, and dressed for work.

When it was time to go, I stood on the back porch and eyeballed the distance between the steps and my car door, over and over. I figured I'd have to take ten steps. I unlocked the car with the keypad. I took a few deep breaths and unlocked the screen door. I pushed it open and fairly leaped off the porch, bypassing the steps entirely. In an undignified scramble, I yanked open the car door, slid inside, and slammed and locked the door. I looked around me.

Nothing moved.

I laughed a little breathlessly. Silly me!

Being so tense was making all the scary movies I'd ever seen pop into my head. I was thinking of Jurassic Park and dinosaurs – maybe my thought link was that fairies were the dinosaurs of the supernatural world – and I half expected a piece of goat to fall on my windshield.

That didn't happen, either. Okay …

I inserted the key and turned it, and the motor turned over. I didn't blow up. There was no Tyrannosaurus in my rearview mirror.

So far, so good. I felt better once I'd begun going slowly down the driveway through the woods, but I was sure keeping my eyes busy. I felt a compulsion to get in touch with someone, to let someone know where I was and what I was doing.

I whipped my cell phone out of my purse and called Amelia. When she answered, I said, "I'm driving over to Jason's. Since Tray is so sick, Jason's going around with me today. Listen, you know Tray was spelled by a fairy into drinking rotten vampire blood?"

"I'm at work here," Amelia said, caution in her voice. "Yes, he called ten minutes ago, but he had to go throw up. Poor Tray. At least the house was okay."

Amelia's point was that her wards had held. Well, she had a right to be proud of that.

"You're great," I said.

"Thanks. Listen, I'm really worried about Tray. I tried calling him back after a few minutes, but he didn't answer. I hope he's just sleeping it off, but I'm going over there after I leave work. Why don't you meet me there? We can figure out what to do about getting you some more security."

"Okay," I said. "I&