Deadlocked (10 page)

“Yes,” he said, nodding slowly. “I’m still feeling the effects. She was extra …”

“Like she’d had some kind of supplement?” I suppressed another surge of hurt and anger.

“Yes,” he agreed. He got up, but I could see that standing wasn’t easy. “Yes, as if she’d had a Were-and-fairy cocktail.” His eyes closed. “Delicious.”

Pam said, “Eric, if you hadn’t been hungry, you would have questioned such an opportune arrival.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “My mind isn’t yet clear, but I see the sense of your words.”

“Sookie, what did you get from her thoughts?” Pam asked.

“She was earning money. But she was excited that she might die.” I shrugged.

“But she didn’t.”

“No, I got here in time to interrupt what would have been a fatal feeding. Right, Eric? Could you have stopped?”

He looked profoundly embarrassed. “Maybe not. My control was almost gone. It was her smell. When she came up to me, she seemed so ordinary. Well, attractive because of the Were blood, but nothing really special. And I certainly didn’t offer her money. Then, suddenly …” He shook his head and gulped.

“Why did her attraction suddenly increase?” Pam was nothing if not pragmatic. “Wait. I apologize. We don’t have time to get lost in the whys and wherefores. We must get through this tonight, us three,” she said, looking at me and at Eric in turn. I nodded again. Eric gave a jerk of his head. “Good,” she said. “Sookie, you got here just in time. She wasn’t here by accident. She didn’t smell and taste that way by accident. A lot of things happened here tonight that reek of a plot. My friend, I’m going to repeat myself—you have to put aside personal pain for tonight.”

I gave Pam a very direct look. If I hadn’t gone into the bedroom, Eric might have drained the woman, and the woman herself had considered that result. I had a hunch something had been set in motion to catch Eric red-handed—red-fanged, more appropriately.

“Go brush your teeth,” I told him. “Really scrub. Wash your face; rinse out the sink with lots and lots of water.”

Eric didn’t like being told what to do, but he understood expediency very well. He went into the bathroom, leaving the door open. Pam said, “Let me go check on what’s happening with our special guests,” and disappeared down the hall into the living room, where the low music had continued without a break.

Eric stepped back into the bedroom, drying his face with a towel. He looked more alert, more present. He hesitated when he saw I was by myself. Eric was pretty much a stranger to relationship problems. From little clues and reminiscences he’d let drop, I’d gotten the picture that during literally centuries of sexual adventures he’d called the shots and the women had said, “Whatever you want, you big handsome Viking.” He’d had a fling or two with other vampires. Those had been more balanced connections, but brief. That was all I knew. Eric was not one to brag; he simply took sexual relationships for granted.

I was already feeling calmer. That was all to the good, since I was alone in a room with a man I’d wanted to shoot a few minutes before. Though we weren’t bonded anymore, Eric knew me well enough to realize that he could now speak.

“It was only blood,” he said. “I was anxious and hungry, you were late, and I didn’t want to just bite into you the moment I saw you. She came in while I was waiting, and I thought I’d have a quick drink. She smelled so intoxicating.”

“So you were trying to
spare
me,” I said, letting sarcasm drip off my words. “I see.” Then I made myself shut up.

“I acted impulsively.” And his mouth compressed into a straight line.

I considered him. I acted on impulse sometimes, myself. For example, the few previous times I’d been this angry or this hurt, I’d walked out of the situation—not because I wanted the last word or because I wanted to make a dramatic statement, but because I needed alone time to cool off. I took a deep breath. I looked Eric in the eye. I realized we both had to make a huge effort to move past this, at least for tonight. Without conscious thought, I had identified the subtle scent that must have screamed out at Eric’s senses.

“She’s already part Were, and she was doused in the scent of fairy blood to make you want her more,” I said. “I believe you’d have had better sense, if not for that. She was a trap. She came here because she expected to make a lot of money if you fed from her, and maybe to flirt with her death wish.”

“Can you manage to carry on with the evening as if we were in harmony?” Eric asked.

“I’ll do my best,” I said, trying not to sound bitter.

“That’s all I can ask.”

“You don’t seem to have any doubt that you can cope,” I observed. But then I closed my eyes for a moment, and I used every bit of my self-control to pull myself together into a coherent person. “So if I’m here to officially greet Felipe and he’s supposed to be talking to us about the ‘disappearance’ of Victor, when’s all the whoopee out in the great room going to stop? And just so you know, I’m seriously mad about the table.”

“Me, too,” he said, with unmistakable relief. “I’ll tell Felipe that we must talk tonight. Now.” He looked down at me. “My lover, don’t let your pride get the better of you.”

“Well, me and my pride would be delighted to get back in my car and go home,” I said, struggling to keep my voice quiet. “But I guess
me and my pride
will make the effort to stay here and get through this evening, if you could get everyone to stop screwing around long enough to get down to business. Or you can kiss me and my pride good-bye.”

With that, I went into the bathroom and shut the door, very quietly and deliberately. I locked it. I was through talking, at least for a while. I had to have a few seconds when no one was looking at me.

From outside the door, there was silence. I sat down on the toilet lid. I felt so full of conflicting emotions that it was like walking through a minefield in my high-heeled black sandals with the silly flowers on them. I looked down at my bright toenails.

“Okay,” I said to those toes. “Okay.” I took a deep breath. “You knew he took blood from other people. And you knew ‘other people’ might mean other women. And you knew that some women are younger and prettier and skinnier than you.” If I kept repeating that, it would sink in.

Good God—are “knowing” and “seeing” ever two different things!

“You also know,” I continued, “that he loves you. And you love him.”
When I don’t want to yank off one of these heels and stick it …
“You love him,” I repeated sternly. “You’ve been through so much with him, and he’s proved over and over that he’ll go the extra mile for you.”

He had. He had!

I told myself that about twenty times.

“So,” I said in a very reasonable voice, “Here’s a chance to rise above circumstances, to prove what you’re made of, and to help save both our lives. And that’s what I’ll do, because Gran raised me right. But when this is over …”
I’ll rip his damn head off.
“No, I won’t,” I admonished myself. “We’ll
talk
about it.”

THEN I’ll rip his head off.

“Maybe,” I said, and I could feel myself smiling.

“Sookie,” Pam said from the other side of the door, “I can hear you talking to yourself. Are you ready to do this thing?”

“I am,” I said sweetly. I stood, shook myself, and practiced a smile in the mirror. It was ghastly. I unlocked the door. I tried the smile out on Pam. Eric was standing right behind her, I guess thinking Pam would absorb the first blast if I came out shooting. “Is Felipe ready to talk?” I said.

For the first time since I’d met her, Pam looked a little uneasy as she looked at me. “Uh, yes,” she said. “He is ready for our discussion.”

“Great, let’s get going.” I maintained the smile.

Eric eyed me cautiously but didn’t say anything. Good.

“The king and his aide are out here,” Pam said. “The others have moved the party into the room across the hall.” Sure enough, I could hear squeals coming from behind the closed door.

Felipe and the square-jawed vamp—the one I’d last seen drinking from a woman—were sitting together on the couch. Eric and I took the (stained) loveseat arranged at right angles to the couch, and Pam took an armchair. The large, low coffee table (freshly gouged) that normally held only a few objets d’art was cluttered with bottles of synthetic blood and glasses of mixed drinks, an ashtray, a cell phone, some crumpled napkins. Instead of its normally attractive and orderly formality, the living room looked more like it belonged in a low dive.

I’d been conditioned for so many years that it was all I could do not to spring up, tie on an apron, and fetch a tray to clear away the clutter.

“Sookie, I don’t believe you’ve met Horst Friedman,” Felipe said.

I yanked my eyes away from the mess to look at the visiting vampire. Horst had narrow eyes, and he was tall and angular. His short hair was a light brown and closely cut. He did not look as if he knew how to smile. His lips were pink and his eyes pale blue; so his coloring was oddly dainty, while his features were anything but.

“Pleased to meet you, Horst,” I said, making a huge effort to pronounce his name clearly. Horst’s nod was barely perceptible. After all, I was a human.

“Eric, I have come to your territory to discuss the disappearance of Victor, my regent,” Felipe said briskly. “He was last seen in this city, if you can call Shreveport a city. I suspect that you had something to do with his disappearance. He was never seen after he left for a private party at your club.”

So much for any elaborate story Eric had thought of spinning for Felipe.

“I admit nothing,” Eric said calmly.

Felipe looked mildly surprised. “But you don’t deny the charge, either.”

“If I did kill him, Your Majesty,” Eric said, as if he were admitting to swatting a mosquito, “there would be not a trace of evidence against me. I regret that several of Victor’s entourage also vanished when the regent did.”

Not that Eric had given Victor and his cohorts any opportunity to surrender. The only one who’d been offered the chance to escape death was Victor’s new bodyguard, Akiro, and he’d turned the offer down. The fight in Fangtasia had been a no-debate full-frontal assault, involving gallons of blood and a lot of dismemberment and death. I tried not to remember it too vividly. I smiled and waited for Felipe’s response.

“Why did you do this? Are you not sworn to me?” For the first time, Felipe appeared less than casual. In fact, he looked downright stern. “I appointed Victor my regent here in Louisiana.
I
appointed him … and I am your king.” At the escalation in tone, I noticed Horst was tensed for action. So was Pam.

There was a long silence. It was what I imagine is the definition of the word “fraught.”

“Your Majesty, if I did this thing, it might have been for several reasons,” Eric said, and I began to breathe again. “I am sworn to you, and I’m loyal to you, but I can’t stand still while someone is trying to kill my people for no good reason—and without previous discussion with me. Victor sent two of his best vampires to kill Pam and my wife.” Eric rested a cold hand on my shoulder, and I did my best to look shaken. (That wasn’t too hard.)

“Only because Pam is a great fighter, and my wife can hold her own, did they escape,” Eric said solemnly.

He gave us all a moment to contemplate that. Horst was looking skeptical, but Felipe had only raised his dark eyebrows. Felipe nodded, bidding Eric to continue.

“Though I don’t admit to being guilty of his death, Victor was also attacking me—and therefore you, my king—economically. Victor put new clubs in my territory—but he kept the management, jobs, and revenue from these clubs exclusively for himself, which is against all precedent. I doubted he was passing along your share of the profits. I also believed he was trying to undercut me, to turn me from one of your best earners into an unnecessary hanger-on. I heard many rumors from the sheriffs in other areas—including some you brought in from Nevada—that Victor was neglecting all other business in Louisiana in this strange vendetta against me and mine.”

I couldn’t read anything in Felipe’s face. “Why didn’t you bring your complaints to me?” the king said.

“I did,” Eric said calmly. “I called your offices twice and talked to Horst, asking him to bring these issues to your attention.”

Horst sat up a little straighter. “This is true, Felipe. As I—”

“And why didn’t you pass along Eric’s concerns?” Felipe interrupted, turning his eyes on Horst.

I anticipated watching Horst wriggle. Instead, Horst looked stunned.

Maybe I’m just getting cynical from hanging around with vampires for so long, but I felt a near certainty that Horst
had
passed along Eric’s complaints, but that Felipe had decided Eric would have to solve his issues with Victor in his own way. Now Felipe was throwing Horst under the bus without a qualm so he could maintain deniability.

“Your Majesty,” I said, “we’re awful sorry about Victor’s disappearance, but maybe you haven’t considered that Victor was a huge liability for you, too.” I gazed at him. Sadly. Regretfully.

There was a moment of silence. All four vampires looked at me as if I’d offered them a bucket of pig guts. I did my best to look simple and sincere.

“He was not my favorite vampire,” Felipe said, after what seemed like about five hours. “But he was very useful.”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed,” I said, “that in Victor’s case, ‘useful’ was a synonym for ‘money pit.’ Cause I’ve heard from people who serve at Vic’s Redneck Roadhouse, for example, that they were underpaid and overworked, so there’s a big staff turnover. That’s never good for business. And some of the vendors haven’t been paid. And Vic’s is behind with the distributor.” (Duff had shared that with me two deliveries ago.) “So, though Vic’s started out great and pulled business from every bar around, they’re not getting the repeat customers they need to sustain such a big place, and I know that revenue’s fallen off.” I was only guessing, but I was accurate, I could tell by Horst’s face. “Same thing for his vampire bar. Why pull customers away from the established vampire tourist spot, Fangtasia? Dividing doesn’t mean multiplying.”