"Here's the most interesting fact," he said precisely. "The devil was dining with your father, Miss Amelia."
"Not dining on my dad, but dining with him?" She laughed for a second, but suddenly Mr. Cataliades's meaning sank in. Amelia's face drained of color. "Are you shitting me?" she asked quietly.
"I assure you I'd never do such a thing," he replied, with some distaste. He gave her a moment to absorb the bad news before continuing, "Though I know you aren't close to your father, I must tell you that he and his bodyguard have struck a deal with the devil."
Again, I kept my mouth closed. This was Amelia's thing to react to, I figured. Her dad.
"I wish I could say that I was sure he wouldn't do anything so dumb," she said. "But I don't even feel the impulse to say, 'He'd never do anything like that.' He would if he felt he was losing his business and his power . . . oh. So the reports in the papers were true a few months ago. His business didn't make a miraculous recovery. Not miraculous. Miracles are something holy. What's a miracle a devil would do?"
Bob took her hand, but he didn't speak.
"At least he didn't know I was pregnant, so he couldn't promise the devil our child," she said to Bob, and there was something feral about Amelia as she said that. She'd known she was pregnant for a few hours and already she'd switched into mom mode. "You were so right, Mr. Cataliades, to tell me not to telephone or text anyone to let them know about the baby."
Mr. Cataliades nodded gravely. "I am giving you this distressing news because you need to know it before you see him. Once you make a bargain with a devil, any devil, you begin to change, because your soul is forfeit. There's no redemption, so there's no incentive to try to be better. Even if you don't believe in an afterlife, the downward path is permanent."
Though I was sure the part-demon knew more than I did about the subject, I didn't believe redemption was ever beyond the power of God. But I knew this was not the moment to air my religious beliefs. This was the time to gather information.
I said, "So . . . I'm not trying to make this all about me, because obviously it's not, but . . . are you saying Mr. Carmichael is the one trying to get me put in jail?"
"No," said the lawyer. I breathed a sigh of relief. "I think someone else is doing that," he continued, and my relief vanished. How many enemies could I have? "However, I know for a fact that Copley Carmichael asked the devil for a cluviel dor."
I gasped. "But how would he even know about such a thing?" I asked. And then I glared at Amelia. I literally bit the inside of my mouth to keep from ripping into her. She looked stricken, and I forced myself to remember that Amelia was having a very rough day.
"I told him . . . Sookie had asked me to look it up . . . and we never have anything to talk about, seems like . . . He's never believed I was a real witch, never given any sign he thought I was anything but ridiculous. I didn't imagine. How could I? That he would . . ." She faltered to a stop.
Bob put his arm around her. "Of course you didn't imagine that, Amelia," he said. "How could you? That this one time he'd decide to take you seriously?"
There was another uncomfortable pause. I was still exercising all my self-control, and everyone in the room realized it and gave me some slack.
Gradually, as Amelia wept, I let go of the arms of my chair (I was surprised not to see any dents). I wasn't going to rush over to hug her, because I wasn't that comfortable with Amelia's loose lips yet, but I could understand. Amelia had never been what you'd call discreet, and she'd always had a love/hate relationship with her father. If they were having one of their rare tete-a-tetes, she'd try to keep him interested in her conversation. And what was more interesting than a cluviel dor?
I knew one thing for sure: If my friendship with Amelia continued, I'd never, never tell her anything more important than a recipe or a prediction about the weather. She'd stepped over the line again.
"So, he knew I had a cluviel dor and he wanted it," I said, impatient with Amelia's tearful repentance. "What happened then?"
"I don't know why the devil owed Copley a debt," said Mr. Cataliades. "But apparently, the cluviel dor was the payment Copley requested, and he steered the devil to you, Sookie. But you used the cluviel dor before the devil could wrest it from you . . . very fortunately for all of us. Now Copley is feeling thwarted, and he's not used to that, at least he's not since the New Year. He feels you owe him, somehow."
"But you don't think he'd kill Arlene and try to pin it on me?"
"He would have if he'd thought of it," Mr. Cataliades said. "But I think that's too devious, even for him. That is the work of a more subtle mind, a mind that wants you to suffer in jail for many years. Copley Carmichael is enraged and intends to harm you in the more direct way."
"Sookie, I'm sorry," Amelia said. She was composed now, and she held her head up with some dignity despite the tears on her cheeks. "I just mentioned the cluviel dor that once in a conversation I had with my dad. I don't know where he got all his other information. I don't seem to be a very good friend to you, no matter how much I love you and how hard I try."
I couldn't think of any response that wouldn't sound lame. Bob glared at me over Amelia's head. He wanted me to say something to make this all right. There simply wasn't any way to do that.
"I'm going to do everything I can to help you out," Amelia said. "That's why I came up here in the first place. But I'll try even harder now."
I took a deep breath. "I know you will, Amelia," I said. "You're truly a great witch, and I'm sure we're going to get through this." And that was the best I could do, just at this moment.
Amelia gave me a watery smile, and Quinn gave her a pat on the arm, and Diantha looked totally bored. (Not big with the emotional dialogue, Diantha.) Mr. Cataliades may have felt the same way, because he said, "We seem to have gotten over that bump in the road, so let me move on to something else of interest."
We all tried to look attentive.
"There's much more to talk about, but as I look around me, I see people who are tired and need recovery time," he said unexpectedly. "Let's resume tomorrow. A couple of us have little tasks to perform this evening or tonight."
Amelia and Bob went into their bedroom and shut the door, which was a relief to everyone. Barry asked if he could use my computer since he'd come away without his laptop, and I said yes, providing he didn't give anyone his location. I was feeling double paranoid, and I thought I had good reason. Mr. Cataliades and Diantha retreated upstairs to make phone calls about Mr. Cataliades's law practice.
Quinn and I took a walk, just so we could have some time by ourselves. He said he'd thought of resuming his dating life, after Tijgerin had given him the word that she wouldn't see him for a long time, but he just couldn't do it. He was going to have a child with Tij, and that gave him the feeling he was bound to her, even if she told him to stay away. It was galling that she wouldn't let him share in the upbringing of the baby, that she clung to the old ways with such determination and ferocity.
"You heard from your sister, Frannie?" I asked, hoping I wasn't bringing up another doleful subject. My heart lightened when he smiled.
"She's married," he said. "Can you believe it? I thought I'd lost her forever when she ran off. I thought she'd take drugs and whore around. But once she got away from us, from me and Mom, she got a job as a waitress in a cafe in New Mexico. She met a guy at the cafe who does something in the tourist industry. Next thing you know, they went to a wedding chapel. So far, so good. How's your brother?"
"He's getting married to a woman who's not a supe," I said. "But she seems to love him for what he is, and she doesn't expect more than he can give." My brother's emotional and intellectual ranges were limited, though they were expanding bit by bit. Like Frannie, Jason had grown up a lot recently. After being bitten and becoming a werepanther, Jason's life had gotten chaotic, but now he was getting it together.
Besides our families, Quinn and I didn't really talk about anything in particular. It was a relaxing walk, even in the steamy heat that had followed the end of the rain.
He didn't ask me any questions about my situation with Eric, and that was a relief.
"After I do a tour through your woods, what else can I do for you, Sookie?" Quinn asked. "I want to do something besides sit around and hear stuff that's just embarrassing."
"Yeah, that was pretty awful. No matter how hard Amelia and I try to be friends, something always happens."
"It happens because she can't keep her mouth shut," Quinn said, and I shrugged. That was the way Amelia was. To my surprise, Quinn put his arm around me and pulled me close, and I wondered if I'd sent out the wrong signal.
"Listen, Sookie," he murmured, smiling down at me in a fond way, "I don't want to scare you or anything, but someone's in the woods and they're walking along the driveway parallel to us. You got any ideas who it might be? If they're armed?" His voice was not agitated, and I did my best to match his ease. It was incredibly hard not to turn to stare into the woods.
I made myself smile up at Quinn. "I sure don't. Not a human, or I'd get the brain signature. Can't be a vamp, it's daylight."
Quinn expelled all the breath in his lungs and drew in a chestful of air. "Ask me, it might be a fairy," he whispered. "I'm just getting a touch of fae. There are so many scents in the air after the rain."
"But the fae are all gone," I said, reminding myself to let my expression change. After all, I wouldn't be beaming at Quinn for five minutes while we strolled down the road. "That's what my great-grandfather told me."
"I think he was wrong," Quinn said. "Let's casually turn to head back to the house."
I took Quinn's hand and swung it enthusiastically. I felt like an idiot, but I needed something physical to do while I sent out my other sense. I finally found the brain signature of whatever creature lurked in the woods, which provided easy concealment due to the natural effects of summer (rain and light) and the benefits of Niall's blessing on the land. The closer to my house we got, the thicker the vegetation became. The area right at the edge of the yard might almost be a jungle.
"You think he's going to shoot?" I said with a smile. I swung Quinn's hand like I was a child walking with her grandpa.
"I don't smell a gun," he said. "Enough with the hand swinging. I need to be able to move quick."
I let go, somewhat embarrassed. "Let's try to get into the house. Without getting killed."
But whoever was stalking us didn't make a move. It was almost an anticlimax to walk across the enclosed back porch, wondering every second if something terrible would happen, and then to make it in the door and shut it behind us . . . and nothing happened. Nothing at all.
Barry had decided to make hamburgers to cook on the grill in the backyard. He was putting chopped onion and seasoned salt and green peppers in the meat and forming the patties, and he was mighty startled when we bolted into the kitchen and ducked.
"What the hell?" he said.
"Someone was out there," I said.
He crouched, too. He closed his eyes and concentrated. "I have no idea," he said, after a moment. "Whoever it was, he's left, Sookie."
"Smelled like a fairy," Quinn told Barry.
"They're all gone," Barry said. "That's what the Texas vampires told me. Said they'd cleaned out lock, stock, and barrel."
"They are all gone," I said. "I know that for a fact. So either Quinn's nose is wrong or we have a rogue."
"Or a reject," Barry said quietly.
"Or an escapee. Whatever he is, why is he skulking in the woods?" Quinn asked.
But I didn't have any answer. And when nothing else happened, we three began to think nothing would. Quinn decided to delay his search of the woods until the evening. There wasn't any point going out there now.
Though it felt anticlimactic, I began slicing tomatoes for the hamburgers, and then I cut up a watermelon. Quinn volunteered to make some home fries. Since he'd put a ten-pound bag of potatoes in the cart today, I was glad he had a plan to use them up.
With all three of us working in the kitchen, supper came together. I pretended not to see when Quinn ate one burger before it was cooked, and Barry hastily volunteered to take the others out to the grill. I put together a baked bean casserole, and Quinn began frying the potatoes. I set the table and washed the preparation dishes.
It was almost like running a boardinghouse, I thought, when I called everyone down for dinner.
Chapter 13
Amazingly, the meal went well. There was just enough room for us at the kitchen table when I opened two folding chairs my gran had kept in the living room closet.
Amelia had obviously been crying, but she was calm now. Bob touched her every chance he got. Mr. Cataliades explained that he and Diantha had recalled an errand in town, and after we'd shared hamburgers and French fries and beans and watermelon, they took off.
We all helped clear away the kitchen. After dinner, Barry sat in a living room armchair with his feet propped up, focusing on his e-reader. Bob and Amelia cuddled on the couch watching a rebroadcast of The Terminator. Cheerful. After consuming three cooked hamburgers and a quart of French fries, Quinn loped outside to conduct a fruitless search of the woods. After an hour, discouraged and filthy, he returned to the house to tell me that he had smelled two vampires (presumably Bill and Karin) and a faint trace of fairy in the place we'd been when we were followed. But there was nothing else to find. He was leaving for a motel by the interstate.
