Dead Ever After

Chapter 17

Before I checked out of the hospital the next day about noon, Amelia came in. She looked exactly like someone who’d been held hostage by an armed gunman and watched her boyfriend get shot and sat up all night by a hospital bed. Which is a long way of saying she looked like hell.

“How are you?” She stood by the bed and looked down at me, swaying slightly on her feet.

“Better than you, I think.” My head was a lot clearer today. I was going to defer the painkillers until I got home.

“Bob’s going to be okay,” she said.

“That’s a huge relief. I’m so glad. You going to stay here?”

“No, he’s being transferred to Shreveport. The best I can tell, once he’s had a day there, they’ll reevaluate. Maybe they’ll be able to send him down to New Orleans, which would really be better for me, but maybe he’ll have to stay in Shreveport if transporting him would be too hard on him.”

A lot of uncertainty. “Any word from your father?”

“No, and none from Diantha and Mr. C, either.”

There were ears all around at the hospital, and we didn’t need to say any more to know we were both worried about that silence.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly.

“About your dad? You didn’t have anything to do with it. That’s all on him. And I’m sorry about Bob.”

“Totally not your fault. We okay?”

“We’re okay. Please let me know how he progresses. And the baby.” I could feel the presence of another mind—but not any thoughts, of course. This baby was going to be an exceptional witch; I’d never been able to detect a pregnancy this early.

“Yeah, I told the ER doctor, and she gave me a quick exam. Everything seems okay. She gave me the name of an ob-gyn in Shreveport, in case Bob stays there.”

“Sounds good.”

“Oh, and the wards. Sorry. I couldn’t have known that a soulless person wouldn’t be affected, so I think I can give myself a pass on that one. How often do you meet someone with no soul?”

“You’ve got a new piece of lore to tell your coven,” I said, and Amelia brightened a bit, as I’d known she would. “Evidently Bill came by here last night while I was out of it, and he left me a note. I can see his handwriting. Would you mind handing it to me?” I pointed to the rolling table, which a nurse had shoved against the wall. Obligingly, Amelia handed me the envelope. I’d read it when she left.

“Sam came by to ask if I needed anything,” Amelia told me.

“Not surprised. He’s a good guy.” And if I felt well enough, next time I saw him I was going to shake the hell out of him, because I wanted to know what was going on between him and Eric.

“One of the best. Well, I’m going back out to the house to take a shower and pack up our stuff,” Amelia said. “I’m sorry our attempt to help you worked out so bad.”

“So bad for you,” I said. “It was pretty great for me. Thanks for coming to my rescue. It shouldn’t have ended up with you all getting hurt.”

“If I knew where my dad was, I’d kill him myself.” She meant it.

“I understand,” I said.

And then she left, after giving me a light kiss on my forehead.

I was sure Bill had left me a flowery get-well note, but as I read the fine script, I realized it was anything but.

Sookie, I hope you are recovering. About the incident of two nights ago: I have just received a very reluctant apology from my king. He told me that he regretted that Horst had come into my home territory and caused me so much inconvenience by attacking my friend and neighbor.

Apparently, Horst thought it would please Felipe if he came to threaten you with something gruesome, thereby ensuring you didn’t interfere in the arrangements Felipe had made with Freyda. Felipe asked me to apologize to you, too. He will allow Eric’s measures to remain in place if Eric leaves for Oklahoma tonight. I have some interesting news to tell you, and I will see you as soon as I can.

I wasn’t totally sure I understood Bill’s note, but if he was coming to see me, I’d have to possess my soul in patience. Dr. Tonnesen released me, with a long list of restrictions and instructions, and I called Jason. On his lunch hour, he showed up to wheel me out of the hospital. He’d come to the hospital the night before to fill out my admission papers and to give them what insurance information I had, and he’d been out to the house after the police had finished with processing the shooting scene. I was sure giving Kevin and Kenya a workout for their newfound skills.

“Michele put a casserole in your refrigerator for tonight. I hope you don’t mind, Sook, but Michele and An are out there scrubbing everything down,” he said in a subdued way.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” I said, with heartfelt relief. “God bless ’em. I owe them big-time.”

He tried to smile. “Yeah, you do. Michele said she hasn’t cleaned up so much blood since her cat brought in a rabbit that wasn’t quite dead, and it got away in the house.”

“I never made it inside the house.” I was kind of glad about that. I didn’t need to see my poor kitchen torn up again.

“Why’d that fucker shoot you? Why’d he shoot Bob?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I don’t remember too much of what Amelia told me.”

“This guy was her dad’s chauffeur? What was his issue? He ever have a thing with Amelia? Maybe he was jealous of Bob.”

That sounded pretty good. “Maybe that’s it,” I said. “Has Mr. Carmichael turned up?”

“Not that I heard of. Maybe this Tyrese guy bumped him off first.” I wouldn’t feel easy until I knew where Copley was. I didn’t think Tyrese had killed him. Soulless or not, Tyrese was a loyal employee. Did the two of them have something to do with Arlene’s death? Were they working with Johan Glassport? That didn’t make any sense. None of this made any sense. I leaned my head against the glass of Jason’s pickup window, and I kept silent the rest of the drive home.

The first thing I noticed was my car, exactly where I’d left it yesterday when I’d climbed out of it and gotten shot. At least someone had shut the driver’s door. My blood was still on the ground beside it. I tried not to look. Jason came around to open the truck door, and I slid out carefully. I could walk on my own, but I wasn’t super-steady, and I appreciated the fact that he was there.

He walked me right through the kitchen and into my bedroom, only letting me pause long enough to thank An and Michele. After depositing me on my bed, he vanished to return to work. I promptly got off the bed and shuffled into my bathroom to clean up, an awkward process with my bandaged shoulder, which had to be kept dry. In the end, I was a bit cleaner than I had been, though I couldn’t wash my hair. With some difficulty, I put on a clean nightgown. At that point, Michele came in to scold me and order me to get back on the bed. We compromised with the couch in the living room. She turned on the television, brought me the remote and a big glass of tea, and made me a sandwich for a belated lunch. I ate about half of it. I wasn’t that hungry, though it had been a while since I had eaten a real meal. Maybe the painkillers were suppressing my appetite, maybe I was depressed that there was so much death around my house, or maybe I was worried about Bill’s enigmatic note.

An and Michele finished about an hour after Jason left, and I insisted on getting up to admire the job they’d done. My kitchen shone like a showroom kitchen and smelled like pine-scented cleaner. That was a big improvement, An informed me. “My whole family hunts, and I know nothing smells up a place more than blood,” she said.

“Thank you, An,” I said. “And thanks, almost-sister-in-law. I sure appreciate you two doing this for me.”

“No problem,” An said.

“Just don’t let it happen again. This is the one and only time I’m scrubbing blood out of your kitchen,” Michele said. She was smiling. But she meant it.

“Oh, I can promise it will be,” I said. “I’ll call someone else next time.” They laughed, and I smiled back. Ha effing ha.

An gathered up her cleaning supplies in a big red bucket.

“I’ll give you some Pine-Sol for your birthday, An,” I said.

“You betcha. There’s nothing like it.” She looked around at the sparkling surfaces with some satisfaction. “My daddy the preacher always said, ‘By your works shall they know thee.’ ”

“Then you’re an industrious and generous woman,” I said, and she beamed. I hugged them both in a lopsided way. Before they left, Michele asked me if I wanted her to put the casserole in the microwave ready for me to heat for supper. “It might be too much for you to handle,” she said. She was determined to feed me.

“I’m sure I can do it later,” I said, and she had to be content with that. The house felt pleasantly peaceful after they’d left, until I drifted out from under the painkillers long enough to wonder where Mr. C and Diantha were. I hoped they were okay. And since it seemed apparent that soulless people could come through the wards, I got out my critter rifle. The shotgun would have been more effective, but I simply couldn’t handle it in my weakened state. If Copley Carmichael came around to finish what his minion had started, I had to be armed and ready. I locked the house up tight, closed the curtains in the living room so he couldn’t tell where I was, and tried to read. Finally, I gave it up. I watched something totally brainless on TV. Sadly, that wasn’t hard to find.

I kept my cell phone by me, and I got a call from Kennedy Keyes. She was as happy as I’d ever heard her. “Me and Danny are going to rent one of Sam’s little houses,” she said. “Across from the duplexes. He said you’d know where.”

“Sure,” I said. “When are you moving in?”

“Right now!” She laughed. “Danny and one of his buddies from the lumberyard are carrying in the bed right at this moment!”

“Kennedy, that’s wonderful. I hope you’ll be real happy.”

She talked for a while, giddy with her new situation. I had no idea if their love for each other would last, but I was glad they were giving it a chance, despite the very obvious differences in their upbringings. Kennedy’s family, as she’d described them to me, had been determined social climbers, wondering where their next step upward would take them. Danny’s family had worried more about their next meal.

“Good luck to both of you, and I’ll get you a housewarming present,” I said, when Kennedy began to wind down.

About an hour later, I heard a car park in the gravel area by the front door. After the engine cut off, footsteps and a gentle knock told me my caller had decided to carry through with the visit, though I was detecting a lot of hesitation.

I picked up the rifle. It was going to be hell to get a good shot with my weak shoulder, and it was going to be painful. “Who is it?” I called.

“Halleigh.”

“You alone?” I knew she was, but with undetectable people around, I had to check. Her thoughts would tell me if someone was forcing her to knock on the door.

“I am. I don’t blame you if you don’t want to open up,” she said.

I opened the door. Halleigh Bellefleur was younger than me, a nice-looking brown-haired schoolteacher who was really, really pregnant. Tara had not fared as well when she was expecting the twins; Halleigh was truly blooming.

“Come in,” I said. “Does Andy know you’re here?”

“I don’t keep secrets from my husband,” she said, and she came up to me and hugged me very gently. “Andy’s not too happy right now, but that’s too bad. I don’t believe you killed that woman. And I’m really sorry that man went crazy and shot you. I know your friend must feel horrible, the one whose dad is missing. This guy worked for her dad?”

So we sat for a moment and talked a little, and then Halleigh stood to go. I understood that she’d visited to make her point, both with Andy and with me. She stood by who she liked, no matter what.

“I know Andy’s grandmother was a trial,” I said, surprising even myself, “but you’re so much like Miss Caroline in so many ways.”

Halleigh looked startled and then pleased. “You know, I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said.

We parted better friends than we’d ever been.

It was twilight when she left, and I began to think of eating supper. I heated part of Michele’s enchilada casserole in a bowl and dumped salsa on top. It was good, and I ate the bowlful.

The minute it was full dark, Bill was at my back door. I was very tired by then, though I hadn’t done a damn thing all day, and I shuffled slowly to the door toting the rifle with me, though I was sure from the—well, from the feeling of the hole a vampire’s head left in my other sense—that this “hole” represented Bill.

“It’s Bill,” he called, to confirm his identity. I let him in, undoing the locks with one hand, and stood aside to let him pass. With this much traffic, I was going to need a schedule to keep up with all my callers. Bill stepped in and gave me a sharp once-over. “You’re healing,” he said. “Good.”

I offered him a drink, but he looked at me and said, “I can get something myself, Sookie, if I need a drink. But I don’t right now. Can I get you something?”

“Yeah, actually. If you wouldn’t mind pouring me another glass of tea, I’d sure appreciate it.” The pitcher was pretty heavy to deal with one-handed. Gripping anything with my left hand made the shoulder hurt in a most unpleasant way.

We sat in the living room, me curled up on the couch, Bill in the armchair opposite. He smiled at me.

“You’re cheerful,” I observed.

“I’m about to do something that gives me intense pleasure,” he said.

Huh. “Okay, have at it,” I said.

“Do you remember what Eric did to me in New Orleans?” he said, and nothing could have surprised me more.

“You mean, what Eric did to us? By telling me that instead of you being spontaneously smitten with me, you were ordered to seduce me?”

It had hurt then. It hurt now. Of course, not as badly.

“Yes, exactly,” Bill said. “And I’m not ever going to explain again, since we’ve said all this out loud and in our heads so many times. Even though I can’t read minds, like you can, I know that.”

I nodded. “We’ll take all that as done.”

“That is why it gives me intense pleasure to tell you, now, what Eric has done to Sam.”

All right! This was what I had waited to discover. I leaned forward. “Do tell,” I said.