“The best way to kill fairies is with iron.” Her face was lit with triumph. I hated to rain on her parade. Lemons were even better, but it was kind of hard to slip a fairy a lemon without the fairy realizing it.
“I knew that,” I said, trying not to sound depressed. “I mean, I appreciate the effort, but I need to be able to knock them out.” So I could run away. I didn’t know if I could stand to have to hose down the driveway again.
Of course, killing the enemy beat the alternative: letting them catch me and do what they wished with me.
Amelia was ready for her date with Tray. She was wearing high heels with her designer jeans, an unusual look for Amelia.
“What’s with the heels?” I asked, and Amelia grinned, displaying her excellent white teeth.
“Tray likes ’em,” she said. “With the jeans onor off. You should see the lingerie I’m wearing!”
“I’ll pass,” I said.
“If you want to meet us after you get off work, I’m betting Drake will be there. He’s seriously interested in getting to know you. And he’s cute, though his looks may not exactly appeal to you.”
“Why? What’s this Drake look like?” I asked, mildly curious.
“That’s the freaky part. He looks a lot like your brother.” Amelia looked at me doubtfully. “That might weird you out, huh?”
I felt all the blood drain out of my face. I’d gotten to my feet to leave, but I sat down abruptly.
“Sookie? What’s the matter? Sookie?” Amelia was hovering around me anxiously.
“Amelia,” I croaked, “you got to avoid this guy. I mean it. You and Tray get away from him. And for God’s sake, don’t answer any questions about me!”
I could see from the guilt on her face she had already answered quite a few. Though she was a clever witch, Amelia couldn’t always tell when people weren’t reallypeople . Evidently, neither could Tray—though the sweet smell of even a half fairy should have alerted a Were. Maybe Dermot had the same scent-masking ability that his father, my great-grandfather, did.
“Who is he?” Amelia asked. She was scared, which was good.
“He’s . . .” I tried to formulate the best explanation. “He wants to kill me.”
“Does this have something to do with Crystal’s death?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. I tried to give the possibility some rational consideration, found my brain simply couldn’t deal with the idea.
“I don’t get it,” Amelia said. “We have months—well, weeks—of nothing but plain old life, and then, all of a sudden, here we are!” She threw up her hands.
“You can move back to New Orleans if you want to,” I said, my voice faltering. Of course, Amelia knew she could leave anytime she wanted, but I wanted to make it clear I wasn’t sucking her into my problems unless she chose to be sucked. So to speak.
“No,” she said firmly. “I like it here, and my house in New Orleans isn’t ready, anyway.”
She kept saying that. Not that I wanted her to leave, but I couldn’t see what the delay was. After all, her dad was a builder.
“You don’t miss New Orleans?”
“Of course I do,” Amelia said. “But I like it here, and I like my little suite upstairs, and I like Tray, and I like my little jobs that keep me going. And I also like—ahell of a lot—being out of my dad’s line of sight.” She patted me on the shoulder. “You go off to work and don’t worry. If I haven’t thought of anything by morning, I’ll call Octavia. Now that I know the deal about this Drake, I’ll stonewall him. And Tray will, too. No one can stonewall like Tray.”
“He’s very dangerous, Amelia,” I said. I couldn’t impress that on my roommate emphatically enough.
“Yeah, yeah, I get that,” she said. “But you know, I’m not any little honey myself, and Dawson can fight with the best of ’em.”
We gave each other a hug, and I allowed myself to immerse in Amelia’s mind. It was warm, busy, curious, and . . . forward-looking. No brooding on the past for Amelia Broadway. She gave me a pat on the back to signal she was letting go, and we stepped back from each other.
I ran by the bank, then I stopped at Wal-Mart. After a bit of searching, I found one little rack of water guns. I got a two-pack of the clear plastic version, one blue and one yellow. When I thought of the ferocity and strength of the fairy race, and the fact that it took all I had to open the damn blister pack and extricate the water pistols, my chosen method of defense seemed ludicrous. I’d be armed with a plastic water pistol and a trowel.
I tried to clear my mind of all the worries that were plaguing me. There was so much to think about. . . . Actually, there was so much to fear. It might be time to take a leaf from Amelia’s book and look forward. What did I need to dotonight ? Which one of my ongoing worries could I actually do something to solve? I could listen in the bar tonight for clues about Crystal’s death, as Jason had asked me to do. (I would have done it anyway, but it seemed even more important to track down her killers now that danger seemed to be piling up from all directions.) I could arm myself against fairy attack. I could be alert for any more Fellowship gangs. And I could try to arrange some more defense.
After all, I was supposed to be under the protection of the Shreveport Were pack because I’d helped them out. I was also under the protection of the new vampire regime because I’d saved their leader’s ass. Felipe de Castro would have been a pile of ash if not for me; for that matter, so would Eric. Wasn’t this the best time in the world to call in those markers?
I got out of my car behind Merlotte’s. I looked up at the sky, but it was cloudy. I thought it was only a week after the new moon. And it was definitely full dark. I pulled my cell phone out of my purse. I’d discovered Eric’s cell number scrawled on the back of one of his business cards, tucked halfway under my bedside phone. He answered on the second ring.
“Yes,” he said, and I was able to tell by that one word that he was with others.
A little shiver went down my spine at the sound of his voice.
“Eric,” I said, and then wished I’d spent a little time framing my request. “The king said he owed me,” I continued, realizing this was a little bald and bold. “I’m in real danger. I wonder what he could do about that.”
“The threat involving your older kin?” Yes, he was definitely with other people.
“Yes. The, ah, enemy has been trying to get Amelia and Tray to introduce him to me. He doesn’t seem to realize I would recognize him, or maybe he’s very good at pretending. He’s supposed to be on the anti-human side, but he’s half human. I don’t understand his behavior.”
“I see,” Eric said after an appreciable pause. “So protection is necessary.”
“Yes.”
“And you ask this as . . . ?”
If he’d been with his own underlings, he’d have told them to leave so he could talk to me frankly. Since he hadn’t done that, he was probably with one of the Nevada vamps: Sandy Sechrest, Victor Madden, or Felipe de Castro himself, though that was unlikely. Castro’s far more lucrative business ventures in Nevada required his presence most of the time. I finally realized Eric was trying to find out if I was asking as his bed buddy and “wife,” or as someone he owed big-time.
“I ask this as someone who saved Felipe de Castro’s life,” I said.
“I’ll present this petition to Victor, since he’s here at the bar,” Eric said smoothly. “I’ll get back to you this night.”
“Great.” Mindful of vamps’ extreme hearing, I added, “I appreciate that, Eric,” as if we were friendly acquaintances.
Mentally dodging the question of what we actually were to each other, I tucked away the cell phone and went into work, hustling because I was a couple of minutes late. Now that I’d talked to Eric, I felt much more optimistic about my chances of survival.