All Together Dead

on the elevator with one of the hotel employees, who couldn’t tell if I was a vampire or not. I made him very nervous. It always tickles me when people can’t tell. To me, vampires sort of glow, just a bit.
    Andre was waiting for me when I got off the elevator. He was as flustered as I’d ever seen him; I could tell because his fingers were clenching and unclenching, and his lip was bloody where he’d bitten it, though it healed as I watched. Before last night, Andre had just made me nervous. Now I loathed him. But it was evident I had to put personal issues aside until another time.
    “How could this happen?” he asked. “Sookie, you need to learn everything you can about this. We have more enemies than we knew.”
    “I thought there wouldn’t be a trial after Jennifer got killed. Since she was the queen’s chief accuser—”
    “That’s what we all thought. Or, if there was a trial, it would be an empty form, staged simply so the charges could be dismissed. But we got down here tonight and they were waiting for us. They’ve put off the start of the ball to do this. Take my arm,” he said, and I was so taken by surprise that I slid my arm through his.
    “Smile,” he said. “Look confident.”
    And we walked into the convention hall with bold faces—me and my good buddy Andre.
    It was lucky I’d had plenty of practice in insincere smiling, because this was like the marathon of Saving Face. All the vampires and their human entourages parted way for us. Some of them were smiling, too, though not pleasantly, and some looked concerned, and some just looked mildly anticipatory, as if they were about to watch a movie that had gotten good buzz.
    And the rush of thoughts engulfed me. I smiled and walked on automatic while I listened in. Pretty…Sophie-Anne’ll get what’s coming to her…maybe I can call her lawyer, see if she’s open to an approach from our king…nice boobs…my man needs a telepath…hear she’s fucking Quinn…hear she’s fucking the queen and Baby Boy Andre…found her at a bar…Sophie-Anne’s washed up, serves her right…hear she’s fucking Cataliades…stupid trial, where’s the band?…hope they have some food at the dance, people food…
    And on and on. Some of it pertaining to me, the queen, and/or Andre, some of it the simple thoughts of people who are tired of waiting and want to get the party started.
    We strolled the gauntlet until it terminated in the room where the wedding had been held. The crowd in this room was almost 100 percent vampire. A notable absence: human servers, and any other human hotel staff. The only ones circulating with drinks trays were vampires. Things were going to happen in this room that weren’t for human consumption. If it was possible for me to feel more anxious, I did.
    I could see Quinn had been busy. The low platform had been rearranged. The giant ankh had been put away, and two lecterns had been added. On the spot where Mississippi and his loved one had taken their vows, about midway between the two lecterns, there sat a thronelike chair. In it was an ancient woman with wild white hair. I had never seen a vampire who had been turned when she was so old, and though I’d sworn I wasn’t going to speak to him, I said as much to Andre.
    “That is the Ancient Pythoness,” he said absently. He was scanning the crowd, trying to find Sophie-Anne, I supposed. I spotted Johan Glassport, who was going to get his moment in the limelight after all, and the rest of the Louisiana contingent was with the murderous lawyer—all except the queen and Eric and Pam, whom I’d glimpsed standing near the stage.
    Andre and I took our seats at the right front. On the left front was a clump of vampires who were no fans of ours. Chief among them was Henrik Feith. Henrik had transformed himself from a panicky scaredy-cat to a ball of wrath. He glowered at us. He did everything but throw spitballs.
    “What crawled up his ass and died?” muttered Cleo Babbitt, dropping into the seat to my right. “The queen offers to take him under her wing when he’s alone and defenseless, and this is the thanks she gets?” Cleo was wearing a traditional tuxedo, and she looked pretty darn good in it. The severity of it suited her. Her boy toy looked much more feminine than she did. I wondered at his inclusion in the crowd, which was all supe and overwhelmingly vampire. Diantha leaned forward from the row behind us to tap me on the shoulder. She was wearing a red