Dead and Gone

first?”
    “I’ve got her pinned,” Bev said triumphantly on the screen. “Devon Dawn, while Todd recovers his speech, we’re going to go through your closet. A girl who’s going to live for eternity can’t afford to be tacky. Vampires can’t get stuck in their pasts. We’ve got to be fashion forward!”
    Devon Dawn whimpered, “But I like my clothes! They’re part of who I am! You’ve broken my arm.”
    “It’ll heal. Listen, you don’t want to be known as the little vampire who couldn’t, do you? You don’t want to have your head stuck in the past!”
    “Well, I guess not . . .”
    “Good! I’ll let you up now. And I can tell from the coughing that Todd’s feeling better.”
    I switched off the television and tied my other shoe, shaking my head at America’s new addiction to vampire “reality” shows. I got my red coat out of the closet. The sight of it reminded me that I myself had some absolutely real problems with a vampire; in the two and a half months since the takeover of the Louisiana vampire kingdom by the vampires of Nevada, Eric Northman had been fully occupied with consolidating his position within the new regime and evaluating what was left of the old.
    We were way overdue for a chitchat about Eric’s newly recovered memories of our strange and intense time together when he’d temporarily misplaced his memory due to a spell.
    “What are you going to do tonight while I’m at work?” I asked Amelia and Octavia, since I didn’t need to go another round of imaginary conversations. I pulled on the coat. Northern Louisiana doesn’t get the horrific temperatures of the real north, but it was in the forties tonight and would be colder when I got off work.
    “My niece and her kids are taking me out to dinner,” Octavia said.
    Amelia and I gave each other surprised looks while the older woman’s head was bent over the blouse she was mending. It was the first time Octavia had seen her niece since she’d moved from the niece’s house to mine.
    “I think Tray and I are coming to the bar tonight,” Amelia said hastily, to cover the little pause.
    “So I’ll see you at Merlotte’s.” I’d been a barmaid there for years.
    Octavia said, “Oh, I’ve got the wrong color thread,” and went down the hall to her room.
    “I guess you aren’t seeing Pam anymore?” I asked Amelia. “You and Tray are getting to be a regular thing.” I tucked my white T-shirt into my black pants more securely. I glanced in the old mirror over the mantel. My hair was pulled up into its usual ponytail for work. I spotted a stray long blond hair against the red of the coat, and I plucked it off.
    “Pam was just a wild hair, and I’m sure she felt the same way about me. I really like Tray,” Amelia was saying. “He doesn’t seem to care about Daddy’s money, and he’s not worried about me being a witch. And he can rock my world in the bedroom. So we’re getting along great.” Amelia gave me a cat-eating-the-canary grin. She might look like a well-toned soccer mom—short, gleaming hair, beautiful white smile, clear eyes—but she was very interested in sex and (by my standards) diverse in those interests.
    “He’s a good guy,” I said. “Have you seen him as a wolf yet?”
    “Nope. But I’m looking forward to it.”
    I picked up something from Amelia’s transparent head that startled me. “It’s soon? The revelation?”
    “Would you not do that?” Amelia was normally matter-of-fact about my mind-reading ability, but not today. “I’ve got to keep other people’s secrets, you know!”
    “Sorry,” I said. And I was, but at the same time I was mildly aggrieved. You’d think that I could relax in my own house and loosen the tight wrappings I tried to keep on my ability. After all, I had to struggle every single day at work.
    Amelia said instantly, “I’m sorry, too. Listen, I’ve got to go get ready. See you later.” She went lightly up the stairs to the second floor, which had been largely unused until she’d come back from New Orleans with me a few months before. She’d missed Katrina, unlike poor Octavia.
    “Good-bye, Octavia. Have a good time!” I called, and went out the back door to my car.
    As I steered down the long driveway that led through the woods to Hummingbird Road, I wondered about the chances of Amelia and Tray Dawson sticking together. Tray, a werewolf, worked as a motorcycle repairman and as muscle for hire. Amelia was an up-and-coming witch, and her