Dead Ever After: A True Blood Novel

“I’ve got herpes.”
    “Who from?”
    “Sookie.” He studied the screen. “She wants to know if we know who tied up Copley Carmichael and left him in her hidey-hole,” he told Diantha.
    “What’sahidey-hole?” she asked.
    “I have no idea. You would have told me if you’d captured Carmichael?”
    “Sure,” she said, nodding vigorously. She added proudly, “InaNewYorkminute.”
    Her uncle ignored the expression. “My goodness. I wonder who put him there.”
    “Maybewe’dbettergosee,” Diantha suggested.
    Without further ado, the two part-demons got into their van and drove back to Hummingbird Road.
    SOOKIE’S HOUSE
    I was glad to see Diantha and Mr. C.
    “We un-bewitched Alcee Beck,” Diantha said slowly, by way of hello.
    “There really was a voodoo doll in his car? Dang, it’s good to be right.”
    Enunciating carefully, Diantha said, “Not a voodoo doll. A complex charm. I found it. I burned it. He’s in bed. Okay tomorrow.”
    “Does he not hate me anymore?”
    “I wouldn’t go that far,” said Mr. Cataliades. “But I’m sure he’ll admit you couldn’t have killed Arlene Fowler and that he was wrong to drive the investigation in a false direction. The district attorney is going to be embarrassed, too.”
    “As long as they know I couldn’t and didn’t kill Arlene, they can dance naked on the courthouse lawn and I’ll show up to clap,” I said, and Diantha laughed.
    “To get back to your query via text message,” Mr. Cataliades said. “We don’t know who is responsible for capturing Amelia’s father or for placing him in . . . whatever you’ve found him in.”
    “My vampire hole,” I explained. “See? In here.” I led the way into the bedroom and opened the closet. I knelt with some difficulty and reached in for the hidden lever Eric had had installed. It hitched up the edge of the false floor. Then it was easy to work my fingers under the edge and hoist it up, especially when Mr. Cataliades knelt beside me to help. The lid came up easily and we swung it out of the closet. We looked down into Copley Carmichael’s face. He wasn’t as angry as before, but that might have been because he’d spent some more hours in there. The hole had been made for a night’s shelter for a vampire, not for a permanent resting place. An adult could lie down in it in a fetal position, without curling up tightly. At least it was deep enough that he could sit up with his back against the wall.
    “Luckily for him, he is not a tall man,” said Mr. Cataliades.
    “Small in stature, large in venom,” I said. Mr. C chuckled.
    “He’sasnakeallright,” Diantha said. “He’sinprettybadshape.”
    “Shall we hoist him out?” Mr. Cataliades suggested.
    I moved out of the way so Diantha could take my place. “I’m not much up to hoisting,” I explained. “Shot.”
    “Yes, we heard,” Mr. C said. “Glad you’re better. We’ve been tracking various people.”
    “Okay, you’ll have to fill me in,” I said. For two creatures who’d come to help me, they were certainly matter-of-fact about my getting shot. And who’d they been tracking? Had they been successful? Where had they spent the night before?
    And where was Barry?
    With no apparent effort, the two pulled Copley Carmichael up out of the hole and propped him against the wall.
    “Excuse me,” I said to Mr. Cataliades, who was looking at Amelia’s father with a speculative gleam in his eye. “Where is Barry Bellboy?”
    “He detected a familiar brain signature,” Mr. Cataliades said absently. He checked Copley’s pulse with a large finger. Diantha squatted to peer into the captive’s eyes curiously. “He told us he’d catch up with us later.”
    “How did he tell you this?”
    “Via text messaging,” Mr. Cataliades said distastefully. “While we were following a false trail for Glassport.”
    My teeth were on edge. “Should we be worried about him?”
    “He’s got his car and a cell phone,” Diantha said slowly and carefully. “And he has our numbers. Uncle, did you check your other messages?”
    Mr. Cataliades made a face. “No, Sookie’s news startled me so much I gave up on doing so.” He brought out his phone and began looking at it and pressing things on the screen. “This man is dehydrated and bruised, but he doesn’t have internal injuries,” he told me, nodding toward our captive.
    “What am I supposed to do with him?”
    “Whateveryouwant,” Diantha said, with a certain amount of