Dead Ever After: A True Blood Novel

this Eric, left the werewolf land right after.”
    She was drawing some incorrect conclusions. “Yeah . . . it’s a long story. He didn’t expect me to use the cluviel dor like that. He thought I should use it to . . .”
    “Use it to benefit him.” She ended my sentence for me, which is one of my least favorite things.
    But she was right.
    She dusted her hands together briskly. “So Sam’s alive, you’re out a boyfriend, and Jannalynn’s dead.”
    “That sums it up,” I agreed. “Though the boyfriend thing is kind of hanging fire.” I suspected I was clinging to ashes rather than fire, but I wasn’t going to say that to Bernie.
    Bernie looked down at her own hands, her face inscrutable while she thought. Then she looked up. “I may as well go back to Texas,” she said abruptly. “I’ll stay tonight to make sure he wakes up stronger tomorrow before I take off.”
    I was surprised at her decision. Sam appeared far from recovered. “He seems pretty unhappy,” I said, trying to sound nonjudgmental.
    “I can’t make him happy,” Bernie said. “He’s got all the raw material. He just has to work with it. He’s going to be all right.” She gave a little nod, as if once she said the words, he had to be so.
    Bernie had always seemed like a down-to-earth woman; however, I thought she was a little too dismissive of Sam’s emotional recovery. I could hardly insist she stay. After all, Sam was in his thirties.
    “Okay,” I said uncertainly. “Well, you have a good night, and call me if you need me.”
    Bernie got out of the chair and knelt before me. “I owe you a life,” she said. She got to her feet more easily than I would have, though she was almost twice my age. And then she was gone.
    ELSEWHERE
in Bon Temps
    “She said no,” Arlene Fowler told the tall man and the medium man. The old trailer was hot and the door was open. It was musty and cluttered inside. No one had lived in it for a while. The sun flowed through the bullet holes, creating odd patterns of light on the opposite wall. Arlene was sitting in an old chrome-and-vinyl dinette chair while her two guests sat forward on the battered couch.
    “You knew she would have to,” said the medium man, a bit impatiently. “We expected that.”
    Arlene blinked. She said, “Then why’d I have to go through it? It just made me feel terrible. And it took time off from what I had to spend going over to see my kids.”
    “I am sure they were glad to see you?” the medium man said, his pale eyes fixed on Arlene’s worn face.
    “Yes,” she said, with a small smile. “They were real glad. Chessie, not so much. She loves them kids. They looked like they’d settled in there. They’re doing real well in school, both of them.”
    Neither of the men was at all interested in the children’s progress or welfare, but they made approving noises.
    “You made sure to go through the bar’s front entrance?” the tall man asked.
    Arlene nodded. “Yeah, I spoke to three people. Just like you said. Am I through now?”
    “We need you to do one more thing,” the tall man said, his voice smooth as oil and twice as soothing. “And it won’t be hard.”
    Arlene sighed. “What’s that?” she said. “I need to be looking for a place to live. I can’t bring my kids here.” She glanced around her.
    “If it weren’t for our intervention, you wouldn’t be at liberty to see your children,” the medium man said gently, but his expression wasn’t gentle at all.
    Arlene felt a prickle of misgiving. “You’re threatening me,” she said, but hardly as if that surprised her. “What do you want me to do?”
    “You and Sookie were good friends,” the tall man said.
    She nodded. “Real good friends,” she said.
    “So you know where she keeps an extra key outside her house,” the medium man said.
    “Yes, I do,” she said. “You planning on breaking in?”
    “It’s not really breaking in if you have a key, is it?” The medium man smiled, and Arlene tried to smile back.
    “I guess not,” she said.
    “Then what we need is for you to use that key and go inside. Open the drawer in her bedroom where she keeps her scarves. Bring us a scarf you’ve seen her wear before.”
    “A scarf,” Arlene said. “What you going to do with it?”
    “Nothing to worry about,” the tall man said. He smiled, too. “You can be sure she won’t enjoy the result. And since she turned you down for a job, and since you wouldn’t be here in this place if it