Dead Ever After: A True Blood Novel

your heart.” She shrugged. “Or turn you,” she added as an afterthought.
    I jerked, involuntarily.
    “He did mean to turn you! That asshole! He would have taken you away from us. I guess we’re lucky all he did is break your heart!” She was absolutely furious.
    “In all honesty, I don’t know that my heart is broken,” I said. “I’m depressed and sad. But I don’t feel as bad as I did when I found out about Bill’s big secret.”
    Amelia said, “With Bill—that was the first time, right? The first time you’d found out someone important to you had been deceiving you?”
    “It was the first chance anyone had ever had to deceive me,” I said, a new way to look at Bill’s betrayal. “With humans I’ve always been able to tell, at least enough to be wary or mistrustful . . . not to buy into whatever line of bullshit they’re handing out. Bill was the first sexual adventure for me, and he was the first man I ever said ‘I love you’ to.”
    “Maybe you’re just getting used to being lied to,” Amelia said bracingly, and that was so much like Amelia that I had to smile. She was self-aware enough to look a bit abashed, “Okay, that was awful. I’m sorry.”
    I mimed amazement, my eyes wide and my hands held open by my face.
    “Bob told me that I needed to work on my people skills,” Amelia said. “He said I was pretty blunt.”
    I tried not to smile too broadly. “Bob might be handy to have around after all.”
    “Now that I’m pregnant, especially.” Amelia looked at me anxiously. “You sure we’re having a baby? I mean, when I thought about it, I could kind of see that my body hadn’t been working the way it was supposed to for a little while. And I feel thicker. But I’d never thought of having a baby. I just thought I was hormonal. I’m all weepy.”
    “Even witches sing the blues,” I said, and she grinned at me.
    “This is going to be one awesome baby,” she said.

Chapter 14
    Mr. Cataliades came in to tell us he’d been talking to Beth Osiecki by cell phone and that he had an appointment to meet her and review my situation. Diantha rode into town with him; I didn’t ask what her part in this consultation was supposed to be, and she didn’t volunteer. Barry decided to ride in with them, too, and see if there was another car to rent locally while he was in town. He’d called ahead to make sure Chessie Johnson would be at home and was willing to talk to him.
    Barry was used to getting answers from people indirectly, by listening to their heads when they were in conversation with others. In other words, eavesdropping. Since he’d be the one asking the questions in this instance, he was a little anxious about the process. I briefed him as thoroughly as I could on the Johnsons and on Lisa and Coby. He had prepared a list of questions to which he needed answers: Whom had Arlene been planning to meet? Where had she been staying since she got released? Whom had she talked to? Who had paid for the new lawyer and her bail?
    “If you can,” I said quietly, “please find out what’s going to happen to the kids. I feel bad for all they’ve been through.” Barry could see what was in my head. He nodded, his face serious.
    Bob got on the phone to a touch psychic, though since we didn’t have possession of the scarf I couldn’t see the point. Bob seemed sure we’d be able to lay hands on it. The touch psychic, a Baton Rouge woman named Delphine Oubre, would drive up to Bon Temps the next morning, he said.
    “And do what?” I tried hard to sound grateful and appreciative, but I didn’t think I managed. I had done the most accurate drawing of the scarf that I could, and I’d described the pattern and the colors to Diantha, since saying “teal green” and “peacock blue” to Mr. Cataliades had just resulted in a blank stare. Diantha had done a second version in color, and it had looked very like what I’d remembered.
    “I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you. Your demon buddies are pretty resourceful.” Bob smiled mysteriously and glided out of the room. In some ways, Bob was still very catlike.
    Amelia was researching spells to make Arlene’s mysterious male friends talk, if we could find them. I had a moment of longing for Pam. She could make anybody talk, no spell involved, unless you considered vamp hypnosis a spell. Pam would rather beat it out of them, anyway. Maybe I’d give her a call.
    No. I told myself this firmly, and frequently. At this point,