Dead Ever After

minute to be sure I understood what Bill was telling me. “So the cluviel dor was a test of Eric’s sincerity, in Niall’s eyes. And the cluviel dor was a test of my love for Eric, in Eric’s eyes,” I said. “And we both failed the test.”
    Bill nodded, one sharp jerk of his head.
    “He would rather I had let Sam die.”
    Bill let me see how startled he was. “Of course,” he said simply.
    “How could he think that?” I muttered, which was a stupidly obvious (and obviously stupid) question to ask myself. A much more pertinent question was, How could two people in love so misjudge each other?
    “How could Eric think that? Don’t ask me . It’s not my emotional reaction that matters,” Bill said.
    “I’d be glad to ask Eric, if he’d just sit down and talk to me,” I said. “But he turned me away from Fangtasia two nights ago.”
    Bill had known that, I could tell. “Has he gotten in touch with you since that happened?”
    “Oh, yes indeedy. He got Pam to text me to say he’d see me later.”
    Bill did a great impression of a blank wall.
    “What do you think I should do?” I asked out of sheer curiosity. “I can’t bear this halfway state. I need resolution.”
    Bill sat forward on the couch, his dark brows raised. “Ask yourself this,” he said. “Would you have used the cluviel dor if it had been—say, Terry or Calvin—who was mortally wounded?”
    I was stunned by the question. I groped for words.
    After a moment, Bill got up to leave. “I didn’t think so,” he said. I scrambled to my feet to follow him to the door.
    “It’s not that I think Terry’s life, anyone’s life, isn’t worth a sacrifice,” I said. “It’s that it might not ever have occurred to me.”
    “And I’m not saying you’re a bad woman for that hesitation, Sookie,” Bill told me, reading my face accurately. He put a cold hand to my cheek. “You’re one of the best women I’ve ever met. However, sometimes you don’t know yourself very well.”
    After he had drifted back into the woods and I had locked the house up tight, I sat in front of my computer. I had planned to check my e-mail, but instead I found myself trying to unravel Bill’s meaning. I couldn’t concentrate. Finally, without clicking on the e-mail icon, I gave up and went to bed.
    I guess it’s not too surprising that I didn’t sleep well. But I was up and out of bed by eight, utterly tired of hiding out in my house. I showered and put on my makeup and my summer work uniform—Merlotte’s T-shirt, black shorts, and New Balance walking shoes—and got in the car to drive to work. I felt much better now that I was following my normal routine. I was also very nervous as I parked on the graveled area behind the bar.
    I didn’t want to stand staring at Sam’s trailer, centered in its little yard at right angles to the bar. Sam might have been standing at a window, looking out. I averted my eyes and hurried in the employees’ entrance. Though I had my keys in my hand, I didn’t need them. Someone had gotten there before me. I went directly to my locker and opened it, wondering if I’d see Sam behind the bar, how he’d be, what he’d say. I stowed my purse and put on one of the aprons hanging from a hook. I was early. If Sam wanted to talk to me, there was time.
    But when I walked up front, the person behind the bar was Kennedy Keyes. I felt distinctly flattened. Not that there was anything wrong with Kennedy; I’d always liked her. Today she was as bright and shiny as a new penny. Her rich brown hair was glossy and hanging in loose curls across her shoulders, she was made up with great care, and her sleeveless pink tank fit very snugly, tucked into her linen slacks. (She had always insisted bartenders shouldn’t have to wear a uniform.)
    “Looking good, Kennedy,” I said, and she spun around, her phone to her ear.
    “I was talking to my honey. I didn’t hear you come in,” she said chidingly. “What have you been up to? You over ‘the flu’? I started to bring you a can of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle.” Kennedy couldn’t cook and was proud of it, which would have shocked my grandmother, I can tell you. And she hadn’t believed I was sick for a moment.
    “I felt awful. But I’m a lot better now.” In fact, I was. I felt surprisingly glad to be back in Merlotte’s. I’d worked here a lot longer than I’d held any other job. And now I was Sam’s partner. The bar felt like home to me. I felt as though I’d been