Dead Reckoning: A Sookie Stackhouse Novel

out here? I’m still cleaning up from the party.” Out here would be a lot quieter.
    “Let me check,” Sam said. There was a silence while he covered the receiver with his hand. I could hear a little muffled conversation, nothing specific. “That’ll be great,” he said, sounding like it would be anything but. “We’ll be out in a few minutes.”
    “Super,” I said, genuinely pleased. That gave me a bit of time to plan a welcome. “See you then.” After I hung up, I stood for a second organizing my thoughts before I sped to the front closet to retrieve my shotgun. I checked it out to make sure it was ready. Hoping I’d gain an element of surprise, I decided to hide in the woods. I laced up some running shoes and was out the back door, glad I’d put on a dark-colored tank.
    It wasn’t Sam’s truck that came up the driveway, it was Jannalynn’s little car. Jannalynn was driving, Sam was in the front seat passenger, and someone else was in the rear seat.
    Jannalynn got out first and looked around. She could smell me, knew I was nearby. She could probably smell the gun, too. She smiled, and it was an awful smile. She was hoping I would shoot the person who’d forced them to come out here, shoot her dead.
    Of course, the person holding a gun on them, the person in the backseat, was Sandra Pelt. Sandra got out with a rifle in her hand and pointed it at the car, standing a careful distance away. Then Sam emerged. He was mad as hell; I could tell by the set of his shoulders.
    Sandra looked older, thinner, and crazier than she had only days before. She’d dyed her hair black, and her fingernails matched. If she’d been anyone else, I’d have pitied her—parents dead, sister dead, mental troubles. But my pity stopped when someone held a rifle on people I cared about.
    “Come out, Sookie!” Sandra sang out. “Come out! I got you now, you piece of shit!”
    Sam moved unobtrusively to Sandra’s right, trying to turn to face her. Jannalynn, too, began moving around the car. Sandra, afraid she was losing control of the situation, began to scream at them. “Stay still, don’t move, or I’ll shoot the hell out of you! You, bitch! You don’t want to see his head shot off, do you? Your little doggie lover-boy?”
    Jannalynn shook her head. She was wearing shorts, too, and a Hair of the Dog T-shirt. Her hands had flour on them. She and Sam had been cooking.
    I could let this escalate, or I could take action. I was too far away, but I had to risk it. Without responding to Sandra at all, I stepped out of the woods and fired.
    The roar of the Benelli from an unexpected direction took everyone by surprise. I saw red blotches appear on Sandra’s left arm and cheek, and she staggered for a moment in shock. But that wouldn’t stop a Pelt, no it wouldn’t. Sandra swung up her rifle and aimed at me. Sam leaped for her, but Jannalynn got there first. Jannalynn caught hold of the rifle, wrenched it from Sandra’s hands, and flung it away, and then the battle was on. I’d never seen two people fight each other as hard, and given my recent experiences that was saying something.
    I couldn’t find a way to shoot Sandra again, not with Jannalynn struggling with her hand-to-hand. The two women were much the same size, short and sinewy, but Jannalynn was born to battle while Sandra was more used to quick brawls. Sam and I both circled them as they punched and bit and pulled hair and did everything to each other they could possibly do. Real damage was inflicted on both sides, and after a few seconds Jannalynn’s side was stained red, and the flow from Sandra’s shotgun wounds had accelerated. Sam reached into the struggling duo—it was like putting your hand in a fan—to grasp Sandra’s hair and yank, and she screamed like a banshee and spared a fist to punch Sam in the face. He kept his grip on her hair, though I thought she’d broken his nose.
    I felt obliged to do my share—after all, this was my fault—so I waited my turn. It was oddly like waiting to jump into the turning rope when I was on the playground in elementary school. When I saw my moment, I surged into the fight zone and gripped the first thing that came to my hands, Sandra’s upper left arm. Her momentum seized, she couldn’t deliver the punch she was aiming to throw at Jannalynn’s face. Instead, Jannalynn cocked one of her own hard little fists and knocked the consciousness right out of Sandra Pelt.
    Suddenly I was holding the shoulder of a