Deadlocked: A Sookie Stackhouse Novel

cool and indifferent.
    “Yeah.” My eyes didn’t leave her. Now we were on very, very delicate ground. “Did you have anything to do with the death of Kym Rowe?”
    “I don’t even know who that is,” Freyda said. “But I’ll find out. Did you also kill Bruno, Victor’s second?”
    I didn’t say anything. I returned her look.
    She shook her head, as if she could hardly believe it. “And a shapeshifter or two?” she asked.
    In Debbie Pelt’s case, I’d used a shotgun. Not the same thing as hand-to-hand combat. I lifted one shoulder slightly, which she could take as she chose.
    “What about fairies?” she said, smiling slightly, apparently at how ridiculous a question she was asking me.
    “Yeah,” I said without elaborating. “Right outside this house, as a matter of fact.”
    Her rich brown eyes narrowed. Clearly, Freyda was having second thoughts about something. I hoped those thoughts weren’t about whether to let me live, but I was pretty sure she was considering howmuch of a threat I represented. If she did me in right now, she would have the luxury of apologizing to Eric after the fact. Warning bells were clanging too loudly for me to ignore.
    I’m about to ruin my reputation for good manners, I thought. “Freyda, I rescind your invitation,” I said. Then Freyda was gone, the screen door slamming shut behind her. She vanished into the pelting rain and darkness as quickly as she’d arrived. I might have seen a shadow crossing the beam of the security light; that was all.
    Freyda might not have intended to harm me when she arrived, but I was pretty sure my wards would clang if she tried to cross them now.
    I started shivering and couldn’t stop. Though the rain had lowered the temperature a bit, it was still a June night in Louisiana; but I shivered and shook until I had to sit down again. Bubba was as spooked as I was. He sat down at the table, but he fidgeted and kept looking out the windows until I thought I would snap at him. He speed-dialed Pam again and said, “Freyda’s gone. Miss Sookie is okay.”
    Eventually, Bubba gulped down the rest of the synthetic blood. He put his bottle by the sink and washed Freyda’s out, as if he could remove her visit that way. Still standing, he turned to me with sad eyes. “Is Eric going to leave here with that woman? Would Mr. Bill have to go with him?” Bill was a great favorite of Bubba’s.
    I looked up at the deficient vampire. The vacancy of his face detracted a bit from his looks, but he had a genuine sweetness that never failed to touch me. I put my arms around him, and we hugged.
    “I don’t think Bill is part of the deal,” I said. “I’m pretty sure he’ll stay right where he is. She just wants Eric.”
    I’d loved two vampires. Bill had broken my heart. Maybe Eric was on the way to doing that same thing.
    “Will Eric go with her to Oklahoma? Who would be sheriff? Whose girlfriend would you be then?”
    “I don’t know if he’ll go or not,” I said. “I’m not going to worry about who would take his place. I don’t have to be anyone’s girlfriend. I do okay by myself.”
    I only hoped I was telling Bubba the truth.

Chapter 9
    An hour after Bubba left, and just after I’d finally gone to sleep, my phone rang.
    “Are you all right?” Eric’s voice sounded strange; hoarse, almost.
    “Yes,” I said. “She was very rational.”
    “She … that’s what she told me. And Bubba told Pam you were all right.”
    So he’d talked to Freyda, presumably in person. And he’d taken Bubba’s secondhand word that I was fine; so therefore, he hadn’t been as quick to call me as he would have been if there’d been doubt in his mind. A lot of information conveyed in two short sentences.
    “No,” I agreed. “No violence.” I’d lain alone in the darkness, my eyes wide open, for a long time. I’d been sure Eric would arrive at any moment, desperate to make sure I hadn’t been hurt.
    I was controlling myself with my last bit of self-respect.
    “She won’t win,” Eric said. He sounded confident, passionate— everything I might have hoped would be reassuring.
    “You’re sure?” I asked.
    “Yes, my lover. I’m sure.”
    “But you’re not here,” I observed, and I hung up very gently.
    He didn’t call back.
    I slept between three and six, I think, and woke up to a summer day that mocked me by being beautiful. The downpour had washed everything, cooled the air, and renewed the green of the grass and the trees. The