Deadlocked: A Sookie Stackhouse Novel

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    But instead of making a personal reference, Bill said, “You had a visitor last night who cares very deeply.”
    I tried not to flinch too obviously. “You know she came to the house?”
    “We all know about her presence in Area Five, Sookie. All of us who are sworn to Eric. It’s hard to cover up the visit of a queen, especially one as well-known as Freyda. It’s even harder to remain ignorant of exactly where she is. She went to the casino to confer with Felipe directly after she left your house, and Felipe summoned Eric there. He took Thalia with him—not Pam. Thalia said it was a very tense meeting.”
    That explained the delay in Eric’s calling me … but it didn’t make me feel any better. “What makes Freyda so well-known?” I bypassed all the obvious conversational openings that Bill’s little speech presented to lock in on what was most interesting to me. I was all too aware that Bill could see how desperate I was to know more about her, and I just didn’t care.
    Bill kindly looked down at his hands as he told me, “She’s beautiful, of course. Ambitious. Young. She’s not content to sit on her throne and let things hum along. By the way, she had to fight for that throne. She killed her predecessor, and he didn’t make it easy. Freyda has worked hard to extend the business dealings of Oklahoma. The only thing slowing her progress is her lack of a strong and loyal second. If she acquires the strong vampire she needs to serve as her right hand, she’ll always have to watch her back against that vampire’s ambition. If she marries this right hand, he can’t succeed her. His loyalty will be assured, because his fate is bound to hers.”
    I pondered this for a few minutes, while Bill sat in silence. Vampires are great at that. I caught his eyes on my face. I got the impression that Bill felt sorry for me. A worm of panic twisted in my stomach.
    “Freyda’s strong, active, and determined,” I said. “Like Eric. And you say she needs a good fighter, a good second. Like Eric.”
    “Yes, like Eric,” he said deliberately. “Freyda would be a great match for him. Practically speaking, he’d escape from the political situation created by his murder of Victor. The king’s going to have to do something to Eric. Felipe really can’t afford to be perceived as ignoring Victor’s death.”
    “Why not?”
    He looked at me blankly.
    “Felipe let Victor get away with whatever the hell Victor wanted to do,” I said. “Why shouldn’t he be perceived that way?”
    “He doesn’t want to lose the loyalty of the vampires who serve him,” Bill said.
    “That’s ridiculous!” I thought steam would come out of my ears. “You can’t have it all different ways!”
    “But he’ll try. I don’t think you’re really angry about Felipe. You’re really angry about the hard practicality of Eric marrying Freyda.” I winced, but Bill continued ruthlessly. “You have to admit that her character is much like Eric’s and that they’d make a good team.”
    “Eric’s my team,” I said. “He loves me. He wants to stay here.” I realized that I was, so to speak, batting with another hand now. I’d been just as sure the night before that Eric would leave, that he loved power more than he loved me.
    “But … Sookie, you must see … staying might be the death of him.”
    I could read a mixture of pity and tough love in Bill’s attitude. “Bill, are you sure you’re able to judge that?”
    “I hope that I have your best interests in my heart, Sookie.” He paused, as if considering whether he should go on. “I know you’ll suspect everything I say about this situation—because I love you, and I don’t love Eric. But truly, I want your happiness, above almost everything else.”
    Almost everything else. I found myself wondering what came ahead of that. His own survival?
    I heard the screen door bang, and Dermot hurried out to his car.
    “Got to get to the club,” he called.
    “Drive careful,” I called back. He was gone before I could say anything more. I turned back to Bill, who was staring at the spot where Dermot had stood, a wistful expression on his face. No wonder Dermot had hurried; he’d surely known a vampire was in the backyard and that his scent would be attractive. “Let’s get back to the Kym Rowe issue,” I said, to get Bill’s attention. “What can I do to help you find out who killed her?”
    “The first person we’d want to talk to is Mustapha, and he’s