Deadlocked: A Sookie Stackhouse Novel

searches sent out an alarm that eventually reached … the wrong ears. The fact that Fintan was your grandfather is no secret, either, since Niall found you and chose to honor you with his love and protection. It would not take much to put these snippets together.”
    “This is the only cluviel dor left in the world?” Awesome.
    “Unless one lies lost and forgotten in the land of the fae. And believe me, there are plenty who search every day for such a thing.”
    “Can I give it away?”
    “You’ll need it if you’re attacked. And you will be attacked,” Mr. Cataliades said, matter-of-factly. “You can use it for yourself, you know; loving yourself is a legitimate trigger of its magic. Giving it to someone else would seal their death warrant. I don’t think you’d want that, though my knowledge of you is inadequate.”
    Gee. A lot of swell news.
    “I wish Adele had used it herself, to save her own life or the life of one of her children, to take the burden from you. I can only suppose that she didn’t believe in its power.”
    “Probably not,” I agreed. And if she had, she almost certainly felt that using it would not be a Christian act. “So, who’s after the cluviel dor? I guess you know, by now?”
    “I’m not sure that knowledge would be good for you,” he said.
    “How come you can read my mind, but I can’t read yours?” I asked, tired of being transparent. Now I knew how other people must feel when I plucked a thought or two from their brains. Mr. Cataliades was a master at this, while I was very much a novice. He seemed to hear everything, and it didn’t seem to bother him. Before I’d learned to shield, the world had been a babble of talk inside my head. Now that I could block those thoughts for the most part, life was easier, but it was frustrating when I actually wanted to hear: I seldom got a full thought or understood its context. It was surprisingly deflating to realize that it wasn’t how much I heard that was amazing, it was how much I missed.
    “Well, I am mostly a demon,” he said apologetically. “And you’re mostly only human.”
    “Do you know Barry?” I asked, and even Mr. Cataliades looked a little surprised.
    “Yes,” he said, after a perceptible hesitation. “The young man who can also read minds. I saw him in Rhodes, before and after the explosion.”
    “If I came to be telepathic because of your—well, essentially, your baby shower present—how come Barry is telepathic?”
    Mr. Cataliades pulled himself straight and looked anywhere but at me. “Barry is my great-great-grandson.”
    “So, you’re much older than you look.”
    This was taken as a compliment. “Yes, my young friend, I am. I don’t neglect the boy, you know. He doesn’t really know me, and of course he doesn’t know his heritage, but I’ve kept him out of a lot of trouble. Not the same thing as having a fairy godmother as you had, but I’ve done my best.”
    “Of course,” I said, because it hadn’t been my intent to accuse Mr. Cataliades of ignoring his own kin. I’d just been curious. Time to change the subject, before I told him that my own fairy godmother had gotten killed defending me. “Are you gonna tell me who’s after the cluviel dor?”
    He looked profoundly sorry for me. There was a lot of that going around. “Let’s get rid of this body first, shall we?” he said. “Do you have any disposal suggestions?”
    I so seldom had to dispose of a human body myself, I was at a loss. Fairies turned into dust, and vampires flaked away. Demons had to be burned. Humans were very troublesome.
    Mr. Cataliades, picking up on that thought, turned away with a small smile. “I hear Diantha coming,” he remarked. “Maybe she’ll have a plan.”
    Sure enough, the skinny girl glided into the room from the back door. I hadn’t even heard her enter or detected her brain. She waswearing an eye-shattering combination: a very short yellow-and-black striped skirt over royal blue leggings, and a black leotard. Her black ankle boots were laced up with broad white laces. Today, her hair was bright pink. “Sookieyoudoingokay?” she asked.
    It took me a second to translate, and then I nodded. “We got to get rid of this,” I said, pointing to the body, which was absolutely obvious in a kitchen the size of mine.
    “Thatshutsonedoor,” she said to her uncle.
    He nodded gravely. “I suppose the best way to proceed is to load him into the trunk of his car,” Mr. Cataliades said.