From Dead to Worse

himself to Sam, who automatically introduced himself right back.
    “Miss Stackhouse,” the king said, “I am in your debt.”
    Damn straight.
    “It’s okay,” I said in a voice that wasn’t nearly as level as it should be.
    “Thank you,” he said. “If your car is too damaged to repair, I will be very glad to buy you another one.”
    “Oh, thanks,” I said with absolute sincerity, as I stood up. “I’ll try to drive it home tonight. I don’t know how I can explain the damage. Do you think the body shop would believe I ran over an alligator?” That did happen occasionally. Was it weird that I was worried about the car insurance?
    “Dawson would look at it for you,” Sam said. His voice was as odd as mine. He, too, had thought he was going to die. “I know he’s a motorcycle repairman, but I bet he could fix your car. He works on his own all the time.”
    “Do what is necessary,” said Castro grandly. “I will pay. Eric, would you care to explain what just happened?” His voice was considerably more acerbic.
    “You should ask your crew to explain,” Eric retorted, with some justification. “Didn’t they tell you Sigebert, the queen’s bodyguard, was dead? Yet here he is.”
    “An excellent point.” Castro looked down at the crumbling body. “So that was the legendary Sigebert. He’s gone to join his brother, Wybert.” He sounded quite pleased.
    I hadn’t known the brothers were famous among the vampires, but they’d certainly been unique. Their mountainous physiques, their broken and primitive English, their utter devotion to the woman who’d turned them centuries before— sure, any right-minded vampire would love that story. I sagged where I stood, and Eric, moving faster than I could see, picked me up. It was a very Scarlett and Rhett moment, spoiled only by the fact that there were two other guys there, we were in a humdrum parking lot, and I was unhappy about the damage to my car. Plus not a little shocked.
    “How’d he get the jump on three strong guys like you-all?” I asked. I didn’t worry about Eric holding me. It made me feel tiny, not a feeling I got to enjoy all that often.
    There was a moment of general embarrassment.
    “I was standing with my back to the woods,” Castro explained. “He had the chains arranged for throwing. . . . Your word is almost the same. Lazo. ”
    “Lasso,” Sam said.
    “Ah, lasso. The first one, he threw around me, and of course, the shock was great. Before Eric could land on him, he had Eric as well. The pain from the silver . . . very quickly we were bound. When this one”—he nodded toward Sam—“came to our aid, Sigebert knocked him unconscious and got rope from the back of Sam’s truck and tied him up.”
    “We were too involved in our discussion to be wary,” Eric said. He sounded pretty grim, and I didn’t blame him. But I decided to keep my mouth shut.
    “Ironic, eh, that we needed a human girl to rescue us,” the king said blithely, the very idea that I’d decided not to voice.
    “Yes, very amusing,” Eric said in a dreadfully unamused voice. “Why did you return, Sookie?”
    “I felt your, ah, anger at being attacked.” For “anger” read “despair.”
    The new king looked very interested. “A blood bond. How interesting.”
    “No, not really,” I said. “Sam, I wonder if you’d mind driving me home. I don’t know where you gentlemen left your cars, or if you flew. I do wonder how Sigebert knew where to find you.”
    Felipe de Castro and Eric shared almost identical expressions of deep thought.
    “We’ll find out,” Eric said, and set me down. “And then heads are going to roll.” Eric was good at setting heads to rolling. It was one of his favorite things. I was willing to put my money on Castro sharing that predilection, because the king was looking positively gleeful in anticipation.
    Sam fished his keys out of his pocket without a word, and I climbed into the truck with him. We left the two vampires involved in a deep conversation. Sigebert’s corpse, still partially under my poor car, was almost gone, leaving a dark greasy residue on the gravel of the parking lot. The good thing about vampires—no corpse disposal.
    “I’ll call Dawson tonight,” Sam said unexpectedly.
    “Oh, Sam, thank you,” I said. “I’m so glad you were there.”
    “It’s the parking lot of my bar ,” he said, and it might have been my own guilty reaction, but I thought I detected some reproach. I suddenly