The Sookie Stackhouse Companion

sorry.” A little.
    “Too bad you couldn’t break his arm,” Sam said, and he was smiling. A little.
    As we opened the truck doors, we both glanced down the street toward Main, alerted by the buzz of voices. The street that had been so oddly empty that morning was now lined with people.
    “What the hell?” Sam said. The whole Merlotte party, including the children, froze in place by their vehicles. While we’d been dressing for the most important day in Craig’s and Deidra’s lives, people with other plans had been gathering.
    There were signs, signs bearing hateful messages. HUMAN BEINGS WALK ON TWO FEET, read the mildest one I saw. The others ranged from biblical quotations to obscenities about Craig and Deidra’s wedding night. My hand flew up to cover my mouth as I read some of them, as if I could suppress my horror. Mindy covered her children’s eyes. Even though I didn’t think they could read the signs—and “abomination” is a pretty long word, even for older kids—I understood exactly how she felt.
    “Oh my God,” Bernie said. “Has the world gone mad? My husband shoots me, and everyone hates me ?”
    “Maybe we should go back in the house,” Doke said. He’d picked up Mason, and Mindy had lifted Bonnie into her arms.
    “I’ll never go back in the house,” Bernie growled. “You got the kids, you do what you think you have to. I’ll never let them win.”
    Sam stood by his mother, his arm around her shoulders. “We go forward, then,” he said quietly.
    “All right,” I said, bracing myself. “All right, here we go. Craig?”
    “Yeah,” said Craig. “I’m going to the church. I hope the Lisles can get there. I’m not making Deidra wait for me on our wedding day.”
    The excitement in all those brains, the churning emotions and thoughts, battered at me, and I staggered. Sam jumped over to grasp my arm. “Sookie?” he said. “This doesn’t have to be your fight.”
    I thought of the dead animals at the shelter. “This is my fight.” I took a deep breath. “How did all these people get here?”
    “The Internet,” said Sister. She and Rafe were looking around them, alert to approaching danger. “Everyone just showed up, said they’d heard about it on the Internet. That Twitter thing maybe.”
    A television news van pulled up at the end of the street.
    “That’s probably good, I think,” Sam said. “Witnesses.”
    But I thought people would act out worse, so their protest would make the evening news. “We better get going,” I said. “Before the assholes build up their courage.”
    “Do you figure the majority of the crowd is pro or anti?” There were signs for both camps. More for the anti, but haters are always the most vocal.
    I scanned the signs. “The signs are mostly anti,” I said. “The anti folks are better organized, which isn’t a big surprise. People of goodwill don’t have to carry signs.”
    We got welcome reinforcements from an unexpected direction. Togo, Trish, and the Biker Babes, along with the Suburban people, came through the backyards to arrive at our sides.
    “Road was blocked farther on,” Trish explained. “Pile on in your cars. We have a plan.”
    Bernie said, “Trish, maybe . . .”
    “You-all get in, but drive slow,” Trish said. “We’re going to walk alongside the cars. Don’t want any of them getting close to the kids.”
    “Doke?” Mindy said. “Are we doing the right thing?”
    “I don’t know.” Doke sounded almost desperate. “But let’s go. If we all stay together, it’s better than being divided.” The two parents crowded into the backseat of Bernie’s car, their kids between them, buckled into the parents’ seat belts. Craig got into the driver’s seat, and Bernie ducked in the passenger side. Sam and I hugged, and then we got into his truck. We pulled away from the curb slowly and carefully, and Togo got on my side of the truck. He smiled in at me. Trish was on Sam’s side. The bikers and the other shifters who’d come from out of town surrounded Bernie’s car, which would be behind us.
    We started down the street, and the yelling began. The people who were trying to keep the peace pushed to get in front of the protesters, linking arms to provide us clear passage to the corner. The news crew had scrambled out and gotten their equipment set up, and the reporter, a handsome young man in a beautiful suit, was talking earnestly into the camera. Then he stepped out of camera view so the lens could