The Sookie Stackhouse Companion

pick up the scene of our approaching vehicles.
    Sam was punching in a number on his cell. He held it to his ear. “Porter,” he said, “if you’re in front of the church, we’re headed your way, and in case you have your head up your ass, we’re in a lot of trouble.”
    He listened for a moment. “Okay, we’ll be there. If we get through.”
    He tossed the phone onto the seat. “He says it’s worse the closer you get to the church. He’s not sure he could get through to help us. He’s having trouble just keeping the crowd out of the church. The Lisles have made it, because they came early so Deidra could dress in the bride’s room.”
    “That’s something,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. I was scared to death. I was looking out the front windshield, and I saw people’s mouths moving, their faces distorted; I heard human beings hating, hating. They didn’t know Sam or Bernie. They didn’t care that the engaged couple couldn’t turn into anything at all. They were waving signs. They were screaming at us. Again Togo smiled through the window at me, but I couldn’t smile back.
    “Courage,” Sam said to me.
    “I’m trying,” I told him, and then the rock hit the windshield. I shrieked, which was stupid, but I was so startled and it was so sudden. “Sorry, sorry!” I gasped. There was a crack in the glass.
    “Shit,” Sam said, and I knew he was as tense as I was.
    The next rock hit Togo in the shoulder. Though he didn’t bleed, he did react, and I knew it must have hurt. Togo, so big and aggressive, probably seemed a better target than Trish, who was gray-haired and a woman.
    “I wish I had my shotgun,” I said out loud, though I’d thought it twenty times.
    “If you had it, you’d shoot someone, so maybe it’s better you don’t,” Sam said, which amazed me.
    “You don’t feel like shooting some of these yahoos?”
    “I don’t feel like going to jail,” Sam said grimly. He was staring ahead, concentrating on keeping the truck moving at a slow and steady pace. “I’m only hoping none of them throw themselves in front of the truck.” Suddenly, a tall figure appeared directly in our way. He turned his back to us and began walking ahead at the right pace to be point man for our little procession. Quinn. Bald head gleaming, he led us forward, looking from side to side, evaluating the crowd.
    Sam’s phone rang, and I picked it up. “Sookie here,” I said.
    “There are more of your people here,” Brother Arrowsmith said. “I’m sending them to meet you.”
    “Thanks,” I said, and flipped the phone shut. I relayed the message to Sam.
    “So he finally grew a pair,” Sam said. “And just in time.”
    We’d gotten to the corner by then, and we had to turn right on Main and go north a couple of blocks to turn onto St. Francis. While we waited for traffic to pass—amazingly, some people were actually trying to go about their everyday routine—I saw someone running toward us out of the corner of my eye. I twisted to see Togo looking out at the traffic, and he met my eyes briefly before he was broadsided by a short, heavy man swinging his sign at Togo’s head. Togo bled and staggered and went down on one knee.
    “Quinn!” I yelled, and Quinn turned to see what was happening. He bounded over the hood of the truck with a leap that was truly astounding, and he plucked Togo’s attacker off the ground and held him there.
    The crowd was shocked, and some of them stared, stunned by Quinn’s speed and strength. Then they became enraged because this difference was exactly what they feared. I glimpsed more swift movement, Sam yelled, and I saw a tall woman, brown hair flying behind her like a banner, loping across Main at an inhuman rate. She looked normal in her jeans and sneakers, but she was definitely more than human. She went right to the knot of Togo, Quinn, and the protester. She seized the man from Quinn’s grip and carried him over to the side of the street. With elaborate care, she placed him on his feet, and then she did an amazing thing. She patted him on the head with one long brown hand.
    There was a scattering of laughter from the crowd. The man literally had his mouth hanging open.
    She turned to Quinn and Togo, who’d lurched to his feet, and she grinned.
    Togo’s shoulders relaxed as he realized the crisis had passed—for the moment. But Quinn seemed frozen, and then . . . so did she.
    He bowed his head slightly to her. I couldn’t hear what he