Sookie 04 Dead to the World (22 page)

“This is Bill, your former mate?” Eric’s voice sounded a little . . . strained.

“Ah, this is-well, yes, sort of,” I said unhappily. The “former” was correct; the “mate” was a little off.

Eric placed both his hands on my shoulders and moved in close to me. I had no doubt he was staring over the top of my head at Bill, who was staring right back. Eric might as well have stuck a SHE’S MINE sign on top of my head. Arlene had told me that she loved moments like this, when her ex saw plainly that someone else valued her even if he didn’t. All I can say is, my taste in satisfaction runs completely different. I hated it. I felt awkward and ridiculous.

“You really don’t remember me,” Bill said to Eric, as if he’d doubted it up until this moment. My suspicion was confirmed when he told me, as if Eric wasn’t standing there, “Truly, I thought this was an elaborate scheme on Eric’s part to stay in your house so he could talk his way into your bed.”

Since the same thought had occurred to me, though I’d discarded it pretty quickly, I couldn’t protest; but I could feel myself turning red.

“We need to get in the car,” I told Eric, turning to catch a glimpse of his face. It was rock hard and expressionless, which usually signaled he was in a dangerous state of mind. But he came with me when I moved toward the door, and the whole house slowly emptied its inhabitants into the narrow suburban street. I wondered what the neighbors thought. Of course, they knew the house was inhabited by vampires-no one around during the day, all the yard work done by human hirelings, the people who came and went at night being so very pale. This sudden activity had to invite neighborhood attention.

I drove in silence, Eric beside me on the front seat. Every now and then he reached over to touch me. I don’t know who Bill had caught a ride with, but I was glad it wasn’t me. The testosterone level would have been too high in the car, and I might have smothered.

Bubba was sitting in the backseat, humming to himself. It sounded like “Love Me Tender.”

“This is a crappy car,” Eric said, out of the blue, as far as I was concerned.

“Yes,” I agreed.

“Are you afraid?”

“I am.”

“If this whole thing works, will you still see me?”

“Sure,” I said, to make him happy. I was convinced that after this confrontation, nothing would be the same. But without the true Eric’s conviction of his own prowess and intelligence and ruthlessness, this Eric was pretty shaky. He’d be up for the actual battle, but right now he needed a boost.

Pam had plotted out where everyone should park, to prevent Hallow’s coven from becoming alarmed by the sudden appearance of a lot of cars. We had a map with our spot marked on it. That turned out to be an E-Z Mart on the corner of a couple of larger roads in a down-sliding area that was changing over from residential to commercial. We parked in the most out-of-the-way corner the E-Z Mart afforded. Without further discussion, we set out to our appointed locations.

About half the houses on the quiet street had real-estate signs in the front lawn, and the ones that remained in private hands were not well maintained. Cars were as battered as mine, and big bare patches indicated that the grass wasn’t fertilized or watered in the summer. Every lighted window seemed to show the flickering of a television screen.

I was glad it was winter so the people who lived here were all inside. Two white vampires and a blond woman would excite comment, if not aggression, in this neighborhood. Plus, one of the vampires was pretty recognizable, despite the rigors of his changeover-which was why Bubba was almost always kept out of sight.

Soon we were at the corner where Eric was supposed to part from us so he could rendezvous with the other vampires. I would have continued on to my appointed post without a word; by now I was keyed up to such a pitch of tension I felt I could vibrate if you tapped me with a finger. But Eric wasn’t content with a silent separation. He gripped my arms and kissed me for all he was worth, and believe me, that was plenty.

Bubba made a sound of disapproval. “You’re not supposed to be kissing on anybody else, Miss Sookie,” he said. “Bill said it was okay, but I don’t like it.”

After one more second, Eric released me. “I’m sorry if we offended you,” he said coldly. He looked back down at me. “I’ll see you later, my lover,” he said very quietly.

I laid my hand against his cheek. “Later,” I said, and I turned and walked away with Bubba at my heels.

“You ain’t mad at me, are you, Miss Sookie?” he asked anxiously.

“No,” I said. I made myself smile at him, since I knew he could see me far more clearly than I could see him. It was a cold night, and though I was wearing my coat, it didn’t seem to be as warm as it used to be. My bare hands were quivering with cold, and my nose felt numb. I could just detect a whiff of wood smoke from a fireplace, and automobile exhaust, and gasoline, and oil, and all the other car odors that combine to make City Smell.

But there was another smell permeating the neighborhood, an aroma that indicated this neighborhood was contaminated by more than urban blight. I sniffed, and the odor curled through the air in almost visible flourishes. After a moment’s thought, I realized this must be the smell of magic, thick and stomach-clenching. Magic smells like I imagine a bazaar in some exotic foreign country might. It reeks of the strange, the different. The scent of a lot of magic can be quite overwhelming. Why weren’t the residents complaining to the police about it? Couldn’t everyone pick up on that odor?

“Bubba, do you smell something unusual?” I asked in a very low voice. A dog or two barked as we walked past in the black night, but they quickly quieted when they caught the scent of vampire. (To them, I guess, Bubba was the something unusual.) Dogs are almost always frightened of vampires, though their reaction to Weres and shifters is more unpredictable.

I found myself convinced I wanted nothing more than to go back to the car and leave. It was a conscious effort to make my feet move in the correct direction.

“Yeah, I sure do,” he whispered back. “Someone’s been laying some spells. Stay-away magic.” I didn’t know if the Wiccans on our side, or the witches on Hallow’s, had been responsible for this pervasive piece of craft, but it was effective.

The night seemed almost unnaturally silent. Maybe three cars passed us as we walked the maze of suburban streets. Bubba and I saw no other pedestrians, and the sense of ominous isolation grew. The stay-away intensified as we came closer to what we were supposed to stay away from.

The darkness between the pools of light below the street-lamps seemed darker, and the light didn’t seem to reach as far. When Bubba took my hand, I didn’t pull away. My feet seemed to drag at each step.

I’d caught a whiff of this smell before, at Fangtasia. Maybe the Were tracker had had an easier job than I’d thought.

“We’re there, Miss Sookie,” Bubba said, his voice just a quiet thread in the night. We’d come around a corner. Since I knew there was a spell, and I knew I could keep walking, I did; but if I’d been a resident of the area, I would have found an alternative route, and I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. The impulse to avoid this spot was so strong that I wondered if the people who lived on this block had been able to come home from their jobs. Maybe they were eating out, going to movies, drinking in bars-anything to avoid returning to their homes. Every house on the street looked suspiciously dark and untenanted.

Across the road, and at the opposite end of the block, was the center of the magic.

Hallow’s coven had found a good place to hole up: a business up for lease, a large building that had held a combination florist shop-bakery. Minnie’s Flowers and Cakes stood in a lonely position, the largest store in a strip of three that had, one by one, faded and gone out like flames on a candelabra. The building had apparently been empty for years. The big plate-glass windows were plastered with posters for events long past and political candidates long since defeated. Plywood nailed over the glass doors was proof that vandals had broken in more than once.

Even in the winter chill, weeds pushed up through cracks in the parking area. A big Dumpster stood to the right side of the parking lot. I viewed it from across the street, getting as much of a picture of the outside as I could before closing my eyes to concentrate on my other senses. I took a moment to be rueful.

If you’d asked me, I would’ve had a hard time tracing the steps that had led me to this dangerous place at this dangerous time. I was on the edges of a battle in which both sides were pretty dubious. If I’d fallen in with Hallow’s witches first, I would probably have been convinced that the Weres and the vampires deserved to be eradicated.

At this time a year ago, no one in the world really understood what I was, or cared. I was just Crazy Sookie, the one with the wild brother, a woman others pitied and avoided, to varying degrees. Now here I was, on a freezing street in Shreveport, gripping the hand of a vampire whose face was legendary and whose brain was mush. Was this betterment?

And I was here not for amusement, or improvement, but to reconnoiter for a bunch of supernatural creatures, gathering information on a group of homicidal, blood-drinking, shape-changing witches.

I sighed, I hoped inaudibly. Oh, well. At least no one had hit me.

My eyes closed, and I dropped my shields and reached out with my mind to the building across the street.

Brains, busy busy busy. I was startled at the bundle of impressions I was receiving. Maybe the absence of other humans in the vicinity, or the overwhelming pervasion of magic, was responsible; but some factor had sharpened my other sense to the point of pain. Almost stunned by the flow of information, I realized I had to sort through it and organize it. First, I counted brains. Not literally (”One temporal lobe, two temporal lobes . . .” ), but as a thought cluster. I came up with fifteen. Five were in the front room, which had been the showroom of the store, of course. One was in the smallest space, which was most likely the bathroom, and the rest were in the third and largest room, which lay to the rear. I figured it had been the work area.

Everyone in the building was awake. A sleeping brain still gives me a low mumble of a thought or two, in dreaming, but it’s not the same as a waking brain. It’s like the difference between a dog twitching in its sleep and an alert puppy.

To get as much information as possible, I had to get closer. I had never attempted to pick through a group to get details as specific as guilt or innocence, and I wasn’t even sure that was possible. But if any of the people in the building were not evil witches, I didn’t want them to be in the thick of what was to come.

“Closer,” I breathed to Bubba. “But under cover.”

“Yes’m,” he whispered back. “You gonna keep your eyes closed?”

I nodded, and he led me very carefully across the street and into the shadow of the Dumpster that stood about five yards south of the building. I was glad it was cold, because that kept the garbage smell at an acceptable level. The ghosts of the scents of doughnuts and blossoms lay on top of the funk of spoiled things and old diapers that passersby had tossed into the handy receptacle. It didn’t blend happily with the magic smell.

I adjusted, blocked out the assault on my nose, and began listening. Though I’d gotten better at this, it was still like trying to hear twelve phone conversations at once. Some of them were Weres, too, which complicated matters. I could only get bits and pieces.

. . .hope that’s not a vaginal infection I feel coming on . . .

She won’t listen to me, she doesn’t think men can do the job.

If I turned her into a toad, who could tell the difference?

. . . wish we’d gotten some diet Coke . . .

I’ll find that damn vamp and kill him . . .

Mother of the Earth, listen to my pleas.

I’m in too deep . . .

I better get a new nail file.

This was not decisive, but no one had been thinking, “Oh, these demonic witches have trapped me, won’t somebody help?” or “I hear the vampires approaching!” or anything dramatic like that. This sounded like a band of people who knew each other, were at least relaxed in each other’s company, and therefore held the same goals. Even the one who was praying was not in any state of urgency or need. I hoped Hallow wouldn’t sense the crush of my mind, but everyone I’d touched had seemed preoccupied.

“Bubba,” I said, just a little louder than a thought, “you go tell Pam there are fifteen people in there, and as far as I can tell, they’re all witches.”

“Yes’m.”

“You remember how to get to Pam?”

“Yes’m.”

“So you can let go my hand, okay?”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Be silent and careful,” I whispered.

And he was gone. I crouched in the shadow that was darker than the night, beside the smells and cold metal, listening to the witches. Three brains were male, the rest female. Hallow was in there, because one of the women was looking at her and thinking of her . . . dreading her, which kind of made me uneasy. I wondered where they’d parked their cars-unless they flew around on broomsticks, ha ha. Then I wondered about something that should already have crossed my mind.

If they were so darn wary and dangerous, where were their sentries?

At that moment, I was seized from behind.

“Who are you?” asked a thin voice.

Since she had one hand clapped over my mouth and the other was holding a knife to my neck, I couldn’t answer. She seemed to grasp that after a second, because she told me, “We’re going in,” and began to push me toward the back of the building.

I couldn’t have that. If she’d been one of the witches in the building, one of the blood-drinking witches, I couldn’t have gotten away with this, but she was a plain old witch, and she hadn’t watched Sam break up as many bar fights as I had. With both hands, I reached up and grabbed her knife wrist, and I twisted it as hard as I could while I hit her hard with my lower body. Over she went, onto the filthy cold pavement, and I landed right on top of her, pounding her hand against the ground until she released the knife. She was sobbing, the will seeping out of her.

“You’re a lousy lookout,” I said to Holly, keeping my voice low.

“Sookie?” Holly’s big eyes peered out from under a knit watch cap. She’d dressed for utility tonight, but she still had on bright pink lipstick.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“They told me they’d get my boy if I didn’t help them.”

I felt sick. “How long have you been helping them? Before I came to your apartment, asking for help? How long?” I shook her as hard as I could.

“When she came to the bar with her brother, she knew there was another witch there. And she knew it wasn’t you or Sam, after she’d talked to you. Hallow can do anything. She knows everything. Late that night, she and Mark came to my apartment. They’d been in a fight; they were all messed up, and they were mad. Mark held me down while Hallow punched me. She liked that. She saw my picture of my son; she took it and said she could curse him long distance, all the way from Shreveport-make him run out in the traffic or load his daddy’s gun. . . .” Holly was crying by now. I didn’t blame her. It made me sick to think of it, and he wasn’t even my child. “I had to say I’d help her,” Holly whimpered.

“Are there others like you in there?”

“Forced to do this? A few of them.”

That made some thoughts I’d heard more understandable.

“And Jason? He in there?” Though I’d looked at all three of the male brains in the building, I still had to ask.

“Jason is a Wiccan? For real?” She pulled off the watch cap and ran her fingers through her hair.

“No, no, no. Is she holding him hostage?”

“I haven’t seen him. Why on earth would Hallow have Jason?”

I’d been fooling myself all along. A hunter would find my brother’s remains someday: it’s always hunters, or people walking their dogs, isn’t it? I felt a falling away beneath my feet, as if the ground had literally dropped out from under me, but I called myself back to the here and now, away from emotions I couldn’t afford to feel until I was in a safer place.

“You have to get out of here,” I said in the lowest voice I could manage. “You have to get out of this areanow.”

“She’ll get my son!”

“I guarantee she won’t.”

Holly seemed to read something in the dim view she had of my face. “I hope you kill them all,” she said as passionately as you can in a whisper. “The only ones worth saving are Parton and Chelsea and Jane. They got blackmailed into this just like I did. Normally, they’re just Wiccans who like to live real quiet, like me. We don’t want to do no one no harm.”

“What do they look like?”

“Parton’s a guy about twenty-five, brown hair, short, birthmark on his cheek. Chelsea is about seventeen, her hair’s dyed that bright red. Jane, um, well-Jane’s just an old woman, you know? White hair, pants, blouse with flowers on it. Glasses.” My grandmother would have reamed Holly for lumping all old women together, but God bless her, she wasn’t around anymore, and I didn’t have the time.

“Why didn’t Hallow put one of her toughest people out here on guard duty?” I asked, out of sheer curiosity.

“They got a big ritual spell thing set up for tonight. I can’t believe the stay-away spell didn’t work on you. You must be resistant.” Then Holly whispered, with a little rill of laughter in her voice, “Plus, none of ‘em wanted to get cold.”

“Go on, get out of here,” I said almost inaudibly, and helped her up. “It doesn’t matter where you parked your car, go north out of here.” In case she didn’t know which direction was north, I pointed.

Holly took off, her Nikes making almost no sound on the cracked sidewalk. Her dull dyed black hair seemed to soak up the light from the streetlamp as she passed beneath it. The smell around the house, the smell of magic, seemed to intensify. I wondered what to do now. Somehow I had to make sure that the three local Wiccans within the dilapidated building, the ones who’d been forced to serve Hallow, wouldn’t be harmed. I couldn’t think of a way in hell to do that. Could I even save one of them?

I had a whole collection of half thoughts and abortive impulses in the next sixty seconds. They all led to a dead end.

If I ran inside and yelled, “Parton, Chelsea, Jane-out!” that would alert the coven to the impending attack. Some of my friends-or at least my allies-would die.

If I hung around and tried to tell the vampires that three of the people in the building were innocent, they would (most likely) ignore me. Or, if a bolt of mercy struck them, they’d have to save all the witches and then cull the innocent ones out, which would give the coven witches time to counterattack. Witches didn’t need physical weapons.

Too late, I realized I should have kept a hold of Holly and used her as my entree into the building. But endangering a frightened mother was not a good option, either.

Something large and warm pressed against my side. Eyes and teeth gleamed in the city’s night light. I almost screamed until I recognized the wolf as Alcide. He was very large. The silver fur around his eyes made the rest of his coat seem even darker.

I put an arm across his back. “There are three in there who mustn’t die,” I said. “I don’t know what to do.”

Since he was a wolf, Alcide didn’t know what to do, either. He looked into my face. He whined, just a little. I was supposed to be back at the cars by now; but here I was, smack in the danger zone. I could feel movement in the dark all around me. Alcide slunk away to his appointed position at the rear door of the building.

“What are you doing here?” Bill said furiously, though it sounded strange corning out in a tiny thread of a whisper. “Pam told you to leave once you’d counted.”

“Three in there are innocent,” I whispered back. “They’re locals. They were forced.”

Bill said something under his breath, and it wasn’t a happy something.

I passed along the sketchy descriptions Holly had given me.

I could feel the tension in Bill’s body, and then Debbie joined us in our foxhole. What was she thinking, to pack herself in so closely with the vampire and the human who hated her most?

“I told you to stay back,” Bill said, and his voice was frightening.

“Alcide abjured me,” she told me, just as if I hadn’t been there when it happened.

“What did you expect?” I was exasperated at her timing and her wounded attitude. Hadn’t she ever heard of consequences?

“I have to do something to earn back his trust.”

She’d come to the wrong shop, if she wanted to buy some self-respect.

“Then help me save the three in there who are innocent.” I recounted my problem again. “Why haven’t you changed into your animal?”

“Oh, I can’t,” she said bitterly. “I’ve been abjured. I can’t change with Alcide’s pack anymore. They have license to kill me, if I do.”

“What did you shift into, anyway?”

“Lynx.”

That was appropriate.

“Come on,” I said. I began to wriggle toward the building. I loathed this woman, but if she could be of use to me, I had to ally with her.

“Wait, I’m supposed to go to the back door with the Were,” Bill hissed. “Eric’s already back there.”

“So go!”

I sensed that someone else was at my back and risked a quick glance to see that it was Pam. She smiled at me, and her fangs were out, so that was a little unnerving.

Maybe if the witches inside hadn’t been involved in a ritual, and hadn’t been relying on their less-than-dedicated sentry and their magic, we wouldn’t have made it to the door undetected. But fortune favored us for those few minutes. We got to the front door of the building, Pam and Debbie and I, and there met up with the young Were, Sid. I could recognize him even in his wolf body. Bubba was with him.

I was struck with a sudden inspiration. I moved a few feet away with Bubba.

“Can you run back to the Wiccans, the ones on our side? You know where they are?” I whispered.

Bubba nodded his head vigorously.

“You tell them there are three local Wiccans inside who’re being forced into this. Ask if they can make up some spell to get the three innocent ones to stand out.”

“I’ll tell them, Miss Sookie. They’re real sweet to me.”

“Good fella. Be quick, be quiet.”

He nodded, and was gone into the darkness.

The smell around the building was intensifying to such a degree that I was having trouble breathing. The air was so permeated with scent, I was reminded of passing a candle shop in a mall.

Pam said, “Where have you sent Bubba?”

“Back to our Wiccans. They need to make three innocent people stand out somehow so we won’t kill “em.”

“But he has to come back now. He has to break down the door for me!”

“But . . .” I was disconcerted at Pam’s reaction. “He can’t go in without an invitation, like you.”

“Bubba is brain damaged, degraded. He’s not altogether a true vampire. He can enter without an express invitation.”

I gaped at Pam. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She just raised her eyebrows. When I thought back, it was true that I could remember at least twice that Bubba had entered dwellings without an invitation. I’d never put two and two together.

“So I’ll have to be the first through the door,” I said, more matter-of-factly than I was really feeling. “Then I invite you all in?”

“Yes. Your invitation will be enough. The building doesn’t belong to them.”

“Should we do this now?”

Pam gave an almost inaudible snort. She was smiling in the glow of the streetlight, suddenly exhilarated. “You waiting for an engraved invite?”

Lord save me from sarcastic vampires. “You think Bubba’s had enough time to get to the Wiccans?”

“Sure. Let’s nail some witch butt,” she said happily. I could tell the fate of the local Wiccans was very low on her list of priorities. Everyone seemed to be looking forward to this but me. Even the young Were was showing a lot of fang.

“I kick, you go in,” Pam said. She gave me a quick peck on the cheek, utterly surprising me.

I thought,Isodon’t want to be here.

Then I got up from my crouch, stood behind Pam, and watched in awe while she cocked a leg and kicked with the force of four or five mules. The lock shattered, the door sprang inward while the old wood nailed over it splintered and cracked, and I leaped inside and screamed “Come in!” to the vampire behind me and the ones at the back door. For an odd moment, I was in the lair of the witches by myself, and they’d all turned to look at me in utter astonishment.

The room was full of candles and people sitting on cushions on the floor; during the time we’d waited outside, all the others in the building seemed to have come into this front room, and they were sitting cross-legged in a circle, each with a candle burning before her, and a bowl, and a knife.

Of the three I’d try to save, “old woman” was easiest to recognize. There was only one white-haired woman in the circle. She was wearing bright pink lipstick, a little skewed and smeared, and there was dried blood on her cheek. I grabbed her arm and pushed her into a corner, while all about me was chaos. There were only three human men in the room. Hallow’s brother, Mark, now being attacked by a pack of wolves, was one of them. The second male was a middle-aged man with concave cheeks and suspicious black hair, and he not only was muttering some kind of spell but pulling a switchblade from the jacket lying on the floor to his right. He was too far away for me to do anything about it; I had to rely on the others to protect themselves. Then I spotted the third man, birthmark on cheek-must be Parton. He was cowering with his hands over his head. I knew how he felt.

I grabbed his arm and pulled up, and he came up punching, of course. But I wasn’t having any of that, no one was going to hit me, so I aimed my fist through his ineffectually flailing arms and got him right on the nose. He shrieked, adding another layer of noise to the already cacophonous room, and I yanked him over to the same corner where I’d stashed Jane. Then I saw that the older woman and the young man were both shining. Okay, the Wiccans had come through with a spell and it was working, though just a tad late. Now I had to find a shining young woman with dyed red hair, the third local.

But my luck ran out then; hers already had. She was shining, but she was dead. Her throat had been torn out by one of the wolves: one of ours, or one of theirs, it didn’t really matter.

I scrambled though the melee back to the corner and seized both of the surviving Wiccans by the arm. Debbie Pelt came rushing up. “Get out of here,” I said to them. “Find the other Wiccans out there, or go home now. Walk, get a cab, whatever.”

“It’s a bad neighborhood out there,” quavered Jane.

I stared at her. “And this isn’t?” The last I saw of the two, Debbie was pointing and giving them instructions. She had stepped out the doorway with them. I was about to take off after them, since I wasn’t supposed to be here anyway, when one of the Were witches snapped at my leg. Its teeth missed flesh but snagged my pants leg, and that was enough to yank me back. I stumbled and nearly fell to the floor, but managed to grasp the doorjamb in time to regain my feet. At that moment, the second wave of Weres and vamps came through from the back room, and the wolf darted off to meet the new assault from the rear.

The room was full of flying bodies and spraying blood and screams.

The witches were fighting for all they were worth, and the ones who could shift had done so. Hallow had changed, and she was a snarling mass of snapping teeth. Her brother was trying to work some kind of magic, which required him to be in his human form, and he was trying to hold off the Weres and the vampires long enough to complete the spell.