Dead and Gone

She looked at me sharply. Holly had recently been letting her hair grow out, so the dyed black ends looked like they’d been dipped in tar. Her natural color, now showing about an inch at the roots, turned out to be a pleasant light brown. She’d colored it for so long that I’d clean forgotten. “This going to be good enough for me to keep Hoyt waiting?” she asked. “Him and Cody get along like a house on fire, but I am Cody’s mama.” Hoyt, my brother Jason’s best buddy, had been co-opted by Holly. Now he washer follower.

“You should stay awhile.” I gave her a significant lift of my eyebrows.

Holly said, “The Weres?” I nodded, and her face brightened with a grin. “Oh, boy! Arlene’s going to have a shit fit.”

Arlene, our coworker and former friend, had become politically sensitized a few months before by one of her string of man friends. Now she was somewhere to the right of Attila the Hun, especially on vampire issues. She’d even joined the Fellowship of the Sun, a church in all but name. She was standing at one of her tables now, having a serious conversation with her man, Whit Spradlin, a FotS official of some sort who had a day job at one of the Shreveport Home Depots. He had a sizeable bald patch and a little paunch, but that didn’t make any nevermind to me. His politics did. He had a buddy with him, of course. The FotS people seemed to run in packs—just like another minority group they were about to meet.

My brother, Jason, was at a table, too, with Mel Hart. Mel worked at Bon Temps Auto Parts, and he was about Jason’s age, maybe thirty-one. Slim and hard-bodied, Mel had longish light brown hair, a mustache and beard, and a pleasant face. I’d been seeing Jason with Mel a lot lately. Jason had had to fill the gap Hoyt had left, I assumed. Jason wasn’t happy without a sidekick. Tonight both men had dates. Mel was divorced, but Jason was still nominally married, so he had no business being out in public with another woman. Not that anyone here would blame him. Jason’s wife, Crystal, had been caught cheating with a local guy.

I’d heard Crystal had moved her pregnant self back to the little community of Hotshot to stay with relatives. (She could find a room in any house in Hotshot and be with relatives. It’s that kind of place.) Mel Hart had been born in Hotshot, too, but he was the rare member of the tribe who’d chosen to live elsewhere.

To my surprise Bill, my ex-boyfriend, was sitting with another vampire, named Clancy. Clancy wasn’t my favorite guy regardless of his nonliving status. They both had bottles of TrueBlood on the table in front of them. I didn’t think Clancy had ever dropped in to Merlotte’s for a casual drink before, and certainly never with Bill.

“Hey, guys, need a refill?” I asked, smiling for all I was worth. I’m a little nervous around Bill.

“Please,” Bill said politely, and Clancy shoved his empty bottle toward me.

I stepped behind the bar to get two more TrueBloods out of the refrigerator, and I uncapped them and popped them in the microwave. (Fifteen seconds works best.) I shook the bottles gently and put the warm drinks on the tray with some fresh napkins. Bill’s cold hand touched mine as I placed his drink in front of him.

He said, “If you need any help at your place, please call me.”

I knew he meant it kindly, but it sort of emphasized my current manless status. Bill’s house was right across the cemetery from mine, and the way he roamed around at night, I figured he was well aware I wasn’t entertaining company.

“Thanks, Bill,” I said, making myself smile at him. Clancy just sneered.

Tray and Amelia came in, and after depositing Amelia at a table, Tray went up to the bar, greeting everyone in the place along the way. Sam came out of his office to join the burly man, who was at least five inches taller than my boss and almost twice as big around. They gri

The televisions mounted at intervals around the room cut away from the sports event they’d been showing. A series of beeps alerted the bar patrons to the fact that something was happening on-screen. The bar gradually hushed to a few scattered conversations. “Special Report” flashed on the screen, superimposed on a newscaster with clipped, gelled hair and a sternly serious face. In solemn tones he said, “I’m Matthew Harrow. Tonight we bring you a special report. Like newsrooms all across the country, here in Shreveport we have a visitor in the studio.”

The camera moved away to broaden the picture, and a pretty woman came into view. Her face was slightly familiar. She gave the camera a practiced little wave. She was wearing a sort of muumuu, an odd choice for a television appearance.

“This is Patricia Crimmins, who moved to Shreveport a few weeks ago. Patty—may I call you Patty?”

“Actually, it’s Patricia,” the brunette said. She was one of the members of the pack that had been absorbed by Alcide’s, I remembered. She was pretty as a picture, and the part of her not swathed in the muumuu looked fit and toned. She smiled at Matthew Harrow. “I’m here tonight as the representative of a people who have lived among you for many years. Since the vampires have been so successful out in the open, we’ve decided the time’s come for us to tell you about ourselves. After all, vampires are dead. They’re not even human. But we’re regular people just like you-all, with a difference.” Sam turned the volume up. People in the bar began to swivel in their seats to see what was happening.

The newsman’s smile had gotten as rigid as a smile could be, and he was visibly nervous. “How interesting, Patricia! What—what are you?”

“Thanks for asking, Matthew! I’m a werewolf.” Patricia had her hands clasped around her knee. Her legs were crossed. She looked perky enough to sell used cars. Alcide had made a good choice. Plus, if someone killed her right away, well . . . she was the new girl.

By now Merlotte’s was silent as the word went from table to table. Bill and Clancy had risen to stand by the bar. I realized now that they were there to keep the peace if they were needed; Sam must have asked them to come in. Tray began unbuttoning his shirt. Sam was wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt, and he pulled it over his head.

“You’re saying you turn into a wolf at the full moon?” Matthew Harrow quavered, trying hard to keep his smile level and his face simply interested. He didn’t succeed very well.

“And at other times,” Patricia explained. “During the full moon, most of ushave to turn, but if we’re pure-blooded wereanimals, we can change at other times as well. There are many kinds of wereanimals, but I turn into a wolf. We’re the more numerous of all the two-natured. Now I’m going to show you-all what an amazing process this is. Don’t be scared. I’ll be fine.” She shucked her shoes, but not the muumuu. I suddenly understood she’d worn it so she wouldn’t have to undress on camera. Patricia knelt on the floor, smiled at the camera one last time, and began to contort. The air around her shivered with the magic of it, and everyone in Merlotte’s went“Ooooooo” in unison.

Right after Patricia committed herself to the change on the television screen, Sam and Tray did, too, right then and there. They’d worn underthings they didn’t mind ripping to shreds. Everyone in Merlotte’s was torn between watching the pretty woman change into a creature with long white teeth, and the spectacle of two people they knew doing the same. There were exclamations all over the bar, most of them not repeatable in polite society. Jason’s date, Michele Schubert, actually stood up to get a better view.

I was so proud of Sam. This took a lot of courage, since he had a business that depended to some extent on his likability.

In another minute, it was all over. Sam, a rare pure shapeshifter, turned into his most familiar form, that of a collie. He went to sit in front of me and gave a happy yip. I bent over to pat his head. His tongue lolled out, and he gri