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“Yeah, she’s living with him,” Jason said. “They fight pretty often, but I think she’s staying.”
Calvin Norris, leader of the werepanthers, did his best not to get involved in vampire affairs. He’d had a lot on his plate since the Weres had come out. He’d declared that he was two-natured the next day in the break room at work. Now that the word had gotten around, it had only earned Calvin more respect. He had a good reputation in the Bon Temps area, even if most of the people who lived out in Hotshot were regarded with some suspicion since the community was so isolated and peculiar.
“How come you didn’t come out when Calvin did?” I asked. That was a thought I’d never heard in Jason’s head.
My brother looked thoughtful, an expression that sat a little oddly on him. “I guess I just ain’t ready to answer a lot of questions,” he said. “It’s a personal thing, the change. Michele knows, and that’s all that’s important.”
Michele smiled at him. “I’m real proud of Jason,” she said, and that was enough. “He ma
Jason and Michele were just startling me all over the place. “I haven’t ever said anything to anyone,” I assured him.
“I never thought you would. Calvin says Eric is like a chief vampire,” Jason said, hopping into a different topic.
I don’t talk about vampire politics at any length with nonvamps. Just not a good idea. But Jason and Michele had shared with me, and I wanted to share a little back. “Eric’s got some power. But he’s got a new boss, and things are touchy.”
“You want to talk about that?” I could tell Jason was uncertain about hearing whatever I chose to tell them, but he was trying hard to be a good brother.
“I better not,” I said, and saw his relief. Even Michele was glad to turn back to her steak. “But apart from dealing with other vampires, Eric and I are doing okay. There’s always some give and take in relationships, right?” Though Jason had had scores of relationships over the years, he’d learned about give and take only recently.
“I been talking to Hoyt again,” Jason said, and I understood the pertinence. Hoyt, Jason’s shadow for years, had dropped off my brother’s radar for a while. Hoyt’s fiancée, Holly, who worked at Merlotte’s with me, wasn’t a big Jason fan. I was surprised Jason had his best buddy back, and I was even more surprised Holly had consented to this renewal.
“I’ve changed a lot, Sookie,” my brother said, as if (for once) he’d been reading my mind. “I want to be a good friend to Hoyt. I want to be a good boyfriend to Michele.” He looked at Michele seriously, putting his hand over hers. “And I want to be a better brother. We’re all we got left. Except for the fairy relations, and I’d just as soon forget about them.” He looked down at his plate, embarrassed. “I can’t hardly believe that Gran cheated on Grandpa.”
“I had an idea about that,” I said. I’d been struggling with the same disbelief. “Gran really wanted children, and that wasn’t going to happen for her and Grandpa. I was thinking maybe she was enchanted by Fintan. Fairies can mess with your mind, like the vamps can. And you know how beautiful they are.”
“Claudine sure was. And I guess if you’re a woman, Claude looks pretty good.”
“Claudine really toned it down since she was passing for human.” Claudine, Claude’s triplet, had been a stu
Jason said, “Grandpa wasn’t any picture in the looks department.”
“Yeah, I know.” We looked at each other, silently acknowledging the power of physical attraction. Then we said, simultaneously, “But Gran?” And we couldn’t help but laugh. Michele tried hard to keep a straight face, but finally she couldn’t help gri
“Now that I’m thinking about Gran, I’ve been meaning to ask you if I could have that table she put up in the attic,” Jason said. “The pie-crust table that used to sit by the armchair in the living room?”
“Sure, swing by and pick it up sometime,” I said. “It’s probably sitting right where you put it the day she asked you to take it up to the attic.”
I left soon after with my almost-empty casserole dish, some leftover steak, and a cheerful heart.
I certainly hadn’t thought having di
MARCH
THE FOURTH WEEK
“There,” said Sam. I had to strain to hear him. Someone had put Jace Everett’s “Bad Things” on, and just about everyone in the bar was singing along. “You’ve smiled three times tonight.”
“You counting my facial expressions?” I put down my tray and gave him a look. Sam, my boss and friend, is a true shapeshifter; he can change into anything warm-blooded, I guess. I haven’t asked him about lizards and snakes and bugs.
“Well, it’s good to see that smile again,” he said. He rearranged some bottles on the shelf, just to look busy. “I missed it.”
“It’s good to feel like smiling,” I told him. “I like the haircut, by the way.”
Sam ran a self-conscious hand across his head. His hair was short, and it hugged his scalp like a red gold cap. “Summer’s coming up. I thought it might feel good.”
“Probably will.”
“You already started sunbathing?” My tan was famous.
“Oh, yeah.” In fact, I’d started extra early this spring. The first day I’d put on my swimsuit, all hell had broken loose. I’d killed a fairy. But that was past. I’d lain out yesterday, and not a thing had happened. Though I confess I hadn’t taken the radio outside, because I’d wanted to be sure I could hear if something was sneaking up on me. But nothing had. In fact, I’d had a remarkably peaceful hour lying in the sun, watching a butterfly waft by every now and then. One of my great-great-grandmother’s rosebushes was blooming, and the scent had healed something inside me. “The sun just makes me feel real good,” I said. I suddenly remembered that the fae had told me that I came from sky fairies, instead of water fairies. I didn’t know anything about that, but I wondered if my love of the sun was a genetic thing.
Antoine called, “Order up!” and I hurried over to fetch the plates.
Antoine had settled in at Merlotte’s, and we all hoped he’d stick with the cooking job. Tonight he was moving around the small kitchen like he had eight arms. Merlotte’s menu was the most basic—hamburgers, chicken strips, a salad with chicken strips cut up on it, chili fries, French-fried pickles—but Antoine had mastered it with amazing speed. Now in his fifties, Antoine had gotten out of New Orleans after staying in the Superdome during Katrina. I respected Antoine for his positive attitude and his determination to start over after losing everything. He was also good to D’Eriq, who helped him with food prep and bused the tables. D’Eriq was sweet but slow.
Holly was working that night, and in between hustling drinks and plates she stood by Hoyt Fortenberry, her fiancé, who was perched on a barstool. Hoyt’s mom had proven to be only too glad to keep Holly’s little boy on the evenings Hoyt wanted to spend time with Holly. It was hard to look at Holly and recognize her as the sullen Goth Wiccan she’d been in one phase of her life. Her hair was its natural dark brown and had grown to nearly shoulder length, her makeup was light, and she smiled all the time. Hoyt, my brother’s best friend again since they’d mended their differences, seemed like a stronger man now that he had Holly to brace him up.
I glanced over at Sam, who’d just answered his cell phone. Sam was spending a lot of time on that phone these days, and I suspected he was seeing someone, too. I could find out if I looked in his head long enough (though the two-natured are harder to read than simple basic humans), but I tried hard to stay out of Sam’s thoughts. It’s just rude to rummage around inside the ideas of people you care about. Sam was smiling while he talked, and it was good to see him looking—at least temporarily—carefree.