After my shower, I dressed with so much violence I almost ripped my t-shirt. I wasn't frightened anymore. I didn't want to see Eric again. I would've kicked him out if I thought there was any chance he'd actually leave.

Eric had always made me wary, but I'd also liked him. More or less. He made me laugh almost as much as he made me cringe. He put me in danger, but he didn't leave me hanging.

My appreciation of him was beginning to feel naïve.

I wanted Eric out of my life. Unfortunately, it seemed like the quickest way to get rid of him was to help him. Which meant I couldn't kick him out. Yet.

But my gracious hostess days were over.

I needed breakfast. I was hungry and angry, which is never a good combination. Considering Eric's distaste for solid food, the kitchen was the one place I'd be sure to avoid him. Maybe, if I were lucky, he'd starve himself to the point of passing out. An unconscious Eric would be a hell of a lot easier to deal with than the current version.

So when I walked into the kitchen to find Eric eating cold chicken with a knife, I had to force myself not to walk out. I would not be a fugitive inside my own home.

I did the only reasonable thing: I told myself he didn't exist and started to make coffee.

"Sookie."

It speaks.

I ignored him. He pretended not to hear me all the time.

Eric tossed a wallet on the counter. It was caked with mud.

As much as I wanted to continue the silent treatment, he'd piqued my interest. "What's this?"

"See for yourself," he said.

I flipped it open. The witch's face stared up from an Arkansas driver's license.

I slid the license out of its sleeve. "Marnie Stonebrook." I'd been expecting a name like Maleficent. Marnie sounded ordinary. Almost too ordinary. But, then again, a name didn't tell you much about a person. As far as names went, 'Eric,' 'Pam,' and 'Bill' were about as white bread as it got.

Eric cut himself some chicken and ate it, using his knife as a fork. "Look in the billfold."

I did. No cash. I wondered if Eric had found it like that. There was a business card for a motel outside Shreveport.

"After breakfast you will take me," he said.

Like hell. It was an hour to Shreveport. I wasn't about to spend that much time in a car with him.

"Pam and I will go." I sure as hell wasn't going by myself, in case the witch's brother was still around. "We'll take the gun."

He didn't like that idea, go figure. "Sookie—"

"I'm sorry," I cut him off. "Do you want my help or not?"

Being short with him wasn't smart, but thankfully, he backed off. He seemed to realize he'd crossed a line.

Better late than never.

"You and Pam will go," he repeated, as if it had been his idea.

"Never sneak into my room again," I said. "I don't care how angry you are. Talk to me like a person."

Eric acted like he hadn't heard and cut himself more chicken.

Silence fell.

I had to stand there like a doofus until my coffee finished. I poured a cup, then left. Eric didn't look at me once.

It wasn't the best exit in the universe, but I'd gotten something off my chest. I felt better, until I realized that I'd forgotten the food part of breakfast in my haste to leave. If I wanted to eat, I'd have to face him again.

I dithered around my room, drinking coffee, stalling, and hyping myself up. When my stomach growled, I decided to stop being ridiculous.

By the time I got back to the kitchen, Eric was gone. But he'd put the chicken back in the fridge and rinsed his knife.

It was sitting in the drying rack, spotless.

"This is not the motel," Pam said as I pulled off I-49, just south of Shreveport proper.

"I know." I pulled into a lot and parked next to a very massive—and very familiar—Dodge Ram pickup. "I'll be ten minutes."

I had called Alcide Herveaux as soon as Eric mentioned Shreveport. Since the witch was a were, I wanted to ask if he'd heard anything about her. I hated to involve Alcide in Eric's mess, even peripherally, but I thought he deserved a heads up too. There was nothing to say that the witch had only planned to target vampires. She might be dead, but her brother was still a threat. Alcide should be on his guard.

Plus, after dealing with Eric, I was looking forward to a conversation with someone who treated me like a normal human being.

When I'd called, Alcide had sounded as happy to hear from me as I was to talk to him. He gave me directions to his office in Shreveport.

"Eric would not be pleased," Pam said, when I told her that I was visiting Alcide.

I told Pam exactly how much Eric's pleasure meant to me. She laughed and waved me out of the car. "You're something else, Sookie."

"Don't talk to strangers," I said.

Alcide's office was inside a sprawling one-story complex. A line of pickup trucks sat out front, which made sense, since his family ran a contracting company. As I got closer, I noticed that his family seemed to own the whole building, as well as the pickups. Each had "Herveaux Contracting" stamped on the side.

I was suddenly very aware of my old T-shirt and jeans. I wasn't dressed for a business meeting. When I stepped inside, the receptionist gave me the stink eye. She didn't think much of my outfit either. When I asked for Alcide, she was noticeably surprised, but she paged him anyway. He appeared out of the back almost immediately, and pulled me into a hug. A big one.

With Alcide, everything's big. He's a tall guy, and a strong and he has big curls that never seem able to lie flat on his head. I came up to his chest, and I took full advantage of the opportunity to rest my head on it. As I relaxed in his arms, I was almost able to forget that I had two ex-vamps to babysit.

The receptionist wondered how long Alcide and I had been having an affair. It kind of spoiled the moment.

"Hey," Alcide said, as we broke apart. He'd wrapped his fingers in my hair. "Come on back."

Alcide opened the door to the office and ushered me into a hallway. A handful of guys in hardhats chatted inside, and they stepped out of the way to let us pass.

Alcide led me to a door at the end of the hall. His name was on the front. He planted himself behind a desk. His desk. There were stacks of important-looking papers and his phone was blinking. Someone was waiting for him to take their call.

I felt self-conscious, like I was taking up too much of his time. But then I saw the big smile on his face and relaxed.

"It's good to see you," he said.

"Same." I was smiling too. I couldn't help it.

Alcide's smile faltered. He ran his hands through his hair. He seemed nervous. "Listen, Sookie, I've been wanting to talk to you. That night in Jackson—"

I knew what he was going to say. Alcide was trying to apologize for leaving me in Club Dead. His thoughts were tinged with remorse, and he was struggling to find the right words.

I didn't want to think about that night any more than I had to. "It's okay." Or mostly okay. I could hardly blame Alcide for what happened with Bill. "You couldn't help it."

"Still," he said.

I reached across the desk and squeezed his hand. He ran his thumb over my mine, absently. It felt nice. I could have sat like that for a while. But time was a luxury I didn't have. As much as I wanted to linger, I couldn't leave Pam in the car forever.

I cut to the chase. "Do you know a Marnie Stonebrook?"

"No bells." Alcide shook his head.

"She's a were. And a witch."

He looked concerned. "What've you gotten mixed up in, Sookie?"

I'd been asking myself the same question. "It's safer if you don't know. Just watch out and let me know if you hear anything."

"I've never heard of weres being witches." Alcide's face darkened. "Witches are humans who want a little something extra. Weres have enough magic as is."

"Too bad Marnie doesn't agree."

Alcide studied me, then, out of the blue, asked, "This Marnie's been bothering the vamps?"

I opened my mouth, then shut it. I didn't know what to say. I wanted to tell Alcide the truth. He'd help me. He'd have my back, unless the vamps found out and killed him for it. If I unburdened, I'd only put him in danger.

I decided not to tell Alcide anything, no matter how much I wanted an ally. I tried to keep up a poker face, but something must have shown because Alcide said, "Goddamn it, Sookie. Wherever you go a bloodsucker's not far behind." There was more than a little bitterness in his voice. He added a belated, "No offense."

"Don't worry about it." My voice sounded tarter that usual.

"And now that you're back with Bill—"

"Who told you that?"

"You aren't?" He looked surprised. Hopeful, even.

"We broke up a month ago." Before I could wonder where Alcide was getting his information, I heard it is his head. I should have known.

"You're back with Debbie?"

"No." He looked ashamed of himself. "Well. Not really."

Alcide and I were friendlier than friends ought to be, but I was never going to let what we had grow into something more until he was clear of Debbie Pelt. It was too bad that day didn't seem to be getting any closer.

"Whatever she said, it was a lie." I wasn't surprised. The worst part was that he wasn't either.

Alcide looked so remorseful, my heart softened a little. "Guess I should know better."

Yes, he should. But he didn't need me telling him.

"Feels like all I'm doing today is apologizing," he said, with a rueful smile

After that, we wrapped up. Alcide said he'd ask his packmaster about Marnie and he promised he'd be in touch if he learned anything. He made me promise to call him if I was in trouble. I agreed, because I doubted that he'd let me leave if I didn't. We hugged goodbye and I enjoyed it more than I should have. Alcide offered to walk me to my car, but I declined, thinking of Pam.

Pam must have noticed something, because when I got back to the car, she asked, "He's tall, your were?"

"He's not mine."

She smirked.

The motel was a ways off I-20. The nice chains—Best Western, Super 8—were close to the highway. The further from the interstate, the more rundown the accommodations.

Pam directed me onto a street dotted with used car dealerships. "This is it." She held up the card from the witch's wallet. "Caddo Motel."

The Caddo was a one-story motel, built around a parking lot. There were about 20 rooms and a handful of cars, all busted clunkers. Bill's well-kept sedan stood out, which made me nervous. I circled the lot, and parked next to the exit.

"You've got the gun?" I asked Pam, and she tapped her purse.

"I'm coming with you," she said, and got out of the car without waiting for my reply.

I was glad that Pam wasn't planning to sit tight. I didn't want to face the witch's brother alone, and I figured the chances of anyone at the Caddo recognizing Pam were slim to none, especially since she was wearing one of my church dresses. It was flowered and modest, basically the opposite of her goth-chic Fangtasia uniform. On the whole, it made her look really young. If she were a customer at Merlotte's, I would have carded her. I realized anyone seeing the two of us would assume I was older.

We started towards the front office. Halfway there, an idea struck me. "Pam, lend me one of your rings."

Left to her own devices, Pam was a no-nonsense dresser, a khaki and sweater set kind of girl, but she usually wore a few simple gold rings. God bless her, Pam didn't even ask why I wanted one. She eased one off her hand and passed it to me. I jammed it onto my ring finger. Left hand.

The bell rang as we walked into the front office. An old lady glanced up from behind the desk. She looked me up and down. My reception couldn't have been more different than Alcide's office. Here, my ratty jeans and T-shirt were an asset. I didn't stand out from the usual clientele. "Stonebrook staying here?"

"Who's asking?" she said, but I heard the answer in her head. Yes, and Room 18.

I flashed my ring. "Fiancé."

"He's here with a woman." Her thoughts were full of sympathy, which was refreshing.

"Tall lady?"

"That was yesterday," she said. "Today, she's French."

Pam and I looked at each other. She didn't have any more of a clue than I did. "The tall girl's his sister," I said, fishing for more information.

"He ain't got a French sister." The woman handed me the key for Room 18. "Bring that back when you're finished with him."

I told the woman thanks, elbowed Pam so she said thanks, and walked out of the office.

Number 18 was at the end of the row of rooms.

The parking lot was deserted except for the maid, who was piling clean towels on a handcart. She was about my age and had a Windex bottle hanging from the loop of her jeans. She was in street clothes. This wasn't the kind of place that invested in uniforms.

The maid walked inside Room 12, leaving her cart unattended. As we passed, Pam grabbed it. She started pushing it towards the witch's brother's room. "Hey," I said, but Pam ignored me.

I heard footfalls behind me, and turned around to see the maid. "Give us one sec," I said, trying to think an explanation. I was coming up with zilch.

Pam rapped on the door of Room 18. "Housekeeping."

"What the fuck?" The maid was pissed. I couldn't blame her.

Pam didn't spare us a second glance. "Housekeeping," she repeated, and started pounding on the door.

No response.

"Sookie, key," she said, and I tossed it to her.

"My fiancé's been cheating," I told the maid. I felt rotten lying, but it seemed to mollify her. "Sorry about the cart."

I was instantly forgiven. "Forget it." I appreciated her sympathy. "Men are dogs."

I thought of Alcide and suppressed a smile.

Pam unlocked the door. She stepped in, then stuck her head out, and waved me over. I said goodbye to the maid and joined her.

The room was dark. Shades drawn. Rumpled bed, but otherwise no sign of life. The witch's brother didn't seem to be in, but he couldn't have gone far, because his luggage was on the dresser. Clothes spilled out of the open bag.

A pair of cowboy boots stood at the foot of his bed. "He left without shoes?" I said.

"Sookie." Pam pointed at the nightstand.

The bedside lamp lay on the floor. Shade knocked off. Bulb shattered. I knew signs of struggle when I saw them. Thanks, Law and Order.

Pam took the gun out of her purse. She walked into the bathroom. Switched on the light.

The witch's brother lay in the bathtub, tangled in the shower curtain. I couldn't see his wounds, but I knew from the color of his skin that he was dead.