Disclaimer: I am not the owner of these characters. The original story and the characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I am only borrowing them for a little while.

Chapter 18

Sookie's POV

He took a couple of steps towards me, holding the knife in a strong fist… ready to take me down.

I didn't know if a friend had entered or another foe. Truth be told, I had little faith in the wards. The silence and stealth the newcomer employed could indicate either one. I did know I wasn't going to give up the Cluviel Dor. And I knew for sure I wasn't going to stand passively and let this asshole hurt me. I twisted, gripped the handle of the pot of hot water, and pivoted smoothly, flinging the water directly into Donald Callaway's face. The spaghetti wrapped around his face and neck like an octopus with unlimited tentacles.

A lot of things happened then, in very rapid succession. Callaway screamed and stopped the knife and the Mae, slamming his hands to his face while water and spaghetti flew everywhere. The demon lawyer, Mr. Cataliades, charged into the room. He bellowed like a maddened bull when he saw Donald Callaway on the floor. The demon leaped onto the prone dealer, gripped his head, and twisted, and all the noise stopped abruptly.

"Shepherd of Judea," I said. I pulled out a chair and sat in it to forestall falling down on the wet floor with the body.

Mr. Cataliades picked himself up, but almost slipped with the spaghetti. He then dusted his hands together, and beamed at me. "Miss Stackhouse, how nice to see you again," he said. "And how clever of you to distract him."

"I take it you know who this is," I said, trying not to look at the inert figure of Donald Callaway.

"I do. And I've been looking for a chance to shut his mouth forever."

"I can't pretend to regret he's dead," I said. "But this whole incident is kind of shocking, and it's taking me a minute to collect myself. In fact, I've been through a lot of shocking stuff lately. But what else is new? Sorry, I'm babbling."

"I can quite understand that. Shall I tell you what I've been doing?"

"Yes, please. Have a seat and talk to me." It would give me a chance to recover.

The demon sat opposite me and smiled in a cordial way. "Do you mind if I impose on you for a glass of ice water?"

"Not at all," I said, and rose to fetch it. I had to step over the body.

"Thank you, my dear." The lawyer finished the glass in one long swallow. I refilled it. I was glad to return to my seat.

"The hellhounds were pursuing me. They did it for a long time, and I had no idea why. I could not fathom what I had done to offend their master." He shook his head. "Now, of course, I know."

I waited for him to tell me what he had done, but he wasn't ready for that.

"Finally, I became far enough ahead of the hounds to take time to arrange an ambush. By then, Diantha had been able to find me to join in a surprise I'd planned for them. We had… quite a struggle with the hounds." He was silent for a moment.

"Please tell me Diantha isn't dead," I said. His niece Diantha was one of the most unusual creatures I'd ever met, and that was saying something, considering whom I could enter in my address book.

"We prevailed," he said simply. "But it cost us, of course. I had to lie hidden in the woods for many days until I was able to travel again. Diantha recovered more quickly since her wounds were slighter, and she brought me food and began gathering information. We needed to understand before we could begin to dig ourselves out of trouble."

"Uh-huh," I said, wondering where this was going to lead. "You want to share that information with me? I'm pretty sure that this guy didn't understand my gran's letter." I nodded my head to the body.

"He may not have understood the context, and he didn't believe in fairies, but he did see the phrase 'Cluviel Dor,'" Mr. Cataliades said.

"But how come he knew it was valuable? He definitely didn't know what it can do, because he didn't understand the reality of fairies."

"I learned from my sponsor, Bertine, that Callaway Googled the term 'Cluviel Dor.' He found one reference in a fragment of text from an old Irish folk tale," Mr. Cataliades said.

This Bertine must be Mr. Cataliades' godmother, in effect, the same way Mr. Cataliades (my grandfather's best friend) was mine. I wondered briefly what Bertine looked like, where she lived. But Mr. Cataliades was still talking.

"Computers are another reason to deplore this age, when no one has to really travel to learn important information from other cultures." He shook his head and continued, "I'll tell you more about my sponsor when we have some leisure time. You might like her."

I suspected Mr. Cataliades also had flashes of foreseeing. Could he know the future?

"Fortunately for us, Callaway came to Bertine's attention when he persisted in his research. Of course, it was unfortunate for him." Mr. Cataliades spared a downward glance at the inert Donald. "Callaway tracked down a supposed expert in fairy lore, someone who could tell him what little is known about this legendary fairy artifact; namely, the fact that none exist on this earth anymore. Unfortunately, this expert, who was Bertine, as you have no doubt surmised, did not understand the important of keeping silent. Since dear Bertine didn't believe that there were any Cluviel Dors left in either world, she felt free to talk about them. Therefore, she was ignorant of the wrong she committed when she told Callaway that a Cluviel Dor could be made in almost any form or shape. Callaway had never suspected the item he'd held was an actual fae artifact until he talked to Bertine. He imagined scholars and folklorists would give a pretty penny to possess such a thing."

"When he showed me the drawer, I didn't get that he'd already opened it," I said quietly. "How could that be?"

"Were you shielding?"

"I'm sure I was." I did it without thinking, to protect myself. Of course, I couldn't maintain such a level of blocking all day, every day. And of course, it protected your brain only like wearing earmuffs affected your hearing; a lot of stuff still bled in, especially from a strong broadcaster. But apparently Donald had been preoccupied that day, and I had been so excited at the contents of the drawer I hadn't realized he was seeing the Butterick pattern envelope and the velvet bag for the second time. He hadn't believed he'd found anything valuable or notable: a confusing letter from an old woman about having children and getting a present, and a bag containing an old toiletry item, maybe a powder compact. It was when he'd thought to find over later and Googled the odd phrase that he'd begun to wonder if those items might be valuable.

"I need to give you lessons, child, as I should have done before. Isn't it nice that we're finally getting to know one another? I regret that it takes a huge crisis to impel me to make this offer."

I nodded faintly. "Learning about it years ago would have been beneficial," I said.

"It's never too late. We'll fix that mistake of mine."

"Please tell me what happened next."

"When Diantha thought of questioning Bertine, Bertine realized what she had done. Far from giving a human a useless bit of information about old fairy lore, she had revealed a secret. She came to me while I was recuperating, and I finally understood why I'd been pursued."

"Because…" I tried to arrange my thoughts. "Because you'd kept secret the existence of a Cluviel Dor?"

"Yes. My friendship with Fintan, whose name your grandmother mentioned in the letter, was no secret. Stupid Callaway Googled Fintan too, and though he didn't find out anything about the real Fintan, the conjunction of the two searches sent out an alarm that eventually reached… the wrong ears. The fact that Fintan was your grandfather is no secret, either, since Niall found you and chose to honor you with his love and protection. It would not take much to put these snippets together."

"This is the only Cluviel Dor left in the world?" Awesome.

"Unless one lies lost and forgotten in the land of the fae. And believe me, there are plenty who search every day for such a thing."

"Can I give it away?"

"You'll need it if you're attacked. And you will be attacked," Mr. Cataliades said, matter-of-factly. "You can use it for yourself, you know; loving yourself is a legitimate trigger of its magic. Giving it to someone else would seal their death warrant. I don't think you'd want that, though my knowledge of you is inadequate."

Gee. A lot of swell news.

"I wished Adele had used it herself, to save her own life of the life of one of her children, to take the burden from you. I can only suppose that she didn't believe in its power."

"Probably not," I agreed. And if she had, she almost certainly felt that using it would not be a Christian act. "So, who's after the Cluviel Dor? I guess you know by now?"

"I'm not sure that knowledge would be good for you," he said.

"How come you can read my mind, but I can't read yours?" I asked, tired of being transparent. Now I knew how other people must feel when I plucked a thought of two from their brains. Mr. Cataliades was a master at this, while I was very much a novice.

"Well, I am mostly a demon," he said apologetically. "And you're mostly only human."

"Is there a way to enhance my mind reading abilities?"

"Yes, but it's risky."

"When are you going to teach me how to control the mind reading skills?"

"Soon, but not today."

"Do you know Barry?" I asked, and even Mr. Cataliades looked little surprised.

"Yes," he said, after a perceptible hesitation. "The young man who can also read minds. I saw him in Rhodes, before and after the explosion." He pulled himself straight and looked anywhere but at me. "Barry is my great-great-grandson."

"So, you're much older than you look."

This was taken as a compliment. "Yes, my young friend, I am. I don't neglect the boy, you know. He doesn't really know me, and of course he doesn't know his heritage, but I've kept him out of a lot of trouble. Not the same thing as having a fairy godmother as you had, but I've done my best."

"Of course. I didn't mean to accuse you of neglecting your own kin. Speaking of kin, Niall told Eric about the Cluviel Dor. Why would he do that?"

Mr. Cataliades smiled as if I have just asked a basic question which prompted him to measure my IQ level. "Eric and Niall's story goes way back, centuries before you were born. They have done business together. Niall didn't trust any other vampire, but him. When Niall found your whereabouts and that coincidently you were bonded to him, Niall approached Eric for a personal favor. Have you ever wondered why Niall has never criticized you for being bonded to a vampire? It is because of that trust that he told Eric about the Cluviel Dor. Look at the facts, has Eric tried to take it away from you?"

"Eric has never mentioned it to me."

"How did you find out that Eric knew?"

"Niall told me himself."

"Such a powerful knowledge would provoke the avarice of the most trusted person, yet Eric hasn't betrayed him."

"So, they genuinely trust and respect each other. That is rare in the vampire world," I stated as a matter of fact. Eric once told me he trusted Pam and me only.

"It is very rare across all lands. Niall must have Eric in high respect to trust his bloodline to mix with a vampire," Mr. Cataliades stared at me expecting common sense to hit me. The truth has been in front of me all along and I failed to recognize it.

I nodded in defeat. The silence was getting somewhat uncomfortable, so time to change topic. Why did you leave last night when the fight started?"

"Because I shall not interfere with fate. I already did enough by helping Sophie Anne to survive."

"Will things get better now?"

"Some things will get better and others will be challenging. That's how life goes, no matter what."

"What things will be challenging?"

"Let's get rid of this body first, shall we?" he said. "Do you have any disposal suggestions?"

I so seldom had to dispose of a human body myself, I was at loss. Fairies turned into dust, and vampires flaked away. Demons had to be burned. Humans were very troublesome.

Mr. Cataliades, picking up on that thought, turned away with a small smile. "I hear Diantha coming," he remarked. "Maybe she'll have a plan."

Sure enough, the skinny girl glided into the room from the back door. I hadn't even heard her enter or detected her brain. She was wearing an eye-shattering combination: a very short yellow-and-black striped skirt over royal blue leggings, and a black leotard. Her black ankle boots were laced up with broad white laces. Today, her hair was bright pink. "Sookieyoudoingokay?" she asked.

It took me a second to translate, and then I nodded. "We got to get rid of this," I said, pointing to the body, which was absolutely obvious in a kitchen the size of mine.

"Thatshutsonedoor," she said to her uncle.

He nodded gravely. "I suppose the best way to proceed is to load him into the trunk of his car," Mr. Cataliades said. "Diantha, do you think you could assume his appearance?"

Diantha made a disgusted face but quickly bent to Donald Callaway's face and stared into it. She plunked a hair from his head, closed her eyes. Her lips moved, and the air had that magic feel I'd noticed when my friend Amelia had performed one of her spells.

In a moment, to my shock, Donald Callaway was standing in front of us staring down at his own body.

It was Diantha, completely transformed. She was even wearing Callaway's clothes, or at least was the way she appeared to my eyes.

"Fuckthisshit," Callaway said, and I knew Diantha was in charge. But it was beyond strange to see Mr. Cataliades and Donald Callaway carrying out Callaway's body to his car, unlocked with the keys extracted from the corpse's pocket.

I followed them out, watching carefully to make sure nothing fell or leaked from the body.

"Diantha, drive to the airport in Shreveport and park the car there. Call a cab to pick you up, and have it drop you off at… at the police station. From there, find a good place to change back, so they'll lose the trail."

She nodded with a jerk and climbed into the car.

"Diantha can keep his appearance all the way to Shreveport?"

I said, as she turned the car around with a grind of the wheel. She waved gaily as she took off like a rocket. I hoped she made it back to Shreveport without getting a ticket.

"She won't get a ticket," Mr. Cataliades answered my thought.

But here came Jason in his pickup.

"Oh, hell," I said. "My spaghetti isn't ready."

"I need to say good-bye, anyway," Mr. Cataliades said. "I know there are some things I haven't told you, but I must go now. I may have taken care of the hellhounds, but yours aren't the only secrets."

"But…"

I might as well not have spoken. With the startling speed he'd shown when the hellhounds were chasing him, my "sponsor" disappeared into the woods.

"Hey, Sis!" Jason bounded out of his truck. "Did you just have a visitor? I passed a car?"

"Ah, not quite," I said. "That was a drop-in I didn't expect, a guy wanting to sell me life insurance."

"You might need it sis. Lately your life has been risky," Jason said with a smile. He was teasing me and I didn't blame him.

"Did you get to finish installing the kitchen cabinets?"

"Nah, we will have enough to do for a couple of days. What's the thing that you needed help with?"

"Well, I want to get Eric out of the U-Haul truck and bring him here. I need your help to carry him without letting the sun burn or kill him."

Jason's face was priceless. "Are you out of your mind? You can't wait until he wakes up so he would walk, fly, or drive here?"

"Nope. I don't want to wait. I want him to wake up here with me."

Reluctantly, Jason agreed to help me out. We drove back to Fangtasia in my car because we needed the dark trunk to hide Eric. It was late afternoon and Jason was hungry again.

"Didn't you just eat pizza in Hotshot?" I was surprised of his impatient appetite.

"Full Moon and shifting, even when it's partial, makes me extra hungry the next couple of days. Those that are full blooded, oh man, sure they can eat! I would hate to pay for their grocery bill," Jason teased.

We drove by a Burger King to order a couple of burgers through the drive-thru. Of course, Jason spent the rest of the trip discussing how his burgers were much better quality as we agreed to meet for BBQ at his house sometime this week.

When we arrived to Fangtasia, my blood pressure dropped dangerously low and my heart stopped beating. The U-Haul truck with all my vampires was gone. "They ain't here!" I said a little too loud.

"Are you sure they didn't say they were going to hide them somewhere else?" Jason asked. I parked the car by the entrance and we walked around the building to verify that they weren't hiding the truck somewhere in the back of the property.

"Alcide said they were going to stay here. Two of his pack members stayed guarding the truck while the others left. They were supposed to take turns so that everybody got to rest and there would be somebody with the truck at all times," I replied.

"Do you think that Alcide took advantage of the situation and killed them? I mean, shifters aren't fans of vampires, and having them so vulnerable during the daytime… temptation is the devil Sook!" Jason said.

I thought about it really carefully, "No, I don't think so. Alcide is a man of honor. He would keep his word."

"And his pack members?" Jason asked. I didn't know how to answer that question.

I got my phone out and dialed Alcide's number. My fingers were trembling; I was scared of the possibilities of that could've happened; none of them were good.

The call went to his voicemail. So, I hanged up and dialed again… and again. "Sook, look," Jason said, "The tire marks go towards the road and there are only two sets of boots on each side."

Yup, he was a detective now. "How do you know?" I asked as I walked to him.

"There are a lot of footsteps back here and only two pair of boots prints on both sides; they stopped here," Jason showed me.

"Those footsteps were on the back of the truck so that could be from the vampires when they got in the truck. These two pairs of footprints are on the sides of the truck, so one person got in the truck in the driving seat and the other one in the passenger sit," I said trying to analyze the evidence.

"But what if they were ambushed and those footsteps belonged to the attackers? Somebody attacked the two shifters and then two of the attackers got in the truck and took off," Jason said.

"Jason you aren't helping. I want to think that my Eric is alive; and Pam, and Karin, and Bill, and the others."

"Then, what if those footprints are what you said they are, and the two shifters that were supposed to guard the truck decided to get rid of the vampires without Alcide knowing?" Jason said.

Tears formed in my eyes at the thought of it. I dialed Alcide again, and it went straight to voicemail.

"Jesus Sookie," Jason hugged me very tight. "I'll help you find 'em. You aren't alone sis."

"He has to be ok. He has to be alive," I said holding back my tears. If I let them go, there would be enough to fill a bucket.

I dialed Alcide's number again, and it went straight to voicemail. Hope was fading away really fast.

Note: Join Sookie in her quest to find Eric, or whatever was left of him… *evil smile*