Hi all. This chapter was a bear! I did a lot of chopping and changing, so let me know if I missed any typos. Thanks as always for the comments.


Clean Up on the Fifth Floor


The corridor was deserted and my abandoned shoes were right where I left them. I slipped them on just as Diantha came out of the stairwell.

"Can't leave you alone for a second," she said cheerfully.

"I was fine," I said huffily as the elevator pinged. The security team spilt out of it, lead by Geiszler himself.

I was gesturing up at the damaged camera when Jephson arrived from the direction of the back stairs, with four of those missing guards. Two of them were lugging an unconscious twoey and his was the only brain I could sense. All the Louisiana guards had those damn necklaces on. It was irritating as hell.

Geiszler, already on edge, turned to bark at them, "What the hell happened?"

"Could ask you the same," Jephson said tersely. "This fucker and his buddies lured my guards away so an assassin could get into the Louisiana suite."

Geiszler swore under his breath.

"Don't sweat it," Jephson said. "We were ready for them."

"No-one hurt?" Geiszler asked gruffly.

"None of ours. Be real interested to know how the assassin got a maid's uniform though, and how she cracked the locks."

Geiszler swore again, louder. "Someone messed with the cameras too. I need to interrogate them, find out how they got past the system."

"This one and the assassin are ours, least until the vamps rise. But help yourself to the small fry we left hog-tied on the back stairs. Word of warning: they're wearing a real strong cologne. If you get my drift."

"Goddamnit." Geiszler reached for his radio, and barked out an order to seal off the stairwell. "Where's the assassin?"

"In the suite. No offence, but you ain't going in there." Jephson nodded at me. "The lady I'll allow though, long as she shares any information she ferrets out. Win-win for both of us."

Diantha stepped forward.

"Not so fast, sweetheart," Jephson said. "Just her. You're staying right here."

Diantha glowered at him, but I waved her back. "It's okay, Diantha. Nobody's moving in there."

"Yep," Jephson agreed, cracking a smile. "Assassin's out cold. She'll be fine."

Diantha wasn't happy, but she didn't argue beyond muttering, "On your head be it."

Geiszler was sure his job was on the line or he would've refused to let me go without my shadow. He growled at Jephson, "Keep her in one piece, or I'll take it out of your hide."

"I will," Jephson said, looking him in the eye.

Geiszler weighed him up silently for a moment. "Alright. Sookie, find out everything you can."

"Sure thing," I said, patting my boss on the arm. "Don't worry, I know this guy. I'll be fine."

Besides, Neb wanted my help. I was safe with him.

As we headed down the corridor, Jephson barked orders at his wolves: "You two, take that piece of shit into your room, hose him down and sit on him. You two, wait here. Make sure we're not interrupted."

They snapped to it.

Outside the suite, I faked a shocked look as if I'd just cottoned on that there was a vampire up and about in there. Jephson fiddled with something at his neck and his mind winked into existence, a warm red knot besides me. Don't panic. Don't tell anyone what you see inside. "Alright?" he said out loud.

"Sure," I replied. Jephson gave me a lopsided grin and I followed him inside, ready to interrogate the bitch who'd ruined my afternoon.

The lights were on. Neb was over by the room service cart, rummaging through an open holdall on top of it. I didn't think the dress spilling out of it was his colour.

Sure matched those red shoes though.

He might look less odd in a dress than the sweats he'd put on. He certainly didn't look like he'd walked off a wall in Pharaoh's tomb now. I could still make out the outline of that bulky collar under his top too, and it didn't do anything for his ensemble.

Jephson locked the door behind us and announced, "Miss Stackhouse here agreed to help." He flicked that damn necklace back on too.

Neb looked up just in time to catch my annoyed grimace. "Anyone hurt?"

"Nope. Yuri only brought two Weres. Damn insulting," Jephson grumbled as he pulled wads of something flesh-coloured out of his nostrils.

"Oh," I said, as it dawned on me why Neb was so sure none of the Weres would pick up on my scent.

"Filters," Jephson explained, rubbing his nose. "For that damn cologne."

"I'm guessing it wasn't Paco Rabanne," I said, with a questioning look.

"Nope. Something a witch brewed up. To make my guys crazed enough to desert their posts. Like catnip for werewolves, clumsy but effective. It's lucky we were warned."

Neb waved him over and he took over searching the bag while Neb went to check the unconscious assassin. Jephson lifted up a gadget with wires hanging out of it, something like a card reader, and frowned at it. "What the fuck is this?"

"No idea," I said, recognising the screen that had given the assassin the code for Eric's room. But I wasn't supposed to know that.

He shook his head. "She sure brought a nifty bag of tricks."

"She's coming round," Neb said, pulling the twoey woman upright on the couch.

"Let's get this show on the road then," I said, going over.

Her mind was foggy, even when I touched her arm. Jephson cussed softly in the background, moving things around on the cart as Neb sat on the couch and whispered in the woman's ear, too quietly for me to hear more than a soft hypnotic susurrus.

Whatever he said, the images I was getting sharpened.

"I see a key, a locker. A bag stuffed with money. She was paid a million dollars," I said quietly. I didn't think that would be enough, given the consequences. Eric was going to be furious. "Half up front, half later. I see the number she has to call." I recited the digits.

"Untraceable, I expect," Neb said in an equally hushed voice and whispered in her ear again.

I closed my eyes and watched through hers as she entered the hotel earlier today, spotting her contact at the trade fair. He hurried past her without a glance, dropping a crumpled napkin under one of the tables. She walked past and snagged it, glancing at the number scrawled on it: 457.

I recognised the contact, even though she didn't see his face.

"Finch," I breathed. I wasn't even shocked. Staking an opponent while he was dead for the day was exactly the sort of cowardice I expected from that devious snake Bardulf. I was offended on Eric's behalf. He deserved to go down fighting.

"You know Finch?" Neb asked sharply. "Tennessee's man?"

Opening my eyes I found the Egyptian was on his feet, eyes drilling into mine. Feeling like a bug under a very powerful magnifying glass I straightened up, my hand slipping from the woman's arm. Her mind was clearing, but you don't ignore the focused scrutiny of a three thousand year old vampire.

"Someone told Pam that this Finch was asking about Eric," Neb said slowly. "Someone here, at the summit. Pam wouldn't say who." He paused. "A friend to Eric perhaps."

I held his eyes and made sure my voice was firm. "A friend to Pam."

Then several things happened real fast: the assassin's mind spiked with fear and urgency; I heard a wet crunch; Neb, struck faster than a snake, pushing me aside as he pounced on the woman, wrenching her jaw open with a snap; and Jephson leapt over the couch with a yell, catching me and pulling me clear.

The assassin grimaced at Neb and gave a hoarse, gasping laugh as I got a strong pulse of defiance and relief from her. Neb hissed and peered into her mouth, inhaling audibly.

"Cyanide. Ah, too late! Already swallowed." He said something harsh in another language as her body convulsed, arching under him once before she slumped like a sack of potatoes, her mind already fading. Neb pulled her off the couch and laid her on the rug, swiping her eyes shut.

"Oh my God," I gasped, staring down at her pinking cheeks in horror. She looked younger in death, her face relaxing, pretty now it didn't bear the snarl of a killer. "Why would she–?"

Jephson let go of me and said gruffly, "Because she expected to be tortured."

"Yes. She chose a clean death," Neb said, looking down at her, his voice as stone-cold as a tomb. "Shame we weren't finished with her. What did you find, wolf?"

"A change of clothes, a wig, cash, a bus ticket. Looks like she planned a quick exit. No ID, of course. Two fancy gizmos. Best I can tell, one to override the locks, and another to interfere with the cameras."

"A professional then." Neb looked at me. "Did you get anything else?"

I tore my eyes from the body, took a deep breath and blew it out. "Finch didn't speak to her. He just passed her a room number."

"457." Jephson shrugged when I looked at him in surprise. "Yuri had the room key on him."

"He was staying here?" I said, aghast. How hadn't I noticed? That was our floor, the other end of it, where Kentucky's donors were. Geiszler was going to hit the roof.

"Maybe, maybe not. There were women's clothes in the closet. What now, Neb?"

"Do we have Finch?" he asked as my eyes were drawn back to the body on the floor. She seemed smaller. So still. I barely heard Jephson's answer.

"Yep. He's been at the trade fair all afternoon. Sebastian didn't see anything out of the usual, not until Finch headed for his room about ten minutes ago. Some coincidence, huh? Sebastian has the little runt stashed out the way."

Neb nodded and turned to me. "Perhaps Miss Stackhouse might make allowances for my unforgivable lapse of attention, and generously agree to read someone else for us?"

"What if this Yuri has cyanide too?" I murmured, still staring at the body. I'd never get used to seeing death up close and personal.

"No, not the bear. Finch."

"I don't..." I stopped mid-refusal. Here was my chance to get a look in that weasel's head. I said slowly, "There's just one problem. I can't get a clear read on Finch. He's been glamoured to repeat a list over and over as soon as he sees me."

"Has he now. That is intriguing," Neb said thoughtfully. "Someone meant to guard their secrets."

"That's what I reckoned."

"Then I must beg your help. It is likely Finch will not divulge anything to me either, not unless I reduce his mind to pulp."

I grimaced, remembering that guy from the bar in Dallas. "There's a way to stop your glamour working?"

"Ways to interfere with it, yes. Make it more likely something will be missed. That is what makes you so valuable to us."

"Not if I all I hear is a grocery list," I pointed out.

"I believe I can get round that. Will you do it?"

"Okay, I'll give it a shot. If you give Geiszler that lot." I pointed at the cart with my chin. If I seemed too eager, Neb might wonder why. "He needs to know how she cracked the locks."

"Done. Jephson, see the cart gets to Geiszler. Bring Finch here."

Once we were alone Neb said, "You bargain well on Kentucky's behalf, considering you do not wish to work for vampires."

"That was for Geiszler," I admitted. "He looks out for me."

"That is good, having a colleague you trust."

"I guess you trust Jephson. He's the only one who knows you're awake?"

Neb nodded. "But he cannot tell anyone."

I frowned. "You glamoured him? I thought twoeys were immune."

"Not … entirely."

"You got a necklace for that too?" I asked, jokingly.

"No," he said solemnly. "I am ancient and the wolf agreed to it. So really it is he who trusts me."

"Oh. I see."

He smiled faintly. "You were annoyed when he blocked you from his mind."

"Yes, it felt a little … unfriendly. But I get it. He has no reason to trust me."

"Yes. Jephson takes his work seriously. Most ex-wives … care less about what happens to their former husbands."

I shifted uncomfortably. "Whatever happened between us in the past, I don't wish Eric dead."

He smiled fully, his eyes dancing with mirth. "I noticed that."

I looked away, my cheeks warming. My gut-wrenching panic, the rush to save Eric – it confused the heck out of me, but I couldn't deny it.

And there was no blood bond to explain it this time.

Clearing my throat, I gave him a sideways look. "You know I can't be glamoured, right?"

"Yes." He waved me to the couch.

"So … you trust me to keep quiet?" I said doubtfully as I sat down.

"I do not think you mean me harm. And I hear you keep your word." He was moving furniture, turning an armchair to face the door, putting a table and lamp beside it. "Pam speaks highly of you."

"She does?" I hadn't been the best friend to her lately, but finding out who tried to kill her maker might go a long way towards mending that bridge. "I guess y'all have an idea who's behind this. Care to share with the class?"

"Eric fired the bear in December, and Yuri washed up in Nevada."

"Oh." My money had been on Bardulf. "So you think it was Felipe."

"Yes. But others may be involved and I wish to be certain. Will you need to touch him?"

"Finch? No, he's an easy read when he's not reciting that damn list."

He looked towards the door. "They are coming. Stay still and do not speak."

In a flash, he had all the lights off except the one by the armchair, which he sat down in, adjusting the lamp so it shone on him, leaving me and the rest of the room in darkness. When Jephson frogmarched Finch in, Neb was the first thing he saw. Neb's eyes flared a deep, warm brown and I felt the slackness in Finch's mind as his glamour took hold.

"Look only at me," Neb said, his voice richer, deeper. "I am the only one here. You will see and hear no-one else."

Oh, I saw what he was doing. Finch hadn't seen me, just like in the café. Bardulf's little trick wasn't so clever now. I smiled at Neb to let him know it was working.

"How do you know this woman?" Neb said, gesturing at the stiffening body at his feet. "You passed her a room number."

"Told to look for a girl in a red dress, tell her where her friends were, so they could party. That's all. Don't know who she is, just another whore," Finch said defiantly.

"No. She was here to kill Louisiana. You knew that." Neb spoke softly but insistently, his face bright in the lamplight as he pressed into Finch's mind.

"Yes," Finch slurred, swaying a little as Jephson let go of him and moved out of the way.

Neb pushed harder. "Why did you help her? On whose orders?"

"Money. For money. Got paid a cool fifty grand. It was…" I felt the snap, the resistance in his mind as he struggled to speak, the split between his thoughts and his words. "Nevada."

Nevada, Nevada… I chased the echo into his memory:

Bardulf, at his desk in his office. Clarabel was there, saying, "I don't trust Nevada."

"Neither do I, but ending Northman will weaken Bartlett's group. And that is essential to my plans." Bardulf tapped his lips, frowning. "I will help Felipe hunt his quarry, but I must be careful. Keep my hands clean."

Clarabel's face pinched tight. "You think he is setting you up to take the blame?"

"Perhaps. I wouldn't put anything past dear old Felipe. But if we make sure all roads lead to Vegas… Hm. It might be the perfect opportunity to clear house."

Bardulf's eyes fell on Finch and the memory fizzled out. Neb had been right, Finch was resisting his glamour. I shook my head at the ancient Egyptian and his mouth tightened.

Holding Finch's eyes and his will Neb said, "You have been asking about Louisiana. Why?"

"'Sposed to find out when he was vulnerable, 'bout his guards. So forth. But none of 'em would talk."

There was no hesitation, no resistance this time, so I figured that was the unvarnished truth. At least Eric's guys were loyal. I gave Neb a cautious nod.

"What else did you do?" Neb asked.

"Found a room for her friends. Like Nevada asked."

A memory came in loud and clear: Finch working a stall at the trade fair, serving a dark-haired guy. "You ship to Alaska, right?" the guy asked, eyes darting around the room.

"Only once in a blue moon," Finch replied nonchalantly as he rang up the guy's purchases.

The guy lowered his voice. "There'll be a blood moon rising soon."

Finch recognised the code phrase. Out of sight, under the table, he slipped a room key out of his pocket and into the bag with the guy's purchases. Handing it over the table he said, "Happy hunting."

Looked like Yuri and his friends had slipped into the hotel this afternoon. Made sense – with all the other twoeys coming in for the trade fair, a few extra wouldn't raise a flag. But how did Finch get that key? It wasn't his, he was on the ninth floor – I'd checked after our earlier run-in. Maybe the donor whose room it was leant it to him?

Wishing I'd thought to grab a pen and paper to direct the questioning, I nodded reluctantly and Neb moved on to his next question. "Did Tennessee want Northman ended?"

Finch opened his mouth, closed it and shook his head. "No. It was Nevada. De Castro hired me."

His thoughts said something else. I held up a hand for Neb to wait.

A dimly lit room. Finch trying to melt into the background, Clarabel sitting primly on that white couch.

Bardulf was pacing. He hissed angrily. "First Nadia is ended, her scheme in ruins – and don't tell me Northman wasn't up to his fangs in that fiasco – and now this! This is rank interference. Special Events was mine!"

Clarabel licked her lips and said cautiously, "You think Northman has that much influence in the Old World?"

"No, but Indiana does. Curse Northman and his fucking allies." With a growl Bardulf snatch up a table and hurled at the wall. It splintered with a loud crash and he bellowed, "Will no-one rid me of this turbulent Viking?"*

Clarabel shifted slightly but didn't answer.

"Oh, don't worry Clara dear," he said sarcastically. "I don't expect you to risk your neck on a suicide mission. But mark my words, this is the last time that wanker derails my plans. An opportunity to strike will present itself and Northman will be ash."

Dropping my hand, I gave Neb the firmest nod I could. He didn't look the slightest bit surprised, and was ready with: "What does Bardulf think of Eric Northman?"

The more open question didn't seem to trigger as much resistance. Neb was a clever guy.

"He doesn't think much of him," Finch said, a jumble of images flitting through his befuddled mind before one came over as clear as bell. Finch was driving, watching in the mirror as Bardulf, in the back, spoke into his phone. It took a moment to realise what was familiar about him: Bardulf was wearing the outfit he wore the night Niall told him he couldn't touch me.

"Fucking fairies. I have an itch to drain a dozen of the arrogant bastards dry." Bardulf licked his lips, and snorted at the unheard reply. "Always looking for the silver lining, aren't you chuck? There is that, Northman can't get his fangs into her either. If this was his doing, he's cut his nose off to spite me."

He snorted again at whatever the other person said. "Yes, poor strategy indeed, throwing his weight around with me like a possessive newborn. Nadia told me he was obsessed with her, but I didn't quite…" He listened for a moment and laughed, throwing his head back, his shoulders shaking. "Yes, the speed she fled his state must stick in his craw after he gave up a century for her. He's a fool. And honourable fools are always shocked by betrayal."

Oh yeah? Eric was ten times the vampire Bardulf was. The indignant thought caught me off guard, and then I register Bardulf's last word.

Wait, what betrayal? I was heartily sick of being cast as the bad guy where Eric was concerned. He left me. If he'd chosen to protect me from other vampires when he did – yes, that was honourable and yes, I was grateful – but it didn't mean I owed him anything else. There'd been nothing between us for years. I had to live my life, Eric told me that himself. What did Bardulf know about it anyway?

Sobering at what he heard next Bardulf said, "Yes, the lass certainly leads a charmed life. Which makes me wonder…" His eyebrows raised. "Dangerous? How sweet – you're concerned. But I doubt that. Whatever the link to Brigant, she's only a drop of the fae about her. Hardly above the cattle."

Asshole.

He scowled. "Yes, I couldn't believe my luck. She would have been the perfect tool for my plans. If it weren't for Brigant's interference…" He listened for a long time. "Yes, Northman is slipping. He made a mistake letting the tiger back in. The lass is a weakness I could exploit, but I doubt Northman will last out the year." He paused. "Yes, that's the question of the hour, how loyal she is. Quinn may be the leverage I need. I will bide my time there."

Lucky me, Bardulf still wanted a telepath. He ended the call, and I gestured for Neb to move on with a grimace, a barb of guilt pricking at me. Bardulf and Eric would probably be at loggerheads regardless, but I couldn't shake the feeling I was partly to blame.

"What does Tennessee hope to gain from Eric's death? What does he want?" Neb asked. He was getting the hang of this.

Finch's mind skittered on the edge of resistance as he muttered, "What does any vamp want? Power. Influence. Get rid of a threat. Hurt an enemy before he hurts you."

In his head, I saw Clarabel and Bardulf, on that white couch again, both pink from recent feeding.

"See Clara? A little patience and I get everything I want," Bardulf said smugly. He was shirtless, his jeans unbuttoned. "Northman gone, Mississippi weakened, and the telepath."

Clarabel wiped blood off her chin with a linen napkin, dabbed at a spot on her silk robe. "What about Brigant?"

"He indulges the lass, lets her run with the beasts," Bardulf said, stroking his bare stomach lazily. "If I play it right, ensure she wants to work for me, I fancy he'll not stop her."

"So Quinn is our hook? You're sure?"

"Oh yes," he said with satisfaction, smacking his bloody lips. "She agreed to work for Kentucky, didn't she? All it took was a few vague threats to the tiger. Blackmail will work even better."

Oh-oh. Stomach sinking, I held up my hand to stop Neb interrupting and held my breath, expecting a mention of André any second.

"The mere mention of that bitch LeClerq, and the lass got very twitchy." Bardulf's voice deepened with menace. "You should've seen it, Clara. It was beautiful."

She frowned. "She did? But why? Because the tiger betrayed LeClerq to de Castro?"

"Oh no, petal. I have a brand new theory."

He paused dramatically, and she purred, "Do tell, my liege."

Here it came.

"Northman never trusted Quinn. I'd lay good money the tiger was only good for information on New Orleans. But our caped crusader is a clever sod, he'd never leave a takeover to chance. And our tasty telepath had plenty of information on the Sheriff of Area 5."

"Oh," she breathed. "She was working for Felipe too."

What the hell? Geez, Bardulf was such an effing twisty snake, he couldn't conceive of anyone else being loyal. But what about André, didn't he–?

"Oh, indeed." He smiled, fangs down. "It makes sense, doesn't it? I wouldn't be surprised if the tiger and the telepath were Felipe's long before Rhodes. Awfully convenient that the lass didn't stop the bombing."

"But she raised the alarm, searched the ruins for survivors."

"Only at the last minute. And just who she was searching for? Sophie Ann is lucky her lawyer got her out."

"Oh," Clarabel sighed, eyes widening. "Yes, a perfect time to stake her. What was one more ash stain."

A tiny niggle began to itch at me, but I squelched it. I needed to hear this.

"Quite. Calls André's death into question too, not that it matters now. One murder pales in comparison to letting those bombs go off. Explains why our lass was so twitchy, doesn't it? A massacre like that on her conscience."

Sweet merciful Lord, Bardulf was so far from the truth it wasn't even remotely funny.

"Yes, it does. I wonder how Felipe got to her."

"Through Quinn I imagine, or by offering to free her of Northman and his blood. Apparently they were bonded at one point."

"Really. Why wasn't she his creature?"

"She can't be glamoured. There is something about her that resists us." His eyes glittered with malice. "Something I will enjoy crushing."

Clara's fangs dropped. "I will enjoy that too."

I held back a shudder, reminding myself I was safe under Niall's protection.

"I'm sure you will, petal." Bardulf smirked at her fondly. "The lass has been Quinn's all along, I'm sure of it. She was his first, before she was Northman's, you know. And the tiger fetched her barely a month after she divorced the other one, the shifter. That screams premeditated to me."

"Why not reclaim her when de Castro took Louisiana?"

"I imagine Felipe wanted her close to Northman, as his eyes and ears. Probably used the tiger to ensure her co-operation. And later, when Northman left for Oklahoma, Felipe probably kept her in Area 5 to spy on Northman's child. They were close once, but I have it on good authority Ravenscroft stayed away from her. Not as foolish as her maker, that one."

What? That was just ridiculous. Bardulf could sure spin a tiny grain of truth into a wild fantasy. Could vampires get delusional? That was one tall tale he was weaving.

Clarabel's smile was chilling. "And when Northman took Louisiana back for Amun, Felipe's had a spy still in place."

"But our lass had a plan. Rumour has it she went AWOL around the time Brigant turned up again, like a bad fucking penny. Maybe she did him a favour. And viola, she calls it in when she joins Quinn here in Memphis."

"Very convenient," Clara said sourly.

"Yes. She has an uncanny ability to land in shit and come up smelling of roses, but she won't wriggle out of it this time. The tiger's hatred for Northman is well known. No-one will doubt he had a hand in ending him."

Clarabel laughed, an ugly sound. "Not with the evidence you're cooking up. Quinn will have to heel."

Oh shit.

"Oh, his leash will be tight, I assure you. And I'll have my telepath."

"As long as she's loyal to Quinn."

This pair wouldn't know loyalty if it bit them on the ass.

He shrugged. "Even if she has some lingering affection for Northman, he'll be gone. I very much doubt Brigant will care to in-debt himself to me for a fur-ball. The tricky minx won't have anywhere to turn, and only herself to offer to save Quinn."

"It's a good plan. And if Felipe fails to end Northman?"

Bardulf grinned, teeth stained red. "We threaten to turn the evidence over to Northman himself, and Quinn still has to heel. Win-win. Plus I get the pleasure of telling Eric his precious telepath was betraying him all along."

"That would be just delicious," she purred, licking her fang seductively. "Shall we celebrate?"

Finch's memory played on but I quit giving it my full attention. I was furious. Bardulf thought I was a shallow, deceitful, murdering – of all the – the son of a bitch!

I took a gulp of air to calm myself, and realised Neb and Jephson were both watching me. My hands were clenched, and I hoped my face hadn't given too much away. I got hold of myself, forcing my hands to relax and closed my eyes to think.

Okay. So Bardulf had no concrete knowledge of André's death. Good. But what he was planning to do to Quinn was ten times worse than what we'd feared. Framing Quinn, after the way he'd had been with Eric, in front of witness too…

It'd be his mom and the pits all over again. Bardulf would own him.

Damn it all to hell! By coming here, I'd made Quinn a bigger target for that bastard. Thank God I found out now. Thank God Neb had taken Eric's place.

Not that Quinn would see it that way.

Should I tell Neb Bardulf was gonna frame Quinn? I wasn't sure Neb really trusted me. Would he think I was just covering for Quinn?

Would Eric?

Eric wouldn't for one second believe I'd been spying for Felipe, he knew me too well. But Quinn… Oh, Eric would be only too happy to believe anything of Quinn. Not that it would be much of a stretch to believe he'd had a hand in this.

No. I couldn't risk telling Neb or Eric, not if I had a choice.

I'd deal with this myself. Find the 'evidence', get rid of it. But how? I didn't even know what it was. Maybe Finch knew… I tuned back in to him.

Ugh. He was watching Bardulf and Clarabel gettin' their freak on with some donors, lost in his own perverted fantasies. That was just disgusting.

Then I got real lucky. Finch had a stray thought that gave me just what I needed.

"There, he won't remember this and no-one will suspect he's been glamoured at this hour," Neb said as Finch's eyes closed and his breathing evened out. "What did you find?"

"It was Felipe," I said. "But Bardulf helped out. He anticipated Felipe pinning it on him so I don't know that you'll find any evidence of that."

Neb eyed the sleeping Finch. "This is his man."

"That little shit would work for the highest bidder," Jephson said derisively. "Be pretty easy to make it look like Felipe bought him off."

"Did anyone see him come in here?" Neb asked thoughtfully. Jephson shook his head. "Then we should return him to his room so Tennessee is none the wiser." Neb turned to me. "If you wouldn't mind keeping his name out of this for now, Sookie."

"I guess." All Finch did was a little spying and passing on that room key. Besides, that suited me just fine. I didn't want Bardulf to know I'd broken through that glamour and found his dirty laundry.

Neb eyed me curiously. "You were unsettled while you were reading him."

"He's an unsavoury man," I said dryly.

"Hm." He didn't sound convinced, but I wasn't spilling. "What else did you get?"

"Something about Eric's death weakening Indiana's group and furthering Bardulf's plans for Mississippi. Seemed a mite personal too. Bardulf was real mad about someone, he thought it was Indiana, interfering in Special Events. Something about Nadia – that's the late queen of Alabama right? – and Eric spoiling her plans. And–" I sighed heavily. "And Bardulf wants me too."

"Ah. So you got something out of this too."

I had, but that wasn't it. "Like I didn't know Bardulf was itchin' to get his fangs in me."

Jephson chuckled. "Something tells me that won't be as easy as he thinks."

"Nope. Sure won't." Bardulf was gonna learn that two could play dirty. "Oh, Finch was the one that snuck Yuri and his friends that room key."

"No shit," Jephson grunted. "Yuri couldn't find his own ass with both hands. Had to be someone helping them."

"Yes. This one," Neb nudged the body with his foot casually, "was skilled though. Felipe pays for the best."

"Was Yuri really that stupid?" I said slowly, an idea forming.

"Yep," Jephson said. "Can't imagine Nevada sticking his neck out to protect him, probably set him up as the fall guy."

"I think Felipe had more help than just Bardulf."

Neb cocked his head. "Go on."

"Did y'all notice how quiet it is on this floor?"

Jephson frowned. "Yeah. But the traders are busy today."

"The fourth floor, where Yuri was hidin' out, is mostly Kentucky's donors and a few of us in security. It's real quiet today too. Know why?" They looked at me expectantly. "Kentucky rewarded all the donors with a spa day."

Neb pondered that for a moment. "Perhaps Bardulf knew that. He is close to Kentucky."

"Is Kentucky known for his generosity?" I asked dubiously. "That's too much of a coincidence for me. And she," I waved at the body without looking at it, "knew how to hack the cameras, and the doors. That needs some knowledge of the hotel."

"You may be right," Neb said grimly.

"And then I was out of the way, up on the eighth floor while all this was going down."

Neb and Jephson exchanged a look. "Why the eighth floor?" Jephson asked.

"Well, one of Maude's secretaries, a human, she … Well, I didn't get anything suspicious from her. But Wisconsin's lawyer was involved, and I don't know about him. I can't read demons."

"Ah. Wisconsin." Neb nodded. "That leads back to Felipe."

"It does? Wish somebody told me these things," Jephson said snidely. "I'm only putting my neck on the line. Coulda guessed though. Wisconsin wasn't too charitable towards Eric at that bitch's trial."

Which trial? Which bitch? If only he wasn't wearing that necklace. Damn, I wasn't used to being in the dark.

"Thank you, Sookie," Neb said, standing up. "Your help has been invaluable. I will be sure no blame falls on you or Geiszler when Kentucky hears of this."

"Thanks, that would be great. Speaking of which, I should get back downstairs."

With a twinkle in his eye he added, "I'm sure Eric will appreciate your help too."

I didn't dignify that with a response beyond a sharp look. Eric didn't need my help, he had plenty of it from his loyal retinue.

It was Quinn who needed my help, and he was the one I should be concerned about. He was my boyfriend.

Back in the hub Geiszler was worrying himself greyer by the second, looking over that room service cart with one of the tech guys. "This is a clusterfuck," he said when he saw me.

"Tell me about it. Didn't get much off the assassin. She's dead. Cyanide."

"She's Louisiana's problem then. Died in their custody."

I looked at the dress and the wig. "She sure would've looked different in that."

"Yeah. Real noticeable too, like she was taunting us," he said bitterly. "Looks like she diverted the feed from all the cameras on the fifth floor. We were blind."

Something didn't add up there. "Why rip out the camera by the elevators then?"

"My guess, it was the one she couldn't avoid. The cameras have their own built-in storage. Just a few minutes, but we might be able to retrieve something from the others."

"Oh. Maybe it would've shown her leavin' the scene in that wig too."

"Maybe." He rubbed his face, worrying about Kentucky's reaction, scared he'd lose more than his pension over this.

I leaned a little closer to him and said quietly, "Hey, Isaiah might not be as mad as you think."

He turned to look at me for a long second. "That mean what I think it means?"

I nodded.

He sighed bleakly. "Sookie, that ain't the good news you think it is. He'll come down on me like a tonne of bricks to deflect any suspicion."

"Oh damn. I didn't think of that."

"Yeah, well. It was a nice thought." He brightened a little. "Maybe I won't end up in a ditch though, if he had a hand in it."

A cheer went up from the tech guys. They'd recovered footage of Yuri and his henchmen arriving on the fifth floor and all hell breaking loose with Jephson's wolves.

Geiszler patted them on the back, and then dampened their mood. "Go through all of today's footage. Trace their movements. Sookie, you know what the assassin looks like. Find her too."

I sat down at the bank of monitors, and began searching. Diantha sat herself down beside me and I was grateful for the extra pair of eyes. It was a tedious job. Half an hour later, my eyes gritty and strained, we'd found all we could. Which wasn't much.

The shifter assassin was elusive. Sure, the cameras caught her at the trade fair, bold as brass in that red dress and an auburn wig, but she kept her head down, and we didn't have a good shot of her face. If she'd gotten clean away identifying her would have been tricky.

After that we lost her, up until right before the attack when she reappeared dressed as a maid and pushing that cart onto an elevator on the fourth floor, keeping her back to the camera and her head down.

There was nothing of her on Eric's floor, nothing of her breaking into his room.

But we had plenty on Yuri and his friends: milling around at the trade fair for quarter of an hour or so, just long enough for the dark-haired one to make contact with Finch, and all three of them entering the dead girl's room around two o'clock.

Looked like Felipe meant to leave Yuri twisting in the wind.

What puzzled me was that we had no footage of them leaving room 457, or the assassin meeting them there. I could only conclude that the cameras on that floor had been messed with too. The tech boys had a look at it and agreed. Geiszler was pissed all over again that someone had sliced through the protections on the system so easily.

His mood soured even further when the Weres sent to find the donor whose room it was was came back empty-handed.

The girl hadn't turned up at the spa that morning. Her friends thought she was sleeping in after hooking up with some guy the night before, but her bed hadn't been slept in. Before Geiszler had time to organise a search for her, we got a panicked call that threw the hub into chaos.

A maid had found a girl, stuffed in a janitor's closet on the first floor. Dead.

Ten to one she was our donor.

Geiszler asked me to tag along so I could check the maid who found her had nothing to do with any of this. We were about to leave when Quinn arrived. Seeing him filled me with a mixture of dread and guilt, not the rush of happiness you'd expect from seeing a beau.

Geiszler looked between us and sighed. "You've got two minutes, Sookie. Catch us up."

I ushered Quinn back out of the hub as he said, "What's up babe? It's a zoo in there."

He hadn't heard. I said grimly, "It's only gonna get worse at sunset. Someone tried to stake Eric."

"Really?" His mind pulsed with savage amusement. "Where do I send the medal?"

"Quinn! This isn't funny."

"You know how I feel about him. Can't tell me the fucker would shed a tear over me."

"Maybe not, but it was a major security breach. Geiszler's frantic and it looks bad on me too."

He shrugged. "If it was another deader that tried to off him, no-one will blame you. Something always goes down at these things. Know who it was yet?"

"Felipe. But look…" I dragged him further down the corridor, away from the hub. "We've got trouble."

"Over this?" He scowled. How the hell is it anything to do with us?

Making sure no-one was in earshot, I lowered my voice. "Because Bardulf is going to make it our problem. He's involved, and he plans to frame you. I don't know how."

"Ah, hell." I played right into his hands, challenging Northman. Motherfucking bloodsuckers.

"Oh hell is right," I said grimly. "But don't worry. I have a plan."

"You do?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yes, so don't do anything crazy." He opened his mouth to ask a question, but I held up my hand. "I'll tell you all about it later. Right now I need you to do something. I can't get away, but you can. Get up to our room, check no-one's planted anything incriminating there."

"Okay. I'll be back as soon as I can." Feeling better with a task to complete, he hugged me once, real quick. This is my fault. I'll deal with it. Keep Diantha close.

"Will do. And Quinn?" I grabbed his arm as he turned to go. "We're a team. We're in this together. Right?"

"Right. Thanks, babe," he said gratefully.

Diantha was waiting around the corner, and gave no sign that she's heard our conversation. We caught up with Geiszler in a back corridor, the men he'd brought stationed at either end of it, turning nosy bystanders away. The maid was hysterical, babbling in Spanish, and gesturing wildly at an open closet.

Geiszler looked like a deer caught in headlights.

Good grief. The poor woman clearly had nothing to do with this. I went straight over and put my arms round her, hushing her as I tugged her away. She'd had a terrible shock, and reading her was awful.

She was better off than the donor though. Poor girl, the bruising round her wrists… I saw enough in the maid's head that I had no intention of looking at the body for real. I was hanging back with Diantha, numb from consoling the maid, when Quinn arrived. Geiszler was examining the body on his own. There was nothing I could read from it.

"Hey babe," Quinn said, taking my hand. Drew a blank. Nothing out of place. No-one has been in our room but us.

"Damn," I said softly. "It's gonna be a long night." Quinn was a worried as I was. What the hell did Bardulf have on him?

Geiszler announced, "She's been tied up, strangled. Most recent scent on her is human, a male. Can't quite place it." He rubbed his temples, staring at her. "At least it wasn't a vampire. We're gonna have to involve the cops, too many folk heard the maid screaming."

Quinn craned to look and tensed, squeezing my hand. I know her, babe. She used to work for Special Events, down in Atlanta. I bumped into her a couple days ago. Surprised to see her here.

"I have a bad feeling about this," I murmured as Quinn inhaled deeply and growled.

"Finch," he rumbled. "That's who she smells of. Vernon Finch."

Well, that explained how Finch got her room key. I guess he'd done a little more than just passing it on. Geiszler rounded on us, radio at the ready. "The sleaze selling sex toys at the fair?" he asked.

"Yeah. That one. Works out of Memphis," Quinn said darkly. Babe, I got a bad feeling about this too.

...

At sunset Geiszler was pacing, hoping he'd got all his ducks in a row for when Kentucky turned up and tore him a new one. A daunting prospect, even if we knew it was just for appearance's sake.

Along with the footage of Yuri and his men, and the limit footage we had of the assassin, Geiszler also had plenty of footage of Finch, who hadn't seemed to care about getting caught on camera at all. I found that mighty suspicious, but we decided Finch had mistakenly expected the vamps who'd hired him to protect him.

Officially that was Nevada, but unofficially I might have told my immediate boss that Tennessee and Kentucky were in it up to their eyeballs too.

Geiszler's advice was to forget I knew that.

So we had footage of Finch chatting up the dead girl in the bar last night. And, later, up on the ninth floor, footage of her knocking on his door and disappearing into his room. None of her after that, only Finch leaving his room in the small hours, pushing a room service cart.

It looked awful heavy.

Finch went down in the lift with it, and we lost him in on the first floor. He came back with a lighter looking load, and dropped the cart off at her room, using her key to open the door.

There was no question in our minds that Finch had killed her, but I wouldn't be able to confirm it from him.

Finch was dead too.

Geiszler's boys had found him in his room, right after Quinn identified his scent on the dead girl. Looked like a heart attack, they said. There was a hastily-packed suitcase open on the bed, the door was locked, and there were no other scents in the room except for his and the dead girl's.

Belatedly, I realised what Bardulf meant by clearing house.

Two dead bodies put Geiszler in a bind, and he had no choice but to call the cops. When they arrived, Geiszler turned over the footage of the girl going into Finch's room and Finch moving her body, but he kept the information about Yuri and the attack on Eric to himself.

Quinn told the cops Finch had a history of abusing women, so they were framing the girl's murder as rough sex gone wrong (which may very well have been close to the truth, according to the scents Quinn picked up – a detail that made me sick to my stomach).

So the cops were assuming that Finch had a heart attack in his panic to hide the body and flee. They were keeping it all as quiet as they could for a few days, sparing the vamps any negative press. That and the fact we'd got the investigation mostly sown up before sunset had relieved Geiszler mightily.

There were some loose ends niggling at us both.

Neither Yuri or the assassin brought luggage with them – why would they if they were just visiting the trade fair for the afternoon? – so how that holdall of gadgets had gotten into the hotel was a mystery. It couldn't have made it past the scanners, so it must have been stashed somewhere inside.

How Finch got the cart, and the key to the janitor's closet where he'd dumped the unfortunate girl, and how the assassin got a-hold of a maid's uniform puzzled us too. And Yuri and his goons had visited the trade fair at precisely the right time to miss me, when I normally took my lunch break in the café.

It all pointed one way.

Straight at Kentucky.

Whose wrath Geiszler survived. Eventually. After sufficient fang-baring and hissing and yelling – a lot of hot air to cover up his involvement, if you asked me.

Kentucky was awful interested in how the assassin had been stopped. Wearing my best poker face, I told him I didn't know, but the Louisiana Weres had her knocked out and tied up when I arrived. Neb had kept my secret, I kept his.

Amidst all his righteous anger and accusations of sloppiness, Kentucky was careful to establish what exactly we'd discovered. Finch's involvement, Yuri's, the assassin dying before I could read much more than a phone number from her – he was mighty interested in what we knew of all that.

I was equally careful not to tell him a word about my 'interview' with Finch.

As far as Kentucky was concerned, we all thought Nevada was behind it, in retaliation for Eric's takeover. According to Kentucky, we needn't bother interviewing Tennessee, because Tennessee had called him already, furious at de Castro for poaching one of his people to make an attempt on Eric's life.

I didn't ask why Tennessee had been in touch with Kentucky before word even got out.

When Kentucky was done ranting, and no-one was fired or worse, Geiszler and I exchanged a look. We exchanged another, longer look, when Kentucky demanded the assassin's electronic gadgets to take away with him so the hotel owner could 'investigate the breech in their security systems'.

Investigate my sweet ass.

Destroy the evidence more like. And as I'd never laid eyes on the fellow, I was begin to suspect the human hotel owner either didn't exist or was glamoured up to his eye-balls.

I was certain Kentucky was in on the whole thing, but I had no proof and it would be suicide to accuse him.

When Kentucky left Geiszler slumped in relief. Hours of stress dealing with the fall-out had taken its toll on him. He waved me off, telling me I'd earned myself a good long dinner break for all my hard work.

But my night was far from over – I had a vampire king to outwit and those damn jaguars to read for Daisy Riverstone.


Footnotes:

* Bardulf is echoing: 'Who will rid me of this turbulent priest?" commonly attributed to Henry II, whose ill-advised remarks triggered the shocking murder of the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Becket, inside his own cathedral.