Annnnd I'm back! Anyone still out there?

I hope to keep up regular Friday posting until this baby is finished. Once it is, I may give it a final polish and put up a shiny, clean version. (I just tidied up the very last section of last chapter. Minor changes only, so no need to re-read that unless you want to.)

Thank you for the reviews from both regulars and new readers while I've been MIA.

Now, let's start tying up those loose ends...


A Woman Worth Her Salt


The Elysium was just like Silent Shores, all quiet corridors and thick carpets. I guessed that made sense; their undead guests had sensitive ears. At the check-in desk I got an explanation for my nagging sense of déjà vu too. The two hotels were part of the same chain.

Thankfully, reminders of Silent Shores ended with the décor. Our flight – an hour-twenty, non-stop from Jackson to Houston – had landed just after noon. Consequently, there was no ancient vampire playing statue in the eerily familiar lobby of the Elysium, waiting to take us on a driving tour of the city.

I should have been more appreciative of the one Bill and I had gotten in Dallas. I bet Isabel didn't do that for visitors to Oklahoma City now she was a queen.

There'd been no telepathic bellboy to greet us outside the Elysium either. The fresh-faced gangly young man who took our luggage upstairs was all-human, and a loud broadcaster at that. He was hoping for a fat tip to put towards his mom's birthday present. Daisy and Pete disappeared into their rooms faster than a pair of snakes into long grass, leaving that responsibility to me.

I didn't mind. I could run to a tip or two.

Eric, with usual high-handedness, had paid for three regular and two light-tight rooms, and mine was lovely. If that was reflected in the price, I reckoned Eric could afford it now he was king. Besides, Daisy had dragged me into this, and Mr High-Handed was tagging along for reasons of his own. It wasn't like I was living it up at his expense for the hell of it.

I gave the bellboy ten bucks after he deposited my case on my bed, and he sure was grateful for my generosity. I saw him out, wondering how Barry was. Still working for Stan, last I heard. As Barry still numbered among the breathing, I reckoned that was going as well as could be expected.

I glanced across the corridor as I closed the door. The rooms opposite were void-free, still waiting on their vampire occupants. We'd travelled separately, and I was grateful of that. Arriving via Anubis with a pair of coffins in tow would have been one reminder of Dallas too many.

I had enough of those with Eric around. It wasn't just Dallas he brought to mind and if I was honest the memories I was trying hardest to keep at bay were more intimate ones. Last night, once we got back to the motel and other people were around to act as a buffer, I'd let my guard down. I'd gotten relaxed, joking with Eric as if we'd skipped back in time and I'd forgotten our thorny past.

That had been far too easy to do. But joking around was preferable to the way I'd reacted when we were in that damn closet.

I'd felt a special kind of awful about that last night when, after Eric left, I found a bunch of messages from Quinn on my phone. I'd been so wrapped up in what we were doing, I had hardly spared my boyfriend a thought.

Naturally, Quinn had been desperate to hear from me, and by the third message he sounded distinctly disgruntled. I'd called him back, eager to hear the latest on Tennessee and his little blackmail scheme. Quinn had met up with Mr Cataliades. Everything in Memphis was under control, he had said, and I wasn't to worry.

I found myself saying the same thing to him about Houston not five minutes later.

He'd managed manfully not to complain about Eric until he heard where we were heading today. Quinn hadn't liked that we were leaving Jackson one bit, muttering about 'that damn bloodsucker' dragging me across state lines and into danger. On the surface it was that old, hoary chestnut – Quinn's need to be my protector – but I read between the lines. Underneath, I reckoned he was plain worried about me, and, like most men, he didn't react well to feeling powerless.

I could appreciate that. I'd insisted on tagging along when he came to Houston for much the same reasons.

To reassure him, I pointed out I had Pete for protection. When Quinn got all growly about that too, I added sweetly that of course I'd feel safer if Quinn was here.

That had soothed his ruffled fur.

As it happened, I did feel safer than I had when we came to Houston for the pack contest: the Elysium had guards on the front doors.

Travelling with Eric had its perks, not that I was about to mention that to Quinn.

There were fresh flowers on the dresser too. I had some time to kill, so I ordered a light lunch from room service and unpacked. When it came, I ate soup with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, which was not a lot. Daisy's plans for the afternoon made me nervous.

Once again, I was investigating a hostile group who were only too willing to take the law into their own hands, and with my ill-fated trip to Dallas on my mind I was second-guessing how dangerous things might get. According to Daisy, it was perfectly safe. The core members of Tooth 'n Claw had fled Houston, and the folk still here, the ones we would be visiting, were hangers-on, not true believers in the cause.

That wasn't as comforting as she thought. Infiltrating the Fellowship in Dallas had been a disaster, and Gabe, the one who'd done me the most harm, was far from a true believer in Newlyn's sermons. Remembering him, I shuddered and rubbed my knee.

Strange, it had hardly ached this winter. The Memphis air must've done it good. I really hoped nothing went sour today. I had enough scars to last a human lifetime.

At least I didn't need to wear frumpy clothes and a wig. Daisy's instructions were 'dress nice', and as I'd had the wherewithal to bring a nice dress, that was what I put on. I'd found it in a vintage store in Memphis, like the ones Amelia had taken me to in New Orleans, and packed it for Louisville on a whim, imagining I might have time to do a little sightseeing with Quinn. I hadn't, sadly.

The dress was cream with a bold red and black flower print, and it had a full skirt and cap sleeves. Glad of a chance to wear it, I paired it with black heels and the smart black pea-coat I'd bought for the summit. It looked great. I would be investigating in style.

When Daisy knocked on my door, she was wearing an outfit like the one she'd worn to the restaurant with Niall: a tunic top, turquoise this time, with dark pants and boots, and a jacket slung over her arm. She eyed me critically and I wondered if I should have worn the gris-gris. I'd left it off, figuring I hadn't made enough enemies in Houston to need it. Only that were-bitch, Nancy, the one who got abjured at the pack contest, and she'd be long gone.

Pete, in a button-down shirt and slacks, grinned at me from behind Daisy and said, "You scrub up well."

"Thanks." His sister wrinkled her nose like she smelt something bad, and I realised what was up. "Something wrong with my dress, Daisy?"

"You look like you walked off the set of I love Lucy."

"Well, it's this or a pant suit," I said coolly. "I figured this beat looking official if we want folks to talk to us. Will it do?"

She muttered something that might have been grudging approval and turned away. I smiled at Pete, ignoring Daisy and her bad temper as we followed her to the elevators.

"Where are we going?" I asked, once we were on our way down.

"To see a wolf," Pete said. "A woman."

The elevator opened on the parking garage and he led the way to the car Eric had arranged for us – something anonymous and Japanese. There were other people about, so I waited until we were inside to ask who this woman was.

"She was married to the leader of Tooth 'n Claw," Daisy replied.

"Was?"

"He's dead," Daisy said grimly.

"Oh." Tricky situation, asking a widow about her late husband. "Did she, uh, support what y'all were doing?"

Daisy grimaced, which I took as a no. When she didn't seem inclined to elaborate, I brushed against Pete's mind. He was looking at a map, planning a route. Nothing about the woman, except that she lived in a fancy neighbourhood.

That was neither here nor there. I bet the Newlyns had lived in a fancy neighbourhood too.

As we drove through downtown, I picked out landmarks from my previous visit. We were heading away from the warehouse where Torn-Ear held their pack contest. Fifteen minutes later we pulled up on a cookie-cutter suburban street, lined with family homes that had neatly trimmed lawns and sprinkler systems out front. It seemed too Stepford for a vigilante, but what did I know.

"Sure this is the place?" Pete asked, echoing my thoughts.

"Uh-huh." Daisy nodded at a house across the street. The driveway was empty. "That's the one. She'll be back soon. We'll wait."

I got the distinct impression Daisy hadn't called ahead so she could count on an element of surprise.

It was mid-afternoon, overcast but warm for the time of year. Pete fiddled with the radio until he found a rock station. Two cars passed us in the next ten minutes, both driven by human women bringing their kids home from school. The third one was a minivan, and the driver was a twoey, with a second twoey and two kids in the back. The windows were tinted, but I caught a glimpse through the windshield as the van slowed to turn in. The driver was a woman with short dark hair.

"Stay here. You'll spook her," Daisy murmured, getting out. She paused when she rounded the car, and turned to pull my door open, leaning inside. "Not you. Come on."

She gestured sharply and a necklace swung free of her top. It was striking: dark green polished stones, smooth and round, separated by long pale beads that might have been bones or teeth once upon a time. The aura it gave off made me catch my breath. Magic, and powerful too.

"A talisman," Daisy said tersely. "Against unwanted eavesdroppers."

"Oh," I said, swallowing my unease. I wasn't usually sensitive to magic. The vibes from the Cluviel Dor had been an exception that I'd put down to its fairy nature. Flustered, I slid out of the car, leaving my coat behind on the back-seat.

We crossed the street. The kids had spilled out of the minivan onto the lawn, a little girl and an older boy with his mother's dark hair. They were arguing heatedly, but they shut up real fast when they saw us. Daisy put her hand on my arm, stopping me beside the mailbox. The boy, who couldn't have been more than ten, stepped in front of his sister and scowled at us.

Neither of them hollered for mom.

Their mother was the smartly dressed woman leaning into the open side-door of the minivan, gathering their things. She hadn't spotted us, but she turned around at the silence.

She reacted instantly, dropping the two backpacks she was holding. They thudded onto the ground as she put herself between us and her kids with a burst of unnatural speed. The other passenger, a teen-aged girl, came round the back of the vehicle to join her. Both of them took up fighting stances with that alien grace twoeys possess right before they shift.

Daisy gripped my arm hard, in warning. I froze obediently. The mother's eyes swept over me and widened in recognition. Sookie Stackhouse. The telepath.

I recognised her too. From the pack contest.

Liz Carter.

And the teenager was her niece, Brandy.

Liz straightened up slowly, her mind a tight knot of wariness. Her eyes flicked to my companion. "Daisy," she said curtly and glanced across the street, where a neighbour collecting mail had paused to watch the show. Pete, who'd rolled the car window down to watch us, nodded casually at Liz, and the neighbour visibly took note.

Shit. Nosy bitch. The last thing I need is gossip. Liz came towards us, fake smiling as she weighed up her options mentally. Don't think Daisy came to make trouble. Three of them against two of us, though. Might be best to have a witness… Hell, tongues are gonna wag anyway.

With a mental sigh, she gave the neighbour a friendly wave. Speaking out of the corner of her mouth, she said to Daisy, "Tell your brother to pull onto the drive. You'd better come inside."

"Thank you," I said politely as Liz handed me a coffee. Sipping it, I looked round. The lounge she'd shown us into seemed a little bare to my eyes, but there were a couple of family photos pride of place on the mantle. Liz and man who I assumed was her late husband, his arms around the kids and a proud smile on his face.

I guessed vigilantes loved their children too.

Pete, aware of his intimidating size, had stayed in the back yard for a smoke. Liz had gotten her kids settled in the den so she could catch up with her 'old friends' — a white lie Brandy hadn't bought for a second. She was stationed aggressively in the doorway to the den, as if we were about to charge in there and bludgeon her young cousins to death. The sound of a cartoon drifted in over her shoulder, the noise emphasising the tension.

Liz was less than pleased to see us. I knew that directly from her mind, and by the fact she was still on her feet.

Daisy, sitting next to me on the couch, didn't appear to give a damn. She helped herself to a cookie from the plate Liz had put out, dunked it in her coffee and began munching on it, face implacable. Guess it was up to me to break the ice.

"Great kids," I said warmly. "They're a credit to you, Liz."

Liz's mouth tightened briefly, but her thank you sounded pleasant enough. Brandy leaned against the door-frame and gave me such a sullen glare that I imagined she'd practised it in front of a mirror. Her mind pulsed with anger, and I bit back a comment about winds changing and faces setting.

The silence dragged. I tried again. "You have a lovely home. Nice neighbourhood."

"Yes, it is." Liz turned to Daisy, who had finished her cookie and was licking her fingers, and her voice went sharp as steel. "We're settled here. Don't need any more upheaval."

"Ah, it's like that." Daisy nodded sagely. "That's why you hustled us off the street. Don't want folks knowing you're a twoey."

Liz's mind pulsed with annoyance.

I sympathised. Daisy seemed determined to antagonise her. Really, the woman was infuriating. We were here to win Liz over, and she was going about it all wrong. I cleared my throat pointedly and put on what I hoped was a sympathetic expression. "Don't you just hate curtain-twitchers, I sure do. I guess y'all haven't lived here long…"

"No. Just since the fall." Liz nodded at one of the photos. "Scott was enforcer for the River Oaks pack, his father before him. They look after their own. Helped us relocate."

"Once it was safe to come back," Brandy muttered, transmitting a blend of anger and fear that had me glancing at her in alarm. She was staring a hole into the floor, with what I could only describe as a hunted expression on her face.

"Brandy," Liz said, her voice softening. "Would you watch the kids for me, please?"

"What? No way. I'm old enough to hear this."

"Brandy," she repeated, in a no-nonsense tone. "Go into the den and shut the door." Brandy huffed and hauled ass in there, slamming the door for good measure.

"What did she mean, safe to come back?" I asked, before I considered how intrusive it sounded.

"What, haven't picked it out of my head yet?" Liz said sarcastically and I flinched. She looked at Daisy. "That's why you brought her, isn't it? Ironic, when you were the one who warned us about her."

"Warned you?" I asked, startled.

Liz smiled wryly. "Yep. Look out for a blonde she said, goes by the name of Sookie."

"Oh." Liz had half-recognised my name when we first met. From supe gossip I'd assumed, but you know what they say about that and making an ass of yourself.

"Mm-hmm. Daisy told us to be real careful of you. Last winter, this was. It slipped my mind after Scott died. Didn't click who you were until I saw you deal with Nancy."

I turned to Daisy, eyebrows raised. She downed the rest of her coffee, unmoved, and took her time putting the cup down before she spoke. "After the Fed, you knew too much. Didn't trust you not to come sniffing round. Had to warn the group."

"I see." I sat up real straight and looked Liz in the eye. "Let's get one thing straight. I don't go poking into people's heads without good reason."

Not now I could shield at will and didn't have to listen to a barrage of stray thoughts anyway. And if I was keeping a bead on Liz's mood, she didn't need to know that. She was jumpy, I was just protecting myself. But I resolved there and then not to dig around in her head unless I absolutely had to. She lost her husband a year ago, her little girl lost her father about the age I lost mine. They'd had enough taken from them.

Besides, there was such a thing as over-relying on my telepathy. Wouldn't hurt to go about this the normal way first.

"Liz, you seem like a sensible woman," I said. "I think you'll help us when you hear what Daisy has to say."

"I don't know that I will, Sookie. Daisy and I don't always see eye-to-eye." Liz looked between us thoughtfully. "Although I can't imagine why she'd risk coming back to Houston. Must be something big."

"We're looking for Hector," Daisy admitted stiffly. "He's causing trouble."

"Hm," Liz said. "Is this something to do with what happened in Jackson?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, "it is. We just came from there."

Liz narrowed her eyes, scouring Daisy's face. She must have seen something there I couldn't, because she nodded to herself. "You've had a change of heart. Why?"

"Someone told me pouring oil on a fire doesn't work. He was right. So were you." Daisy lifted her chin, defiance hiding what those words cost her I reckoned. "Vengeance has a high price."

"Pity Scott already paid it," Liz murmured, bitterness flooding her voice and her mind.

"Yes," Daisy said solemnly. "He was a good man. Hector listened to him."

With a sigh, Liz finally took a seat opposite us. "Tell me everything."

Daisy did exactly that, surprising me. Liz listened with her mouth set and her feelings conflicted. She didn't like what she was hearing, but she didn't seem particularly appalled by the violence. In fact, her mind rang with grim satisfaction when Daisy related the earlier murders.

That puzzled me until Liz made a comment about justice. Of course. Liz, like Hector, knew the family that died in that awful fire. I'd overheard that at the pack contest and forgotten it. I could guess how she and her husband had gotten mixed up in this. Those babies must've been about the same age as their own.

Liz wasn't shocked to hear about our mystery vampire either, but before I could ask why that was Daisy got to our latest lead. "Pete met someone here, at one of Frank's parties. Skinny guy, ex-military. He might be involved."

"I'm not sure who that was," Liz said slowly. "Digger would know. And if Hector's been in touch with anyone here, Digger would know that too."

"Where can we find him?" Daisy asked. "Will he talk to us?"

"I think so." Liz looked at her watch, biting her lip. "He gets off work soon. I'll call him. You may as well stay for dinner. Better if he comes here anyhow. He's calmer around the kids."

Daisy jerked her head towards the house and I got the message: go make sure Liz wasn't holding out on us. I nudged the slider open with my hip and went inside. Liz was alone in the kitchen, dishing ice-cream into two bowls. "Need a hand?" I offered.

"Nope, I've got this. Just dump those by the dishwasher," she said, nodding at the dirty dishes I was carrying. She poured some fudge sauce over the ice cream, and we both looked round at the sound of running feet. Her son, Scott Junior, skidded to a halt in front of the counter.

The kids were excited to get pizza on a school night, and his little sister Heather, who was a sweetie, had begged Liz to let us eat out on the deck. It was a family tradition, and Liz hadn't the heart to say no. It was just lucky it was unseasonably warm.

"No running in the house," Liz said to her son mock-sternly.

"Sorry, mom," he panted. "Is it ready?"

"Almost." She opened a tub of sprinkles and he waited impatiently for her to shake them over the ice-cream. When she was done, he snatched up the bowls.

"Be careful," Liz warned. She watched him go, and I watched her. The harsh kitchen lighting shadowed faint lines around her mouth. Loss had marked her. When the creases in her forehead deepened, I looked outside. Daisy had disappeared, off round the side of the house to smoke. The kids were tucking into their dessert, and Brandy was talking animatedly to Pete.

"She's not flirting," I said, guessing at what was bothering Liz. It wasn't hard; Brandy was at that age.

Liz raised an eyebrow. "Thought you weren't snooping."

I shrugged. "I get moods off of twoeys easier than thoughts. She's just curious. Heck, she was a little repulsed by him at first."

"That'll be his scent. It's off-putting. His kind don't smell like other twoeys."

"Is he really that different to y'all?"

"Yes." She started loading the dishwasher, but looked back over her shoulder. "Ever seen one change?"

"Yeah. Pete, actually. It was something."

"Daisy explained it once. Way she tells it, we become the animal when we shift, inside and out. Pete, she says he's always one thing inside. One spirit, the bear. He chose to walk as a man when he was born."

"She calls him Bearwalking."

"I bet that's close to his true name." Liz shut the dishwasher and dried her hands on a towel. "Don't ask him what it is, they're touchy about that."

"Gotcha." Maybe they thought names gave you power over them, like that thing about cameras capturing souls. I wasn't going to question it, the things I'd seen. Heck, for all I knew Daisy could put a hex on someone with just a name.

"Don't pass shifting on the same way we do, either. Not by bites, not by blood."

"Oh." Hadn't Quinn said something similar about Timas's pack? I made a note to ask him about that. A kid's drawing pinned on the fridge caught my attention, four stick figures besides a house. It gave me a conversation starter. "Does Brandy live with y'all?"

"Yes. Her mom died when she was little. Cancer. I took her in after Gary—"

She stilled, tense and waiting. I didn't know what for, but something was wrong. The name nagged at me. Gary. Liz's brother. His picture wasn't on the mantle. Why on earth not? What was I missing?

"Poor kid," I said cautiously. "You did a good thing taking her in."

Liz just shrugged. She'd shut down, closed herself off. My intuition tingled, and I was sure whatever mystery she was hiding had some bearing on our search for Hector. I didn't want to invade her privacy and I couldn't rely on that elusive fairy charm kicking in.

I had to tease it out of her the old-fashioned way then: ordinary, human conversation. If I volunteered something personal...

"I lost my parents at seven," I said quietly, leaning on the counter and looking down as I scuffed the floor with the tip of my shoe. She would read it as discomfort. I didn't feel bad manipulating her; I reckoned she needed to talk as much as I needed answers.

"What happened?" she asked, lowering her voice and moving closer.

"Flash flood. Washed their car away." I skipped the fairy angle, not wanting to complicate things. I met her eyes so she could read the truth in my next words, though. "My Gran took me and my brother in. She'd just lost her son, lost her daughter couple years later to cancer. Never once regretted taking us on. I'm real grateful she stepped up."

"Must have been a strong woman."

"She was. A real steel magnolia." Like the one I was facing, as I was beginning to appreciate. It couldn't have been easy taking on Brandy after her husband passed. But I just knew Liz was carrying a heavier load than that. "What happened to y'all?" I asked softly.

She stared at me. "You don't know?"

I shook my head. I wasn't peeking inside hers, but I kept tabs on her mood. "You'll have to tell me."

"You really aren't snooping." She ran a hand through her short hair, and sighed. Her mood slid from guarded to resigned. Beyond curious now, I held my breath, willing her to open up. An odd ripple ran through her mind and her mood shifted again, from resigned to trusting. Was that my charm in action?

"My brother," she said slowly, "was Gary Danek."

"Danek, where do I know that…" Oh. That Gary, the werewolf who attacked that woman at Christmas, a year past. No wonder there were no pictures of him on display. His face had been plastered all over the news.

"What happened must have been a terrible shock," I said gently.

She closed her eyes and nodded. I reached out and squeezed her arm, a gesture of sympathy and a touch that might boost that charm. Her face relaxed into lines of grief as the dam broke.

"Yes. It was. I was still reeling from Scott's death. As if it wasn't enough losing Jenny."

How Liz Carter got out of bed every day let alone raised three kids, I didn't know. In the space of two short years she'd lost her husband, her brother and her best friend Jenny.

And worse, thanks to the Fellowship airing that convenient home video of Gary going all Animal Planet, after his death the whole family had been hounded out of Houston.

First, the place Gary and Brandy lived was trashed and sprayed with anti-twoey slogans. Some idiot outed Brandy online, naming her high school. She was harassed in the corridors, spat at. Liz pulled her out of school. Then someone made the connection, and threw a rock through Liz's front window.

The note wrapped round it said next time they'd set fire to the house.

Jenny and her family were the ones who died in that awful fire. Liz took no chances after that. Like any woman worth her salt she did what she had to to protect her kids.

She could have asked the cops for protection, but given her husband's extra-judicial activities she was disinclined to trust them. She went to the pack. A friend of a friend had an empty house in Dallas. Liz uprooted her kids and fled Houston without a backward glance. Months later they moved back, settling in a new neighbourhood where no-one knew them. Carter was a common enough name. So far they'd been left alone.

I asked how long she'd known Jenny. We were sitting at the kitchen counter like old friends by then, drinking coffee laced with bourbon.

"Since we were in diapers," she said. "My dad and hers ran with Torn-Ear."

She took a swallow of coffee, and I listened to her reminisce. Jenny and Liz been together through grade school, through high school, through teenage crushes and broken hearts. Been bridesmaids for each other, when Jenny married her childhood sweetheart from Torn-Ear and when Liz married Scott, a white-collar boy from the right side of the tracks and a rival pack. Been godparents for each other's kids, Liz's two and Jenny's three — two boys and a much longed for girl.

Saying their names put a tremor in Liz's voice.

I thought of Robbie and Sarah, Tara's twins. Despite our broken friendship, I'd known Tara all my life. If the unthinkable happened to them how would I feel? Sucker-punched, that's how. And if I knew it was murder, that someone was responsible—

I'd be out for blood.

Unchristian of me, but that was the unvarnished truth. It struck me as odd that Liz didn't support her husband's crusade for vengeance.

"I can see why your husband got involved with..." I gestured to the yard where Daisy was leaning against a railing, watching Pete toss a ball around with the kids in the fading light. "But why didn't you?"

"Oh, I wanted those bastards to pay for what they did to Jenny," she said, with an ugly laugh. "Don't think I didn't. I just thought it would tear our family apart." She looked at the kids outside and added softly, "It nearly did."

"You worried Scott might be killed?" A car crash she'd said, but she was convinced it was murder.

"I was more afraid he'd get thrown into jail. After the way the Feds handle the fire—" She shook her head and snorted. "You know they blamed it on faulty wiring? That was a damn lie. Jenny's husband was in construction, rewired the place himself. It was a cover-up, plain and simple. And an eye-opener. The bias against twoeys goes right to the top. Taking matters into our own hands was a surefire way to get our fingers burned."

"You thought Tooth 'n Claw would get caught."

"Yes. Scott was level-headed, but some of the others... Well, let's just say I'm not surprised to hear about Hector. But it wasn't a jail sentence I should've worried about."

"You think the Fellowship killed Scott then?" They had a darned good motive from what I saw in Lattesta's head.

"I did at first. But I didn't ask all the questions I should have, not until months later, what with the mess with Gary."

I took a sip of coffee, relishing the harsh taste of bourbon before I asked softly, "What happened with your brother?"

"It was two days before Christmas. Brandy was here, with me. Gary went to a bar, a Were bar, with some buddies. He was upset about Scott. Left early, but never made it home. When the cops arrived, six of them in body armour banging on the door at the crack of dawn, I thought—" She took a shuddering breath.

"That they knew about Tooth 'n Claw."

"Yes. It was a supe unit, heard of them? They're a Texas thing. Carry silver bullets, and those tranquillisers that stop a shift."

I winced, remembering Sam's run-in with Kenya, and the way he dropped like a stone. "Yeah. I heard about those."

"They'd come for Brandy and me. Told us Gary was a wild animal, that Texas was safer with him dead. Asked us to come in for questioning." Her lip curled and I had a pretty good idea how nicely the cops hadn't asked.

"How awful," I murmured. "But you didn't believe them."

"No. Gary was no angel, mind you. He had a temper, and a mouth on him that got him in more fights than I can count. But to attack a woman, in front of her kids, at Christmas? No, not even one of those Fellowship bitches. That wasn't him."

"Did you tell the cops that?"

"Uh-huh. They might have listened, but the Feds turned up. The same ones who investigated the fire."

I bet that was the task force Lattesta worked with. "What did they do?"

"Convinced the cops Gary did it. It wasn't difficult, they already knew he blamed the Fellowship for the fire. And Gary had dated Jenny. Oh this was years ago, in high school. It wasn't a big deal, but the Feds knew. They made out he couldn't get over her death, and losing Scott tipped him over the edge. But things didn't add up."

"Like what?"

"Well, you how good our hearing is. I overheard some cops talking. Gary took heavy duty pain killers now and then, for an old shoulder injury. But he was real careful with them. Never took them if he was drinking. Yet the blood-work said he'd taken at least four that night."

"That's mighty fishy."

"It is, isn't it? It was a week before the full moon, and those pills slowed him down. He wouldn't have taken them if he planned to shift."

Slowed him down enough that he couldn't avoid a shotgun blast, I reckoned. "You think the Fellowship set him up in revenge for Tooth 'n Claw killing their people?"

"Yes. Except Gary wasn't part of that. Hell, he didn't even know Scott was involved. I made Scott promise not to tell him. For one thing, Gary could never have kept his mouth shut. And for another, Gary would've insist on joining in. He was all Brandy had. She needed him."

"So why would the Fellowship kill him?"

"There wasn't anyone else for them to target." She bit her lip, feeling guilty. "When Scott was killed, I warned Daisy and the rest of them left town. We knew if the Chosen found out who they were…"

"They'd hunt them down."

"Exactly. But I don't think the Chosen killed Scott, not any more. A car accident was too clean, too neat. And perhaps they choose Gary at random. He was leaving a Were bar. Upset, distracted. An easy target."

"If you don't think the Chosen killed your husband... You think it was the cops? Or the FBI?" I didn't like to believe they'd stoop to murder, but Lattesta said they'd lost two undercover agents trying to infiltrate Tooth 'n Claw. Maybe the Feds thought better Scott died than more of their own. Lattesta certainly hadn't stuck to the letter of the law.

"No." Liz licked her lips, cautious for the first time since we sat down. "The Feds would have arrested him, made him an example. There's another possibility."

"What d'you mean?" I wasn't looking in her head for it. Didn't need to, she was going to tell me.

"Two days before he died, Scott met with a vampire. Stan's second."

"Oh. Joseph, right?" Who was missing, presumed finally dead.

"Uh-huh. He demanded that Scott disband the group, stop killing the Chosen."

"Vamps wouldn't side with the Chosen." Or would they? Vamps were opportunistic, and some had centuries of practice twisting humans to their own ends. I should discuss this with Eric.

I glanced outside, and a slight thrill went through me when I saw it how dark it was. Damn it. I'd managed to go all day without thinking about him.

"You're convinced Joseph killed your husband?" I said, re-focusing on Liz. No wonder she hadn't batted an eyelash over our mystery vamp.

"Yes. And Stan Davis—"

A loud squeal from the yard interrupted her.

"Digger! Digger!" Heather dropped the ball in her hands and pelted across the yard towards the guy coming round the corner, throwing herself at him. He caught her, laughing, and swung her round, lifting her high in the air. "Where's my favourite god-daughter?" he called.

"I'm you're only god-daughter, you big dufus," Brandy yelled back, a huge grin on her face. She got up from the table to greet him, and as he came forward, into the light spilling from the deck, I got a better look at him.

A big man, broad and barrel-chested, wearing a battered leather jacket. I knew him. Digger was bandanna guy from Torn-Ear. Small world, huh?

Half an hour later it was just us grown-ups outside and I'd had to fetch my coat against the nip in the air. Brandy was inside, supervising the kids taking a bath. They'd gone quietly once Digger promised to read them a bedtime story. He'd been a real good friend of Gary's, and he was like a second uncle to them.

With the kids were out of earshot, Daisy filled Digger in on the Hector situation. Turned out Digger, who worked construction hence the nickname, hadn't heard from Hector at all but he remembered that skinny ex-military guy Pete met down here. He took a long pull of his bottled beer before he admitted, "That'd be Jack."

"Jack-and-Nancy Jack?" I asked, just to be sure. Pete's memory of the party hadn't been clear enough, or I'd have known who it was. When Digger nodded, I cussed under my breath.

"Jack ain't your guy," Digger said, eyeing me warily and I just knew he was wondering if I bore Jack any malice for Nancy's attempt to poison Quinn. "He was right here all last week. Couldn't have anything to do with that murder in Jackson."

"He's right," I said, slumping back in my seat. I'd seen the three wolves we were looking for in that drug-dealer's head and even from his hazy memory I could tell the guy closest in build to Jack wasn't him. "Hector must have some other ex-military friends."

"You sure?" Daisy asked.

"Yeah," I said, sighing. Digger relaxed his grip on his beer.

"Hell," Pete said with feeling. "We came all this way for nothing."

Digger commiserated with him and Daisy. Over the next beer, they fell to discussing other local Weres who knew Hector and might have some idea where he was. Unable to contribute and feeling the coffee and the beer I'd drunk, I excused myself to visit the bathroom. The doorbell rang as I was finishing up, and a herd of elephants clattered overhead. I came out into the hall to see Heather opening the front door. Her brother and Brandy were pounding down the stairs after her.

"Hello," she said shyly, tilting her head back to look up and up at the tall figure on the porch step. "You have pretty hair."

"Thank you," Eric said, with a trace of amusement. He gave her his best, most charming smile. "May I come in?"

Before Heather could say a thing, Brandy snatched her up in her arms and stepped smartly back from the threshold. "Nice try vampire," she snarled.

For the first time I almost applauded her sullen glare. It was great to see it turned on Eric.

Eric, of course, didn't turn a hair. His eyes flicked to me, and he took a good long second to admire my dress. I ignored the heat that flooded my chest in response. His hair was loose, and he was wearing that leather jacket again. He looked scrumptious, and from the way his eyes crinkled when they finally locked on mine, he damn well knew it.

He winked at Heather, and Brandy growled.

How in the heck had he found us? I didn't think Daisy had told him where we were, precisely to avoid a confrontation like this. Oh hell, he probably tracked the damn car. He hired it.

Scott Junior folded his arms and gave Eric a scowl of his own, fit to blister paint. "You better git, mister. A vampire killed my daddy. You ain't welcome here."

Being challenged by a kid barely half his size and a hundredth his age obviously didn't faze Eric. To his credit, he didn't show so much as a hint of a smile either.

"I see," he said seriously. "You are the man of the house?"

I rolled my eyes. Of course, that was the line he'd take. You can take the man out of the eleventh century...

Scott nodded, suspicious. Liz came past me then, moving silently. She stopped behind her son, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder.

Eric inclined his head to her and stepped back slightly, but kept his eyes on the boy. He gestured at Heather, who was watching wide-eyed from Brandy's arms. "Do you like taking the blame for something your sister has done?"

Scott blinked at him, his mind searching for the trap in Eric's words. "No sir," he said reluctantly. "I sure don't."

Eric nodded gravely. "A vampire killed your father. It was not me."

Scott was a smart cookie. He got what Eric was driving at. "Don't mean you get to come in, mister," he said stubbornly.

"Even if I mean you no harm?"

Scott narrowed his eyes and glared at Eric. It was kinda adorable. "I don't trust you."

Eric broke into a wide, toothy grin. "You should not."

Scott finally broke eye contact, and craned his neck to appeal to the highest authority in the room: his mom. She lifted her other hand to his shoulder and squeezed, her eyes fixed on Eric.

Eric looked right back. "The lady of the house."

"Yes. And you are?"

"Eric Northman."

It took a second, but I sensed Liz's shock when she twigged exactly who he was. "Does Texas know you're in his state?" she asked bluntly. When Eric nodded, she turned to a side table and grabbed a cordless phone. "Then the local sheriff will confirm that."

"Yes," he said, completely calm.

She dialled, waited to be connected. "This is Liz Carter" – Eric flicked an eyebrow up at the name – "He is? Yes, I'll hold… Texas, I have a visitor from Louisiana on my doorstep … Yes, tall and blond … Uh-huh … Yes, just making sure. Sorry to disturb you … Thank you. You too."

She snapped the phone shut and looked at me. "He's with you?"

"Yeah." I gave Eric a look. "He was meant to wait at the hotel, but he doesn't heel well."

Eric laughed quietly.

"You're not coming in. Go round back" she said, and with a nod to Scott Junior, Eric disappeared into the dark. Liz shook her head. "I hope Nosy-britches across the way didn't cottoned on that he's a vamp."

"Oh, I don't know," I said breezily. "Shock like that might finish the old bat off."

"I should be so lucky," she said, grinning at me. She raised her voice. "Kids, back upstairs."

Scott groaned. "When is Digger coming?"

"Soon, son, soon. Off you go."

"The vampire was nice," Heather said softly, leaning out of Brandy's arms towards Liz.

"Scott was right, baby." Liz pressed a kiss to her daughter's head. "We don't invite them inside. And you, little miss, don't look them in the eyes either. We'll talk about that later."

Of course. Being second-born, Heather was destined to grow up non-shifting and vulnerable to glamour. Eric hadn't even tried it on her. Maybe he'd tricked so many little girls to let him in over the years that he was sure of an invitation without it.

That really didn't bear thinking about.