Chapter 16

"It's not a hangover," Amelia said. She pulled a tortilla chip from the pan between us, melted cheese stretching out between it and the pan. "It's a stoned-over."

"Either way, I feel lousy," I said and took a big gulp of my lemonade. My head felt like it was full of moth balls, and my eyes were dry and itchy. It was the next day, and we were in a little restaurant a few blocks away from the hotel sharing a plate of loaded nachos. Tex-Mex at its finest. "A heads up would've been nice."

"What difference would it make? You didn't drink the punch, that's the main thing you needed to avoid."

"At least we weren't the ones who finished the night by barfing up synthetic blood."

Amelia cackled with laughter. I snickered and popped a cheesy-beany-guacamole-y chip into my mouth. True enough, the journey back over the wards at the end of the night had proven too much for Eric, and he'd vomited the remains of his True Blood dinner.

"I know you're going to bite my head off," Amelia said, "but I'm going to ask you, anyways. What's going on between you and Eric?"

I have to say, I was quite proud of how well I resisted biting her head off.

"Nothing."

Amelia pursed her lips, rested her chin on her fist and blinked at me in a slow, deliberate (and infuriating) way.

"Really!" I repeated. "Nothing is going on. We've been friendly since working together on this. I'm with Danny."

"Oh yes. Danny, with whom things are 'good'." She used air quotes.

"Would you mind your own business, for once?" I snapped. "You set me up with Danny. And now that I'm dating him, he's not good enough? You never liked Eric when we were an item, and now that he's back in Louisiana, you're acting like you're on his side."

"What do you mean on his side? On his side of what?"

"I don't know! Just–just stop interfering. Stop speculating about things you have no clue about."

"Touchy, touchy," she said in a sing-song voice.

"While we're on the topic of things that aren't our respective business. Have you told your boyfriend that you're now dating Hannah instead of him?" Amelia's expression dropped and her cheeks colored. "Let he without sins..."

"No use quoting the bible at me," she said, jutting her chin out. "I'm a witch."

I promptly excused myself to use the bathroom before I tipped my lemonade over her head. Amelia drove me absolutely bonkers. She loved drama and inserting herself into it. She had my best interests at heart, but, for the love all things holy, she frustrated the hell out of me. And I also knew her well enough to know that sticking her nose in my business helped her avoid dealing with her own messes. Messes like a pending breakup.

We finished our meal in stony silence and started the walk back to the hotel. We were meeting Ryker at 9pm for one last night of investigating and then flying out the next morning.

"Veronica was completely different when we talked to her after the ritual. Is that because of the magic?" I asked her.

Amelia shrugged. "Maybe. You saw how everyone was carrying on. She probably got high with the rest of them and showed her true colors."

"It was more than that. It was like she had a split personality. One minute she's crying on a bed in the fetal position, saying she didn't kill her girlfriend and the next she admits to it," I said. "I don't get how someone could contradict themselves like that and mean it. On the inside and out."

Both times she'd spoken to me, she was full of conviction. I was sure she was being honest. How was that possible? How could someone honestly confess innocence and guilt?

"I can't explain it. But you and I both saw her confess," Amelia said. "We just have to find where she's bunkering down, and the police will bring her in."

"Still no closer to solving Lydia's murder."

Amelia looked as deeply unsettled by this fact as I felt.

"Let's not fight," she announced suddenly and hooked her arm through mine. "I like you too much to fight with you, Stackhouse."

"Is that your version of an apology, Broadway?"

"I'm sorry for upsetting you."

"Apology accepted." I smiled at her to let her know there were no hard feelings, and squashed away my residual annoyance. "I know you're trying to look out for me."

"You don't make it easy," she grumbled, and I elbowed her.

"Look who's talking." We both managed a laugh. "I promise not to give you a hard time about your love life if you promise me not to give me a hard time about mine. Although, the sooner you rip that band-aid off with that guy of yours, the better."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know."

We stepped off the elevator and got to our hotel suite just as a buxom brunette let herself out through our hotel door. Her hair was mussed, her eyes glassy.

"Looks like we're not the only ones who just enjoyed their evening meal," Amelia said quietly as the woman passed us. The woman's recent encounter with a certain blond vampire was still plastered over her thoughts.

"Gross," I said. I walked on inside the suite. Eric emerged from his room, rubbing a bath towel through his still damp golden hair. "Good evening, ladies."

"Well, someone's looking less green this evening," Amelia said.

"Some might even say rosy?" he said with a wink. Aside from the wet hair, he looked immaculate that evening. Black jeans, his usual leather jacket, and a black shirt only buttoned partway to the top. "And how are you this evening, Sookie?"

"Positively peachy," I said, dry as a bone.

I retired to my room to phone Danny. It was Sunday night, so I knew he'd be at home in front of the TV trying not to think about work. We kept the conversation light, mostly because I couldn't discuss the nature of my trip. We made plans for dinner for when I got back. Though it was hard to rally excitement. It felt a lifetime away. We had to help authorities apprehend a powerful witch first. A witch who was responsible for murdering the person she was supposed to love the most. And we were still no closer to solving Lydia's murder. I got off the phone and finished packing my bags for the morning flight.

I exited my room just as Ryker arrived at our suite.

Amelia set herself up on the large area rug on the living area floor. Earlier in the day, she'd entwined the hair she'd surreptitiously plucked from Veronica's head into a thin braided rope with some other material, then attached that to an opaque green crystal. Holding the crystal charm aloft over a map of Dallas, she closed her eyes, chanting under her breath. The crystal let off a soft glow, and I could smell the magic it gave off. Pungent rosemary and fresh smoke, like someone had just blown out a candle. The crystal roamed over the map until it landed on a spot just north of Arlington.

"The corner of Saxon Avenue and Abram Street," she announced, leaning over to examine where the crystal sat. I felt a burst of pride for my friend. She'd really matured into her powers in the years I'd known her.

"That's a motel," Eric said, from behind his laptop screen where he was looking at Google Maps.

"Once we get there you can use your ability to pinpoint which room," Ryker said to me.

Gosh, we really were like the Scooby Gang. Part of me felt like saying, "To the mystery machine!" as we gathered our things to leave, but I kept that little comment to myself.

•───── ─────•

The motel was forty-minute drive from our accommodation. An unmarked police car followed us, filled with a couple twoey cops. Still, I wondered if that was enough for us to face down a powerful witch. Rosa had been no match for her, after all.

The motel was cheap, like you'd expect. Pink stucco that had seen better days. The green neon vacancy sign flashed in an out-of-sync rhythm, and the billboard announced prices starting from $79 per night.

"I feel like I've seen this place at the beginning of a Law and Order episode," Amelia quietly joked. It really did look like a crime scene waiting to happen. We didn't pull up in the parking lot though. There was a strip mall a little further down that we parked at and walked to the corner nearest the motel. The cops pulled into the motel parking lot near reception.

"Hear anything?" Eric asked.

I heard plenty. Arguments. Mindless internal chatter of people stuck in front of the television. A couple having kinky sex. The thoughts of the attendant in reception while he talked to his friend on the phone. They were deciding to place bets on a cage match the following weekend.

"There's a lot of people around here," I said under my breath to Eric. I didn't particularly want to advertise my services to the police behind me. They were waiting for the word from Ryker before knocking at the door. Ah. I realized then why he chose cops that were werewolves. Even as police, if Ryker said jump, then they'd say—

"First floor," I said, landing upon Veronica's thoughts with a jolt. I took a few steps into the parking lot to inspect the rooms from a clearer vantage. Trying to place my mental impression of her mind's location into the physical world. "Room 9. The last room."

"You mean 8?" Eric asked.

"No, 9."

"There is no room 9," Ryker said.

"Yes, there is." I pointed. "I can see it from here. Surely y'all have sharper vision than me?"

"It's cloaked," Amelia explained. "Frankly, I'm surprised you can see it."

I squinted at the room. It shimmered like heat off hot pavement.

"Is it heavily warded?" Ryker asked.

"Presumably," she replied.

"Guess there's only one way to find out," I said. I stepped across the car park and Eric caught my arm.

"I'll join you."

"I'd rather you didn't."

Amelia's words from the night before stuck with me. Not that I thought I was leading him on. But I had no right to expect friendship with an ex. Especially one I'd been bonded and vampire married to. It would be easier for both of us if we maintained a bit of professional distance.

"Is she alone?" he asked, ignoring my comment.

"As far as I can tell." We walked past the motel reception, and the guy behind the counter didn't even look up. Maybe this would be easier than I thought? Maybe my sweaty palms were for nothing?

"Aren't you happier not having to wear your necklace?" Eric asked, catching me off guard.

"It's practical," I said, because it was. "And not just in the way you're thinking." Although it was practical in that way too. "I can't live in a city and not have a mental break. My apartment only provides so much relief. And that's only from my immediate neighbors."

"That's not what I mean," he said, though he didn't expound further on his point. I wasn't going to ask, either. Professional distance. We got to room 8.

"Can you see room 9?"

"No. Number 8 is quite clearly the last room," Eric said. He glared at the walkway like if he looked hard enough, he might see what I saw.

I marched on ahead and was surprised to encounter no ward. Nothing. I stopped and spun to look at Amelia, who remained on the other side of the car park, standing in the shadows with the others, her bag of mystical anti-ward items and effects waiting by her feet. She shrugged. The whole thing felt off. Maybe it was a spark of intuition, or my spidey sense, or, jinkies, maybe I just missed an important clue somewhere along the way?

From Veronica's thoughts, I sensed she was watching TV. Her mind was entirely absorbed, curiously blank of conscious thought.

So I did what I thought any reasonable person would do. I knocked. Eric cautiously moved past room 8 and felt his way across the wall to number 9. He laid his back against the wall beside the door so that he'd be out of sight from whoever opened it.

Veronica spied through the peephole before opening the door. Her eyes were puffy, glassy with tears. Her hair was dishevelled, and over her sweats, she had draped ratty throw blanket around her shoulders. "You're that witch from last night," she said. "Why are you here?"

"Witch…?" I said, rather stupidly. Why did she think I was a witch all of a sudden? Last night she'd clocked me as human with a hint of otherness.

"Yeah, you and another two witches came in when I was hiding out in the bedroom." She wiped at her tear-stained face and tried to manage a smile. "I'm still kind of a mess. I'll just pack up my things and we can go. Marjorie said she was sending Kumiko to take me to the next safehouse. She didn't say you were coming."

"You don't remember talking to me after the ceremony?"

"After? I didn't talk to anyone. I danced for about two minutes and went straight back inside the house. That party was the last place I wanted to be. Just give me a sec to grab my things."

Oh no. Something terrible was unfolding before me, and I couldn't make heads or tails of it. I flashed Eric an alarmed look; he returned a puzzled one.

I felt the cloaking magic fall, like the whoof of sound and motion when gasoline is thrown on flames. Amelia was working her magic from across the car park. Veronica didn't notice, her back was to me and she was throwing some clothes into a bag.

I lifted my hand in signal to the others. Wait. I needed time to work out what was actually happening. I needed to fit the pieces together so make sense of Veronica and our interactions.

"Just wait here a minute," I murmured to Eric. I stepped into the motel room.

"Do you seriously not remember our conversation last night?" I asked. "Straight after the ceremony? You told us that you… With Rosa…" I couldn't bear to spell it out explicitly.

"That I what?" Veronica said. "Killed her? I never said that. And I don't care what the camera shows. I don't care how the reconstruction made it seem. I wasn't there. I have witnesses to back that up."

Dread descended on me like a heavy lead blanket. We'd made a big mistake. I lunged for the door to slam it shut, but it was too late. The police stormed the motel room. I backed out of the room quickly and Eric dragged me completely out of the way back into the car park.

"What were you thinking going in there?" he growled. "I didn't have an invitation to enter. She could've hurt you."

"She's innocent!" I said to him. I turned to Amelia and Ryker and yelled across the lot, "She didn't do it!" I tried to fight my way out of Eric's arms. "Let me go!"

"Enough," Eric said, trying to still me with the strength of his grasp. "Be quiet. We've done our part. The last thing you want is a witch hunting you for retribution."

"Don't tell me when to be quiet! It's you that needs to shut up! No one is listening to me."

"It's not our problem anymore."

"She's innocent," I hollered back at him, trying to shake him free of me again. "Let go of me!"

"Sookie," he said.

"It's not her! Veronica isn't guilty." They, the cops and Ryker, didn't seem to notice me. No one was listening! I tried to join them across the lot, but Eric held firm. I watched helplessly as Veronica fought against the police as they tried manhandle her into the back of the cruiser. Amelia jogged over to us.

"What do you mean?" Amelia said, she was pale and shaken. "I heard her confess last night! We all did!"

"I don't know…" I searched for sense, for meaning, heck, just for the words. "But I don't think that was her we talked to last night by the bonfire."

We all looked at each other and our heads turned to the sounds of Veronica's shouts as the police wrestled her to the ground and cuffed her. She displayed none of the strength I'd seen of the Veronica in the ectoplasmic reconstruction.

"Shit!" Amelia exclaimed. "How is that even possible?"

"How can a person be two places at once?" I said.

"They can't," said Eric. He'd finally released me.

"Exactly!" I said. "Make it make sense."

"So some witch disguised themselves as Veronica? As Floyd? That's impossible!" Amelia said.

"Go with Veronica to the station," Eric instructed Amelia.

"Shit!" she said again. Amelia wasn't just worried for Veronica. She was now terrified that the Dallas witches would come after her if they suspected she was involved with Veronica's apprehension. It was a very real fear to have. She hadn't intended to be seen. None of us had. Why had I gone marching in without thinking?

"Go with her," Eric said to Amelia. "Arrange for Veronica to get a lawyer."

"And tell her not to speak to the authorities," I said. "Not one word. Don't let her eat or drink anything; they'll try swipe a covert DNA sample."

I stepped into the motel room and grabbed Veronica's bag off the bed. The room smelled of… grief. I couldn't explain it. Tissues sat crumpled on the night stand, and a half-eaten container of Cup-a-Noodle gone cold. I tossed them all in the trash and hid the bin in a closet under some linens, in case cops came back searching for DNA samples. It would have to do for now. Amelia took the bag and jogged back over to the police car where Ryker stood talking to the policemen. From the motel room doorway, I watched the police leave the lot. Amelia had successfully convinced them to let her accompany them in the cruiser next to Veronica.

"What's wrong with you?" I snapped at Eric once their taillights disappeared. I walked to where he stood. "You don't have the right to control me like that! You have no right to drag me away."

"I do when you're throwing yourself into harm's way."

"I was trying to help her!"

"They had a warrant for her arrest. The police don't care what we have to say."

"You don't know that!"

He gave me a look like he did exactly know that. Like I should know better. I let out a growl of frustration.

"It wasn't her," I said. My anger began to crumple under me like tissue paper. I was tired. I wanted to cry.

"Then who did we talk to last night?" Eric asked.

"I don't know! It sure as hell wasn't this woman."

"She could have dissociative identity disorder. Split personality disorder."

"Maybe." That had been an idea I'd floated to Amelia earlier that afternoon. I shook my head slowly as I considered it again. "I remember thinking how different her mind felt when I talked to her for the second time last night."

"Different as in a different individual?"

"No, like a complete change of character. It was still her internal voice I heard. I thought people with split personalities heard different voices?"

We looked at each other for a moment before both inexplicably landing upon the same thought. "A shifter," he said, just as I said: "Maybe a twoey!"

"Is that even possible?" I asked.

"I don't think so," he said. "At least not that I've heard. Has Sam ever mentioned anything about shifters that can assume human form?"

"He said it wasn't possible. I asked him once to go down to the DMV on my behalf to renew my license." It had been a joke. Kind of.

"Maybe he just said that because some things aren't worth sacrificing in a relationship?"

I cracked a smile, despite all the distress. God, he was an infuriating vampire. Was it possible to like and hate a person?

"Tell me to shut up again," he said suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

He took a step closer to me, his blue eyes inexplicably bright under the orange fluorescents that lit the parking lot. "Tell me to shut up again."

"Eric…" I said in warning.

He took hold of my hips and backed me up against the wall. The rough stucco wall prickled through the back of my silk blouse. He lifted my chin with a finger. I could see his fangs.

"What are you doing?" I asked, rather stupidly.

"What do you think?"

He kissed me. One of those show-stopper kisses that paraded his thousand years of experience. I pushed him away.

"Eric," I said, his name an admonishment.

"When you're ready," Ryker said.

I looked over Eric's shoulder and saw Ryker standing a few feet away, arms folded. He radiated displeasure. I pushed Eric away with a scowl.

"That was inappropriate," I said harshly under my breath.

Eric merely smiled. I could've honestly strangled him right there, though fat lot of good that would do me. I stalked away to talk to Ryker. My temperature has risen a few degrees.

Push those thoughts away, I told myself sternly, you're here to do your job. A young woman is counting on you to make this right.

I apologized to Ryker as matter-of-factly as I could considering my face was red as a beetroot, and I asked about the possibility of a shifter that could transform into more than just animals.

"I'm sure you're aware of the legend of Skinwalkers in Navajo tribes," Ryker said, thankfully choosing to ignore what he'd just witnessed occur between Eric and I. "Essentially, they are two-natured individuals, I suppose shifters, who allegedly turn evil and can assume human form. They gain this ability after murdering a close loved one." Ryker didn't seem nearly as concerned as I felt about Veronica's wellbeing.

"Is it true?"

"I've always assumed it to be legend. I've never heard or encountered any real-life examples. I would know, I've adjudicated many cases concerning two-natured individuals who have killed their loved ones. If such a thing existed, I would be aware of it."

"Surely such a legend has some kernel of truth." Didn't all legends? Isn't that what Amelia had said?

"Most in our community have assumed it was just a part of ancient Navajo mythos," Ryker said thoughtfully.

"There are many stories in ancient legends that describe gods and creatures that can take on the form of humans at will," Eric said.

"But how likely is that?" I said coolly.

"As likely as a Maenad," he replied, lightning fast. I bit back a knee-jerk retort. Maybe he had a point.

Ryker dropped us back at the hotel. As far as he was concerned, our job in Dallas was complete. There was no link to Lydia's murder by his estimation, though he gave me free reign to look further into other links. The whole thing felt terrible and wrong. I hated to think of Veronica currently locked up in jail, while the real murderer walked free, in the guise of … anyone.

"You can't do that anymore," I said to Eric as we rode up in the elevator back to our room. I'd maintained silence with him for the long drive back from Arlington. "I'm not some naïve barmaid from Bon Temps anymore. You can't just… just-"

"Kiss you?" he supplied.

I threw my hands up. "It's not a joke! You and me, it's long over. You can't carry on like we are a thing."

"We will always be a thing." All traces of humor were gone. I stared at him hard. If I were a betting woman, I'd say he wasn't particularly happy about that fact. The elevator doors opened, and he exited without a word.